You, Near

My skin drum beats the message

Deep from within my chest sending

Out the rhythmed vibrations

Hopefully, the sound will pound

Upon your own heart

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Poetry from 13 Dec 2013

Fling Back Your Sling-Backs

Fling back your sling-backs

To me!  Ain't nothing gonna bar
Your unbridled joy of runnin'

Through that cool grass.

 

Poetry Bites

The poetry of life, like a big dog, sinks

It's teeth into you and shakes you.

Bitten to the bone you are infected.

 

Bigotry

 

They drink the poison from their own skin,
Licking the toxic, hallucinogenic toad;

They never go beyond the surface,

While the marrow is our equalizer.
In their own mouths the epithelial cells,

Tell true tales.

They are not listening to the DNA history.
Frenzied and foaming at the mouth with hate

They eat their own flesh.

 

Woe

Whirring insect wings

We cross the waters in papyrus vessels

Go! Swift messengers 

Tell of denunciation

From the sole of the foot to the crown of the head

We are unwell, we are grievously ill 

Like a drunk staggering in his vomit

We search for a land now washed away

You

You by my side

You standing near

You next to me 

You I hold dear

You are a need

Which I fill

As often as possible 

You are sustenance 

A Bird Fleeing From Her Nest Am I

Like a bird chased away from its nest am I.

Become a place of concealment to me!

Conceal me from those oppressing me;

Like a weight sinking down I am.

May those trampling others down perish!

Judge fairly to swiftly execute righteousness;

Haughtiness and pride and empty talk will come to nothing.

O, deep within me I am boisterous with pain.

So, spread out your shoots like mighty trees;

For with my tears I will drench it copiously. 

Rejoicing and joyfulness have been taken away 

And in the orchard there are no songs of joy.

That is why I will weep over the vine of Love.

With my tears I will drench you, O Love, 

Because your summer fruit and harvest have ended.

Like the strumming of a harp, my innermost self quivers.  

But, there will be no songs, no fruitage, no good season. 

Things Belonging to Dragonflies

Things Belonging to Dragonflies

I feel like a dragonfly who’s lost its wing;

No, I feel like the dragonfly’s wing, lost.

Left to flutter down slowly in the wind,

To dwell, an iridescent gossamer thing

Amidst a muddy range of things that kill

Dragonflies, and collect dragonfly wings.