The stream (all workshops)
The sense of time erodes our fascination
with our bodies, sooner or later,
didn't it?
Was it yesterday, that lightning bug in a bell jar,
glowing now? Not now.
Did we play Shakespeare well in the parts
so designated, did we choose one over the other,
hate ourselves and each other because we missed
our cues?
Of Poetry!
Well to my semi dwarfed mind
without knowing the nuances
of concoction of poetry,
save verbal criticism
I feel the power of sharing
what one knows
or deems to know,
with ones brethren
she comes off as so bold
but if you watch shes scared
shes delicate. shes hurt. shes ............................fragile
like the way a roses thorn
can be so piercing but
the petals are so brittle. the....................................girls
laugh at her. she is different
she is strange. yet she is
beautiful . how does she.........................................get
herself wrapped around my mind how
does she completely lure me in to make
me feel entirely helpless. i can see the..............hurt
Restless is the storm fed ocean
Where she has left a bounty
There upon the shore
But seagulls will not venture
Knowing where the danger lies
If the truth be pure and simple
They'll be no need for alibis
The wind is high and wild
fires sweep the land
as I stare out my window
My coffee cup in hand
A wry smile upon my face
for I now understand
The story is from times of old
over and over it has been told
and oh, by the way
my coffee's gone cold
The rage within the poet and critique
rages without volition
no speed
it divulges of its own
in both .
The poet is at liberty to seek comfort
Yes solace or pity
and
massage ones ego
so be it ,
as an original creator of a verse
or one who only generates a curse .
come what may
poets must never be disturbed
as other's minds
may be by birth worse .
SPEAKING IN TONGUES
Silence has its own voice
whispers behind rhyme and verse
a truth deeper still
beyond what words convey.
the mind cannot understand
what it cannot measure
the heart cannot reason
the tragedy of its ending.
the soul is afraid to speak
yet must share and tell another
in silent voice
its hopes and fears.
Night feels all
sleepless beneath
a dream kept company
womens voices soft
murmur in my head
the funeral and the
gathered
outside the cars gleamed
polished and waxed
a hearse waited large
as a horse team
full of chrome
half visions in the night
haze
wound with sorrows
bound with fears
those of yesteryear
brought back to life
unlike precious time
that jumped
stretched and existance
was questioned
weaving like vines
like the heat
I am a woman
It's not my fault
I was born a paradox
sweet and soft and malleable
but armed,
with a brain as quick as a rabbit,
a tongue as sharp as a dagger
and a spirit that will not yield
Kill me, beat me, rape me,
you'll never, ever break me
I was born a woman,
a goddess in the womb
not a stallion born to be broken.
HORRRAAAOOOW
Slap slap
slap-slap-slap-slap
slap slap
thwacks window pane, a car horn
fixed
trap trap-trap
exhaust, a flock of starlings
dust dust dust
blue
fumes intoxicating
flap flap-flap flap
grind squeak, iron gate
graves
grey silent, contra horn
relentless
horrrraaaoow-
horrrraaaoow-
flowers drop petals
floshed flooshed
floshed flushed
soft
searing monotone
madness, frets
frenzied shouts
a slam.
My grief more than I know
Locked in my veins
Lashed out in my system
Makes me cry out in vain
At your disappearance
You left me all alone
In this dark cold world
To fight these hard core battles
At least, when you were here
I found comfort in a companion
Like a genie bottle
I would take you from the sill
Nigh my heart
Place you on my knobby knees
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