The stream (all workshops)
The poetry please!
today there is a burning fire within me
to perform a newer kind of poetry
this ignites the infallible minds of humanity
such a kind of poetry
where two lovers face one another
and
as one smiles
air-full of kisses fly
and
the crowds in great abandon....
hide behind a veil of time
no clouds are needed...
they all want an audience blind
so be it my way to say
stay
do read my works
once in a way....
In the silence
of this crystal night
shimmering,
entombed in light,
we'll tippy toe upon the stars
Moving in a universe
the tips of our fingers
write poems of stardust
as we shift
the mists of time
being graced in part,
a poets Valhalla
Fishing in the black holes
reeling the next dimension
through, meeting minds
from the center of the think
they ripple with the solar winds
ghosts of the eternal flame
....They all were born in sixty nine
at least that's when they came to life ...
The poet capturing the time
to hold it for the future young
in verse that didn't always rhyme
with words which soothed and often stung.
The singer taking poet's words
then unleashing music in the air
where it soared, where it rang
to be remembered by all there.
Also the thinker of new things
new ways to live and love and Be;
newly defining his generation
which tried so hard to become free.
with words we cursed
feigned laughter
then ducked
with words we whispered
touched lips
then fucked
with words we transgressed
improvised apologies
then smirked
Madness tries its' tricks
But, he pushes it aside
He cannot let it in
He does his job with pride
The guiltless are protected
He does his very best
He takes the sin upon himself
Puts the impure-souls to rest
Tonight, it is a rapist
He caught him as he fled
Too late to save the victim
Sprawled upon her bed
In his spotless kitchen
The chef gets out his knives
Hot kettles boil and simmer
So full of useless lives
Graveyard Train
Coffins move on rails of steel
across a moonlit plain
those within indifferent
to passion, pride, or pain
they met their fate in distant lands
where terrorists now toil
but were they fighting for a cause
or merely foreign oil?
Have I become a puppet to the people I loved,
bowing to their nays and ayes
seeking their approval each time I have served
in every role I have played?
Let this not be true! A man without identity
is a slave to other's perceptions
in all his actions, there is no sincerity
seeking for approval, fearing rejections
I'm reclaiming my rights to be heard
the muted voice has awakened
no longer will it revel in silence
it is their turn to sit back and listen
I walked into my garden today
There you were, I said go away
Why you asked of me, "Can’t I stay?
It is not your time to visit my home.
I have been to your home I know,
that was so you would not be alone.
There staring from your window so
It was the tears I helped you let go.
This garden of mine will be here,
when shadows greet winters cool
It is but a tool of eternity, can’t you see?
I tend it so, that you can walk with me.
error
slip margin of sleight
fault visage
and mirror hosts\
seething haste
of spedthrift
ghost
So I’m sitting there
Being me,
And she’s giving me this look,
With her cold eyes,
And I bet she’s thinking
Look at this Motherfucker.
Acting all mad and thinking in his weird ways,
Thinking he’s beat.
As if he knows anything about that,
Or even if it means anything.
He’s lost in his own damn thoughts
And it’s shit.
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