through the swarming roar,
hands moving like waves,
hypnotic in the face of danger!
taking the goodness,
with thankful eyes seeing;
from that which stings and clings….
presenting to the world as a gift.
walking like water….
…seeking the shore!
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woodsmoke,
time suspended…the old neighborhood storeclosed, building abandonedto the rats…a broke down Chevy,a tent blown by the wind.children hunched shiver,the fire crackles and spits,trucks race by going nowhere…snow flurries, cracked lips.a can of tomatoes, corn,and green beans…a couple potatoes,the pot boiling slow..‘we the people’ lost,out of sync with time…the six o’clock newssays nothing at all!
my grandfather drowned
i was only fourteen,i took the call.in the whirl offuneral arrangements,preachers, headstones,and old hymns…too much was forgotten.he gave me my firstpocket knife, showed mehow to sharpen it….when i grew upi sharpened knivesfor all the womenin the neighborhood.i can still rememberhim taking me to the depotto watch the train pass by….when i see a train nowi…
change, evolving,
with every step…journeying inwardin the search forwhere we began…or perhaps where we end!is there any difference?other than the memoriesof breaths shared,steps taken together….meeting as if by chanceat the crossroads….walking together for a time.of such is history…..and the seeds that germinatein the frozen ground waiting….are but the bodies of our dreams….change?or just returning?
a spark of fire
a meteorite cutfrom an unknown planet.the memory of Goddrawn on cave walls…a nuclear blast,dust forms from formless!the heretic’s trial,fire and defiance.cold rain falling like needlesto the frozen ground.darkness and light;evolve and change….the human heart opens,wolves howl, babies cry.the wind blows a broken shutteragainst an empty house!
>
with hard eyes that cut like ice,and bled tears soft and deep…..smoked too much,liked a drink after dinner;tossed in sleepless rhymesof faces he couldnt name…colors drained to black and white,throbbing in his hands…carving the whispers of demonsand angels deep into the flesh,pulling infinity from human misfortune….possessed by a lovefor the beaten and downtrodden,carrying buckets of…
i gave you all the dreams i had
now the times are hard and baddreams have crumbled in the sandyou turn and walk awayyou turn and walk awayyou turn and walk away…hungry eyes are distant nowyou’re lost inside yourselfyou only feel what you allowyou’ve put me on the shelfyou turn and walk awayyou turn and walk awayyou turn and walk away…autumn slowly turns…
i just never stop praying….
every thought, every action,
every desire, every mistake,
every footstep taken…
whether forward or backward,
a human prayer,
……….conscious,
…………..or unconscious,
to the God of both light and shadow!
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i started a revolution today,
ants lined up in full gear,trees refused to shed their leaves.smoke swallowed the chimney,and cats laid down with squirrels.and every ray of sunlight,praised the coming night.small children read to old people,and bricks swayed to the beating heart.tiny things became heroes,and simple things became gods.gentle words held road signs,hobos shared their bowls of stew…rain buried gifts…
the tongue stuck…
of desire,throbbing for the candlelit by inspiration.a dropp of sweatfalls from the knitted browof god speaking forth…existence.when nothing remainsbut embers and ashes,the heart cries for the plowin the field of silence!a hunger within,much deeper, much sharper,bellows one word…beginning!and darkness becomes light!
i felt the bullet
the sickening gasp of lightlost in the void…i felt the emptyof your stomach turning,as you staggered weaklydown that long dusty road.i felt the bone crushing painas he struck your face,again and again….i felt the sicknessof the stench of the alley…i felt the fear and despair of the cell,the not knowing whenit was going to come…i…
i stare at my face in the mirror,
of the clock… moment by moment…every feeling, born and unborn,every taste, intoxicating, burning the lips…every smell, faint and overpowering…every touch… real and imagined…and who am i? and what have i to give?i am the sound that you cant define,cant put to words, cant control.i am the fire that warms you, and destroys you…the water you…
just taking a moment,
for all those who take thetime to read and commenton my poems…and to say thank you forall the amazing poems thati get to read of yours.also, a thank you to Poemhunter.be at peace!keep writing!
follow that star…
‘neath skies of poverty’s making…the simple, the common,the calloused hands,the baby’s cry in cold night’s grasp….the light so few could see…no temple, no righteous robes,only a carpenter and wife…no kings, no prophets,no blaze of fury….a child born in stillness,that stillness formed….abused, misunderstood,his memory used and twistedinto something else and less….never knowing, never seeing,the simple truth….the…
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by the different terms
we use to describe people
who love someone
of their own gender….
whether it be ‘gay people’,
‘lesbians’, ‘homosexuals’…
or whatever!
why dont we just
call them people!
and treat them as such!
problem solved!
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do i believe…
a perfected human beingwalking in total compassion…totally involved in lifeand living… immersedin meeting needsby selfless action…‘the Way, the Truth,and the Life…’
we walk in silent circles,
rivers weep as if they knew,somehow i think they do.buffalo prayers dry like bones,crows grieve as only they can.the Great Spirit sows deep with destiny,the sacred hoop calls forth souls.night bows in silent awe,waiting for dawn to undress the day.wild horses gallop past kerosene huts,where children speak the forbidden way.a voice returns to silence,leaving the…
i have labored for a thousand years
the storm…to bring peace to a war torn earth,to bring healing and understanding.i have bowed in prayer with all faiths,in temples, in mosques, in huts.i have come in many forms,red, brown, black, and white,male and female both.i have listened without judgement,i have felt what you have felt.i have known your poverty,and your anguish,and the insides…
from a tiny acorn
what a man cant finda child will know.only the heart knows the secretof where the wind blows….and that’s enough for me.from drops of waterthe clouds are formed.that go together tomake the storm.from the thunder and the lightningthe rainbow is born….and that’s enough for me.the feeling that i have for you,is the simple song i sing.your…
overthrow…
on the bent shouldersof the working poor.empty pots, andnowhere to lay your head…pulling bent nailswith a borrowed hammerfrom a tumbling down shack!overthrow…if you cant change it,break it! take it back!break free of the cage!though the guns are pointed,stand up and dare!nothing left to lose,and everything to gain…overthrow..
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danger electric, intoxicating,
walking on the edge,
flapping your arms
…as if you could fly!
the first kiss, the first warm bodied
lover naked in your arms,
the first taste of flesh….
the first whisper of secrets exchanged,
the first tear of parting.
the first battle fought, the first time
knocked down, struggling to your feet,
the first taste of blood,
the first questions why,
the first resolve to endure!
the first bareback ride,
the first motorcycle too fast,
the first spinning out of control….
the first laugh to hide your fear,
the first brush with mortality!
oh, that first taste of wildness,
that never leaves your mouth!
(inspired by a poem written by Shadow Girl)
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thoughts unbound,
becoming formless….permeated by rust and fire.yes, flesh rusts!hangs like a doorknob,waiting for the key!identity becomes sameness,diverse, and yet joined….you and i are mouth and heart,searching for the plate!footprints, and returning,we tug at the latch,or merely the wind!
the next great world war
within… within the heartsof the poor of all nations,struggling to survive,for food and shelter.in the hearts of the jobless,the homeless, the sick.in the hearts of prisoners,of victims…in the hearts of the takers,the movers, the ones that makethe decisions, that holdthe key and the whip.in the hearts of soldiers,of politicians, of the innocentskilled by the bombing.in…
the quickest way
…..into violent rebellion,is to attempt…to violently suppress it!every action..creates a like action…the surest way…to make freedom stand up……and fight,is to fight against it!you cannot put out a fire……with gasoline!you’d think they would figure this out!
the cum stained prayers
where brown eyed girls, head held high…wear poverty’s drench,backs strong and straight,amid the pale cries of babies birthing.roaches scatter, bare feet skim the floors,empty cupboards whispering moan.food stamp dreams, two days away,they call this America, dont they?the trailer wrecked, paper thin walls,duct taped tile by molded tubs.the broke down truck, the mailbox spills,unemployed and out…
mountain…
tree,newborn child,dying old man,fire in a clearing,moonlight reflected through a window….the prisoner,a vagrant man,the immigrant crossing the border….the young woman giving birth,starlight on wet grasses,the prisoner walkingto his own execution….an agnostic,a heretic,and a pilgrim….a child of god,a child of darkness….which am i?if not all!
>
..Buddha nature,….evolving,returning….uncarved blocks,waiting for the Woodcarver’s…deft hands,cutting away imperfections,weaknesses in the grain….returning to cosmos,…an ant working,a mountain slowlychanging shape over time….evolving,..from ashe….back to fire/to the moment before….it…..was…….lit!to the moment before that!the Woodcarver’s hands so familiar……as if ours!and the journey undertookby no one else!returning……evolving…back to the uncarved block…for there are no imperfections,, , , grain lost…
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your knives, your flags.
get out of your tanks,
your planes, get off
of your carriers.
stop the bombs,
the rhetoric, the patriotic march….
unball your fists, open your hands.
proclaim this a new day….
the first day of forever…
when humanity decided
to become human again!
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it’s a sad statement
when the fights at Wal-Martsduring black Friday rushes,received more news coveragethan the abuse of those protestingfor the rights of America’s workers….a sad statement…..enough said!
when a man
as a man…no longer respectedas a man…then a real manstands up,and stops it!the first word in humanityis human…the second word is man!both equal dignity…and both demand freedom!
overthrow…
on the bent shouldersof the working poor.empty pots, andnowhere to lay your head…pulling bent nailswith a borrowed hammerfrom a tumbling down shack!overthrow…if you cant change it,break it! take it back!break free of the cage!though the guns are pointed,stand up and dare!nothing left to lose,and everything to gain…overthrow..
or…
old green glass marbles,in a metal bucket.the old worn bra,drawing disability on the shelf.imaginary cowboys,and cardboard saviours.moondust sold at a county fair!oil dripping from a broke down car.spiders living in boxesfull of old photographs.the guitar that needs strings,and the half written letter.the coffee turned cold,and the spicket turned grey!words never quite born,the face wrinkled with…
just a two-bit guitar pickin’ poet
the fire still shining in eyesthat have seen it all,and then some….nothing in his pockets….grey hair falling ‘neath his hat,bathed in the morning sun;a half smile on his hardened jaw…going out to meet the devil,or the Lord, tomorrow or infinity,with a song and a dreamstill intact…. and a heartwhose door opens both ways…leaving the past…
whose voice?
whose footprints blown…lost to the sands of indifference?whose cry?whose hurt?whose human need raw?whose face without feature?whose hands stick out of the grave?whose blood?whose sweat?whose love given and gone….bitter in the mouthsof the living?
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gnarled hands,
missing fingers,
backs bent with time….
standing in front of
an abandoned service station,
down by the tracks
where the train dont run….
talking about the years,
talking about the work….
or not talking at all.
postcards from a time
when living was real!
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did i vote for the man
that dropped the bombson the family kneeling togetherin a tiny dwelling?did i?did i pump the gasto drive around townthat sent the armyto invade a small country,rich in oil….well, did i?did i waste the paperthat came from the tree,the whole forest cut down….that left the earth bare,and choking for air….did i?did i throw out the foodleft…
why do i write?
be it clever use of wordsand phrase… rhymes,cadence, hidden meanings….no, what makes it realis this: when you cantake the tears from ahungry child’s face…and write them with anaked hand… and givethem as a gift so intimateand near to the heart,that it causes someone elseto feel this hunger, andto want to do somethingabout it, to get…
Syria…
peaceful protestersmarching for human rights,equality, and changebeing slaughteredby their own government…now here…shadows of Kent State…common peoplepushed to the edgein the battle forsurvival, human dignity,and hope for a future…already abandonedby our own government…will it take beingkilled to get their attention?will it take dyingto give our childrena chance?you say it cant happen here!open your eyes, your ears,your…
if the earth stopped turning,
the skies held no rain clouds,the mountains crumbled, and fell.all the rivers ran dry,and the moon fell from the sky.the wolf walked away hungry,and the dawn didnt come…if all of this, and more,i’d still love you!
the old woman
food stamp traileron the corner…withthirteencats…died two weeksago.they found her today;and animal controlcameforthecats.the county camefor her…there wasnoonetocall.a few linesin the paper…nopicture.cremation,for all involved!
we often feel as if we’ve been betrayed…
but the truth is we lead lives of betrayal.times we fail others, times we fail ourselves.times when we mean to do the right thing,and dont follow through.times we excuse ourselves bysaying we’re following our heart.times we turn away,and blame it on circumstance.times we dont dare to do what life demands.times we choose indifference,times we think…
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begins with
a hammer and a saw,
16 penny nails,
the sun at your back,
and a willing tree!
wiping the dirt
and the fear from
a small child’s face,
with bare hands,
calloused and rough,
tender as the petals
of the long rose opening
in front of an empty house….
picking up the stray dog
hit by a passing car,
going too fast to stop,
or to care….
load him in your truck,
and off to the vet….
who trades you his time
for a bushel of beans,
and help building his porch….
real poetry written
on outhouse walls!
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long shadows cast,
the bare branch scrapesagainst the windowof the house left vacant.the desk left cluttered,as if in waiting.the candle half burned,naked without fire.the woodstove cold as ice.the gravel drive now virgin,the mailbox rusted shut.the yard oozes like an open wound,in the womb of stillness.nothing moves, nothing at all!another world?maybe it never was!the rope tied in a noose,the…
timeless…
the taste of sweat on a lovers neck.the sound the shovels makefilling the grave,and the moment just beforewhen life fled into the sunset.the burnt fringe of the letteryou saved from the fire.the echoes of passion…in a box in the closet.the silence just afterthe guns stopped firing,just before the world found its way!the spoon in the…
with garbled tongues and mouths ablaze,
with angel’s wings and demon’s dreams,trying to rhyme the holy sound.into the depths of human need,far past the touch of grasp.the broken glass feel of the naked real,that doesnt have to ask!we forge our peace with weapons of war,our gods are never satisfied.swords converting, phallic spurting,deciding who lives and who dies.we drink the earth with…
if you press
you will taste the ocean…the beginning of life,and eons.dont let the sound of the waves terrify!curl into the rhythm and the pound!forms ever evolving,in the quest for light!seaweed, and rolling darkness,mounting as if some god.thought opens the hand,and names the fury,that stillness best expresses!drink deeply, my love…so we are driven!no limit to the vastness.look up…
Labor Day….
and cant pay the rent…lost my benefits,lost my house,cant retire,now or ever…cotton mills, furniture factories,truck driving, house building…cant afford to fill up with gas.run down trailer,better grow your own food.dont get sick,cant go to the doctor.they’re bashing unions,cutting unemployment off.cant send your kid to school,cant afford to be buried…those people in Washington,and those on the…
i am the stranger,
the rebel, and the lost one….my voice is a small whisper,my body a twig.i am the gift lefton the doorstep of the unwanted.i am the prayerthat even god does not hear!i am the child no one wants,the woman no one loves.i am blood on the hands,i am guilt, and forgiveness.i am the old man’s touch,that…
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of fighting tooth and nail
just trying to survive.
of standing up
and getting knocked down,
again and again….
of feeding one of the hungry
and turning to an empty pot.
of doing the right thing,
and being accused of the wrong.
of staying true to convictions,
and losing it all….
of helping someone up,
finding i dont have enough hands.
of taking the time to care,
finding it’s not enough…..
giving all that i’ve got,
and it’s still not enough…..
of sleeping alone,
or not sleeping at all;
something’s gonna change…..
soon!
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the angry young man,
whose mother worked two minimum wage jobs,just to give him food and shelter…who lost her jobswhen the economy fell,and became sick with no insurance…the angry young man,who robbed the convenience store,and while trying to avoid capture,killed a young police officer…who left behind a young pregnant wife,and a three year old little boy,left without a daddy….the…
back about 30 years ago,
finally found a job… was lucky enoughto have a place to take a shower…sleeping in the backseat of a brokedown Ford Maverick… cold winter…got up and walked 4 miles to workevery morning,4 miles ‘home’ in theevening…went on for a couple months beforei got a place to live…so yes i know what homelessnessfeels like…and i cant…
listenin’ to an old owl,
just listenin’ to an owl,waiting on the world to end.baby, if you aint my woman,you know i aint got a friend.i’s prayin’ for deliverance,just reaching for a line.prayin’ for deliverance,reaching for a line.aint got nothin’ in my pockets,nothin’ that is mine.read the holy book, highway signs,and a letter that you wrote.read the holy book, highway…
1. they’re not like us!
….they wouldnt be!3. God wants us to be successful.4. wars have always been, and always will.5. they’re all going to hell!6. them boys are paying the price of freedom.7. we’re only responsible for the people here!
love is a scar…
that no one sees…a moment of lostnessyou cant regain…is an avalanche,a hurricane, anunnamed tear…a moment of softness…the rage of anger.love is a swagger,a limp, a dance, a curse.the taste of lips washedaway by the rain…love is a reason,is madness, a hungerthat cant be fed…love is a scar…with your name…written on it forthe world to see!
the curtain is drawn,
a year of hardship and need,packed in a box,stored away to be forgotten.we stand on the stage,stripped naked by necessity,forced to choose…ending, or beginning?the end of economic hope,the end of the environment,the end of individual rights,the end of capitalism…the end of the common man,the end of morality…the end of human dignity,the end of the road…
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in the slow pot…
morning hangs,
duct tape lives
in the balance….
eyes wide open,
looking both ways…
grab a smoke,
and a shovel….
join in!
wiping last night’s love
from the corner of the eyes,
or maybe just memory,
and an empty chair….
long autumn day
on the path to deliverence….
rice and beans,
in a duct tape world!
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we live in an angry world…
by greed, by intolerance…we have lost direction.and we are to blame.we can go to the moon,build great buildings, cross oceans,talk to people around the world via the web…yet we cannot stop hunger,cannot eradicate poverty,cannot provide shelter and medical careto the masses…come on!we are led by insensitive wealthy people,who sell our souls and bodiesfor nickels and…
when you take the crippled hand,
a healing takes place!when you take the crippled heart,and put it with other wounded hearts,compassion begins!when you take the crippled spirit,and teach it the words of freedom,wings are loosed!when you take the crippled man,and restore his dignity…he changes the world!
your head upturned,
sunlight in the rain,turning colors o’erthe prism mountains…hungry for life,to fill the emptythat you cannot name…naked, unashamed,you wipe the wrinkleswith childlike hands!
and I and I,
the garden of you,and spider webbed dreams.pine sap running, hot and molten,my tongue rests…inside your soul.love me dammit,or write me letters.send them to‘destination unknown’!buy a dress for my funeral,a hat, and new shoes…any color but black!inside and inside,peeling layer after layer.conversation of sparrows,struck mute by flesh.you taste sweat of summer,i am past late autumn.the gods…
from a tiny acorn
what a man cant finda child will know.only the heart knows the secretof where the wind blows….and that’s enough for me.from drops of waterthe clouds are formed.that go together tomake the storm.from the thunder and the lightningthe rainbow is born….and that’s enough for me.the feeling that i have for you,is the simple song i sing.your…
there is a still joy in the night,
when shadows come to life,and time is forgotten.and intimacy is restored.one can almost taste the darkness,the scent of trees, and grasses,bathing in moonlight.the dog barking in the distance,is as near as only far can be.somewhere lovers wrap in passioned ardor,and children sleep in make believe wombs.and god walks naked beneath windows,and by locked doors, sprinkling…
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that he’d been walking forever…
the night was brisk and cool….
a half moon, and a few stars.
every step he took he let go
of something else….
all the things he’d thought he needed….
all the things that got in the way!
pride, hurt, anger, need, and
all the images he had of what should be…..
he walked up to the door, and knocked….
she opened the door just a crack…
‘what do you want? ‘
‘i just want to hold you,
to feel you close…
to smell your smell,
to taste your taste….
to listen to you breathe
in the darkness…
to hold you while you sleep….
that’s all i want,
and the world can go to hell! ‘
she opened the door,
…and let him in!
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one out of three
living in poverty?what happenedto the land of promise?children hungry,children homeless,children that wontget a good education!children, broken families,children without future.children without love….turn to hate!build your cities,build your banks,build your kingdomsdrunk on oil and blood!your children, dying….who digs their graves?who closes their eyes?who prays for their souls?
i dreamt…
your blouse inthe semi-darkness.the faint smell ofyour wanting filledthe room…i was stunnedto find your chest split open.i could see your heartbeating with hunger.i softly caressed it,and could feel the turning,of time and season,want and desire.then suddenly you were gone,leaving dust on my fingertips,and an aching in my soul!
we, who are stoned by the struggle,
whose hands tremble a littleas we unbutton the shirt…whose eyes dim still see.whose bodies smell like bodies,whose feet need to be washed.whose hearts whisper in the empty night,whose souls restless roam the earth.whose dreams have become the small things,whose breath smells of brandy and smoke.whose doors are unlocked,whose beds are offered…we, who are drunk with…
social consciousness…
awareness of suffering,the key to unlock the door.compassion constant,the universe revolves.from birth unto death,from death unto birth.the face of the begger,the face of god.the hand you offer,god’s only hands.the action of giving,the heartbeat of freedom.social consciousness,the flesh of eternity!
Your hand
On your breastIn your eyesOn my mindIn time’s expanseOn faith’s roadIn taste’s budIn trust’s windowOn passion’s table…In God’s heart!
in the end…
it’s what you give…that endures!
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pitch it where it’s dark.
dumpster diving for your food,
thrown out by the rich and rude,
who have artificial hearts.
doing day work, dont shirk,
sell your soul for nickels and dimes.
gotta be Goodwill or cheap thrills,
hopped up on stolen pills,
gonna end up doing time….
the horns blow, patriots rise.
somewhere another innocent dies.
stars and stripes in the land of lies….
freedom bows her head and cries!
