The stream (all workshops)
If elephants consume your plants
And devastate your lawn
Don’t run about or scream and shout
Just wait until they’ve gawn
For elephants are very large
And everybody knows
It really really hurts
Should they step upon your toes
Get the morning up!
Our night'been too long.
For daylight, now I do long.
Out, for dignity do all throng.
Hand in hand sing the salvation song.
Get the morning up!
Sprung, bounteous mobs I can hear.
Forget the flowers of yesteryear.
The new Spring, they'll never sear.
Tendered gore,them all will rear.
Get the morning up!
Groveling, servility never been inhere.
Your roaring silence, don't veneer!
Away chase the mighty jageer.
To lustering Springs, let's all adhere!
The loss will be entirely ours,
to lose such a gallant poet,
Tell us not of the vexations caused,
think of us
who shall miss you most
You and I have been bombarded daily
But I don't damn care,
for the sound of music I create
with all I do share
and
Some grunt, many laugh,
Others shunt:
Never mind the worse forms of human beings,
else these words
Grunt, shunt and laugh,
will be buried at once
I look back upon this lengthy trail
and barely see where it began
for it's faded like a white contrail,
like any effort left by man.
Distance masks the rougher parts.
From here rivers seem mere brooks.
There's no sign of the stops and starts
or short rests earned in restful nooks.
Overall the path has been ascending
and full of forks along the way
which I often chose merely depending
on the whim which struck that day.
There's a humbling sound
at 21 knots,
this voice
powerful,
and frightening.
I can hear,
but can't see anyone.
Human words are not sufficient
to even describe it.
I lost the ability to discern it
at Babel's folly,
when I learned the vice of pride.
But in this dark place,
this no place,
and this every place
it is thunderous and piercing
if I just turn my ear into it
12 stories up,
winnowing into sinew,
between joint and marrow
in this deep place.
Hurry hurry rush rush,
Turkey in the oven and cranberry crush.
The dog sitting starring at the food,
Pretending to be good.
Hoping I will drop a single crumb,
C'mon sparky, I'm not that dumb.
Drooling in a puddle on the floor,
Oh my how gross Sparky go outdoors.
It was my fault.
That because of me,
You thought we had love.
That I led you to believe,
That it was fire,
When it was ice.
Maybe I forgave you,
Only to let you keep doing what you did,
Behind my back.
Perhaps you thought that when you were in pain,
I wasn’t.
But I hated that pain.
Because of me,
You tore apart the feeling.
Maybe we had love.
i have a fatal flaw
i'm only inspired
when the darkness attempts to swallow me whole.
Can't write happy cliches,
got to write , full on shit kicking.
And so for me there is no I between
I'm resigned to the dark side
that's where i live,
that is me
The reason I am still living
is ny ability to plough my feelings
on to the page
I'll use any means available,
Even if it's profanity
To keep the poem moving
In the fields of my mind
Odd clouds gather
Mists of uncertainties
Senseless insanities
In the sanctum of my heart
Dark storms growl
Blizzards of bitterness
Senseless unhappiness
About the petals of my body
Thorny vines grow
Deep wounds anew
Senseless unhealed scars
I dread for my soul
Inward uneasiness
The darkness awaken
At this sunrise
Evil, wears the faces that we put on it
The masks that we see are of our own device
Out of the darkness, in the light of the fire
we chisel and paint, bringing to life our fears
Warnings woven in tales handed down
of innocence carried away
in the absence of enlightenment
So we seek to put names and faces on it
What we cannot see frightens us
We need the lamps of understanding
Then we can invent ways of defeating evil
There must be Ying and Yang
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