Category Archives: #poet

TASTING LAST WORDS

i tasted the last words
just within my mouth
and drawn into this life
where orchestras awaken
blood from death
Walking in muddy boots
across the fields of
the world’s death
i took a breath of life
and saw babies eating
remaining memories
i tasted my last words
just there in my love
and drew conclusions
: love is our life trap
and whatever price
i have is priceless advice:
that love is everything.

:: 09-29-2017 ::


EVERY POINT OVERLAPPING EVERY POINT

AND the pot of gold was resting
there by the  contraption of another world
so baby cry, cry, cry and are we old enough
as a world to know baby
  we can cry and laugh holding
planets and stars within our hands
  yes, we are old enough my smiling
baby Jesus’ with a message at the
train station of life and death.
Especially the voices of crying
children who remember to know better
so cry baby we all try to hold on
to the future of our best wishes
and mostly we’re all programmed
by that way-station on the other side;
our hands holding unknown things
our minds almost remembering them
historical amnesia is our diagnosis
so baby cry
            so baby try
                        so my oh my
greed is an infection
muted voices a reflection
and all the tears like metal
the smell of static like space
lost astronauts in twisted steel
and the pot of gold resting there
by the contraption of another world
making my mind scream.
:: 09-28-2017 ::

ACCELERATED TO WORDS WITH DRAMA

The tempo of life began as a whimpering limp
accelerated to words with drama and life
and the colors of the world drew me close

and so many unlike me fell to the
WAY SIDE of oblivion and obscurity
And the remaining flesh left with eyes
from the gutter looking at the world:

And the blood of my heart shifts as sands
of a dry bleeding sandstorm that keeps
each foot ahead of the other for I
am the conductor of my own words!

And there are times i believe my bones
are not living now but wishing under
all the weight of possible lives.

:: 9-25-2017 ::


THE PUZZLE OF THE BUFFALO

THIS dream.

I am walking through a tunnel between the streets.  Air as thick

as my misconceptions of life.  The gutters are gone but my fears

fulfill the deed.

A passing light of brilliant orbs dazzle me then I am walking

across a cache of weapons and I see my feet amongst others.

The wolves’ den.

“Who are you?”  One asks.

I am a dream walker.

“Are you crazy?” asks another.

No.  I am here for reasons unknown.

“Kill him.” says the one with shifty eyes.

Why would you wish this?

“He’s a pig.”

No.

“Bro, do you have buffalos running around within

your head?”

Yes.

“Let him go.”

I love you all and please learn from this:  if you

do all that is told then you are not living a brilliant

life as you can.

And the buffalos will trample you one soon day.

I wake up.

:: 09-17-2017 ::


SINCERELY WONK

SINCERELY WONK

if WE were seven foot shorter
and older:
if we began now instead
of then — when we were
all more simpler

what would and could we
change.
No question. But a statement
of fact.
Nothing.
So, best to know all?
or to be blinded by time?

Let us be happiest not knowing
the rules of these crazy gods!

 

:: 09-13-2017 ::


IF LOVE TOOK ME

IF love took me
take me my love
when breathing is
you breathing with me
and life is at
it’s most loving.

And nighttime:
my hand upon your
breast keeps time
as an arm of the hour
stealing moments
within our dark.

As jaws of Cupid open
my priest of pain
begins to sing:
“Ruby heart, padlocks
and all, deployed by
angels smiling
thunderbolt-lust;
and i, too frail.”

Drowning in wishing-
like sea swells
like if love took me
take me my love
across the night
into the dews, and the
‘give me everything
i wish/give me everything
i love/where life is at
it’s most loving.

:: 08-27-2017 ::

 


THE LEAST FAVORITE THINGS

That within my hands
are the crumbled lives
of ghosts who have passed
me by
And when like a wounded demon
that begs so perfectly saying
all the lies I wish were true
These are the least favorite things
I find within my life

When the world closes its eyes
and love moves away like a train
from purgatory’s station
When like a sentenced soul
the judge turns away from shame
then my life has been
but a sweet memory
and the most wonderful
pain of all…

:: 08-19-2017 ::


FORMLESS SOMETHING

Immaterial – formless;
the imbued by Spirit
and body is more!
That patterns determine
rain, snail and flower
and more by zero
but most by Soul!
And innumerable
Infinities that come
and go!

:: 08-17-2017 ::


WELCOME MY GHOSTS

THAT I have tried and succeeded is only in great measure

That you have been there with all my fears and displeasure.

Holding my cramped heart and swollen hands is how you have

Saved both my mind and spirit – the soul; still intact down

By the emptying rivers that lead to unexpected consequences.

And to weep while watching the death of a perfect day and to

Realize that birth was only half that day ago is sobering:

We watch each other’s eyes while laying on our sides and

Breathing in cadence I tell you that I am a fortunate peasant

And you the Queen who has welcomed by Ghosts.

:: 07-12-2017 ::


SOFT BREEZE SUMMERS

MOSTLY, as soft breeze summers
dance is when the world spins
for me, it is you that i
marvel; my most passionate
pasttime being with you
AND holding the hands that my
heart craves is like beautiful
flowers that dance in splendid
golden light my love!

:: 07-12-2017 ::
(c) 2017