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morning half-frozen,
issues hang like cloudson the horizon…bigots and racists,money bred liars,blowing smoke on the scene,and the movement continues.more and more people,more and more voices,standing up in all corners,change has to come!right way, wrong way,too many jobless, homeless,too many left without…Constitutional rights takenunder pretense and hoax!not going to fly,that dog wont hunt!America cries out for helpfrom the…
change the world, change me!
the wings of my dreams join the birds,preparing to fly south.the fireflies of my passion,lay down the final gauntlet.i let go of my thoughts,and listen, just listen!we walk a thousand miles,to become seed and dirt.the world that was distant,now the sweat on my brow.for i am the world…change me, change the world!
you can send the lie in the form
form of food stamps, in the formof Medicaid, in the form of newpolicies, in the form of charity…but the truth is you dont give a damnuntil you are willing to share allyou have with fairness, until you’rewilling to put your shoulders to theload, until you’re willing to getinvolved in the work of equality!
you return again,
softly knocking on the door….or maybe it’s a train,on some distant track,hurtling somewhere with purpose….or maybe just winter,blowing hard against autumn,wrapping all that has been life…in the silence of the snow….or maybe it’s tomorrow,returning today to yesterday….this moment of living to memory.or maybe it’s just my heart,calling out to my soul….listening for an echo….you return…
your fingers the match,
they tremble as ifmemory unsure.your lips the wine,this body the glass.drink long and deep,before the moment is gone!this storm will break,the earth ravaged with passion.the grain deep in the woodbrings forth leaves from the void!and love itself,needs no reason or answer.the candle chooses fire,this body the glass!
is my skin too light, too dark?
am i too poor, too radical, too passionate?do i live too hard, love too hard?do my thoughts and feelings scare you?too raw, too honest, too prone to make mistakes?guess what! i’m just a man!a human being, just like you!sometimes a train wreck, always a believer,always ready to get up and try again!no apologies, no regrets,…
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sweat…
…dripping
……from
……..the
…. ……forehead
of the old man cutting wood
for the single mother of three….
tears
…falling
….from< br>……the
…….eyes
of the young woman holding
the orphaned child close….
the sky lit up with ‘enemy fire’….
the open hand
that
…does
…..not
…… .ask
………questions!
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when political idealology
then the political systemneeds to be changed.when you have to be richto be ‘voted’ into office,so that you can controlhow poor people live,then the system needsto be taken down!when one man’s votedoesnt override one corporation,then the system needsto be abolished!one vote, one revolution,one goal, one people….each with the powerand dignity of one!
it is in the small things that we die,
and the silent scream of forgotten things.in the scent of pine needles fresh fallen,and the sound of the creek crossing rocks.in bat droppings, and abandoned nests of straw….in smoke curled into the candle.in squirrels’ prayers to fading light,and the sound of tires on an endless road.in clouds hanging just above the treetops,in the single chime…
a call for revolution…
branches bud with leaves in the autumn,butterflies arrive to bring the snow!every window opened, every lock is broken,every pot is filled, every table shared.the language of ears sees no colors,and dignity wears no chains.prophets return to being carpenters,and poets till the earth.soldiers lay down their guns to become fathers,nations give way to family.the faces of…
he’s just an old man…
of his own small storefor forty years…the young toughskept robbing him…grabbing stuff off the shelvesand running…threatening him,and the old woman…till they lived in fearday and night…then they went too far!coming across the counterand grabbing him by the collar:‘give me the money, old man! ‘quick, and sudden,the gunshot rings out…the young tough fallsto the floor in…
the poet burns, and burns, and burns…
read by this light…tell the ones you lovethat you love them…here where shadows cannot destroy…take the bread of this body,and feed just one of the hungry…take these eyes, let humanity see justice.take these feet, and walk the path.take these hands and build a home.take this heart, and love your neighbor…take these wings, fly free at…
runaway daughters
wearing Wall Street suits!
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fall
..like
….rain
on
..a
….tin
……roof
too often lost in the shuffle.
an open heart
receives
…and
…..turns
…….the
………bowl
………..over
spilling kindness onto
…the face of need!
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equal rights to live,
equal rights to believe,to speak out, to stand upand be counted.equal rights to work,equal rights to study.equal rights to build.equal rights to profess faith,equal rights to pray.equal rights to give…equal rights to live,equal rights to love!
if you are created
i’m not sure i like your God!or at the very least,not His actions!salvation, and capitalism,are two seperate things.compassion does not kill,does not starve,does not enslave,does not abuse!you speak of Satan,and his cruel horrors.perhaps he is your god!that would explain theblood on your hands!
i wont waste my time crying
that didnt….over battles i fought and lost,over lovers that walked away.over loved ones that diedtoo soon, always too soon.over kingdoms i built that fell.over mistakes i madethat i cant change….over dreams that werent real….but, dammit, every timei see the face of a hungry child,dont matter what color, or where,dont even matter whose child….i cant help…
quit…
i’m going to hellwhen your daily actions,and mostly inaction,validates the conceptof hell for less fortunatepeoples around the world!salvation’s not a…social club!
scarecrow in the yard,
the walls stripped baresmell of ham and beans,the sounds of laughterand crying trappedin the cobwebbed corners.across the street a homosexualman peeks through the curtains,his breath of amaretto and nuts…watching the old man and womanpack the remnants of a lifeinto a car, nowhere to go.setting down his cup he walksout the door, across the street….starts carrying…
change the world, change me!
the wings of my dreams join the birds,preparing to fly south.the fireflies of my passion,lay down the final gauntlet.i let go of my thoughts,and listen, just listen!we walk a thousand miles,to become seed and dirt.the world that was distant,now the sweat on my brow.for i am the world…change me, change the world!
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in a God that you’re afraid of?
that judges harshly, prefers
one group of people over another?
that you have to pretend for?
that you have to deny your humanity for?
that you have to hide from?
tell me why!
my God smells like rain,
thunders, with flashes of lightning.
whispers like the wind
blowing through the leaves.
runs like the river over the cliff.
caws with the crows, howls with the wolves,
mates with the deer, falls like darkness
on the tired and weary…
wipes dirt and excrement from the body
of the malnutrated child….
takes the gun from the hand
of the man bent with rage….
holds the broken and dying
in arms always open…
gives a hand to the fallen,
loves beyond reason,
without condition, without stop!
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on the coming election…
i voted for President Obamathe last time,and will vote for him again.for the simple reason…no one of any conscience,with any kind of humane platform,is running against him!for the working poor…(and there is no middle class)to vote Republican,is like standing on the trackswaiting for the train!enough said!
i have tried, especially in my later years,
more than i do, whose understanding isdeeper…people of diverse backgrounds, who holdstrong opinions… strongwilled people, whoare not afraid to speak and to stand…and i’ve worked hard on learning the artof listening… you’d be amazed what thereis to hear!especially old people, who’ve worked andstruggled for years, passionate people withdreams, hopes, and needs.what i write is a…
dont talk to me of skin color,
in fact, she runs with the wolves,clothed in fur and claws and teeth!sometimes she is the moonlight,lighting their path,other times the wind,carrying their howls back to herself!dont talk to me of skin color,talk of blood! red, pulsing blood…flesh and sweat and desirewrapped in human spirit!
we
ourselvesmostclearly…< br>intheeyesofotherpeople…< br>in their struggles,their mistakes,and their triumphs!
three people died today…
now the only name i go by…is you!
he said:
without a lover,trying to do the right thing…then one day i stood up,packed my few belongings,and walked off…in search of…’i watched him as he rolleda cigarette, his gnarled handssure and steady…stared at the light in his eyes,and the doors…only he knew whatwas behind them.bought him a cup of coffee,and shook his hand,no need for words…wondered…
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with ancient cathedral voices,
but only to those who listen!
babies speak…
with first cry at light,
only mothers’ ears hear!
bombs speak…
but never of freedom,
oppression’s lies, loud and brash!
hunger speaks…
distinct human faces,
lost to the indifferent roar!
lonliness speaks…
lost in self losing color,
black and white emptiness!
God speaks…
but no one listens;
lost in those clouds,
slowly drifting away!
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we have crawled back
made primitive by technology,still drunk with past successes,we would deny the pain of loss.conditioned to become nonpeople,we build divisions and walls…that in the end become our prison,and finally our graves.what are we so afraid of?does it take being slappedin the face by devastation?does it take being hungryto bring back taste?the god we’ve wrapped in moth…
an old woman poet,
doling out plate after plate,to the line of faces…taking the time…to ask each their name.a young student poet,jerked from the picket line,beaten, and arrested…now sits in jail.the young man poet,just home after a 12 hour shift,went next door and mowedhis elderly neighbor’s grass.a young girl poet,took in the stray cat,fed it, and held it…and rocked…
it takes the hand
to find the heartof a clownand paint it on the faceof a homeless manstanding by a barrelin the alley…that has no fire!to look in the barreland see an old mankneeling in front ofa sobbing child,deftly removing a splinterfrom his tiny shaking handwith an old rusted knife…while a sparrow takes flight,as the clouds on the horizoncome…
some people, a very few,
allowing them tocontinually be born…bearing the seeds of revolution,far before they know the sound.becoming ever more conscious,light revealed before thought dark.to find that age and time,bring forth the child again.and the more time passes,the more the need to be simple.returning to the land,made of original dust!
>
are hungry this morning?how many childrenwithout a home?how many childrenwith only one parent?how many children…..with none?how many childrenfaced with no future?how many childrenthrown to the side?how many children….and how many know?
freedom doesnt come in black or white,
doesnt like being lied to,used, or bartered with….is not a commodity on the highest shelf,out of the reach of most….is not concerned with owning,and will not be owned….freedom doesnt have any one religion,is not capitalist, or communist!freedom is often quiet, but when it speaks,the whole world has to listen!
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that i cannot write,
the raw and simple beauty
my words cannot define….
the fire too hot, too close,
singeing the corners
of my heart.
the pulsing of life itself,
that began before,
and will last beyond….
you are the touch of life,
that i follow madly,
pen and brush in hand!
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in every touch almost in passing,
in every thought that no one can see,in every darkened corner.in every sign held up in protest.in every picket line thatshuts down traffic.in every stolen car,every empty house broke into.in the bag of groceries that will not last.in the gun put down,in honest revelations.in the prayer prayed beneath the bridge,in the pair of boots worn…
the trees are alive!
if you’re still,you can feel their pulse,waiting….chainsaws and axes,matches and hearth.you are alive!just below your numbness,if you’re still,you can feel your pulse,waiting…chainsaws and axes,matches and hearth.God is alive!just beyond your conceptions,if you’re still,you can feel eternity’s pulse,waiting…chainsaws and axes,matches and hearth.
have you ever
plowed a field,cut firewood,caught a fish,and cooked it overyour own fire?have your children?what happens whenit all falls down,and we have to start over?who knows how to survive?and who will teach others?
joy, peace, stillness,
seems like it shouldnt be so hard,what else is there that matters?we keep looking the wrong way,keep turning our backs on the truth.forgetting where we came from,with no idea where we’re going!life runs like sand through our fingers.we race madly towards the flame.are we moths, would be gods,or just small children,who’ve lost our mother?
be true to your own paths.
that is your own.each of you is on a journey,that only you can take.there will be storms, tragedies,and fleeting moments of triumph.above all, keep on walking.be respectful!respect the people you meet…their thoughts, their feelings,their religious views,their sexual orientation,their way of life…but be true to yourself.doubt all things!question all things!even what i’ve told you.prove all things…
rape is a horrid act of violence
a terrorist act against the victim!anyone found guiltyshould be dismembered!whether the victim be female,or male… they should be treatedwith the respect due a wounded soldier….the human heart knowsthat when one of us is disrespected,we have all been disrespected….in this knowledge lies the keyto healing!
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you dont have to bring anything,
to do anything, to be anything….
other than who you are…
dont worry about where we’re going,
or when we’re going to return…
just grab a coat, and come on!
it’s good to be alive!
we can talk about everything,
anything, ot nothing at all!
just walking side by side,
breathing the very breath of life!
let’s go walking!
i’m waiting just outside
….your door!
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capitalism…
raised against the childrenleft without a country!the fire never quenched,that consumes the nameless,and scorches the feetof those of conscience.the empty house padlocked,the stove unlit…the vampire kneelingbefore the cross of the lie!
the majority, the 99%,
a new tidal wave of slavery,that feeds the wealthy,and starves the poor!robbed of human rights and dignity,faceless numbers in a line.jobless, homeless, hungry, and angry….again, bodies on the block!now more like Rome than Greece,we implode on ourselves!fires burning, storms raging,the howl of humanity’s voice…the bloodied shores weep and tremble!one people, many colors, battling for freedom,we’re…
there’s been a lot of talk
let me tell you about heroesthe single mom making minimum wagetrying to go to school, and keepher babies clothed and fedthe school teacher who, uponlosing funding, takes his orher own money and buys suppliesthe young businessman who stopswhat he’s doing, and goes andserves in the soup linethe common joes who sitin protest of the oil…
I am the tongue,
The fallen nest, the unnamed star.Conceived from dust,And forged from steel.I carry the nameOf bodies without faces.I bury the bone,And tend the fire.I wash, i bandage,I thrust, i stink.No more than stone,No less than wind.I am your heart,Calling your soul!
when all of the world’s supply
what are we goingto fight over then?
title get you?
have enough to eat?does he/she have heat?is he fixing to be evicted?is he lonely? hurting?have you asked?have you spoken to him?do you know his/her name?do you care?
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fallen multicolored leaves,
turning, crumbling, dissolving…
rainbows of flesh,
returning to the source,
feeding new beginnings!
joy!
breathing, touching,
listening with the heart!
the chance and the gift,
another day, another moment!
joy!
someone to talk to,
someone who cares!
who sees you just like you are,
and still loves you!
joy!
the prayers of bare limbs,
reaching out and upward,
with gratitude for what has been,
and the promise of what comes!
joy!
deep, unfathomable, unchained,
and electric pulsing….
joy!
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total awareness….
in every dropp of rainthat falls….i can feel your eyessearching the darkness…i hear yourcum cries in thescree of the hawk….i feel your clutchingin the wind againstmy face….i reach your depthsdigging in therain damp earth…i fill your cupof longing withthe brandied sweatof the soul…i feel your nearness,can taste you inevery breath i take….there is no lightbeyond…
i climbed your highest mountains,
went stomping with elephantsthrough you darkest jungles.stood between you and the gun!walked barefoot in your snows,sat imprisoned in your cell.made the leap, and dared to fly,wiped the tears from your face.built a home for your heart,with human hands and sweat….bandaged your wounds,took your curse…how is it then…that love conquered me?
touching you again
making love in a churchon a weekday.sunlight sifting throughthe stained glass windowsthrowing colored shadowson the empty pews,the smell of burnt candlewax,closed hymnals.and stone silence.a cold brass offering platewaiting for your heart!
bottom line…
what authenticates the giftis the giving!love is a trail of tiny sacrificesmade over small fires at nightto an unseen god.the word ‘god’ is a failure,much less the concept.we try to define the ocean,and cant contain the wave!prejudice, our greatest weakness,comes from the fear of seeingthe sameness in all the colorsof the rainbow.the Freedom Riders took…
i dreamt…
i stood in the netherlands,waiting for what came next…i heard a voice,that made my soul tremble…a voice that had eyes.‘are you here to judge me? ‘ i asked.there was a great silence…then these words cut through the dark:‘no, judge yourself! ‘
my conceptions,
jammed with realitytill it bursts, and spills over…open minded?how could a grain of dustblowing through infinitybe any other way?how can a candlepretend to be a star?how can the soundinside the shell call itselfa wave?how can a blind manpaint the sunset?my conceptions,…just a nuisance!
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rolling over handprints,
cobwebs, and smoke stains….
over splashes of color,
over peels of time.
painting over the sounds
of voices whispering, laughing….
painting over tears hidden
from the world, from each other.
painting over running, and working,
working all day and half the night.
painting over children, and dreams,
folded like old clothes, and put away.
painting over notes from God,
that were often barely noticed…
painting over the nail that held
up the clock, hands moving slowly,
turning the seasons of living….
painting over the final words,
the last breath held in the hands,
of lives written in the grain….
the testimony of each feeling….
painting the walls,
and brushing the corners,
as if we never lived!
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little dirty faced boy
in the rain…no coat, no shoes…hiding behind cars,playing with hisimaginary friend…the old woman atthe window shakesher head…‘somebody oughtado somethingabout that boy…’closing her blinds,she pours anothercup of coffee,and sits downto read her Bible.
it is sad…
to legislate love.sadder still,when we seek to define loveby our own narrow perceptions,and call it moral law.diversity is not an evil word,neither is equality…the law of love is unwritten,unbound by concepts or prejudice…and can only be definedby the individual human heart!
well, i’ve known poverty’s ashes,
i’ve been to the place,where men face their fears.grieved the wars of the foolish,the indifference of those that should know.and known the bitter tasteof the seeds that we’ve sowed.i’ve seen the old woman dying,in a room by herself.seen everything she loved,put back on the shelf.felt the hate and the greedof those who buy and sell.i’ve…
the term ‘invade’,
be replacedwith ‘enslave’!the truth…often stinks!
doth molten steel have a memory,
does the tree shout for joy or weep,when it’s cut down and into firewood?does the river have a destination?does the moth call the flame god?does the dirt thrown on the gravewhisper kind words of farewell?does the unconceived baby remember dying?doth not god shutter at the name god?do the funeral and the wedding dance arm in…
We who sacrifice,
By struggle carved.By seasons bent.Who love as breath,Beyond all choice.Who follow no one,Yet walk beside all.Who born of grief,By joy purged.Take of the cup,And swallow deeply.Who formed from dirt,To dirt return.Then turn the wheel,By silent song!
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all too easy to overlook.
moments of laughter shared,
soft conversations about nothing,
that were about everything!
meals cooked together and shared,
long walks on autumn evenings….
watching old movies and in the hero
finding the same path, the same journey,
the same mistakes, the same triumphs.
cutting wood and building a fire;
making love, and the moments after shared.
harsh words, and then forgiveness,
as easy as turning the page….
this book we’ve written together,
another chapter, another day!
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what if i took the time
every grain of sand,even the deserted webblown by the wind!every unwanted child,every family made refugeesby war, or by poverty.every angry kid on the streets,every forgotten man in prison.would my work be finished?what if i took the timeto wipe away every tear,to clean the wounds of the wretched,to fill the bowls of the hungry…to touch the…
civil disobedience…
peaceful rebellion.when, by choice, the freedomof one is sacrificed for thefreedom of many.believing that all men, andwomen, are indeed equal…in needs, rights, beliefs, and desire.believing that no manever owns another man….that dignity is not for sale.believing that no man, or woman,is ever free until all are free….and all share the right to respect,and the right…
if i set fire to my heart,
and stop, a stranger in the night,to warm your soul?if i broke the glass of my dreams,would you pick up the pieces…would the light shining on them,become the prism of your thoughts?and if i shed my leaves,would you say farewell to the swallows…and rake in the stillness, waiting on snow?if my silence shouted…would you hear……
god is the moment you stop to listen,
the time you spend walking beside,the last bite, the last dollar, you share.the day you take the time to care,every small act of kindness.the tears you weep with,the lonliness you fill…the cup of water, the gentle caress.the hands on your neighbor’s shovel,the stand you take though ridiculed.the honesty that wears your failures,and embraces the failures…
if you live by the lie,
then you cannot afford the luxuryof honesty at all costs.that is why….America has fallen!
overthrow…
on the bent shouldersof the working poor.empty pots, andnowhere to lay your head…pulling bent nailswith a borrowed hammerfrom a tumbling down shack!overthrow…if you cant change it,break it! take it back!break free of the cage!though the guns are pointed,stand up and dare!nothing left to lose,and everything to gain…overthrow..
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sheds the skin,
comes out of the shell….
leaves the firelit cave,
for the darkness,
and shadows’ whisper
among the trees….
takes the kiss of wind
over the door well latched….
jumps from the ledge
never knowing how deep
or how cold the water below!
walks the forbidden mile,
fights the battle already lost,
with the conviction of desire….
brushes the nipple with fingers
piano key walking…..
almost kissing with fingertips
well worn and sure….
blows on the rain wet ember
believing in fire….
brushes the hair from your face,
watching, as you sleep!
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the hand of God, the hand of fate,
humanity, cursed by apathy,acts of murder in God’s name.national pride, guess what they lied,putting money in the bank.bombs falling, terror crawling,putting gas in the tanks.and the world comes crashing down.in too deep, the fearful drown.stand up and be, or just sit down.what goes around comes around.
throw up your hands
you’ll always besomebody’s bitch.or stand…and even if youget knocked down…nobody will own you!
if you live by the lie,
then you cannot afford the luxuryof honesty at all costs.that is why….America has fallen!
God died yesterday…
He sent me His last breath,smelling of bourbon and good cigars.i went into the holy of holies,and found a dirty little boy playing…he told me he saw angels in the clouds,i told him they were bringing rain.and off we walked together,stopping to marvel at the trail of the ants…needing nothing more, and nothing less,than to…
it takes sweat,
tears, passion and wetness…it takes hugs, deep thinking,the root of anger,and the bridge of kindness…dirty feet, dirty hands,naked hearts,the stink of bodies…joining, touching, standing,falling, getting back up…cursing, praying, singing,breathing, fucking, holding close…smiling, giving, sharing, losing,giving a damn….listening, reading, searching,questioning, believing….daring, trusting, flying,sitting in deep silence waiting…forgiveness walking,gut wrenching talking,seeing the beauty living…touching, tasting, smelling…you and…
scarecrow in the yard,
the walls stripped baresmell of ham and beans,the sounds of laughterand crying trappedin the cobwebbed corners.across the street a homosexualman peeks through the curtains,his breath of amaretto and nuts…watching the old man and womanpack the remnants of a lifeinto a car, nowhere to go.setting down his cup he walksout the door, across the street….starts carrying…
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of all the things
that stand between
me and myself!
of all the fears
that stand between
me and you!
of the weight of all
that i have done,
replace it with the freedom
of all that i’ve given….
take away the wants
that have impeded my desire…
give me back the purity
that doesnt have to be defined….
allow me questions
that need not be answered….
allow me to walk
following my own footsteps….
strip me bare…
so i can find my way home!
