Tag Archives: #poetry

FOURTEEN

i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!

To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.

Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.

Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.

Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life

It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).

14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.

:: 12.24.2020 ::


SUN AGAINST THE NIGHT

The nasty dark night ate the sun!

The farmers wailed against the dim moon,

“Be sane, or make it otherwise!”

Yesterday i awoke with a torn brain

against lover’s thousand acidic eyes

ripped apart by dying beds.

My screaming wish held but just Ourselves–
and Immortality.

:: 12.21.2020 ::


THE WOMAN

SHE can bring love with her smile and devastation with indifference
and ruin faith with the turn of her face;

SHE can bring paradise with her arms and paint masterpieces with her lips
and only reveal what she wishes you to see

SHE can bring passion to your life or steal the meaning of all things
breath the deep blue skies and bring a perfect day

Oh, mystery is beneath her footfalls and how her dress bellows while she
never gives out or gives in — she just changes her mind while promising
the Garden of Eden

So love i followed every motion of your emotion as you took care of yourself
and waiting as you want — ooh, she never gives in while singing angelic songs
and cuts you while you bleed

Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm.

She just changes her mind while so kind does anything but gives hope to the lesser
Souls who ache for Love.

:: 12.21.2020 ::


SILENT THOUGHTS IN THE COLD RAIN

When someone is afflicted with an illness, there are those who believe it is all in their head.
If this were true, it is because we are humans, and humans cannot see the universe.
When a person is surrounded by a loud and excited group of people, not one of them would be
capable of understanding the complexity of the universe, the infinite, and the subtlety of
an individual’s mind.

If all were to see, we would have to see a single and limited universe. The creation of this
illusion is the foundation of cancer treatment. The goal is to make the person, no longer in
control of their thoughts, think their sickness is in their head. They are told their thoughts
are sickness, and that their thoughts are not real. They are told they are not a sick person,
they are a crazy person.

This makes it almost impossible for them to wake up and see they are a human being and not a
crazy person. This theory has always amazed me because it has been proven to be the most dangerous
and effective lie on the planet. If we all saw the universe as it is, how could we possibly
want to create something to protect us from it? A story we create with all of our wants, all
our fears, and most importantly, our hate? A story we live to become the newest invention
of the universe? If we are all intelligent beings, then the very idea of a creator must be absurd.

In order to have this illusion, if this were really a trap set by the universe, the traps would be inescapable. It has to be this way. If the world is a lie, the traps are inescapable. For those trapped inside their lies, every day is hell. The only escape is to kill your belief and realize the truth. This is not a matter of escaping in the normal sense, but a matter of escaping through the truth. A truth so extreme that everyone will ask themselves, is it worth it?

This is the only life we have, and we are only here for a very short time. What if we were to live an extraordinary life, and not be forced to follow the rules we’ve all agreed upon? What if we stopped being called “lives,” and started being called “lives in action?” What if we could ignore our fears and heal each other? What if we weren’t forced to create our own world and only follow the rules we actually wanted to follow? What if we finally reached our truth and achieved our happiness? The only question left to ask is, is the balance of the universe in our favor?

:: 12.18.2020 ::


TODAY HOW POETRY DAZZLES

TODAY how poetry dazzles gradually
  as rain falls slantly
our eyes surprised by equally
blind.

As children weep for adults
and adults ache for youth.

Within love lies a beating heart
and death echoes circuits of life.

Our often dismal living flesh
feels delightful in death.

:: 12.18.2020 ::


MY ROOM

I shudder to realize it,
i am among the noble dead
the ones who are never thought of
but have contributed to love.

I am not at peace nor do I realize what the
word, “peace” means in language.

I fail to find rest,
and peace.
my heart is unnatural.
and as my mind too it races to and fro
so does my love for women.
Simply, i have died many times in this life
and within others of different skins; both
man and woman. child and cousin.
So, i breathe in dust
all within my lonely room.

:: 12.18.2020 ::


CORPORATE CHEMICALS

SOMETIMES you have to reach out to know
sometimes to bleed to know
— my taste in music is on the smart phone
never in your face
takes me farther than i’ve ever been.
she has Instagram photos of big breasts
but i know how photoshop filled them out
and i slept in my car last night cursing
my government …
wasting money on corporate pigs
oh it hurts my heart as much as she does.
corporate food killing us
soft drinks and candy too — i once loved
what i tasted; it was poison. Now i am
running for my Life. Leaving corporate
Death and corporate medical — pills and psych
talk kills those who are weak.

   we run for our life
   we cry and then die
   before we awaken.

I had you somewhere within my coat pocket,
holding back your hand before you drank
corporate poison.
I will come back when your better.
(if you survive).
Life is a chemical for corporate Lives.
a chemical yeah. defy oh defy…yeah.

:: 12.18.2020 ::


BURNING FEELING DEEP INSIDE

THERE’S a burning feeling deep inside me
: — /so i find it so very easy to be true
, and admit i am easily a fool \

i hug the sun at day break
and kiss the moon at nightfall

hmmm.

But everytime you are by my side
i count the moments and watch you
and every move you make: it’s art and
as an ocean’s tide i’m pulled into you.

i know i am not worthy of a treasure
such as you but find it very very
easy to just be me — to be true:
because your mine. So at day and night
you’re upon my mind because you’re mind.

hmmm.

i have fallen inside a deep truth of hearts
figured out fruit flies but not cucumbers
and went down down inside a passion that almost
destroyed me — then your hand pulled me out
of poetic insanity.

:: 12.18.2020 ::


STRIKING IMAGE AND RHYME

THIS THING called Tourette’s
where I sometimes stop breathing.

TONITE, HOW I AM I…
Good morning, my children. This day shall soon be
filled with wet wind, droplets of rain,
birds beginning their morning call,
snatches of birdsong from nearby trees.
Rain, our god, provides for the earth
With its rhythms. And yet this
drenched car park, unshod and
mucousy, here I stand. We are
all here on a rock. We will always
be here on a rock, as we continue
to flow, endlessly, into the ocean.

Together, my children, let us remember
the former days. The days when our words
were ragged and unsavory, language was crude
and violent, full of striking image and rhyme.

O, yes. Today we shall honour our words, as
we pick through the words. They have so hurt us,
and we leave them sodden in the rain.

–>FIRST MY OWN VOICE ::::::
It seems the air i breathe and touch, when walking
alone in the city has given me a disease
like Tourette’s.

I’m beginning to turn red or green, or blue,
sometimes not even my face has become a fault.

Lately, my head seems to be filled with ocean tides,
titian squid, clams, mussels, sand, ice;
specks of some faultless fish.

And here we stand, wet and lost, looking into the garden.

O, only the garden.
O, only the garden
–>SOME HEROES

The stars were dying in the night
when I woke to find my brother dead,
from being driven by a steamroller,
into the ocean.

I miss him.

They were here, on the island, back when the skies
were blue and the seas breathed their contented
voices.

(Oh this hillside, what color is it with my words?
O, only blue.)

:: 12.10.2020 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – XXXVI

nature states what natural beings
do -=-

that season of pause
between sunrise sunsets, & lastly come?
the tending of maturity’s
sun
:a role berates the youthfulness
of life, then takes a toll
and overworked/ i know i know\
not of spirit but body!

:: 04-04-2014 ::

[rev 02262018:m:rev: 08.11.2020]