The stream (all workshops)
When granny passed over last Wednesday
It was something we never foresaw
She seemed to be so fit and healthy
But then came the knock on the door
The policeman was standing there solemn
He wasn’t sure what he should say
Then all of a sudden he blurted
“It’s granny, she’s just past away”
She’d been to the pensioners social
She was dancing and knocking back gin
The silly old girl gave a bit of a twirl
When her heart, it just stopped, it gave in
pockets full of clouds
the shower of light
from the lamps
gleam like shards
I can feel the waves press
upon the solid shore
I can feel your breath
in the rains that fall
forever on this day
as if the sky were weeping
for winter that is lain aside
and heavens drizzle
staining all the tide
that lonesome haunt holds
fast
happy winter
will you love us at last??
I sent her across the river
she entered a cloud
she followed me with Keane eyes
she is everywhere I am not
this woman I longed to be
walking
parallel paths
we meet each other on occasion
lifting each other from our muddy feet
we carry ourselves
with the burden of being
rivers of silence
rivers of sorrow
flowing into the great ocean
of bliss
a lotus blossoms
petals fall
and the sky breathes us.
Let me try
perhaps dear friend
replace the grave
with real grace
towards the end
enter you may
discover a grave..
hope you will
comment upon western
by Loved written
HA Ha Ha
Religion’s Failings
Relics relying on rhetorical ruses
THAT
Enslave elenchus elements
INTO
Living lateral lies
ABOUT
Insidious idols
GIVING
Glorification in gratuitous
TO
Intermodal internment
THEN
Oscillating oracular orders
RELEASE
Nudnik nonentities
CREATING
Slaphappy slanderers
You blush when I talk of ruddiness
Yet you stay in the sun all day
I heard you talk of colours
And refer these to mean men
Black is pitched against white
Red has nothing to do with brown
Mixed are termed colour in between
Racial scale rooted in discrimination
What tint of skin do you prefer?
Given a chance to make a choice
Charcoal black or snow white
It doesn’t really make a difference
My Problem With Online Poetry
when, or if, anyone actually reads this
know the reason i reach out is plain and simple-
attention
this isn’t the problem though.
i thirst for critics praise
or scrutiny evenly-
a bratty child screaming in public
feeling victory in the face of
the mad mommy-
not because i wish to be canonized
or shot down,
but simply to feel i have reached
another person,
even if it’s someone i’ll never know
Well just kiss my big fat ass
my gauge don't work, I'm out of gas!
Tried calling everyone on cell
all the calls went to voice mail
One last chance, called an old friend
if he don't answer it's the end
But what's this? A human voice!
might know it would be my last choice
The friend is old but really good
message is clear, it's understood
so I'll sit here like a dumb ass
awaiting him and extra gas
*written while sitting on side of road out of gas
PUSHING ONE STEP MORE
Now I must rest my weary head
For if I push myself much more
come morning they will find me dead
my brain fevers , i grow cold
I need to lay my body down
or I will soon be 6 feet
in the ground.
my bones ache , my muscles lock.
my brain fevers . I grow cold.
the sickness strikes deep
into my soul.
Her weak eyes could hardly see
I had to show her where to sign
if it hadn't been for me
it would have been blank...that dotted line
She doesn't need a vacuum
with a power-cord and more
to clean the threadbare carpet
covering her floor
It picks up all the cat-hair
with this attachment, don't you see
Of course, it will cost extra...
just a little fee
As I leave her cold apartment
I'm having no regret
I've sold more than all the others
and I've won our little bet
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