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true moral fiber…
respect yourself!respect the earth!respect your neighbor!(everyone is your neighbor)respect the search for truth.respect justice!respect the rights of human beingsto be human beings!respect the need of each and all!living thus…will not allow you to respect,acts of injustice,acts of ignorance,acts of prejudice,acts of greed!be respect!
dont try to sell me
with your streets of gold,and angelic harps…i am not interested!in the presence of God,(i didnt name her that, you did!) ,all your spiritual writingsbecome mere pornography,your church bells tiny bellson the legs of ants!i walk with her through povertyand despair, touching, reaching out,and touching.holding close the child that’s dying…sitting in the cell with the prisoner…
last stop…
last doubt,last door.last key,last chance.last hunger,last want.last prayer,last anger.last dream,last touch.last hand,last equality.last prejudice,last scar.last miracle,last echo.last image,last thought….last stop!
computer technology,
skyscrapers, housing projectsswallow up the green.spray your food, get a pill,walking in a dream.safe sex, forced abortions,and nothing is obscene.and the sound of the heartshakes the ground.hunger burns, the sea churns,and babies drown.you pray to God,but your prayers fall amid the furor.in the temple of the self,bowing down to the mirror!
our spirit, a tree,
and passages of living….our body, merely leaves,turning with time and passion,till they fall, crumble back to earth….and that which we have lived,fought for, and given….just hidden grains in the wood,that sing on moonlit nights!
just for once…
take the fingers off the button,unload the planes…open your churches to the homeless,your homes to the hungry…turn your prayers into ears,that listen, hear, and care!give somebody the best gift of allyour time!hell, it’s Christmas…let’s act like we understand!
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mankind’s fear
lashing out at
the heart of mankind….
small minded thoughts
governing universal infinity….
the failure to feed
a hungry man’s hunger,
bringing about the need
to kill him!
the blindness that keeps
us from seeing ourselves
in each other…..
the arrogant greed of the few,
the inhumane answer….
war…..
never brings the intended result….
war…..
the profit machine,
trading lives for control!
war!
the wrong choice,
failure, and loss!
war!
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our love is spillt
amid the rubble ofdecaying leaves, andunnamed frost…only an echoof living remains;and the promiseborn in memoryis not enough.the arms and legsof our passioncut up as firewoodand left to dry.our cries of hungerdiminished, fadeinto the sounds of the windfreezing the panesof windows locked in death.epitaphs scratched in stoneand children that took wing…now voices no longer familierspeak of…
the earth weeps
lost in the darknessof passion and greed.turned away from the limitless skiesof their father…..turned away from the breastsof she who succored them….burning the home they live infor the sudden rush of fire!breaking out the windows of hope,eating food they cannot swallow.wild hogs,blindly, stupidly,destroying everythingin their paths…..the crumbs of their insatiable lusthanging on their chins,their eyes…
i have labored for a thousand years
the storm…to bring peace to a war torn earth,to bring healing and understanding.i have bowed in prayer with all faiths,in temples, in mosques, in huts.i have come in many forms,red, brown, black, and white,male and female both.i have listened without judgement,i have felt what you have felt.i have known your poverty,and your anguish,and the insides…
that book on the shelf,
waiting in silence,untouched and unread.the crack in the window,rainwater seeps through.the lamp by the table,you never turn on.the axe in the corner,covered by shadows and web.the limbs ripped from the tree,blown by the storm.that old photograph album,pictures yellowed by time.the guitar in the closet,waiting to be strung.and the sound of the ocean,in the shell you…
a forty dollar galvanized bathtub!
to heat on the old cook stove…i watched you bathing in the kitchen,in the old house down on Henry River.fried Spam and pork ‘n beans,moonlit trips to the outhouse….stray dogs on the porch.endless truckloads of wood scraps;we made love through winter nights,so cold in the room you could see your breath!you licked the frost from…
i do not wish to be great,
i have no desire to be the train,just a common plank on the track.i do not brandish light for the blind,i walk among shadows without a noise.my name could be key, wellhouse, or pump…my voice the sound of a sparrow hatched.i taste like old trees,and rain falling from a rusted gutter.i’ve had long conversations with…
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my feet are red….
my eyes are green,
my hair turned grey.
my soul is Asian,
my spirit Native American….
my hard working dedication,
……..Hispanic…..
my people come from Ireland,
and some from Africa….
anywhere where the persecuted,
…. cut and fled!
working in the fields,
the factories, and even the mines….
cutting wood, milking cows,
working for the man.
i am human!
and i’m damn tired
of being used!
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it’s hard, so damned hard!
and pound your head against the wall…knowing there’s no way in hellyou can make enough to survive!house gone! car gone! savings gone!no insurance, not enough food to eat!husbands leave wives, cant do it anymore!wives leave husbands, want a better life.and it only gets worse!the only thing that we havethat they cant take awayare the people…
God died last night
they’ll find the bodyin a week or two.funeral arrangementsin the back of the paper…no viewing… cremationis all that could be afforded….and the world rushes onin an angry ball of fury;while children die,unnoticed and unnamed.and the homeless and the hungryare stacked in the ditches…unholy sacrifices toHis memory….leaving the unclaimed ashesto blow in the infidel wind!
my hero when i was a kid
my mother wanted me to bea preacher, so i read about Jesus,and His life… they killed Him!when i was nine years old,and in the fourth grade,they killed JFK in Dallas….just before he pulled usout of the Vietnam lie……by this time i had questions,i knew something was wrong….they went on to kill Martin Luther King,Robert Kennedy,…
evolving…
interbeing, involvement.dead people dont walk,dont fill the bowls,dont wipe away tears.an island at the mercyof a raging ocean…but wind and mountain co-exist!only the rhythmof the soul walking beside,validates the journey.ashes, ashes, new plowed earth,two sets of hands on the plow!we fill each other’s bodieswith a shared and dependent fire!
your hair falls in layers as if
all mystery abides… your eyesmoan, a deep and gutteral spirituallonging, the history of mankindabiding there…your lips, silent, motionless…yet those eyes the painter’s brush!nightfall itself bows in gratitude.beginning and end, again and again,as if the earth breathed somewheredeep in the softness.i see the first fire, the shadows onthe walls of the cave. and i heardrumbeats in…
where do we go from here?
that oppress and drive without conscience.we’ve been fed for years on a steady dietof lies, of half truths, of illusions.and now the walls of the false kingdomhave come tumbling down…we have been driven by fear to participatein their unholy wars… by misguided imagesof patriotism… by a graven image of what’sright and wring…and we’re not buying…
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standing in line…
waiting for a bowl of food,
a blanket, a kind word…
people…
standing in line….
credit cards ready,
faces twisted with hatred, , , ,
which line are you in?
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i spend a lot of time
dogs and cats,trees, abandoned buildings,gardens plowed…old outhouses,worn out shoes,candles burned down,and wet matches!i follow spirits in the night,bathe naked in the moonlight.whisper to old tire swings,pray with tin roofs….listen to the agonies of slugs and snails,and rescue turtles from homicidal men.i write names in tire tracks,and sweep footsteps into dust.i burn old coverallsin sacrificial offering.i…
i drink the cup
i revere your scars,your bruises,the stink of your heart.the scent of your eyes,the silence of your ears…my tongue writes your bodyon infinity’s glass!i listen for your voicebeneath the trees.i feel your nearnessin the hoot of the owl.i share your anguishby the silent small fire….the horse i ride,bears your name.i am the ghost of city streets,the…
climbing the ladder…
one hand on the rung above,one reaching downto the person below…of such is life,its secrets, deeper meaning…and the whole of the reasonwhy we are here!
we have lived too long,
what else can you call it?when the hand chops off the foot,and paints the face of an enemy…when the fingersallow the toes to starve…and trees and mountainsstand in line weeping,waiting to view the casket!
i took an axe
every blow a blow forhuman decency, equality, and freedom.and i sawed it up into logs,and built a fire with them.into the fire i threwprejudice, hatred, greed, and apathy.i watched it burn tillnohing was left but thecrackling of the embers…even the wind grew still in prayer!
i follow…
the footpath of the sparrow,walking on airto infinity’s arms.the rustle of the skirt,bare feet on the floor.the hum of the pot,simmering on the stove.the cry of the spider’s web,falling ever so slowly…from its home in the corner,safe from the broom.the lick of the dog’s tongue,both raw and gentle.the snail trail of the beadof sweat on…
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with hammers ablaze,
the wall that stood between
today and tomorrow….
crumbling down to dust,
hatreds and prejudices,
greed and apathy,
pride and ego…..
the wall that divided
humanity from the human,
the hungry from a meal,
the slave from his freedom….
the homeless from shelter,
the sick from the cure…
the child from his family,
and hope from despair….
tearing down the wall,
with hammers ablaze….
eyes set on the goal!
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‘a man’s supposed to provide for his family…’
or working whatever job they can get,for half of what they’re worth.half-drunk, and pounding their fistsagainst the wall…(praying for a gun)i know how it feels to be trapped…dont tell me we’re not supposed to be angry!
she lives her life
shuffling papers, washing dishes,sweeping the floor.sipping on sterile water,her hands squeaky clean…even her cat’s been declawed!he comes in from work,both tired and bruised.his pants are dirty,his hands ache and throb.pours a small drink,and lights up a smoke…sits quietly with an angry stare.two worlds revolving,two distant shores.the phone rings, wrong number,there’s a knock on the door.she…
the question we have to ask ourselves
Christian church?would He choose to be American?or would He walk the starving roads of Africa?would He flee with the women and childrenin the countries bombed?would He be a political force,or a political dissident?would He be a capitalist, a socialist, or an anarchist?would He self immoliate with the Tibetan monksin the name of freedom?would He carry…
i have heard the cry of the lonely,
the squirrel who dreams of wings,the mountain melting with need to wander.the child orphaned by war or poverty,the monk on fire for a world that’s blind…the beaten body in the prison cell,the door opened, no one there.the naked body weeping on an empty bed,the voice calling without echo.the tongue that walks the rainy night…the moon…
snowflakes coming,
a mad rush to Walmart,a fight for the deal….too many lights, too many adds,credit cards and borrowed diamonds….plastic Jesus’s ‘neath plastic trees!and all the while the soup kitchenstruggles to keep up….the shelters already full….and the homeless walk the streets.young men dying overseas,young men and women dying on our streets…a boy waits in his cellfor a…
capitalism…
raised against the childrenleft without a country!the fire never quenched,that consumes the nameless,and scorches the feetof those of conscience.the empty house padlocked,the stove unlit…the vampire kneelingbefore the cross of the lie!
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glaring white in the morning sun…
with open graves before them,
and the smell of fresh turned earth.
cars speed by going nowhere;
people walking, as if lost….
the phone rings, no one answers,
the book, unread, stares from the shelf.
trees almost bare softly whisper,
dollar bills blown by the wind…
the old man sits by the station,
counting by number,
and not by name….
rows and rows of tombstones,
waiting for gifts unwrapped
by time!
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and if we choose nothing,
the body has to be willing,for truth to have a voice….there’s sharks in the water covered with oil.the melting pot simmers, comes to a boil.it’s struggle and try, hard work and toil,the talons bared, and the snake is coiled….as slavery takes hold on American soil.equality the plan, the plot is foiled!and as the wind blows…
gonna march barefoot on Washington,
gonna stand on the steps,take off my hat,and tell then that common folksare still about!gonna sing them a song about working,something they dont know much about!show them a picture of my house and family,a picture’s all that’s left.gonna hand them a dollar bill,make them read,‘in God we trust’…ask them what this god looks like!gonna, gonna,…
an old Esso sign,
standing in the corner.empty block building,windows broke out,wind whistles through the dust.an old set of shackles,hanging on a peg.two broken chairs,and an empty coke bottle.lost on the roadthat no one travels anymore.an old rotary phone…a tattered flag on the floor.an old Chevy up on blocks,black crows flying overhead…i sit down and light a smoke,staring at…
i am the barn set ablaze,
i am the coal mine,and the miners lost…the spider’s web thatcaught their families.i am the refugee,no home, no destination.the convict released,with nowhere to go.i am the erection, the file,and the hammer…set aside, covered with rust.i am the mirror, the candle,and the book of matches…i am the way stone changes!i am the prism,put away in a…
old men find stars
that young men never see.see years in every moment,and know to be silent.they know the futility of wars,and the bitterness of loss.they know how to be lovers,lost in every movement, every scent.they know about tears and touching,are familiar with the empty placedeep in your soul.they know about freedom and failure,hardness, softness, and death.old men say…
the most intense part of lovemaking
and the world dies, and is born anew.storms rage, oceans swell,trees are bent with longing.paths touch, and are deeply burnt,and thousands of years are spoken…without a word, without a thought,infinity revealed in touch!the candle flickers, goes out,and darkness itself becomes light…wolves howl, and the moon whispers!
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gotta eat, sleep, need somewhere
to stay, need a job…
just want to be treated like people,
equal in every way….
and my Hispanic neighbors,
hard working, working together,
(we could learn from that!)
taking care of families…
human beings with human needs,
just like us….
Asians, Native Americans…
all just the same….
all of us just people….
want to be treated that way!
folks are just folks!
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what color is justice?
what language does it speak?what does it smell like?what kind of house does it live in?how many cars does it own?is it Republican, or Democrat?does it pray in tongues?or sit cross-legged and chant?is it male or female?straight or gay?does it have a degree?or does it work in a factory?does it work in a mine?does it…
i cannot get past the image
between the dead bodiesof his mother and father,tears running down his face,praying….if we do not take responsibilityfor what is wrong in this world…we cannot claim responsibilityfor what is right!
if we lit a candle tonite
for every family that’s homeless,for every drug addict without hope,for every soldier fightingin an unholy warfor every immigrantfighting for a chance,for every prisonerthat becomes a victimof the system.for every victimof violent crimes.for every husband and wifewho cant find their way,and give up and walk away.for every child with a disabilitythat doesnt get a fair chance.for…
we live our lives communing
dwell within us.whose voice do we hear?whose image do we bear?whose work do we do?the most profound truths,often so simple,that it confuses us!deep wisdom lies in the conversationsbetween real peopledaring to be honest.deep wisdom, and healing!and the ears that have eyes,are the wings of the eternal!
if i undress your eyes very gently,
did the great wings of hungerscar the skies of your soulless darkness?is the screech of the owlhidden in your tight numbed lips?does the snail trail of my body,still cling to your need in the moonlight?must my fingers fumble with the latch,and my footprints haunt your sleeplessness?or am i just the tree that fellin the fury…
we have spent centuries
and making sacrificesto our own fears!afraid of death,and so afraid to live,we race maddened to the flame.trying to conceivean ideal, afraidto see, to touch,the reality before us!god looks alot likethe people we’re bombing,smells like the homeless manin the alley,weeps with the hungryinto an empty bowl!you want to touch the sacred?touch the stranger,the orphaned child,the addict…
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too long too often
held down, beat down,
treated like second class,
no class, throw aways…
no voice, no choice,
emotional garbage….
mankind should bow
it’s head in shame….
beauty, intelligence,
heart reasoning….
human beings with will,
equal in every way,
human beings with rights….
man! forget not
from where you came!
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a knock on the door,
i cannot bearthe suspense any more.the knob cold in my hand,the door sticks,then jerks open…nobody there, only shadow and wind.crossroads and forks,and hurricane damage.the scar on my heartbears your image,and your name.loves beats againstthe window of longingthat your body fitslike clothes well worn.we die again and again,both in triumphs and loss.would that i could diein…
a true education
in the human condition.a free societyallows the individualto be individual.a real communityis as responsiblefor the least as forthe most…the concept of freedombecomes a realitywhen based in mutual respect.equality demandsequal effort!how hard is thisfor us to understand?
when you look in the mirror,
when you look at your neighbor,and see god…when you look at god,and see yourself…then, you finally know!
i am a man of many colors,
raw and honest, you get whatyou see… i’m not hidingin a shell.you’ll know me by the partsof you that you see reflectedin me… by the understandingbridge between us….for we are family.i dont pretend to knowall the answers… but i amsearching, moving forward.i make mistakes everyday,and i know i own them!i’m just a man… but thatin…
it has been said
into being…and that Jesuswas the word of God.that we are createdin the image of God…that we are the dreamsof God made flesh…yet we open our mouths,and nothing happens!bats hang from the raftersof our souls.we speak, windows rattle,and wars begat wars.we write with invisible ink!no cosmos, no stars,only hunger and despair.our words close the door,and choose…
she stands on the corner,
reeking of sex, whiskey,and cheap perfume…just a kid, really;somebody’s daughter…lost in a maze of crack,and violent retribution…bruises on her face,her arms, and her heart…no way to go back,nothing to go back to…around the world, orjust a little head…either way,she gotta pay the man,gotta feed her need…and somewhere there’san empty room, in an emptyhouse, on a…
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his hand was shaking…
i looked into his eyes
as he reached for the till.
i could see the faces of
his woman, and his children….
could feel the hungry murmur
of their waiting in the darkness.
could smell his fear,
maybe even my own….
could hear the siren
of the coming blue…
cold desperation….
the hands on the clock,
stopped!
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everyday,
of something elsethis just makes merealizehow many more thingsi haveto let go of!
every morning i awaken
by wise men and cattle.every afternoon i stand and jeeras they nail his hands and feetto the cross…and every night i weepat the distance i have travelled,looking for the starthat i lost in the clouds!
i took off all my clothes,
i’d made of myself!threw away all my pretensions,and gave away my few belongings.learned to speak without moving my lips,laid aside the well conceived lies.laughed in the face of my fears,walked to my enemy with an open hand….only to find my enemywas just another version of me….and what i’d been afraid ofwas the very truth that…
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the other at her throat.they fired the volley,folded the flag….and buried her only son.she didnt know about politics,didnt know much about the war.she only knew what she believed,about right and wrong, , , ,about her country, and salvation.he’d been a good kid,all boy, found trouble pretty easy.but he listened to her,and he believed what she…
must poets live in exile?
streetlights dancing on the lampshade,thrown into the trash.in conversations with rats,sleeping with ghosts in empty buildings.immigrants without papers,pawning blood for a drink.by fires on the fringe,stirring the stew made of hope.eyes blackened by the smoke,laughing with small children.painting revolution on sterile walls,sharing bread with mongrel dogs.lovers without a country,homeless, going home!
and so we struggle,
choked by the cord.conceived in darkness,becoming light!we are hearts made of feet,feet that walk the path.feet that slip and fall,feet that take the wrong turn.feet that keep on walking,sore, tired, hurting.feet of desire, and purpose,feet of soulful intent!all the great philosophiescome to this…feet that only stop walkingto bandage other feet;then walk together,leaving one set of…
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from the housing projects,
and the trailer parks…
month to month,
till the checks run out…
food stamp cards,
small items stolen and pawned,
trading pills, or meth for
day to day…
the walking poor,
a multi-colored sea,
lapping at the shore of prosperity
like a bastard dog….
salvation army dressed,
often mission fed,
preyed on by the holy
bent on their salvation!
unemployment lines,
struggling for GED’s….
going to school just long enough,
to use the grants to survive!
joined by the elderly,
foreclosed, and beaten.
in chairs, on canes….
not enough for their med’s,
not enough money to eat…
and now the factory ghosts,
their lives sold out;
their calloused hands idle,
dangerous with anger….
walking the streets,
staring in the windows
still open…..
with bricks in their minds,
small caliber handguns in their thoughts…
the walking poor….
beating a path
…to the capital!
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or…
old green glass marbles,in a metal bucket.the old worn bra,drawing disability on the shelf.imaginary cowboys,and cardboard saviours.moondust sold at a county fair!oil dripping from a broke down car.spiders living in boxesfull of old photographs.the guitar that needs strings,and the half written letter.the coffee turned cold,and the spicket turned grey!words never quite born,the face wrinkled with…
he said:
and bound for hell.for you are not a discipleof our creed…i cannot pray for you,you wear the mark of Cain! ‘i smiled, and replied:‘ah, but i read the scripturesof the human heart,written by the indelible handsof passion and time.i lift in prayer the sweat and the tearsof hungry souls struggling to survive.i sing the hymns…
how can we profess to follow any sacred
it’s like peeing in your bed!even my dogs when they were puppies,knew better!
why is it so hard to talk
when time and years and chapters,testify in tired feet?the wars have ended,the guns are now still.even the storm left,a candle lit by the bed.do i know you?do you know me?or are we the sound…of doors opening and closing?i cant say your namewithout something in me dying…i cant see the sky,without seeing your face.are we so…
Magdelene’s hot tears,
fell like agony rainonto the bound corpseof flesh made holy.the stone rolled away…a sparrow flewtowards light beyond conception.and all of mankind,-mouths agape-stood silent by love’s fire,shuffling their feet,counting victories by bodies!while history itself,-began anew-yet no one heardthe shout of silence…except for the tearsof male benediction’s common whore,and a bird without a name!
throughout history, when the working people
to live lives of bondage, they have risenup and overthrown the government that oppressed them.when the few have ruled out of their greed,forgetting where their bread came from, theyhave neen taken down.now, more than ever, both here and around theworld, the common, everyday, decent, believing,working people have had enough!knowing, money doesnt make a better person,…
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you dont care cause you dont feel.
blackened faces, disappear without traces,
while you take what you can steal.
fallen dictators, well armed haters,
you propped up and took down.
call it democracy, i call it hypocrisy!
you’ve lost what cant be found!
why’s the truth so hard to find?
feels like the blind leading the blind.
just give us shelter, and peace of mind,
give us tomorrow, redeem the time!
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i remember…
55 hours a week.getting up hay, milking cows,and them cotton millswe worked in…family member to family member,generations of workers.no running water,carrying buckets up the hill,spiders on the outhouse wall.the hoe, the shovel, and the plow.reading by candle light,and writing socialist manifestoson a 1913 underwood typewriter!making love in the front seatof a 1966 Rambler Classic.raising babies,…
god smells like the shoes you wore
like your hands when you emptied his bedpan…like your tears when you stood alone by his grave!
i stare at my face in the mirror,
of the clock… moment by moment…every feeling, born and unborn,every taste, intoxicating, burning the lips…every smell, faint and overpowering…every touch… real and imagined…and who am i? and what have i to give?i am the sound that you cant define,cant put to words, cant control.i am the fire that warms you, and destroys you…the water you…
blue lights in the parking lot,
on rain swept streets….ghosts march in pedantic rhythm,in the land of ‘no touch, no feel’….the gas pumps beeping,always beeping…. shadowsfeed shadows… a stray dogdead on the side of the road….‘can you spare a coupla dollars? ‘….heads turn, and walk away….a young couple walking the tracks….going nowhere, hand in hand.you can smell the vacant buildings,can hear…
fifty eight years,
pathways of stone,of water, of wind…no footprints behind.small fires on dark nights,waves of stillness opening…the eyes of the breathing surround.touch! touch!echoing against the roar.words sealed on paperfor future fires!when scars become giftsleft on strangers’ doorsteps…for there are no strangers,soul unto soul.step after step,rain falling softly.smoke from the chimney,hangs like a prayer.face to face,lips touching lips,a…
how many of your sons and daughters
….you……sacrifice?sent off to your unholy wars…in your prisons, on your streets….to addiction, no hope, to bondage…..their futures traded as your stocks rise,their jobs sold away, their future borrowed.they believed that you loved them most of all…is…this…..what…….love…… …looks………..like?
