The stream (all workshops)
Quickly running.
Sprinting through the forest of despair.
My chaser shows a measurable cunning.
My legs will quit, but I won't dare.
Many a branch flitting past me.
Leaves are crushed beneath my feet.
Swimming through the Sea of Many Tree.
It seems he has reserved for me a seat.
Brightly colored fruits bound upon tall plants.
A summer of metaphorical beauty.
The clouds trudging through the sky like ants.
The strength of my will is its duty.
1.
Oh, love-starved little boy
boy...boy...boy
how you beg for those kisses
kisses...kisses...kisses
to enfold your own image
image...image...image
down the well,
well...well...well
well, what have we here
but a love-starved little boy...boy...boy.
2.
There's a spider in the well trying to crawl up
while the rain is falling down. Sometimes
I imagine I'm a hump-backed old woman by the well,
drawing cool, clear water for you,
dear weary wanderer so very far
away from home.
SOMEWHERE HERE
That was then and this is now
and when the this became a now
I don't know, somehow,
as then was then, and now is now
and yet its all ideas somehow,
we make a this and make a that,
a now that isn't there, it must be there
or here somewhere
so find it please before I sneeze
and send it off to where, nowhere,
somewhere there.
I carried a heavy load
….of nothing
I traded my treasured gold
…for dung
I betrayed the hero
…of that ultimate love story
I climbed down the tallest tree
…and burrowed down black soil
I possessed those idols
…with all their vegetable nature
As the deadliest kind of poverty
…gnawed away at my soul
And after I set the table for dinner…
I sat to a meal of rotten flesh
…and drank of the most poisonous venom
I feasted with smiles…smiles that never reached my eyes.
The mind has cared for silly mundane sores,
but oh, that heart which loftier thoughts has sought,
to wipe the evils out and end the wars,
to which, too troubledly, we've oft been brought.
To be, to live is what all men shall care,"
yet I am hanged at loftier, grander things
and still I'm looking for the hearts that share,
rejoice the flowers buds when bloom in springs.
Inside a yellow cab
she sits
crosses long legs
finger gloss lips
peering out at Flushing Bay
ten minute ride
to house on the left
four doors down
a lighted shadow
standing content
knowing specialness had arrived
nude pictures packaged on table
bottled Negra Modelo
downstairs counting nine steps
open forum
freshly smoked Newports
she begged a drag
his cologne roaming
ONCE YOU ALL SWITCH TO FREE VERSE THINGS WILL GET
Worse
a curse
Loved has made all forget
what was poetry and verse
and the bestest critique we all know ,
will my cruci-fixation rehearse
ere that happens guys go back to your archaicity
and
leave my precious verse to and for me..
i must thank thee
if you want to see
the bard survive in me..
The paltry sun smiles across the frozen Plains,
as if to mock my shivering words,
“How long will this winter last”
The trees and shrubs that wooed the summer breeze
with blossoms ablaze,
are smitten under foot,
after boasting they would never die,
now lie still,
fallen emblems of a summer past,
there ghostly voices still echoing,
“How long will this winter last”
The robin feeds oblivious to the frost and cold,
looking only for his meal of worm,
pausing briefly for the wintry wind,
Inside the pearly embrace of nature’s spotlight
Warmed and soothed by time
At peace at last I stand in moonlight
Emptied beautifully by the moment only
How the healing eased the ache
The searing, sucking legacy of that deceiver
I know now the gift that was his heartless disregard
To free me up for this deserving heart and potency
Where I once craved and suffered in such unfulfilled desire
I glance behind, mere memory that fades each season
And nestle free of tethered thrashing disappointed hope
I am loosing it
At the edge of sanity
Another step and damned
The aura of madness below
Menacingly stretching its murky lips
Fate; her claws wedged in my skin
Just like others I am a victim, blame her
Dragged spiteful through her coarse domain
Cursing while she chuckles. 'This is life.’ She says
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.