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standing on the edge.
cant feed family, drug war society,
push you off the ledge.
Jesus in an SUV, religion without dignity,
while the hungry fall like sheep.
the working poor, just class whores,
bodies piled in a heap!
why’s the truth so hard to find?
feels like the blind leading the blind.
just give us shelter and peace of mind….
give us today, redeem the time!
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some of us are born,
and spend our lives,singed by lightning.flying madly like mothstoward the flame that devours,scarred by the beatings,just living to feel…loving the unspeakable,touching the untouchable…we smell like the disease,while eating the cure.driven by the need,lost inside the wind.but the flesh we eatis none but our own!set free by weeping,we walk on the sea.and roll away the stone,knowing…
the war machines
spend enough moneyevery eight days,to feed the hungryof the world for a year!what the hell are we thinking?if we fed the hungry,housed the homeless,took care of the sick,and gave everyone the chanceto work for a fair wage…what would be left to fight for?if we taxed the rich,and brought down the conceptof different classes…if we learned…
the lie hidden inside the stone,
slept waiting for nuclear rain,and the lamp that portayed the sun…then with a burst of reptile genius,grew and blossomed into a city,heavy with the musk of empty bodies…and they prayed beneath neon lights,dancing to synthetic music.as she devoured her young,on the day after progress!while gods wore masks and demons shuddered,to the sound of wheels biting…
looking for you…
i do to get by every day…in the clouds in the skythat turn at sunset…in the song i humthat has no name…looking for you…in the dishes i dry,and stack on the shelf…in the quiet time walkingwith my old dog…in the books i readin the failing light….looking for you…in the aches and the painsthis old body…
i guess i always wanted to be,
is folded up in the pocketof his coveralls…who sits with the small boy,teaching him to whittle,unfolding stories like chewing gum.who fixes the kite,finds the lost dog…and builds the fireon a winter’s night….who, staring at the first flakes of snow,smiles, and dreams of home!
i am for…
equal distribution of goods.the right to work,to speak out, to stand up…i am for truth at all costs,for freedom of religion…i am for peace right now,right here, and always.i am for education for all,for growing our own food.for breaking the curse of oil…i am for gay rights, and their right to marry.i am for diversity,…
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the many stand up to the few.
equal compensation, strong dedication,
demanding what they’re due!
human rights, the depths and heights,
hunger drives the soul to battle..
tired of chains, working for change,
putting faces on the cattle!
the first day of forever begins now.
tear it down, it doesnt matter how.
tired of lying lips and sacred cows….
the mind only buys what the heart allows!
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trailer park child;
stray dogs and cats…his momma a crack pipe,his daddy an old truckup on blocks…eating old cerealfrom the box with the rats…but he can read….eviction notices, Bible verses,and the warning labelson cigarette packs…the dirty prodigal son,no name, just ‘boy! ‘empty gasoline cans…a dead skunk in the road!
run your tongue
where my heartused to be….does it taste like you?smell faintly of your perfume?does it remind youof someone you used to know?we are what we bleedin the end…. my face is ashen,my thoughts burn like acid!i left my soul inside you,dried fluids clinging to your lips….the arch of your back,my destiny, and redemption!
the forgiven ones
wear hand-me-down clothes& old worn out shoes…the forgiven onesplant their seeds in the earthplow thru the darknesswaiting for the sun & the rainthe forgiven onesstand by the woman giving birthtake the orphans to their breasts& call now homethe forgiven onesshare the same languagelet go of their anger& carry each other’s loadsthe forgiven onespray with their…
whose lips do you kiss in your sleep?
whose voice do you hearin the shudder of dreams…whose hot breath upon your neck?whose wetness feeds your hunger?whose fire? and who stirs the embers?whose howl? whose mount?whose furred claw digging into your flesh?whose darkness… under whose moon!
naked, and walking in the darkness,
and the things we touch in spite of,are the better part of who we are.i travelled the world,or perhaps it was your heart.yet go to sleep a stranger,in a world yet undiscovered!
she said:
than the diaper i just changed,the baby i’m nursing at my breast…my mother’s old chairin which we rock,and the tear i shed for him,the longing, and the hope,while he’s out looking for work…’and opening the door,she threw the preacher out!
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people too scared to pray.
bodies burning, the earth stops turning,
cant go, but you cant stay!
terror threats, oil war debts,
children born into slavery.
political balm, the last chill calm,
the turning point of history!
the first day of forever begins now.
tear it down, it doesnt matter how.
tired of lying lips and sacred cows….
the mind only buys what the heart allows!
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softly…
on a fresh dug grave…and the mouth of the soulprays in unknown tongues,that the body inhabits.stars, but the reflection,of love dressed in hunger.i wait beneath the willow,thankful for the rain!
come…
in the river that does not choose.let us take our veangeful heartsand lay them at the door.let us dropp our arrogant poses,and reveal who we are.let us forgive, and be forgiven…for every child that dies of starvation,for every bomb that’s dropped.for every homeless family,for every broken home.for every prisoner, every victim,every hater, and their hate…for…
i slept in your homeless alleys,
walked the streets with the pregnant young girl,just turned away from the clinic.watched the family that lives in their car,buying sandwich food with food stamps.saw the old man pull the plug on his sick wife,and walk down the hallways to forgotten.and when each had finished their task,mine had just begun.i broke the window with the…
old men rust and creak,
wrinkle into their chairstill neither is one….having paid every pennyof the price of life,rung up, and forgotten…..shadows without purpose,untouched in the cold.every brick laid seamless,without distinction,or identity….old men wrinkle into their chairs,and no one knows.
when we buy clothes made in sweatshop conditions
cheaper, we are in fact supporting human rights abuse.when we buy oil from Arab countries that oppress andabuse their own people, and regulate women to ‘second-class slavery’, we are a part of that oppression.when we throw away or waste food while childrenaround the world are starving, we become the causeof that hunger.when we drive big…
i think about…
working in sweatshop conditions,for a couple dollars a day,who made the shirt on the shelf.the cows, pigs, and chickensslaughtered, after livingin horrid conditions,to fill the shelvesat the grocery store.i think about invasions,gunfire and bombing,every time i fill my tank.i think about the hungry,and the homeless…every night when i eat,and go to bed.i know, by my…
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even the violent pray for peace.
broken plans, empty hands,
burning flags and stormy seas….
wont buy the lie, it’s live or die,
waiting for the clock to strike.
drunk with loss, done paid the cost,
too many fingers in the dike.
the first day of forever begins now.
tear it down, it doesnt matter how!
tired of lying lips and sacred cows….
the mind only buys what the heart allows!
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>
human, animal, or plant,are spirit….all should be affordedthe same dignity and respect…any being taken for yoursustenance should be thanked!all living beings needto live in accord and harmonywith each other….for we all need each otherfor life to be full, andto stay within balance…..all living beings are spirit!
i know that
for i’ve seen the lovein a small child’s eyes!and yet i knowthat hell is real…for i’ve seen what we’re doingto these same children!
the hand i offer,
the caring hand,the giving hand,the get dirty hand,the pull you up hand,the work with you hand,walk beside you hand,the companion hand,the communion hand….the hand i offer,….without conditions!
run your tongue
where my heartused to be….does it taste like you?smell faintly of your perfume?does it remind youof someone you used to know?we are what we bleedin the end…. my face is ashen,my thoughts burn like acid!i left my soul inside you,dried fluids clinging to your lips….the arch of your back,my destiny, and redemption!
we are citizens
and foremost…one huge, sprawling,and diverse family…we are connectedboth in body and spirit…very much responsiblefor each and all!we have to stop killingeach other…we have to stopdestroying our home!we have to stop killingeach other!
and if there be peace,
when stars collide,and turtles bump in the night.when the stray cat sleepsin the homeless man’s arms.when the poetbecomes the poem….when the carpentercreates the world,and the farmer dividesthe land from the sea.when the candle exultant,lights itself….and the wind puts it outwith a kiss…when friends speak the language of ears,and follow unmarked trails to nearness.when the song…
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know that it’s falling?
does the green leaf know
that autumn comes?
does the unborn child
know his mother’s face?
does the murderer know
his victim is himself?
does the cloud know
that the rain is needed?
does the day know
it was born at night?
does the peacemaker know
that the bullets are his?
does the liar know
that the truth has won?
does the lover know
tis only a moment?
does the moment know
that it holds eternity?
and do the hungry, sick,
and the homeless know…..
do they really know
that they are human?
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twas a long haired revolution,
crosslegged beads, and a pipe,and peace was the chant.rainbow skins half naked,hearts full of trust.back to the simple,to the ways before ways.songs of redemption,wild eyed priests and prophets.when love was a thunderstorm,and hope was a moment!
wolves run
flesh and blood,hunger and desire!i am the wolf,i am the moonlight,flesh and blood,hunger and desire.the hawk glides,on the wind with eyes,peeling layer upon layerfor pulsing treasure…i am the hawk,i am the wind,peeling layer upon layer,for pulsing treasure.the river windsthrough rocks and trees,making it’s own path,on the way home.i am the river,rocks and trees,making my own…
i am the soldier,
i am the gas pump,guarded by guns.i am the foreclosed house,weeping and vacant.i am the oil rig,convicted of murder.i am the big truck,parked in disgust.i am the nursing home,with grave like beds.i am the field,unplowed and untended.i am the bowl,filled with empty.i am the boots,left by the door.i am the ache,the want and the need.i…
title get you?
have enough to eat?does he/she have heat?is he fixing to be evicted?is he lonely? hurting?have you asked?have you spoken to him?do you know his/her name?do you care?
lover, come now…
before the door finally closes,and the latch is locked.come now…as sunlight breaks the window,the hungry child seeks a nipple,and shadows create forms.come now…the guns are silenced,bodies left like token prayers.even the trees bent with longing.lover, come now…the bridge rattles and creaks,the waters suddenly calm,and the ravens have flown!
made by hand….
in a fine cloth….steps made of stone,laid one upon the other.shelter made of oak,cut and hauled,nailed together in the sun,able to stand the night.this window made of glass,allowing light and darkto intertwine….this old bed made of pine….the path to the doorwaylaid with pine needles….this old door always open….the light always on….this heart made by hand,waiting…
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expose themselves to the outrage,
and the ugly edge of indifference…
without a thought
for their own well being,
risk it all to bring about change.
not bound by the morality
of the fearful self-indulgent,
they open the wound
of their own failures and mistakes….
and so find the strength
to become fully human….
and so renew the bond
between man and man!
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addiction…
the last gasp of soul’s breathfrom the broken and wounded…the lie that erases memoriesfor just a moment,and then whips the heart with them….the car hurtling towards the cliff,out of control with no brakes….the voices of the deadcalling from the streets of hell!the chain around your neck,that only you can unlock!
the truth is
and tastes like vomitin the mouths of the hungry,the homeless, and the hopeless.‘make them hate each other,because of color or creed,make them afraid of each other,tell them they’re differentand that anyone different is dangerous’keep them fighting each otherwhile you steal them blindso easy, so easywake up, dammit!we are all human beingsmore alike than differentmaybe if…
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our bodies have been empty shellsdriven by fossil fuels!occupy Wall Street!occupy New York!occupy San Francisco….occupy the whole damned country!occupy our bodies!fill…the…..emptinessw ith…human…..desire,compassion….understanding…… and determination!the real revolutionlies in the human condition!
every thing i’ve ever written
to life.a celebration, a dance,a prayer.making love to the wind and rain.listening to the unspoken tearsof a child.believing, that even throughthe darkest nighta new dawn is coming.no matter how hard i’ve tried,(and i have)i just havent been able toform the wordless into words.maybe that’s why i’m still here!
if i made love to you with words,
would your heart race?would the moan of the windexcite you, make you tremble?would you see me in the shadows?if i made love to you with rain,would you stand in it tillyou were drenched?would you take off your clothes,let the water run down your body?would you kiss the clouds that bring?embrace the lightning?ride the great peels…
pour the water
watch it drip tothe floor…salvation ismerely the spiritleaving the bodyto go on a long journey…and then returning,bearing gifts…fill the cup again!
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the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door…
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man….
opening…
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul…..
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires….
opening…
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly….
opening….
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating….
opening….
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories….
opening…
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it’s home!
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lover, soldier,
fire, branches,ocean, shell.breast, thigh,feet, dreams.the key, the hand,the wind, and the echo.fury, stillness,wound, medicine.the tongue, the soul,the beat, the heart.
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my personalfallout shelter….when i grow wearyof the world’s assault!and, baby,i need you now!
Darkness and light, wrong and right
paper and smoke, churn and strokeprayers drip like sweat, slavery and debtWhite trash fires, unholy liarstruth falls off the edge, desire walks the ledgepolitical drugs, who picks the judgehammers of fear, moments lost to yearsGraves open and close, nuclear roseblack shadows turn, pages crumple and burnlightning or gunfire, stakes higher and higherdeath clock chimes, wind…
a new day dawning…
or how long the labor…dont know how badthe birthing pains…but the time of changeis upon us!let us work together withdiligence and determination,to insure the changeis for the good!we are the human race…let’s be human!
i never understood…
to be the ‘in’ thing,to be cool, to be hip,never understood the needfor fame…never waited to be pattedon the back,never wanted to be followed…i am what i am!nothing more, nothing less.a common man,with a common heart,a common soul,and common hard working hands.i can honestly saythat i have lived,i have loved,i have given pastthe point of…
the wind called…
down hard edged streets,past the abandoned and forsaken…through dirt and filth,grime, grease, and soot.down past the edge of town…i made camp by the tracks.haunted by the soundsof living now just echoes,echoes and shadows,shadows almost forgotten.haunted by the faces,the dreams, the fires now ash…the smell of need andthe harsh stench of hunger.i made a leanto from…
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…or get dragged! ‘
negative emotions,
….self oriented wants,
……any and all prejudices,
jealousy,
…anger based in ignorance,
…….ignorance itself,
false pride,
…false morality,
…..false judgement,
the need to own
….anything, or anyone,
……distorted images of the self……
that which you let drag you….
…….. owns you!
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perhaps i’ve said what i wanted to say poorly…
we are where we are becausewe’ve put ourselves here,we’ve allowed this to happen to us!we blame the government,we blame people who are ‘different’,we blame the economy,we blame god,we blame each other.bottom line, we are to blame.we cannot evolve as human beingswithout evolving as a society.we cannot evolve as people,without evolving as a nation.we cannot evolve…
through thorn and thistle,
across miles of desert….from day unto night…through sun through rain,through hail, through snow…i am returning!empty chains and shacklesleft by the door….the only burden be desire….the only truth that remainswrapped in flesh and sweat….step by step, moment by moment,redemption, and breath…i am returning… wave upon wave..to lap at your feet!
i believe…
in the awareness of the momentthat a man is no morethan he gives,and no less than his mistakes.that what we hate in othersis most often what we’re afraid ofin ourselves…that to live we must risk,we must try our wings!that the childremains your childeven when grown.that all the children,around the world,orphaned and starving,grasping for hope,are mine!that…
vomit stained lips quivering
between human and forgotten….clouds blow away!bloody feet children walkingbehind despair blinded bodiesnot even pretending to be alive.clouds blow away!gun in the belt roguesbehind blacked out windowssnorting forever dust, wild eyed….clouds blow away!old man eating canned dog foodwith a rusted spoon,sitting on a milk box, empty room…clouds blow away!young boy in the hole,blood crusted swollen lipscannot…
perhaps you then are my heart,
in the outlines of your face,do i sense destiny?are your eyes the last chapter?are your feet the lamp?am i just an old fool,waiting on the grave?
i am ready for autumn,
and there are nights when i waketo the taste of snowflakes on my tongue.i’ve turned in color, burned with passion,now i await the fall.the lips of my creek yearn for ice,i watch the birds prepare to fly!
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walking in clouds of dust.
open sores on the face
of the human condition….
yet we sit transfixed,
….with marble dumb stares,
numbed by the drug
…that fills the hollow
with ‘i cant do anything about it! ‘
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rain swept branches strewn,
frail egos brokenin morning sunlit pieces.of such is life…hands made of fleshbuilding hearts.storms come unannounced,and forever shattered.the rain soaks the embers,a thin wisp of smoke.stirred by the stick of time,praying for flame.are we then fire,or just smoke?smalls branches clingingto the tree…lightning in the distance,or hearts made of thunder?buds on the broken branch,or the fleeting instantof…
when they notified him
killed in Afghanistan…he went out in the yardand draped an American flagacross the windshield ofhis ’57 chevy…and drenching it in gasoline,he set it ablaze…and he sat on the porchwith his Vietnam Vet hatpulled down low over his eyes…sipping good Kentucky bourbon…when it had burnt downand he could hear the sirens,he took the 38 caliber smith…
the vase fell to the floor,
the broom in the corner wept.the box in the closet drew breath sharply,the book on the shelf turned away.the bulb in the lamp burned out.the spider packed up its web and left.the empty nest fell from the tree.rainwater gushed from the gutters.the young boy locked in his roomcrawled out the window.the neighbor’s dog barked…god gathered…
softly…
on a fresh dug grave…and the mouth of the soulprays in unknown tongues,that the body inhabits.stars, but the reflection,of love dressed in hunger.i wait beneath the willow,thankful for the rain!
those same children
that swallowed Atlantis….those same children,starving ‘neath Africa’s sun….dead from the bombingsin Iraq, Afghanistan, and soon Iran….their bodies thrown into dumpstershere in the United States….dead on the borders,dead in the oil filled waters,dead on the cocaine streets,dead in the prisons…dead in the colleges,dead in the unemployment lines….dead on the picket lines,dead, handcuffed, and beaten….dying, and dead,…
who will make your socks, your shoes?
and who will make your beds?those who sleep on dirt floors!who will grow your food?those whose children are hungry!who will bring you your oil?those whose blood stains the sands.who will write your poetry?those held in your tiny cells!who will build your houses?those who sleep in their cars!who will build your roads?those who wander with no…
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with your hand
…on my longing…
from some distant sphere.
pulsing, throbbing, hoping,
till
…my
….heart
……broke,
and fell
….like
……morning
……..dew,
on your eyelids,
..still drunk with sleep!
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rain falling…
tis blackberry winter…the earth groans, trembles,and shakes.birdsong and coffee,a warm place on the sheets.coat on the hook, shoes on the floor,but the body is gone.now its bad news, hate news,gunfire and heavy fog.night and day, black and white,the footprints all look the same.the tin roof whispers in rhymeto the cobwebs and shadows.the tree that fell…
prayer wheel turning…
the forgotten, theleft behinds…the throwaways.counting every grainof sand,every dropp of water.sweeping the inner roomsof the self.undressing the mindand its passions.holding the thornin an open hand.diving naked and deeplyinto life…without holding back!
my four-legged soul,
gnashing, gnawing, tearing,and howling…baying at the moon.my four legged soulcan taste the feel,can feel the raw….inside the blood,inside the flesh.soul devours darkness,darkness devours light…..running wild, and free,drenched in the moment!my four-legged soul….
i feel the heat,
sleepless at night,i see faces, i hear voices.the eyes of the stranger,write stories in my soul…my lips stay parched,my spirit panting, erect.the sound of the waves,deafen, and terrify.my religion lies in the bodieswalking without home…redemption the bedpan,the nurse loving takes away.the old man sweeping the steps,waiting on the child to return!
i am only as old
dollar signs in dimestore windows,milkshakes for a quarter.non-filter cigarettes and broken Trojans,long hair ironed with loving hands.when revolution smelled like sex,and god reeked of napalm.when young girls with hard nipplespassed doobies to wide eyed poets.and the streets convulsed with anger,that sat at the back of the bus.while religious M-16’s jammed,and radical students were beatenwith patriotic…
butterfly….
then gone forever,leaving only the echoesof your small fragile wingsriding the wind….eternity, an instant,nothing else needed,holding starlightin the palmsof hands made of dust!
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…are shallow graves,
for the children, unnamed,
and unborn….
how many of my thoughts
…are their tombstones,
standing, testifying
in the sun….
how many of my words
…are their epitaphs,
written with the greed
that feeds the self?
how many of my days
….at the expense of theirs,
and how can i not know,
or care?
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we, who walk with shoulders bent,
our very lives a crucifix, by design,our hunger unabated by the stars…pray with calloused hands grimywith the work of the heart.whispered deaths lost to the wind,nothing held back, or denied…we, who walk with shoulders bent,leaving bloody footprints in the snow…
the biggest step we take
is…the…..day.. ………we………….chooseto be honest….with ourselves.a matter of choice….….a day of beginning!
we have become lost children,
numbed by the face of our own hunger,we cannot recognize ourselves in others.having laid down the torch,we follow flashlights….praying to a god too indifferent to hear.a god created in our own image,complete with holes and burnt tongues.we blame the snake for our desire,and wear the mark of Cain.we build weapons made of fear,and bury our…
you tell me…
on a belief in God.looking at it fromthe Native Americans’ side…it would bebelief in your Godat the expenseof their God…and so it has beenthroughout history!i really dont believeGod kills off his competition,nor do i thinkmorality and freedomwere ever won with a sword.a compassionate Godnever goes off to war,never invades,never conquers by force.God is not a…
we who grieve are the children of journey,
our hearts are bruised, our backs are bent,our feet determined and weary.we who search the darkness to know the light,who are the beat and hunger of human existence.who cannot separate the suffering of those in need,who know that walls are bridges not crossed.we who stink of loss and sweat pure sin,who enter the temples of…
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i am thankful for every step,for every thing i’ve felt,everything i’ve touched,every taste, every smell,every living being i’ve walked with,for every bowl of food,for the blanket i sleep under,for the chance to livefor one eternal moment….for the chance to give,without asking back, or why!
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to accept the lie
anymore!
i know, beyond a doubt,
that all people are equal,
regardless of color, gender,
religion, financial status, or
political beliefs!
i refuse to believe
that i am all right,
when someone else
is hungry, homeless, or hurting.
i refuse to believe
that i am not responsible,
for i am most responsible
when i turn away!
i refuse to believe
that one person’s success
can come at the expense of another!
i refuse to settle!
i choose life, and life means living…
involved!
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what we look for is something deeper
the taste, we long for the substance.we run afraid of the dark towards theneon lights… but we long for chocolate,for broth, for fruit, for just bakedbread. we hear the rumor of ecstasy,but we settle for the numbness of notbeing alone… for we fear ourselves,and what is behind the door! we jumpinto bed and pant against…
contraception, or conception?
religious, or spiritual?walk the fine line!sexual, or sensual?erection of the soul.what they fear mostis what they cant control!truth, or illusion?which is easier to sell?war, or peace?profit paves the road to hell.skin color, or blood?the differences the same!too easy to forget,the people without names!the moment of truth upon us!we choose now what tomorrow brings!be it salvation…
real conversation…
honest, intelligent breathing.we’ve forgotten how to talk.we dont even know ourselves,much less each other…so caught up in the mad race,computer age shots of insulin….when’s the last time you said anythingthat lingered after you walked away?when’s the last time you heard anythingthat stopped you, made you think?when’s the last time you took the timeto feel, to…
the scrape of the razor
voices on the tipof the tongue of his thoughts….the smell of ashes and sulpher…the imprint of a rose petalin his palm…. bare limbed trees,and it’s not even winter.in the shadow of the mountainthat he couldnt quite climb….great black birds swoop the skiesthat almost touch forever.scriptures written with sticksin the soft clay of the creek bank….spider’s…
bumming around
sleeping under bridges,or just under…the night sky…working when icould find it.selling bloodwhen i couldnt!gather a little change,stop in a dinerfor a cup ofblack coffee…writing poemson napkinswith pencils…leaving them formy tip…unsigned, forgottenprayers, a forgottenman, a forgottentime!
i’m not concerned about the end of the world…
still fighting wars, that children around the worldgo to bed hungry, that families are left homeless,that men and women cant find jobs, that peopleare denied justice and equality, that children cantafford to go to school, that old people cant getmedical care, enough to eat, or a place to live…that lonely people cant find love…. and…
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…validate your life!
you are the only thing
that cannot be bought and sold
….against your will!
dont settle for someone else’s thoughts.
dont allow yourself to be owned!
dont allow your self to be controlled.
your mind is the door to infinity.
your heart holds the key.
think!
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if every man in America
with his own mouth,we wouldnt have a problemwith gay rights!if every man and womanin America knew they wereas responsible for their thoughtsas for their actions…we’d all be on death row!if every man and womanin America spent as much timetrying to help their neighborsas they spend trying to get ahead…we’d all be taken care of!if every…
she walks barefoot,
a long flannel shirt…her long hair fallingdown her back…she’s drunk on Jesus,sunlight dances in her hair…she smells like coming home,her eyes soft as she hums.nothing needed, nothing asked,a prayer wrapped around…light born from shadow,the flower opens!
dare we speak of freedom
when families are lost without homes?when speaking the truth has become a crime?when we bomb women and childrenin the name of oil?when the jobless roam long forgotten lines?when religions persecute each other?when prejudice is so deep we dont even see it?when poverty’s children have no means of escape?when the prison business thrives?and justice for profit…
pick up your tools,
haul off the trash…when you’re done.take down the signs.lay down your guns….leave your morals at the door!box up your visions,take down your cross…sing your last song!set the fire, fan the flames,turn off the light….when you’re done!
red. brown,
sameness…same thoughts,same desires,same needs,same wants,same fears,same goodness,same badness,same trying,same mistakes,same rights,same lonliness,same freedom,same hopes…sameness!
line in the sand…
the needle of debtexacts its cost.men are just men,dreams are made for sipping.the spirits of dead loversinhabit bodies at night.and the light flickers,grabs, taunts, is lost.we write bibles,coughing in the night!
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our own national parks
used as collateral
on loans from China!
water rights to the Great Lakes,
and other bodies of water here…
sold to China!
our jobs, Joe blue collar working
families…. sold to China!
our oil profiteer wars,
financed by China!
sleeping with the country
with the worst human rights record,
dancing with the devil!
and now, our own police forces
committing acts of violence
and oppression against Americans!
against American people protesting,
standing up for freedom and equality!
standing against the profiteers!
reacting the same way,
and with the same types of oppression,
as China!
our rights,
…our freedom,
……our dignity.
even our rights to work and survive….
sold to….
…..and even worse,
………..sold by!
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i am nothing but the moth,
no more than a body,borrowed by god!no more than the tear,that no one else saw.no less than the hunger,that you feel.i am nothing but the cross,and the hurt Judas felt.the day Buddha died,and the day you were born!the broken down shelter,made of branches and leaves.the mother holding the sick child,through the unending night.the rose that…
soldiers, soldiers,
ghouls without faces,in mechanical rhyme.paid for, paid off,eyes open and blind.hearts severed from the soul,soul severed from the mind.gunfire, racism,treat women like a toy.grown men without mothers,fathers, just boys.gang bangers, pimp daddies,kings of purgatory.bad drugs, bad days,and nights without joy.cant pay the rent, get a job,and prison becomes their school.no hope for nothing more than…
student protesters
peaceful waves lappingat the shore….but the storm is coming;students give way to workers,workers without food,without housing or medical care,workers without hope….angry workers,and they damn sureought to be…i know, i’m one of them!
we are but
tiny deathspoured intothe vasethat standson the tableby the window….by the bedin the roomthat onlyour mostpowerful longingscan enter….the addressknown onlyby love.
i believe…
are created equal…equal in worth, dignity,authority, and sacredness.that wars, for any reason,are wrong…that they constitute murder.that any governmentthat oppresses the manyfor the good of the few,should be overthrown!in nonviolent protest,and the way of the peacemakers.that the earth,and all living beings,are sacred.that prejudice is murder,that the faces of god are many…and that many,from various traditions,have felt…
what you gonna do
what you gonna dowhen they take your job?what you gonna dowhen they take away your healthcare?what you gonna dowhen they take away your children’s education?what you gonna dowhen they take away your rights?what you gonna dowhen they take away your freedoms?what you gonna dowhen they take away your thoughts?what you gonna dowhen they take away…
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things young men never
even see, running headlong
in their quest for battle….
so busy trying to change the world,
trying to mold the world,
trying to make a name,
trying to make a difference….
that they forget to swallow!
and yet when time comes and goes,
it’s not the big battles,
not the victories and defeats….
but the small things…
rare moments stolen, and lived…
simple breaths, taken and shared,
when just for an instant,
you could see, you could feel,
both how tiny and how big….
and the taste of awe lingered,
written in the heart of your tongue…
hidden away for the time
when only memory remains!
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education, education, education!
gender, religion, or living status….deserves the same chancefor a good education!quit laying off teachers!lay off corrupt brokers!lay off ineffective politicians!give the children a chance!it will cost us more if we dont!
i am the heart of stone,
my feet speak their silent prayers,my silence clothes their waiting.i feel the passion, the beat of stone,i am their embrace of both earth and sky.you are the fire both hot and cool,that defines the breath of their being.i am the time only mountains know,you the tick of the flesh born clock.as eternity bows with humble…
poetry is merely the human hymn,
we see and feel… touch, taste,and smell, and what we dont know,and cant understand. each livingbeing is a universe in itself, andeach is just a splotch of a patchworkquilt. when one being exhales, anotherinhales… the earth turns, night comesto relieve the day, morning comes tofulfill night… such is the rhythm oflife, the beat of the…
freedom of speech
freedom of beingit all beginswith the deep downindividual sparkthat allows the forceof being to be wholeyou can’t hold the windin your handsbut you can feel iton your faceshas not the wind a soul?yet it claims no identity!you are only as freeas what you let go of
you cant feed the fire
you cant touch the skywhen you’re afraid of the dark.you cant go to the manger,and pay the tax collecter too.you cant ride the river,after you build the dam.you cant bring about peace,with the guns of war.you cant stop prejudicewith fear and ignorance.you cant eat the poor,cant sell their worn out shoes.you cant pray to godwith…
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waiting for the water
to free…
only shadows stand between
this world and that,
fear has no name
other than we allow.
stripping away
the last vestige of clothing,
dance naked in the presence
of that which abides….
dance naked with gratitude
for that which endures!
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the face of my god is dark,
she whispers to fallen petals,and mountains and rivers speak forth.her lips call crows and name them eagles,her hands are filled with bowls.she names the darkness morning,and from the light she weaves the night.she bathes the human spirit,in the sweat of tribulation.she nurses the unwanted child,and places flowers on unmarked graves.she gives lost lovers candles,builds bridges…
a knock on the door,
i cannot bearthe suspense any more.the knob cold in my hand,the door sticks,then jerks open…nobody there, only shadow and wind.crossroads and forks,and hurricane damage.the scar on my heartbears your image,and your name.loves beats againstthe window of longingthat your body fitslike clothes well worn.we die again and again,both in triumphs and loss.would that i could diein…
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the God that you believe in,dont show me your temples,sing me your songs,or read me your scriptures.dont try to save me….show me by the way you livethat what you believe is real…and i will respect you,and walk beside you!
poetry is merely the human hymn,
we see and feel… touch, taste,and smell, and what we dont know,and cant understand. each livingbeing is a universe in itself, andeach is just a splotch of a patchworkquilt. when one being exhales, anotherinhales… the earth turns, night comesto relieve the day, morning comes tofulfill night… such is the rhythm oflife, the beat of the…
for every tree you cut down,
for every barrel of oil thatyou drill and spill,a child is dying.for every coal mine yourape the earth with,a child is dying.for all the nuclear wasteyou cannot dispose of,a child is dying.for every country you bomb,a child is dying.for every chemical you sprayon your vegetables,a child is dying.for every river you dam & drain,a child…
abandoned boxcars,
tumbleweed blown across the land.day work, no work,cigarettes, roll your own,keep a fire under the pot!old cars rusting,just left by the road…women and babies bathingin service station sinks.desperate hunger,knock down the clerk,grab the cash and run…while ghostlike cities moanand groan in the sun….smokestacks still write epitaphs,black caskets in a line!
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gut wrenching,
slap in the face….
America’s indifferent hunger
swallows it’s own poor,
drowning in their jobless stupor….
take, take, take!
now nothing left
but the crumbs of greed,
falling from the chins
of the unsuspecting;
who blindly followed,
in the name of God,
wearing patriotic boots….
souls made of the flesh
colored by forgotten need!
(inspired by Terence Craddock)
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talking, or not talking,
hand in hand…small kind gestures,a knowing wink,thoughts shared,quiet laughter…dreams that fall like starsthrough felt-like layersof darkness…dont have to be nobody else,no need to impress, or flaunt….a glass of wine,a fresh cup of coffee…moment by moment,alive and aware…friends make the best lovers!
>
of fighting tooth and nailjust trying to survive.of standing upand getting knocked down,again and again….of feeding one of the hungryand turning to an empty pot.of doing the right thing,and being accused of the wrong.of staying true to convictions,and losing it all….of helping someone up,finding i dont have enough hands.of taking the time to care,finding it’s…
it is in the small things that we die,
and the silent scream of forgotten things.in the scent of pine needles fresh fallen,and the sound of the creek crossing rocks.in bat droppings, and abandoned nests of straw….in smoke curled into the candle.in squirrels’ prayers to fading light,and the sound of tires on an endless road.in clouds hanging just above the treetops,in the single chime…
mercury, and bullets,
the used bear the marks,on their backs, in their eyes.and the price of the present,the childrens’ lives.we bury our dreamswith guns and knives.the earth weeps for us,as the sky falls down.cant see beyond our mouths,cant hear the sound…and the tears of the fallen,stand like puddles of rain.you can wash your hands,cant wash off the stain.we…
i look deep
of my soul…behind the doorslong closed,darkness layeredin darkness…before there were words!i see stones, wind,and great bent trees.and their voices soundlike mine!evolving,constantly changing,molded by lightand desire.what have i become?what will i become?time,an illusion,drops of waterclinging to the leaf.evolving,the hand unseen,the face deeply ingrained!
the mark of Cain
you killed Abel,his blood crying outfrom the earth,from every shore,from every land…your own brother,and nothing silences the cry!
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hand on the pump…
words get in the way,
when two hearts talk!
naked emotion,
and something more distant
than the remnants of fire.
stray leaves blown
by desire and whim;
the cut too deep,
the limb silently falls.
footprints scream,
with only the trees,
to witness, to testify….
too naked to lie!
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in every touch almost in passing,
in every thought that no one can see,in every darkened corner.in every sign held up in protest.in every picket line thatshuts down traffic.in every stolen car,every empty house broke into.in the bag of groceries that will not last.in the gun put down,in honest revelations.in the prayer prayed beneath the bridge,in the pair of boots worn…
hardness and softness,
darkness without asking,the sun comes without tracks.hammer and tongue,words too real to speak;at the end of the world,where time and timeless meet!
telegraph…
gravel voice…trees fall,no one hears…you cannot lie…in the momentof you and me.i know your smell,your feel and your taste.time writes with blood,feet within feet!love, the scar,that no one else sees…the color of watertinged with gasoline!
i often wonder…
skimming rocks across a lake,building kingdoms in the sand.do you hear what i’m hearing?do you feel the shudder, and the shake?do you lie sleepless in the night?do you walk barefoot into the darkness?are my words made of stone?of feathers? of dust?is my heart an open door,with no knob, no lock, no key?i cannot hold the…
i have never believed
as a worthless human being…yet you keep standingon the platformthat it’s betterto take from thepoor, the sick, the elderly,the minorities…to cut social security,medicare, andeducational benefitsfrom our children…in order to protectthe elite, the filthy richfrom being taxed at all…and you call this fairness…democracy in action!your blatent unfeeling arroganceis making me questionmy beliefs!
all the great wars
are just mere shellsof the battle within…what we lash out atis what we dont understandin our own hearts.what we have to understand isthat burning the housedoesnt cleanse the home!what we must liberateis merely our own self…then, and only then,freedom will reign!
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dont lie,
even cracked
with time.
dont make excuses,
nor try to please,
the truth’s the truth.
deemed good or bad,
a human collage,
light and darkness,
right and wrong.
the hidden thoughts
deny the right to judge,
and bring us back….
to the mirrors!
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the world will be redeemed
but by the open hand extended!
the sky has fallen,
the crumbled streets of heaven,destroyed by our hell!in the end the endis that which we bought,for the simple priceof the human soul!
there is a farther hill
there’s a light beyond this darknessanother step, dont know how farthere are wings and poet’s dreamsthat free and feed the hungry soula cross, a tree, a hidden paththat i can feel but cannot holdthere is a justice, a dignitya place where walls crumble and fallthere’s the truth beyond all fearsthat comes to one, and comes…
timeless…
the taste of sweat on a lovers neck.the sound the shovels makefilling the grave,and the moment just beforewhen life fled into the sunset.the burnt fringe of the letteryou saved from the fire.the echoes of passion…in a box in the closet.the silence just afterthe guns stopped firing,just before the world found its way!the spoon in the…
lover, come to me!
the sound, and the fury.the small patches of fur,left in the ditch.the stained sheet,the crack in the window.i am the barking of dogs,the song of cicadas…i am the broken plow,the hammer laid aside.the bucket full of rainwater,the tree bent by the storm.i am the bodies of the innocents,the nightmares of the guilty…the stink of blooddried…
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your knives, your flags.get out of your tanks,your planes, get offof your carriers.stop the bombs,the rhetoric, the patriotic march….unball your fists, open your hands.proclaim this a new day….the first day of forever…when humanity decidedto become human again!
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kneeling before the fire,
exchanging spit
with the shadows.
surrounded by ghosts,
familiar, and real.
laying aside all else,
reaching deep within,
kicking the ashes
from my boots.
flesh unto flesh….
daring to live…..
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soft cold early autumn rain….
there is a stillness now, and a waiting,though i know not for what.i’ve always been different,heard voices in the shadows.and often i dont know,whether i’m dreaming, or a dream.i’ve seen things that should have been nightmares….i’ve seen the hungry child dying in the rose that blooms!i look at people and feel their sorrow.i hear what…
on the road to Gethsemane…
farm lands scorched by the bombing.i pass the skeleton bodiesof young children who starved.i pass the unmarked graves,of young boys sent to war.i pass the flag of the liars,and the tents of mourning.i pass vacant factories,and houses left empty.i pass through cocaine streets,where all flesh is for sale.i pass the unemployed masses,and their desperate eyes.i…
democracy died…
freedom flew from the window,left a shadow on the perch.they buried equalityin an unmarked grave.put the faces of unborn childrenon milk cartons no one saw.they sold justice on the block,and invested in oil…now the only sounds in the wasteland,oil rigs pumping, and the cawing of crows!
brick upon brick,
every thought, every desire,every dream an ending,and a beginning…every word spokenclothing countless wordsunsaid, not conceived.every touch a grain of sandon an unknown beach.every fire built in the nightfinally swallowed by darkness…darkness unto darkness,and only memory ignitesthe birth of a star!
we go to war because we’re
because we are fed the propagandaof the elite, who use the bodiesof our young men and women tomake change!because we have been numbed byignorance, and have been led likesheep to the slaughter…because we are afraid to take onthe responsibility of being human!because by our indifference we allowourselves to be!
when i meet you, and stand up
i dont see a white man, a black man, Hispanic,Asian, or Native American…i dont see male or female,learned or unlearned, rich or poor…i dont see Baptist or atheist, Muslim or Buddhist,Catholic, straight or gay…i see a human being.i choose to respect you.and expect the same from you!
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eyes looking up with love,
too young, too true
to their hearts to lie….
too free to hold back,
too full of life to doubt….
too near to the darkness
to fear the light….
too close to the magic
not to believe….
love untouched, undefined…
…the teachers
…….we all pray for!
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‘over the hilltops,
among all the treetopsyou hardly feela breath moving.the birds fall silent in the woods.simply wait! Soonyou too will be silent.’Goethea knock on the door,Hermes,the messenger,come to gather and disperse!we run like maddened chickens,to escape the mossy handsof the grave.yet time comes, again and again!all the shiny thingswe stuffed into our bags,fall like empty bellsto the…
if we all took one candle,
one candle…symbolizing peace,within and without;celebrating understanding,and the willingness to understand.symbolizing compassion,and the desire to acceptall men and women just as they are…the dedication to feed the hungry,house the homeless,and heal the sick….one candle…one humanity, diverse and individual,praying, working, sweating, loving together….the dignity of onedefining the dignity of all…lit one candle,and put it in the window…
the gristled old man,
late afternoon sun,the water still.his old dog,sleeping on the bank,in the shadeof an older tree.which?
the old woman,
clothes dirty and worn…lies alone in the bed,except for the cat…shadows whisper, she moans,as if closing a book.even the hungry walls are silent…the pages of the booktattered and yellowed.her teeth broken or gone,her fist clenched tight,the comfort of no one,the prayer to no god.the clock on the wall ticks amen…her spirit taken, her fist opened,a…
old washed up six-gun poets,
backs bent from laying track.faces lined with wrinkles bearing chapters,calloused hands and worn out feet…whose revolution was it anyway?at night we prayed for the treesthat we’d cut that day…spoke words of gratitudefor the deer that fed us.sitting round small fires,we sang songs of tribute….while the moths gathered,and wolves stood at the clearing’s edge.we laid with…
the darkened streets
lights come and go,eternity breaks the glass.and right and wrong,frozen on the ground…smokestacks, abandoned cars,vacant buildings ran by rats.the hungry hand,the mouth of poverty.the addict’s needle,the body in the alley.the woman beaten,her face blackened and bloody.the click of the hammeron an empty chamber.and the houses beckon,with lighted roomswhere shadows move ina most familiar way.the smell…
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..Buddha nature,
….evolving,
returning….
uncarved blocks,
waiting for the Woodcarver’s
…deft hands,
cutting away imperfections,
weaknesses in the grain….
returning to cosmos,
…an ant working,
a mountain slowly
changing shape over time….
evolving,
..from ashe
….back to fire/
to the moment before
….it
…..was
…….lit!
to the moment before that!
the Woodcarver’s hands so familiar…
…as if ours!
and the journey undertook
by no one else!
returning…
…evolving…
back to the uncarved block…
for there are no imperfections,
, , , grain lost in grain,
the stars reappear!
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you have shown me your gods,
by the knives in your hands,by the stink of your breath.by your churches built,over the unmarked gravesof your own children…by the wealth you gather,or that gathers you.by the crumbs on your pillows,and the roar of your success,drowning out the tiny voices,you grind beneath your feet…you have shown me your gods,they look a lot like you…and…
rain swept branches strewn,
frail egos brokenin morning sunlit pieces.of such is life…hands made of fleshbuilding hearts.storms come unannounced,and forever shattered.the rain soaks the embers,a thin wisp of smoke.stirred by the stick of time,praying for flame.are we then fire,or just smoke?smalls branches clingingto the tree…lightning in the distance,or hearts made of thunder?buds on the broken branch,or the fleeting instantof…
god is the moment you stop to listen,
the time you spend walking beside,the last bite, the last dollar, you share.the day you take the time to care,every small act of kindness.the tears you weep with,the lonliness you fill…the cup of water, the gentle caress.the hands on your neighbor’s shovel,the stand you take though ridiculed.the honesty that wears your failures,and embraces the failures…
with hard desperate hands,
he stands on the precipicelooking for a way…and all his ideals, morals,and convictions fadeinto one pulsing need…to survive.hand on the gun,eyes fixed….back against the wall!
he rose from the coffin,
out the door, out of sight.the body he left behind,nothing but an empty shell!the mourners wept for the body.who sings the song ofthe spirit set free?who sees with his eyes?who knows his heart?perhaps the blind manat the piano…perhaps the cat that followedhis steps, in search of food!perhaps the wind thatclosed the door behind…perhaps the ones…
a forty dollar galvanized bathtub!
to heat on the old cook stove…i watched you bathing in the kitchen,in the old house down on Henry River.fried Spam and pork ‘n beans,moonlit trips to the outhouse….stray dogs on the porch.endless truckloads of wood scraps;we made love through winter nights,so cold in the room you could see your breath!you licked the frost from…
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Wall Street…
…Main Street
….the banks
……the government buildings
…the courts!
….the whole damned country!
and re-occupy
…our own bodies,
demand the rights
..of human beings
…..being human!
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>>
‘tailing a saw in a sawmill,milking cows, hoeing acres of garden,building houses and interstate bridges,dolphing cloth in the mills,loading trucks and boxcars,cutting wood, cooking on open fires,drinking too much, giving too much,fighting when i had to,raising children, loving the same womanfor years, walking with my dog….’he pulled out a smoke, and i joined him…we watched…
near the end of our journey,
truth be known we’ve failed,more often than we won.your heart and my heart,grown together hid inside each other.to be a real man and a woman,gotta be friends first to be lovers.you walk away and shut the door,but i catch you when you fall.then you come running whenyou know my backs against the wall.right and wrong,…
>
free to be hungry!free to be homeless!free to be underpaid!or worse, free to be unemployed.free to be sick without care!free to be the object of racial prejudice.free to be oppressed by the ‘haves’!free to be subjugated to unholy wars!free to be lied to!free to be used!free to be American!free!‘freedom’s just another wordfor nothing left to…
stacking wood,
birds turning south.axe and boots,old truck loaded down….birds turning south.dreams and passions,tied down and loaded,birds turning south.memory stained moments,when the earth stoppt turning…birds turning south.now nothing more thanempty nests, a stray feather…birds rurning south!
the cell door slams shut!
he can make out a lone crowflying just over the treetops….can feel the sunlight turningthe wheel, as seasons change.can hear the big trucksout on the interstate…lying back on his bunk,he closes his eyes….can feel his spirit leavinghis beaten body behind….turning back time, and years,and most of all, choices….back before the cars, the whores,the dope, the…
fifty eight years,
pathways of stone,of water, of wind…no footprints behind.small fires on dark nights,waves of stillness opening…the eyes of the breathing surround.touch! touch!echoing against the roar.words sealed on paperfor future fires!when scars become giftsleft on strangers’ doorsteps…for there are no strangers,soul unto soul.step after step,rain falling softly.smoke from the chimney,hangs like a prayer.face to face,lips touching lips,a…
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……..inside out,
and found my neighbor’s soul,
and
…my
….enemy’s
…nee d!
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i looked in the mirror,
the history of the ages,creation and destruction.saw passion and faith,wars, freedom, and hunger.saw the murderer and the murdered,the philosopher, and the thief.saw both justice and injustice,ignorance and understanding.saw peoples of all colors,crying out for help.saw fury and forgiveness,saw beauty and ugliness.saw the face of my neighbor,saw the image of God…i shook my head,and looked again…and…
and there came a time
and sucked at the soulsof the living.and the darkness had facesinsulated in plastic tombs,waving flags and rhetoric,thriving on despair.and the lips of the dyingwere parched with thirst;bodies thrown in the great fires,melted into vapor.and the promise of apathycame to be with violence.the carcass of the eagle lay rotting,feathers lost to the infidel wind…
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of fighting tooth and nailjust trying to survive.of standing upand getting knocked down,again and again….of feeding one of the hungryand turning to an empty pot.of doing the right thing,and being accused of the wrong.of staying true to convictions,and losing it all….of helping someone up,finding i dont have enough hands.of taking the time to care,finding it’s…
the smell of coffee brewing,
sunlight working its way through blinds,and the nip of autumn air.the song in my head no oneelse can hear, coming from nowhere….the sharpness of things seen,and things not easily seen….thoughts pulling like undefined gravity,driving me to get up, and go again.time passes, leaves fall,but the tree remains, strong and steady,ready for the coming storms.something deep…
i know…
too busted up to be pretty,hard headed, opinionated…headstrong and stubborn.i fall down a lot,but i get back up.keep on walking,eyes set hard on the goal.passionate, a little crazy,sensuous, starving, touching,daring the forbidden.folllowing the sound of the flute…and the footsteps of the Lover.maddened with desire,soft hearted,yet demanding justice!ready to risk it all at any time…compassionate, driven…listening,…
a glass rose
sits alone on the tablein an empty room…sunlight stolenfrom crusted shades,glints on the petals;the raw edges shimmer,almost to touch!gathering dust,frozen by time….a glass rose….almost to touch!
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looking down
to the beating heart
held in hands so gentle….
loving, molding, preparing
him for the pathway
to his personal cross….
Madonna tears,
falling warm and wet,
down the face that maps
the destinies of those that suffer….
tears that have names,
known by no other….
nailed one by one till death relieves.
Madonna hope,
wrapped in flesh and longing,
head bowed down,
as if to pray!
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god is not white,
not Baptist, not Jewish, not Catholic,not Muslim, not Buddhist…not male, not female,not vindictive, not judgemental…not the god of wars,of poverty, of greed, of invasion.god is not selfish,not arrogant, not boastful…god is not what you fear,god simply ‘is’…dialogue, bridge, match…the echo of your soul,calling you to yourself!
if you leave your Jesus
then you’re missingthe whole point…..‘follow me…’, do as i do,walking with the poor,the sick, the beaten,taking them in as your family….doing the work of helpingto ease the suffering….the kingdom of heaven within you….it’s called compassion!take Him off the cross,put Him back in the streets….then He will be alive once again…in your actions!
i took a long walk with Jesus
listening, just listening, to every word.when we came to the placewhere the road forked,He smiled… and gave mea match, a candle, and a rusted nail.this road often empty,i have come to know…the voices of stillness,and the sound of the waterbreaking over the rocks.when the darkness swallows me,i stop, and light the candle,rolling the nail in…
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……..brick and stone…hearts…are…..nots upposed to be!eyes are made to…see what’s there…not…what…..they’re…….told………to………..see!the soul is a window……..to eternity…but…if….you… …keepthe curtains pulled…the water dripping from…the faucet never…..reaches the ground….and time walks away……with the gift!
be there not a star
and is every birth then,not the rebirth of redemption?is every life then not a journey,from Gethsemene to Golgotha?a thousand tiny deaths,that bring salvation and hope!
you turned your children loose,
only a few given a chance,the rest left to fend for theirselves!no jobs, unless you wanna soldier,kill or be killed for oil….then no jobs when you return,and no house to return to!food stamps and government aid,till that eventually runs out….then back on the streets where you started,kill or be killed to survive….dealing dope, dealing flesh,…
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Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves
And strew them where Pauline may pass.
She will not turn aside? Alas!
Let them lie. Suppose they die?
The chance was they might take her eye.
II.
How many a month I strove to suit
These stubborn fingers to the lute!
To-day I venture all I know.
She will not hear my music? So!
Break the string; fold music’s wing:
Suppose Pauline had bade me sing!
III.
My whole life long I learned to love.
This hour my utmost art I prove
And speak my passion—heaven or hell?
She will not give me heaven? ‘Tis well!
Lose who may—I still can say,
Those who win heaven, blest are they!
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ANCIEN RGIME.
Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly,May gaze thro’ these faint smokes curling whitely,As thou pliest thy trade in this devil’s-smithy—Which is the poison to poison her, prithee?II.He is with her, and they know that I knowWhere they are, what they do: they believe my tears flowWhile they laugh, laugh at me, at me…
THIS was my dream: I saw a Forest
Of unmade man. Thou, Soul, explorest-Though in a trembling rapture- spaceImmeasurable! Shrubs, turned trees,Trees that touch heaven, support its friezeStudded with sun and moon and star:While- oh, the enormous growths that barMine eye from penetrating pastTheir tangled twine where lurks- nay, livesRoyally lone, some brute-type castI’ the rough, time cancels, man forgives.On, Soul! I saw…
I.
Just for a riband to stick in his coat—Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,Lost all the others she lets us devote;They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,So much was theirs who so little allowed:How all our copper had gone for his service!Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud!We…
A PICTURE AT FANO.
Dear and great Angel, wouldst thou only leaveThat child, when thou hast done with him, for me!Let me sit all the day here, that when eveShall find performed thy special ministry,And time come for departure, thou, suspendingThy flight, mayst see another child for tending,Another still, to quiet and retrieve.II.Then I shall feel thee step one…
At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,
Will they pass to where–by death, fools think, imprisoned–Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,–Pity me?Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!What had I on earth to doWith the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel–Being–who?One who never turned his back…
Christ God who savest man, save most
Count Gauthier, when he chose his post,Chose time and place and companyTo suit it; when he struck at lengthMy honour, ‘t was with all his strength.And doubtlessly, ere he could drawAll points to one, he must have schemed!That miserable morning sawFew half so happy as I seemed,While being dressed in queen’s arrayTo give our tourney…
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Through many a gate, o’er many a stile,
That now had gotten by this wile,
Her dear Pigwiggen kissing;
And tell how Oberon doth fare,
Who grew as mad as any hare,
When he had sought each place with care,
And found his queen was missing.
By grisly Pluto he doth swear,
He rent his clothes, and tore his hair,
And as he runneth here and there,
An acorn-cup he greeteth;
Which soon he taketh by the stalk,
About his head he lets it walk,
Nor doth he any creature balk,
But lays on all he meeteth.
The Tuscan poet doth advance
The frantic Paladine of France,
And those more ancient do enhance
Alcides in his fury,
And others Ajax Telamon:
But to this time there hath been none
So bedlam as our Oberon,
Of which I dare assure you.
And first encount’ring with a wasp,
He in his arms the fly doth clasp,
As tho’ his breath he forth would grasp,
Him for Pigwiggen taking:
‘Where is my wife, thou rogue?’ quoth he,
‘Pigwiggen, she is come to thee,
Restore her, or thou di’st by me.’
Whereat the poor wasp quaking,
Cries, ‘Oberon, great Fairy King,
Content thee, I am no such thing;
I am a wasp, behold my sting!’
At which the fairy started;
When soon away the wasp doth go,
Poor wretch was never frighted so,
He thought his wings were much too slow,
O’erjoy’d they so were parted.
He next upon a glow-worm light,
(You must suppose it now was night)
Which, for her hinder part was bright,
He took to be a devil,
And furiously doth her assail
For carrying fire in her tail;
He thrash’d her rough coat with his flail,
The mad king fear’d no evil.
‘Oh!’ quoth the glow-worm ‘hold thy hand,
Thou puissant King of Fairy-land,
Thy mighty strokes who may withstand?
Hold, or of life despair I.’
Together then herself doth roll,
And tumbling down into a hole,
She seem’d as black as any coal,
Which vext away the fairy.
From thence he ran into a hive,
Amongst the bees he letteth drive,
And down their combs begins to rive,
All likely to have spoiled:
Which with their wax his face besmear’d,
And with their honey daub’d his beard;
It would have made a man afear’d,
To see how he was moiled.
A new adventure him betides:
He met an ant, which he bestrides,
And post thereon away he rides,
Which with his haste doth stumble,
And came full over on her snout,
Her heels so threw the dirt about,
For she by no means could get out,
But over him doth tumble.
And being in this piteous case,
And all beslurried head and face,
On runs he in this wildgoose chase;
As here and there he rambles,
Half-blind, against a mole-hill hit,
And for a mountain taking it,
For all he was out of his wit,
Yet to the top he scrambles.
And being gotten to the top,
Yet there himself he could not stop,
But down on th’ other side doth chop,
And to the foot came rumbling:
So that the grubs therein that bred,
Hearing such turmoil overhead,
Thought surely they had all been dead,
So fearful was the jumbling.
And falling down into a lake,
Which him up to the neck doth take,
His fury it doth somewhat slake,
He calleth for a ferry:
Where you may some recovery note,
What was his club he made his boat,
And in his oaken cup doth float,
As safe as in a wherry.
Men talk of the adventures strange
Of Don Quishott, and of their change,
Through which he armed oft did range,
Of Sancha Pancha’s travel:
But should a man tell every thing,
Done by this frantic fairy king,
And them in lofty numbers sing,
It well his wits might gravel.
…
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Whilst thus my pen strives to eternize thee,
Where in the map of all my miseryIs modell’d out the world of my disgrace.Whilst, in despite of tyrannizing times,Medea-like, I make thee young again,Proudly thou scorn’st my world-outwearing rhymesAnd murtherest virtue with thy coy disdain.And though in youth my youth untimely perish,To keep thee from oblivion and the graveEnsuing ages yet my rhymes shall…
As other men, so I myself do muse
And why these giddy metaphors I use,Leaving the path the greater part do go.I will resolve you: I am lunatic,And ever this in madmen you shall find,What they last thought of when the brain grew sickIn most distraction they keep that in mind.Thus talking idly in this bedlam fit,Reason and I, you must conceive, are…
When like an eaglet I first found my Love,
Upon the nest I set it forth to proveIf it were of that kingly kind or no;But it no sooner say my Sun appear,But on her rays with open eyes it stood,To show that I had hatch’d it for the airAnd rightly came from that brave mounting brood;And, when the plumes were summ’d with sweet…
Truce, gentle Love, a parley now I crave;
Nor thou nor I the better yet can have;Bad is the match where neither party won.I offer free conditions of fair peace,My heart for hostage that it shall remain;Discharge our forces, here let malice cease,So for my pledge thou give me pledge again.Or if no thing but death will serve thy turn,Still thirsting for subversion…
How many paltry, foolish, painted things,
Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings,Ere they be well wrapt in their winding-sheet.Where I to thee eternity shall give,When nothing else remaineth of these days,And Queens hereafter shall be glad to liveUpon the alms of thy superfluous praise.Virgins and matrons, reading these my rhymes,Shall be so much delighted with thy storyThat they shall grieve…
To the Soul
The Soul of man immortal and divine,And doth the several offices define:Anima – Gives her that name, as she the Body moves;Amor – Then is she Love, embracing charity;Animus – Moving a Will in us, it is the MindMens – Retaining knowledge, still the same in kind;Memoria – As intellectual, it is Memory;Ratio – In…
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Is what it?
‘(!) …That? ‘
The title of this poem is ‘exclamation’
What did you expect?
A sharp or sudden utterance?
A vehement expression of protest or complaint?
I’m seeking something
That is oozing with profuse profundity.
And reeking with profligaticity…
As well as being profluent!
‘OH?
I too am seeking something.’
Cool. What is that?
‘Somewhere where I can ‘throwuppity’
Your ‘obnoxiousismonosis.’
Those are not ‘words’.
‘Yeah…
But they were vehemently expressed weren’t they? ‘
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You Don’t know how much I can care!
Do yah?Do ya do yah do yah!You Don’t know how much I can care!Do yah?Do yah?Do ya do yah do yah!Oh-ohI surmise you are mad?Oh-ohOh-ohOh!Oh!Oh!Oh-oh…Will you surmise I’ve been had?Oh-ohOh, and say get over it…And be a man!You Don’t know how much I can care!Do yah?Do yah?Do ya do yah do yah!Oh no,You Don’t know…
The crime minded,
Taking for granted their slanted point of view…Living only to exist,To redo with a smearing…Done to hoodwink.Trick and fool!Raised by an element,Mixed with insecurity and common slime.It had been their intent…To spread and enforce this devilment.With a consciousness unrelenting,Flaunted and wanted!Showing unconcern…Their madness was undefined!Yet unwinding it is…From its purpose to confine.And this sickness did…
This healing will not be sexual.
Be considered as submissions…To capture imaginations.Not on this list,One might wish to solicit.What approaches is more atmospheric.Touching lives of everyone near it!A toxic mist hovers and visits.And a descending mixes…To stir those transfixed.A repayment of what has been done comes.Affecting those who directed…Their infectious flavored addictions!Delivered to seduced those reduced to cravings.A repayment of what…
The experience of aging
Some act as if it’s not a gift…To grow older with delight.I’m often asked how it feels,To be an age I don’t appear.I tell them it’s my first time doing it…It’s my first time being here!And if I knew I should feel a certain way,Nothing in my past prepared me for this day!It’s all new…
Everything had to be redrawn in crayon.
Were arguably creating stress.Someone suggested replacing red for greenOn the flowered battlefields.That was the only wayThese scenes were sold at the malls!And using magenta for the stacks of garbage,Piling in heaps…With pink lids topped with yellow polka dots,Was a brilliant recommendation.This should keep the shopping revenuesUndisturbed for months…Even years to come!
Did it help, babe?
Did it make you giggle up,To knowHe is down.And now out of luck.Did it help you, babe?Did you feel good beingCruel and mean?Aweful is the word to use,When someone like you…Seeks revenge.Did it help you, babe?Falling in and out of love.Was the last one better than before…Or was that all just to keep score,And revenge.Did…
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Symbolic verse welcomes.
1+1=2,2+2=4,4+4=8,8+8=16
*+*= **. **+**=****,8*+8*=?
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+ ∞
∞+∞+∞+∞+∞+∞+∞+∞+∞+∞+∞ =?
•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•=?
♣+♣+♣+♣+♣+♣+♣+♣+♣+♣+?
☺ ☺☺ ☺☺☺ ☺☺☺☺ ☺☺☺☺☺☺
♥+♥=♥♥ ↓ ♥♥ → ♥
Dear poets and visitors,
Writing symbolic poem is difficult,
Still we feel and express thoughts,
Your immense feeling we feel,
A symbolic verse is amazing.
© Kumarmani Mahakul,23 November 2018. All rights reserved.
Form: Symbolic Verse
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Dawn has remarked appearance,
In this beginning of new day,Dear child sun, you slither.You slither in this chest of sky,Share your love through rays,Beauty of morning is full of grace,God has commanded to you to grow.Dear, you slither in his wisdom,We hear every day from you new,Each moment fills mind with reality,We wish to slither in this Earth.Maintaining beauty…
Oh dear balloons you swing,
Coloured rubber bags you are,You are inflated with air,Necks are sealed for joy.Children’s lovely toys you are,You fly, fly and fly high,Seller is taking you to sale,Riding his bicycle slowly,You swing gently with blowing,Evening wind has love for you.Fair is not so far as we see,You will arrive there soon,Children will gather to buy,You will…
Serenity she has with success of traveling the world,
Love she has for God and for all creatures’Vastness of knowledge she has in service of mankind,Intelligence blossoms in her mind with morality,Attentive very she is towards her attitudes.Fragrance of poems she spreads and readers review,Reverence she has, fellow poets frequently tell,Affectionate she is as mother, she cares her children,Noble lady she is evangelist of…
You remember your duty
I hear you call me nowI have already risen.I know you transfer loveYou welcome sun by callingCrow, crow, crow, dear crowYou call father of heaven.To wash away streetsYou come forward soonWe know you are cleverYou sing in your style.Cold winter morning isYou do not fear to bathTo become pure you tryEarly morning is favourite.
I am the same sun I have come
Like a soul in child’s body,In childhood now I crawl.At the time of morning here,I appear with full daylight,This light arrives up to you,My arrival is my new sunrise.You are same soul you come,Taking birth in a new body,You crawl and grow in EarthI come to show you true light.I am same sun, you have…
Oh dear beloved father of heaven
Each soul is waiting for you hereDeep love is in beat of each heart.You go on singing and I hear in loveEternal bond binds my mind with youThis nature writes in my pure heartMore and more you teach me about joy.Eternity is my identity and I feelI enjoy every moment of your wisdomThis is definitely…
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A relic to the present cast,
Left on the ever-changing strand
Of shifting and unstable sand,
Which wastes beneath the steady chime
And beating of the waves of Time!
Who from its bed of primal rock
First wrenched thy dark, unshapely block?
Whose hand, of curious skill untaught,
Thy rude and savage outline wrought?
The waters of my native stream
Are glancing in the sun’s warm beam;
From sail-urged keel and flashing oar
The circles widen to its shore;
And cultured field and peopled town
Slope to its willowed margin down.
Yet, while this morning breeze is bringing
The home-life sound of school-bells ringing,
And rolling wheel, and rapid jar
Of the fire-winged and steedless car,
And voices from the wayside near
Come quick and blended on my ear,–
A spell is in this old gray stone,
My thoughts are with the Past alone!
A change! — The steepled town no more
Stretches along the sail-thronged shore;
Like palace-domes in sunset’s cloud,
Fade sun-gilt spire and mansion proud:
Spectrally rising where they stood,
I see the old, primeval wood;
Dark, shadow-like, on either hand
I see its solemn waste expand;
It climbs the green and cultured hill,
It arches o’er the valley’s rill,
And leans from cliff and crag to throw
Its wild arms o’er the stream below.
Unchanged, alone, the same bright river
Flows on, as it will flow forever!
I listen, and I hear the low
Soft ripple where its water go;
I hear behind the panther’s cry,
The wild-bird’s scream goes thrilling by,
And shyly on the river’s brink
The deer is stooping down to drink.
But hard! — from wood and rock flung back,
What sound come up the Merrimac?
What sea-worn barks are those which throw
The light spray from each rushing prow?
Have they not in the North Sea’s blast
Bowed to the waves the straining mast?
Their frozen sails the low, pale sun
Of Thulë’s night has shone upon;
Flapped by the sea-wind’s gusty sweep
Round icy drift, and headland steep.
Wild Jutland’s wives and Lochlin’s daughters
Have watched them fading o’er the waters,
Lessening through driving mist and spray,
Like white-winged sea-birds on their way!
Onward they glide, — and now I view
Their iron-armed and stalwart crew;
Joy glistens in each wild blue eye,
Turned to green earth and summer sky.
Each broad, seamed breast has cast aside
Its cumbering vest of shaggy hide;
Bared to the sun and soft warm air,
Streams back the Northmen’s yellow hair.
I see the gleam of axe and spear,
A sound of smitten shields I hear,
Keeping a harsh and fitting time
To Saga’s chant, and Runic rhyme;
Such lays as Zetland’s Scald has sung,
His gray and naked isles among;
Or mutter low at midnight hour
Round Odin’s mossy stone of power.
The wolf beneath the Arctic moon
Has answered to that startling rune;
The Gael has heard its stormy swell,
The light Frank knows its summons well;
Iona’s sable-stoled Culdee
Has heard it sounding o’er the sea,
And swept, with hoary beard and hair,
His altar’s foot in trembling prayer!
‘T is past, — the ‘wildering vision dies
In darkness on my dreaming eyes!
The forest vanishes in air,
Hill-slope and vale lie starkly bare;
I hear the common tread of men,
And hum of work-day life again;
The mystic relic seems alone
A broken mass of common stone;
And if it be the chiselled limb
Of Berserker or idol grim,
A fragment of Valhalla’s Thor,
The stormy Viking’s god of War,
Or Praga of the Runic lay,
Or love-awakening Siona,
I know not, — for no graven line,
Nor Druid mark, nor Runic sign,
Is left me here, by which to trace
Its name, or origin, or place.
Yet, for this vision of the Past,
This glance upon its darkness cast,
My spirit bows in gratitude
Before the Giver of all good,
Who fashioned so the human mind,
That, from the waste of Time behind,
A simple stone, or mound of earth,
Can summon the departed forth;
Quicken the Past to life again,
The Present lose in what hath been,
And in their primal freshness show
The buried forms of long ago.
As if a portion of that Thought
By which the Eternal will is wrought,
Whose impulse fills anew with breath
The frozen solitude of Death,
To mortal mind were sometimes lent,
To mortal musing sometimes sent,
To whisper — even when it seems
But Memory’s fantasy of dreams —
Through the mind’s waste of woe and sin,
Of an immortal origin!
.
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So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
The glory from his gray hairs goneForevermore!Revile him not, the Tempter hathA snare for all;And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,Befit his fall!Oh, dumb be passion’s stormy rage,When he who mightHave lighted up and led his age,Falls back in night.Scorn! would the angels laugh, to markA bright soul driven,Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark,From hope and…
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.
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O Dearly loved!
Thy aged form shall rise beforeThe bushed and waiting worshiper,In meek obedience utterance givingTo words of truth, so fresh and living,That, even to the inward sense,They bore unquestioned evidenceOf an anointed Messenger!Or, bowing down thy silver hairIn reverent awfulness of prayer,The world, its time and sense, shut outThe brightness of Faith’s holy tranceGathered upon thy…
A FREE PARAPHRASE OF THE GERMAN.
God’s meekest Angel gently comesNo power has he to banish pain,Or give us back our lost again;And yet in tenderest love, our dearAnd Heavenly Father sends him here.There’s quiet in that Angel’s glance,There ‘s rest in his still countenance!He mocks no grief with idle cheer,Nor wounds with words the mourner’s ear;But ills and woes he…
They hear Thee not, O God! nor see;
The princes of our ancient lineLie drunken with Assyrian wine;The priests around Thy altar speakThe false words which their hearers seek;And hymns which Chaldea’s wanton maidsHave sung in Dura’s idol-shadesAre with the Levites’ chant ascending,With Zion’s holiest anthems blending!On Israel’s bleeding bosom set,The heathen heel is crushing yet;The towers upon our holy hillEcho Chaldean footsteps…
Blest land of Judea! thrice hallowed of song,
In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy sea,On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee.With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore,Where pilgrim and prophet have lingered before;With the glide of a spirit, I traverse the sodMade bright by the steps of the angels of…
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There was a letter in the mail,
a woman named Tara McHale.Although there were those lips that pout,it was the presence of a breezemade up of warmth and intellect,she stopped for just a minute, just to teaseyet it was futile and I was not able to detectmore than the pheromones of something great,of youth and fresh aroma, passing through,of silent whispers knitting…
I had a Nanny who was black
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Ivan had outnumbered them,
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There was a young lady from Perth
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The story, folks, may now be told.
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There is so much debating
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Where takes place birth and death
New opening for world order
A beautiful scene with simple offer
Why females are beautiful?
Mild, kind and successful
Who can mistreat them for no reasons?
They are beautiful souls
You impress upon entire universe
It is not hear and say
It is simple fact
But we have failed to act
Can any soul match with kindness?
Can any one drag the smile on face?
Despite so much of apparent cruelty
That not even dreamt by an almighty
How many stages you have provided?
As sister and mother always aided
Nurtured child to see lovely world
Enjoy self and wee what has been told
If ever choice is thrust
I shall trust
Girl first
And boy last
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I refuse to surrender and prefer to lie low
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I am body
There are countless partsWith complete show as piece of an artFace represents sentimentsTongue represents altogether differentEyes add different showEyes brows get wide when fact becomes knownDon’t ask about mindYou can never mindWhat is going on?And on which side it is flownHeart is strong but weepsAnd doesn’t keepPace with changing natureAutumn or spring takes no careMind…
Feel it as one
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She is no more
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Beam towards
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And profane Greek to raise the building up
Of Helen’s house against the Ismaelite,
King of Thogarma, and his habergeons
Brimstony, blue and fiery; and the force
Of King A baddon, and the beast of Cittim;
Which Rabbi David Kimchi, Onkelos,
And A ben Ezra do interpret Rome.
‘
-THE ALCHEMIST.
I
The mind has shown itself at times
Too much the baked and labeled dough
Divided by accepted multitudes.
Across the stacked partitions of the day-
Across the memoranda, baseball scores,
The stenographic smiles and stock quotations
Smutty wings flash out equivocations.
The mind is brushed by sparrow wings;
Numbers, rebuffed by asphalt, crowd
The margins of the day, accent the curbs,
Convoying divers dawns on every’ corner
To druggist, barber and tobacconist,
Until the graduate opacities of evening
Take them away as suddenly to somewhere
Virginal perhaps, less fragmentary, cool.
There is the world dimensional for
those untwisted by the love of things
irreconcilable…
And yet, suppose some evening I forgot
The fare and transfer, yet got by that way
Without recall,-lost yet poised in traffic.
Then I might find your eyes across an aisle,
Still flickering with those prefigurations-
Prodigal, yet uncontested now,
Half-riant before the jerky window frame.
There is some way, I think, to touch
Those hands of yours that count the nights
Stippled with pink and green advertisements.
And now, before its arteries turn dark
I would have you meet this bartered blood.
Imminent in his dream, none better knows
The white wafer cheek of love, or offers words
Lightly as moonlight on the eaves meets snow.
Reflective conversion of all things
At your deep blush, when ecstasies thread
The limbs and belly, when rainbows spread
Impinging on the throat and sides
Inevitable, the body of the world
Weeps in inventive dust for the hiatus
That winks above it’, bluet in your breasts.
The earth may glide diaphanous to death;
But if I lift my arms it is to bend
To you who turned away once, Helen, knowing
The press of troubled hands, too alternate
With steel and soil to hold you endlessly.
I meet you, therefore, in that eventual flame
You found in final chains, no captive then
Beyond their million brittle, bloodshot eyes;
White, through white cities passed on to assume
That world which comes to each of us alone.
Accept a lone eye riveted to your plane,
Bent axle of devotion along companion ways
That beat, continuous, to hourless days-
0ne inconspicuous, glowing orb of praise.
II
Brazen hypnotics glitter here;
Glee shifts from foot to foot,
Magnetic to their tremulo.
This crashing opera bouffe,
Blest excursion! this ricochet
From roof to roof-
Know, Olympians, we are breathless
While nigger cupids scour the stars!
A thousand light shrugs balance us
Through snarling hails of melody.
White shadows slip across the floor
Splayed like cards from a loose hand;
Rhythmic ellipses lead into canters
Until somewhere a rooster banters.
Greet naively-yet intrepidly
New soothings, new amazements
That cornets introduce at every turn-
And you may fall downstairs with me
With perfect grace and equanimity.
Or, plaintively scud past shores
Where, by strange harmonic laws
All relatives, serene and cool,
Sit rocked in patent armchairs.
0, I have known metallic paradises
Where cuckoos clucked to finches
Above the deft catastrophes of drums.
While titters hailed the groans of death
Beneath gyrating awnings I have seen
The incunabula of the divine grotesque.
This music has a reassuring way,
The siren of the ‘ springs of guilty song-
Let us take her on the incandescent wax
Striated with nuances nervosities
That we are heir to: she is still so young,
She cannot frown upon her as she smiles,
Dipping here in this cultivated storm
Among slim skaters of the gardened skies.
III
Capped arbiter of beauty in this street
That narrows -darkly into motor dawn,
You, here beside m/e, delicate ambassador
Of intricate slain numbers that arise
In whispers, naked of steel;
religious gunman!
Who faithfully, yourself, will fall too soon,
And in other ways than as the wind settles
On the sixteen thrifty bridges of the city:
Let us unbind our throats of fear and pity.
We even,
Who drove speediest destruction
In corymbulous formations of mechanics,-
Who hurried the hill breezes, spouting malice
Plangent over meadows, and looked down
On rifts of torn and empty houses
Like old women with teeth unjubilant
That waited faintly, briefly and in vain:
We know, eternal gunman, our flesh remembers
The tensile boughs, the nimble blue plateaus,
The mounted, yielding cities of the air!
That saddled sky that shook down vertical
Repeated play of fire-no hypogeum
Of wave or rock was good against one hour.
We did not ask for that, but have survived,
And will persist to speak again before
All stubble streets that have not curved
To memory, or known the ominous lifted arm
That lowers down the arc of Helen’s brow
To saturate with blessing and dismay.
A goose, tobacco and cologne-
Three winged and gold-shod prophecies of heaven,
The lavish heart shall always have to leaven
And spread with bells and voices, and atone
The abating shadows of our conscript dust.
Anchises’ navel, dripping of the sea,-
The hands Erasmus dipped in gleaming tides,
Gathered the voltage of blown blood and vine;
Delve upward for the new and scattered wine,
0 brother-thief of time, that we recall.
Laugh out the meager penance of their days
Who dare not share with us the breath released,
The substance drilled and spent beyond repair
For golden, or the shadow of gold hair.
Distinctly praise the years, whose volatile
Blamed bleeding hands extend and thresh the height
The imagination spans beyond despair,
Outpacing bargain, vocable and prayer.
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Grand Cayman
Inverted octopus with heavenward armsThrust parching from a palm-bole hard by the cove⎯A bird almost⎯of almost bird alarms,Is pulmonary to the wind that jarsIts tentacles, horrific in their lurch.The lizard’s throat, held bloated for a fly,Balloons but warily from this throbbing perch.The needles and hack-saws of cactus bleedA milk of earth when stricken off the…
The host, he says that all is well
The food has a warm and tempting smell,-But on the window licks the night.Pile on the logs… Give me your hands,Friends! No,- it is not fright…But hold me… somewhere I heard demands…And on the window licks the night.
Regard the capture here, 0 Janus-faced,
Such eves at search or rest you cannot see;Reciting pain or glee, how can you bear!Twin shadowed halves: the breaking, second holds t,In each the skin alone, and so it isI crust a plate of vibrant mercuryBorne cleft to you, and brother in the half.Inquire this much-exacting fragment smile,Its drums and darkest blowing leaves ignore,-Defer…
It sheds a shy solemnity,
O grey and gold amenity, —Silence and gentle gloom!Wide from the world, a stolen hourWe claim, and none may knowHow love blooms like a tardy flowerHere in the day’s after-glow.And even should the world break inWith jealous threat and guile,The world, at last, must bow and winOur pity and a smile.
Perspective never withers from their eyes;
That blends March with August Antarctic skies:These are but cows that see no other thingThan grass and snow, and their own inner beingThrough the rich halo that they do not troubleEven to cast upon the seasons fleetingThough they should thin and die on last year’s stubble.And they are awkward, ponderous and uncoy . . .While…
Where icy and bright dungeons lift
And ocean rivers, churning, shiftGreen borders under stranger skies,Steadily as a shell secretesIts beating leagues of monotone,Or as many waters trough the sun’sRed kelson past the cape’s wet stone;0 rivers mingling toward the skyAnd harbor of the phoenix’ breastMy eyes pressed black against the prow,-Thy derelict and blinded guestWaiting, afire, what name, unspokenI cannot claim:…
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Men i mit Hjerte Digter-Flammen brændte;
Den drev mig modigt frem i Verdens-Vrimlen,
Skjøndt kun jeg eied’ Den og Gud i Himlen.
*
Til Danmarks Konge ledte de min Fod,
Jeg følte kun, jeg hos en Fader stod,
Der gav mit Hjerte Mod, min Tanke Vinger. –
Og Faderhjertet trygt min Sang jeg bringer;
Jeg seer ei Thronen, hvor jeg knæler ned,
Men i Dit Øie: Fader-Kjærlighed.
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Du slog dog Kjøbenhavnerne en Plade,
Snart Øster- og selv VestergadeForstened’ stod som Loths Madam.Man sagde først: gaae han af Dandsen!Nu tog Du Maske, vandt da Krandsen.— Er’ vor Tids Mennesker ei meer,Ved Dig vor Efterslægt dem seer.
Man gav mig Marmorguder, Oltids Skatte,
Og dette skal mig hendes Tab erstatte?Ak, Venskab end paa Underværker troer!
Den stille Bæk,’ hvor Rosen gynger
Hvad Du har sagt saa smukt om den,Den synger os om Dig igjen.
Frøet Liv Alherren giver,
Naar den da med Mildhed bliverPleiet af en sikker Haand,Staaer den kraftfuld, reen og skjøn,Skjænker ham sin rige Løn!Byrdefuldt, men ogsaa herligtKaldet monne vise sig,Men vi stræbe skal saa kjærligtAt forsøde det for Dig.Dan os da til Kraft, til Dyd,Og din Løn er salig Fryd.Lige tændtes ikke Flammen;Men ved Lærelyst og FlidVil vi stræbe tro…
Du synger ungdomsglad med Smiil paa Kind,
Lad Digter-Hjertet fast paa Himlen bygge,Vi kun som Børn i Himlen lukkes ind.
Med dæmpede Hvirvler Trommerne gaa,
at han kan faa Ro i sin Kiste?Jeg tror mit Hjerte vil briste!Jeg havde i Verden en eneste Ven!Ham er det man bringer til Døden henmed klingende Spil gennem Gaden,og jeg er med i Paraden!For sidste Gang skuer han nu Guds Sol,nu sidder han alt paa Dødens Stol,de binde ham fast til Pælen!Forbarm dig, Gud,…
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Earth forsaking maid?
What shall I your true love tell
When life’s spectre’s laid?
‘Tell him that, our side the grave,
Maid may not believe
Life should be so sad to have,
That’s so sad to leave!’
What shall I your true love tell
When I come to him?
What shall I your true love tell
Eyes growing dim?
‘Tell him this, when you shall part
From a maiden pined;
That I see him with my heart,
Now my eyes are blind.’
What shall I your true love tell
Speaking while is scant?
What shall I your true love tell
Death’s white postulant?
‘Tell him love, with speech at strife,
For last utterance saith:
`I who loved with all my life,
Loved with all my death.”
*
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Hearken my chant, ’tis
A grape-spurt, a vine-splash, a tossed tress, flown vaunt ’tis!Suffer my singing,Gipsy of Seasons, ere thou go winging;Ere Winter throwsHis slaking snowsIn thy feasting-flagon’s impurpurate glows!The sopped sun–toper as ever drank hard –Stares foolish, hazed,Rubicund, dazed,Totty with thine October tankard.Tanned maiden! with cheeks like apples russet,And breast a brown agaric faint-flushing at tip,And a mouth…
Me since your fair ambition bows
Is nothing mine will not confessYour sovran sweet rapaciousness?Though use to the white yoke inures,Half-petulant isYour loving rebel for somewhat his,Not yours, my love, not yours!Behold my skies, which make with meOne passionate tranquillity!Wrap thyself in them as a robe,She shares them not; their azures probe,No countering wings thy flight endures.Nay, they do stoleMe like…
She was aweary of the hovering
Her lover’s tokens she would answer not–‘Twere well she should be strange with him somewhat:A pretty babe, this Love,–but fie on it,That would not suffer her lay it down a whit!Appointed tryst defiantly she balked,And with her lightest comrade lightly walked,Who scared the chidden Love to hide apart,And peep from some unnoticed corner of her…
Come you living or dead to me, out of the silt of the Past,
Come with your dear and dreadful face through the passes of Sleep,The terrible mask, and the face it masked–the face you did not keep?You are neither two nor one–I would you were one or two,For your awful self is embalmed in the fragrant self I knew:And Above may ken, and Beneath may ken, what I…
The breaths of kissing night and day
Throbbing with unheard melody,Shook Lyra all its star-cloud seven.When dusk shrank cold, and light trod shy,And dawn’s grey eyes were troubled grey;And souls went palely up to the sky,And mine to Lucidè,There was no change in her sweet eyesSince last I saw those sweet eyes shine;There was no change in her deep heartSince last that…
I.
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,Twirl your wheel with silver din;Spin, daughter Mary, spin,Spin a tress for Viola.ANGELS.Spin, Queen Mary, aBrown tress for Viola!II.THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.Weave, hands angelical,Weave a woof of flesh to pall –Weave, hands angelical –Flesh to pall our Viola.ANGELS.Weave, singing brothers, aVelvet flesh for Viola!III.THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.Scoop, young Jesus, for her eyes,Wood-browned…
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are hungry this morning?
how many children
without a home?
how many children
with only one parent?
how many children
…..with none?
how many children
faced with no future?
how many children
thrown to the side?
how many children….
and how many know?
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>
i am thankful for every step,for every thing i’ve felt,everything i’ve touched,every taste, every smell,every living being i’ve walked with,for every bowl of food,for the blanket i sleep under,for the chance to livefor one eternal moment….for the chance to give,without asking back, or why!
i am not your poet,
i am but the simple sound, ‘ah’,that comes betweenyour irregular heartbeats!i am the spermthat fell to the floor,the dust wiped from the coverof an unread book.i am the rust on the plow,the burp of the earth.i am the nest made of straw.i am the old clothes,washed in the creek.i am the pot simmering.i am the…
the hand that
and struck anotherman down…the hand that stolethe money to feedhis family that was hungry….the hand that wrote angry words,threw a stone through the window.the hand that shut the door,leaving the stranger outside…the hand that toredown all that it had built,feeling the rage of alone….the hand that pulled the trigger,pushed the button,rang the register…..the hand that…
it is then only this….
the yowl of the cat in hunger,the slap of wings against gone.tis the height of passion;i have turned my deepest colors,yet my dreams have begun to fall…i cant stop them.and the sound of voices like hammers on tin,be the bottle broken before it hits.when memory becomes history,and tired clouds wink and disappear.the setting sun tastes…
light unto light,
you gave me your passion,i gave you my breath…and all that is,all that ever could have been,becomes ashes and dust,the home of the wind!
the stranger between us
but some part of eachleft undiscovered, afterthis journey of a thousand miles.a world hidden by shadow,that turns on its own axis,and cries out for deliverencein an empty room.the stranger between us,a wall made of wingsthat never found flight,that never breathed air.the stranger between usis the pathway to tomorrowin a world that ended today!
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i am thankful for every step,
for every thing i’ve felt,
everything i’ve touched,
every taste, every smell,
every living being i’ve walked with,
for every bowl of food,
for the blanket i sleep under,
for the chance to live
for one eternal moment….
for the chance to give,
without asking back, or why!
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close your mouth!
feed him!if a man is sick,give him medical care.if a man is homeless,take him in.if your leaders demand war,vote them out,or overthrow them.if your system is unjust,tear it down and start over.if any other person,regardless of color, politics,religion, or sexual orientation,comes to you…respect them!if they come to in in need,help them.if they are oppressed,free them!mouth…
it is absolutely time
stop the wars!bring the boys home!we are not liberating anybody!we are not protecting freedom!the powers that be are makingmoney, a lot of money….defense contracts, etc….the war machine is a bigger threatto our security than outside terroristswill ever be!democracy is not a business!stop the damn wars!
love is not a room filled with pure light,
it is not the rose that blooms in the middle of summer,but the manure the bush was planted in!
i dreamed last night i was walking,
down a stony path in the pitch black darkness.we walked in silence… listening, just listening.the wind rustled the tree limbs, sighing…almost blowing out our lantern.the spirits of animals, trees, and even the stonesbeneath our feet…. testified!a great haunting wave of peace blanketed us…and i knew the path we were on to be the right one!
i follow the map
…..the place beyondour limitations.…deep in the closet,……pulling out the jar,that holds the liquid…of our being…having paid the price,made the sacrifice,…crossing bridges,…..closing doors neverto be opened again!for the depth and the edge…that touched the stars,and pulled light gasping..from the darkness….too close to the fire,we turned away,but left something therewe couldnt live without….unnamed, forbidden,…our foreheads marked,…….we walk…
>
staying down by the tracks.do what you have to do,forget what you thought you knew…and you better watch your back.raised up right, followed the light,stood for what you believed.off to war and back again,medals made of lies and tin,gave much more than you received.the horns blow, patriots rise.somewhere another innocent dies.stars and stripes in the…
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lay down your gun…
you have a chance to make a difference….
make the right choice!
lower your hand, soften your voice,
let go of your anger…
you have a chance to make a difference…
make the right choice!
put down your checkbook, close the register,
do something you really feel….
you have a chance to make a difference….
make the right choice!
throw out your pill bottle and your pipe,
stand up and face life….
you have a chance to make a difference…
make the right choice!
turn off your tv and your computer,
get involved with someone in need….
you have a chance to make a difference….
make the right choice!
lay down your judgements and your pride,
see people as just people….
you have a chance to make a difference….
make the right choice!
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i can only taste scars tonight,
that old tree, cut and fallen,the sound of wings long absent.the web is empty,and even the wind doesnt reply.the garden mourns its time of passing,and the plow is left alone.sometimes we wake up homeless,hungry without needing to eat.to find that we are orphaned,by the very heart that bears our name!
talking, or not talking,
hand in hand…small kind gestures,a knowing wink,thoughts shared,quiet laughter…dreams that fall like starsthrough felt-like layersof darkness…dont have to be nobody else,no need to impress, or flaunt….a glass of wine,a fresh cup of coffee…moment by moment,alive and aware…friends make the best lovers!
at the end of the day,
do they come clean?homeless people, young girlssold on the block,hungry children, AIDS victims,gotta watch your stocks.black and white, brown and red,gunfire and poverty;kids afraid to go to school,aint no profit in honesty.SUV’s, invaded countries,oil doesnt buy liberty.the takers take, the hurting weep,at the cost of dignity.politicians lie, preachers sellnarrow minded philosophies.prisons full, bodies in the…
>
i too oft kissed compassionon the cheek…betraying my conscienceto feed my hungers…too oft dug shallow gravesin my haste to keep going….too oft took a sip of water,and poured the rest on the ground….too oft crossed myself,gave a couple dollars to a begger,but kept some back for myself….too oft looked into the eyes of need,and only…
he said he needed
the image of a cheapbottle of wine drippedfrom his eyes…i gave hime the money,and a couple of smokes.time has a way of bringing,even from the grave!
The light in the window
But a thousand faces!
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Does
As
Curse
Against good and
Natural affairs.
▐ ▐
Force
Does
Best
That
Is against ill,
Evil affairs.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
About
RARe Stanza:
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
6 Lines Poem ─
Syllables Meter: 1-1-1-1-4-4
Rhyme Scheme: aabbca; ababca; aaaaba.
RARe Stanza refers Right Angle Reza Stanza.
Geometric Theoretical Explanation of ‘RARe Stanza’
The 1st 4 (1-1-1-1) lines stand on the last 2 (4-4) lines,
At the joining point, line No.4 and 5 there the 90º angle is generated;
The 90º angle is known as Right Angle in Geometry.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 31 May, 2018
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Summer
WinterFrosts take;I wish summer fruits andFear of winter ever.AboutRARe 2nd Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Smokes got emitted much from factories,
In water thrown all the wastesThen sound is too producedSoil is chemicalizedSpoil environment.About:Reza syllabic Verse (Edited, Revised And Additional Version) :– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Giant
GhostSourceTheir ill actionDone corrupted.AboutRARe Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –6…
Sea beach
High placeEagle,Other birds live aroundThe earth and human house.
What are you doing, mortal man?
Your part is more than that of Satan;Though it did not surrender to God,It surrenders to these cruel actsWith the muse of inflammable lot.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 09/09/2017
In the earth darkness is deepening
Today and tomorrow these will be finishingThen in the full darkness will the angry troop fight?Definitely fights will go onAs all the weapons are stored inTo throw, to fire, to burnTo bring all under dire destruction.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 08/17/2017
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Damn
Lives
Earn
All and every
From points to coins.
▐ ▐
Crime
Earns
Damn
Sins
To damage life
Just ins and outs.
About
RARe Stanza:
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
6 Lines Poem ─
Syllables Meter: 1-1-1-1-4-4
Rhyme Scheme: aabbca; ababca; aaaaba.
RARe Stanza refers Right Angle Reza Stanza.
Geometric Theoretical Explanation of ‘RARe Stanza’
The 1st 4 (1-1-1-1)lines stand on the last 2 (4-4)lines,
At the joining point, line No.4 and 5 there the 90º angle is generated;
The 90º angle is known as Right Angle in Geometry.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 1 June,2018
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With talent decision the industry
To come out of the vicious circle of povertyOnly needs inner intention,Thus it makes a nation developedAnd the country automatically gets developed;So why averse to industry?Do and get yourself and your country economically free.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 09/23/2017
It is night,
I need light,Where? How can I get?Buying (fuel used) ?Inventing (fuel used) ?What will be?When fuel will be finished,Therefore, I need renewable fuelFor the stages of life whole.
Fragrant flowers
Bees hummingBirds fly and singTo us near and farMay be this spring you are.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 12/10/2017
With Love And Care – 6
With love and careA savage can beFully gentle and dearTo all, even to a baby.
Earning money
Harming otherEnvying neighbor,Hating humansLoving sins,Wrong doingPredominatingOver well doneIn a sad tone.
Ghost
GuestLost;So, to be guestFirst know the host.AboutRARe Stanza:– – – – – – – – – –6 Lines Poem ─Syllables Meter: 1-1-1-1-4-4Rhyme Scheme: aabbca; ababca; aaaaba.RARe Stanza refers Right Angle Reza Stanza.Geometric Theoretical Explanation of ‘RARe Stanza’The 1st 4 (1-1-1-1) lines stand on the last 2 (4-4) lines,At the joining point, line No.4 and 5…
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As I have felt since, hand in hand,
We sat down on the grass, to stray
In spirit better through the land,
This morn of Rome and May?
II.
For me, I touched a thought, I know,
Has tantalized me many times,
(Like turns of thread the spiders throw
Mocking across our path) for rhymes
To catch at and let go.
III.
Help me to hold it! First it left
The yellowing fennel, run to seed
There, branching from the brickwork’s cleft,
Some old tomb’s ruin: yonder weed
Took up the floating wet,
IV.
Where one small orange cup amassed
Five beetles,—blind and green they grope
Among the honey-meal: and last,
Everywhere on the grassy slope
I traced it. Hold it fast!
V.
The champaign with its endless fleece
Of feathery grasses everywhere!
Silence and passion, joy and peace,
An everlasting wash of air—
Rome’s ghost since her decease.
VI.
Such life here, through such lengths of hours,
Such miracles performed in play,
Such primal naked forms of flowers,
Such letting nature have her way
While heaven looks from its towers!
VII.
How say you? Let us, O my dove,
Let us be unashamed of soul,
As earth lies bare to heaven above!
How is it under our control
To love or not to love?
VIII.
I would that you were all to me,
You that are just so much, no more.
Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!
Where does the fault lie? What the core
O’ the wound, since wound must be?
IX.
I would I could adopt your will,
See with your eyes, and set my heart
Beating by yours, and drink my fill
At your soul’s springs,—your part my part
In life, for good and ill.
X.
No. I yearn upward, touch you close,
Then stand away. I kiss your cheek,
Catch your soul’s warmth,—I pluck the rose
And love it more than tongue can speak—
Then the good minute goes.
XI.
Already how am I so far
Out of that minute? Must I go
Still like the thistle-ball, no bar,
Onward, whenever light winds blow,
Fixed by no friendly star?
XII.
Just when I seemed about to learn!
Where is the thread now? Off again!
The old trick! Only I discern—
Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn.
* 1 Herb with yellow flowers and seeds supposed
* to be medicinal.
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I.
I am able yetAll I want, to getBy a method as strange as new:Dare I trust the same to you?II.If at night, when doors are shut,And the wood-worm picks,And the death-watch ticks,And the bar has a flag of smut,And a cat’s in the water-butt—III.And the socket floats and flares,And the house-beams groan,And a foot unknownIs…
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
And, pressing a troop unable to stoopAnd see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,Marched them along, fifty score strong,Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.God for King Charles! Pym and such carlesTo the Devil that prompts ’em their treasonous parles!Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor supTill you’re–(Chorus)Marching along, fifty-score…
I.
The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say:As I leaned and looked over the aloed archOf the villa-gate this warm March day,No flash snapped, no dumb thunder rolledIn the valley beneath where, white and wideAnd washed by the morning water-gold,Florence lay out on the mountain-side.II.River and bridge and street and squareLay mine, as…
I.
If she meant I should not love her!There are plenty … men, you call such,I suppose … she may discoverAll her soul to, if she pleases,And yet leave much as she found them:But I’m not so, and she knew itWhen she fixed me, glancing round them,II.What? To fix me thus meant nothing?But I can’t tell…
I
From outward things, whate’er you may believe.There is an inmost centre in us all,Where truth abides in fullness; and around,Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,This perfect, clear perception—which is truth.A baffling and perverting carnal meshBinds it, and makes all error: and, to KNOW,Rather consists in opening out a wayWhence the imprisoned splendour…
That second time they hunted me
And Austria, hounding far and wideHer blood-hounds thro’ the country-side,Breathed hot and instant on my trace,—I made six days a hiding-placeOf that dry green old aqueductWhere I and Charles, when boys, have pluckedThe fire-flies from the roof above,Bright creeping thro’ the moss they love:—How long it seems since Charles was lost!Six days the soldiers crossed…
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Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprang to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,—
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!
II.
This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love’s regal dalmatic.
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on—
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!
* 1 A vestment used by ecclesiastics, and formerly
* by senators and persons of high rank.
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1 It once might have been, once only:
3 You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely,4 I, a lone she-bird of his feather.5 Your trade was with sticks and clay,6 You thumbed, thrust, patted and polished,7 Then laughed ‘They will see some day8 Smith made, and Gibson demolished.’9 My business was song, song, song;10 I chirped, cheeped, trilled and twittered,11 ‘Kate Brown’s on…
Take the cloak from his face, and at first
How he lies in his rights of a man!Death has done all death can.And, absorbed in the new life he leads,He recks not, he heedsNor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strikeOn his senses alike,And are lost in the solemn and strangeSurprise of the change.Ha, what avails death to eraseHis offence, my disgrace?I would we…
AN OLD STORY.
It was roses, roses, all the way,With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,A year ago on this very day.II.The air broke into a mist with bells,The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries.Had I said, “Good folk, mere noise repels—But give…
I.
I was the man the Duke spoke to;I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too;So here’s the tale from beginning to end,My friend!II.Ours is a great wild country:If you climb to our castle’s top,I don’t see where your eye can stop;For when you’ve passed the cornfield country,Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,And…
Over the sea our galleys went,
To a speeding wind and a bounding wave,A gallant armament:Each bark built out of a forest-tree,Left leafy and rough as first it grew,And nailed all over the gaping sides,Within and without, with black bull-hides,Seethed in fat and suppled in flame,To bear the playful billows’ game:So, each good ship was rude to see,Rude and bare to…
I. THE FLOWER’S NAME
Arm in my arm, such a short while since:Hark, now I push its wicket, the mossHinders the hinges and makes them wince!She must have reached this shrub ere she turned,As back with that murmur the wicket swung;For she laid the poor snail, my chance foot spurned,To feed and forget it the leaves among.II.Down this side…
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His name, they said, was Pleasure,
And near him stood, glorious beyond measure
Four Ladies who possess all empery
In earth and air and sea,
Nothing that lives from their award is free.
Their names will I declare to thee,
Love, Hope, Desire, and Fear,
And they the regents are
Of the four elements that frame the heart,
And each diversely exercised her art
By force or circumstance or sleight
To prove her dreadful might
Upon that poor domain.
Desire presented her [false] glass, and then
The spirit dwelling there
Was spellbound to embrace what seemed so fair
Within that magic mirror,
And dazed by that bright error,
It would have scorned the [shafts] of the avenger
And death, and penitence, and danger,
Had not then silent Fear
Touched with her palsying spear,
So that as if a frozen torrent
The blood was curdled in its current;
It dared not speak, even in look or motion,
But chained within itself its proud devotion.
Between Desire and Fear thou wert
A wretched thing, poor heart!
Sad was his life who bore thee in his breast,
Wild bird for that weak nest.
Till Love even from fierce Desire it bought,
And from the very wound of tender thought
Drew solace, and the pity of sweet eyes
Gave strength to bear those gentle agonies,
Surmount the loss, the terror, and the sorrow.
Then Hope approached, she who can borrow
For poor to-day, from rich tomorrow,
And Fear withdrew, as night when day
Descends upon the orient ray,
And after long and vain endurance
The poor heart woke to her assurance.
—At one birth these four were born
With the world’s forgotten morn,
And from Pleasure still they hold
All it circles, as of old.
When, as summer lures the swallow,
Pleasure lures the heart to follow–
O weak heart of little wit!
The fair hand that wounded it,
Seeking, like a panting hare,
Refuge in the lynx’s lair,
Love, Desire, Hope, and Fear,
Ever will be near.
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Dear home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys,
Bitterer than all thine unremembered tears.
Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse
Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thouGlidest beneath the green and purple gleamOf Syracusan waters, mayst thou flowUnmingled with the bitter Doric dew!Begin, and, whilst the goats are browsing nowThe soft leaves, in our way let us pursueThe melancholy loves of Gallus. List!We sing not to the dead: the wild woods knewHis sufferings, and…
I.
The mountain repeatsThe echoing sound of the knell;And the dark Monk nowWraps the cowl round his brow,As he sits in his lonely cell.II.And the cold hand of deathChills his shuddering breath,As he lists to the fearful layWhich the ghosts of the sky,As they sweep wildly by,Sing to departed day.And they sing of the hourWhen the…
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the maskOf darkness fell from the awakened Earth.The smokeless altars of the mountain snowsFlamed above crimson clouds, & at the birthOf light, the Ocean’s orison aroseTo which the birds tempered their matin lay,All flowers in field or forest which uncloseTheir trembling eyelids to the kiss of day,Swinging their censers in…
DEATH:
I come, care-worn tenant of life, from the grave,Where Innocence sleeps ‘neath the peace-giving sod,And the good cease to tremble at Tyranny’s nod;I offer a calm habitation to thee,–Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me?My mansion is damp, cold silence is there,But it lulls in oblivion the fiends of despair;Not a groan of…
I.
To the twilight grove,When the moon is rising bright;Oh, I’ll whisper there,In the cool night-air,What I dare not in broad daylight!II.I’ll tell thee a partOf the thoughts that startTo being when thou art nigh;And thy beauty, more brightThan the stars’ soft light,Shall seem as a weft from the sky.III.When the pale moonbeamOn tower and streamSheds…
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terrain
with the unmistakable track:
grass, written asunder. The stones, white,
with the shadows of grassblades:
Do not read any more – look!
Do not look any more – go!
Go, your hour
has no sisters, you are –
are at home. A wheel, slow,
rolls out of itself, the spokes
climb,
climb on a blackish field, the night
needs no stars, nowhere
does anyone ask after you.
*
Nowhere
does anyone ask after you –
The place where they lay, it has
a name – it has
none. They did not lie there. Something
lay between them. They
did not see through it.
Did not see, no,
spoke of
words. None
awoke,
sleep
came over them.
*
Came, came. Nowhere
anyone asks –
It is I, I,
I lay between you, I was
open, was
audible, ticked at you, your breathing
obeyed, it is
I still, but then
you are asleep.
*
It is I still –
years,
years, years, a finger
feels down and up, feels
around:
seams, palpable, here
it is split wide open, here
it grew together again – who
covered it up?
*
Covered it
up – who?
Came, came.
Came a word, came,
came through the night,
wanted to shine, wanted to shine.
Ash.
Ash, ash.
Night.
Night-and-night. – Go
to the eye, the moist one.
*
Go
to the eye,
the moist one –
Gales.
Gales, from the beginning of time,
whirl of particles, the other,
you
know it, though, we
read it in the book, was
opinion.
Was, was
opinion. How
did we touch
each other – each other with
these
hands?
There was written too, that.
Where? We
put a silence over it,
stilled with poison, great,
a
green
silence, a sepal, an
idea of vegetation attached to it –
green, yes,
attached, yes,
under a crafty
sky.
Of, yes,
vegetation.
Yes.
Gales, whirl of part-
icles, there was
time left, time
to try it out with the stone – it
was hospitable, it
did not cut in. How
lucky we were:
Grainy,
grainy and stringy. Stalky,
dense:
grapy and radiant; kidneyish,
flattish and
lumpy; loose, tang-
led -; he, it
did not cut in, it
spoke,
willingly spoke to dry eyes, before closing them.
Spoke, spoke.
Was, was.
We
would not let go, stood
in the midst, a
porous edifice, and
it came.
Came at us, came
through us, patched
invisibly, patched
away at the last membrane
and
the world, a millicrystal,
shot up, shot up.
*
Shot up, shot up.
Then –
Nights, demixed. Circles,
green or blue, scarlet
squares: the
world puts its inmost reserves
into the game with the new
hours. – Circles,
red or black, bright
squares, no
flight shadow,
no
measuring table, no
smoke soul ascends or joins in.
*
Ascends and
joins in –
At owl’s flight, near
the petrified scabs,
near
our fled hands, in
the latest rejection,
above
the rifle-range near
the buried wall:
visible, once
more: the
grooves, the
choirs, at that time, the
psalms. Ho, ho-
sannah.
So
there are temples yet. A
star
probably still has light.
Nothing,
nothing is lost.
Ho-
sannah.
At owl’s flight, here,
the conversations, day-grey,
of the water-level traces.
*
(–day-grey,
of
the water-level traces –
Driven into the
terrain
with
the unmistakable
track:
Grass,
grass,
written asunder.)
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The Poles
insurmountablewhile Awake,we sleep across, to the Gateof Mercy,I lose you to you, thatis my Snow-Comfort,say, that Jerusalem is,say, as if I were thisyour Whiteness,as if you weremine,as if without us we could be we,I open your leaves, forever,you bless, you bedus free.
With every Thought I went
you my Gentle One, you my Open One, and –you received us.Whosays that for us everything died,that for us there the Eye broke?Everything woke, all things began.Vast, a Sun came swimming by, brighta Soul and a Soul engaged, clear,masterfully made a silence for ita path ahead.Lightlyyou opened your Lap, quietrose a Breath in the Aether,and…
When you lie
with blue-black Syllables, in Snow-Eyelash-Shadow,the Crane through Thought-showers,comes gliding, steely-you open for him.His beak ticks the Hour for youat every Mouth – at everybell-stroke, with red-hot Rope, a Silent-Millennium,Un-Pulse and Pulsemint each other to death,the Dollars, the Cents,rain hard through your Pores,inSecond-Shapesyou fly there and barthe Doors Yesterday and Tomorrow – phosphorescent,Forever-Teeth,buds the one, and…
more fully,
sun-drifted, sun-drenched sea,blossoms the ice in those basketsyou carry into town.sandyou demand in return,for the lastrose back at homethis evening also wants to be fedout of the trickling hour.
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it and drink itwe are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie thereA man in the house he plays with the serpents he writeshe writes when the night falls to Germany your goldenhair Margaretehe writes it and walks from the house the stars glitter hewhistles his dogs uphe whistles…
Count the Almonds,
count me in:I sought your Eye, as it opened and no one announcedyou,I spun that hidden Thread,on which the Dew, of your thought,slid down to the Pitchers,that a Speech, which no one’s Heart found, guarded.Only there did you enter wholly the Name, that is yours,stepping sure-footedly into yourself,the Hammers swung free in the Bell-Cradle of…
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Are quite opposite to the truth
History shows the direct evidences
From time immemorial to present;
||
Falsehood and truth cannot bear each other
They keep themselves far
Inwardly fully from one to other
Again, falsehood is always aggressive to truth;
|||
The rational are always for the truth
Quarrel between them the left side holder irrational,
These irrational are for falsehood forever
The path of truth they cannot bear;
||||
In earth falsehood and its followers may be favored
Beyond earth they are ever cursed,
But for some evil causes they do not believe it
As their belief is just earth centered.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │18 June,2018
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Beings and things are in two kinds
Many are made seen around usAgain many are made unseen,Air is precious but unseenSouls are precious but unseenCreator is kept Himself unseenUnder these all there must be great plans.
Lyric For Deer
DearDeer,OverThere,I do desireOnce to be near.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 21 June,2018
First – Acrostic
F – irst you have been; welcome; but, nowI – mportance you should give onR – eality,S – incerity and most of all, onT – he truth.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │7 May,2018
RARe 2nd Stanza – Modern Power
PowerTowerBut throwToo low,Now from powers come wrongsSo, mind, do not crave for.AboutRARe 2nd Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Times Of Thinking Pass
Times of thinking passStill to and fro you rushWhen’ll you think the case?
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Drinking (2)
And eating (3)
Are basic needs for animals
To survive life primarily.
▐ ▐
For human
Need more than
The basic three needs
Are wearing, housing, treating
And learning all educations.
▐ ▐ ▐
So human
Are not like
Other animals
It is an important side
Of human being civilized.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 09/29/2017
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Rain drenches
Wind blowsWater flowsNature runsTime fliesPain or pleaseSome minds.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 04/29/2017
Let’s Welcome
Let’s welcomeWhoeverFrom womb come.
What I Understand You Should Understand
Overcoming some dark centuriesThis shining time we have reachedWhat I thinkYou should think;What I understandYou should understandSo the request; please,You do not miss;This time is shiningShowing everything,Everything is clearLet’s be really fair;To be successfulNo alternative to this file,OPEN, you callous heart!Go in, and take it.
The Consequences – 1
Today’s all worldly crazyTomorrow shall be the hellish crazy,Nobody and nothing shall be to save themSo, they shall be being burnt in hell all the time;Today’s all real virtuousTomorrow in heaven shall be too the virtuousNobody and nothing shall be to disturb themSo, they shall enjoy happiness with peace all the time;These are the respective…
I cannot love anyone
Still love is doneJust I need remember the following chapter,When enmity, envy, wrath, hatred will be for noneLove there shall standTo love whole mankind.
The Mending Tool
As long as you are not truly rightThis tool shall try to set you right,If any time it does fail,Still it shall be successful;Because, you are strayed guys, foolAnd it is mending tool;You are just vain cowardBut it is on truth, so blessed bold;Death shall when spoil youIt that death shall renew,Because, it is on…
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For all of us, homeless
The man who went away
I wish to see him, anyway;
▌▌
I have not seen him
As I was not around he was born
In life once I wish to see him
That may be even in dream.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 11/7/2016
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Still stand
VeryStoryHappened years after yearsNow history is known.AboutRARe 2nd Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Well seed
Well harvest,Bad seedWell careBad harvest,Well seedIll careBad harvest,Bad seedIll careNo harvest.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 08/10/2017
Earning money
Harming otherEnvying neighbor,Hating humansLoving sins,Wrong doingPredominatingOver well doneIn a sad tone.
March 6, 2018
That appearance turned into black from whiteI did not interfere or enforceI always believe in things’ independenceAs I am independent;The lake is turning into riverLet it turn,The river is turning into oceanLet it turn,The mountain is turning into oceanLet it turn,The ocean is turning into mountainLet it turn,The well are turning into illLet them turn,The…
I Remember – 31
More and moreToday I rememberYour wordsSo soft and hard,Your behaviorFocused so love and care,I remember, I rememberO, mother!
Ongoing the 21st century’s free style massacre
Satan is tormented by theses and has come downTo learn the massacring styles in special gown,But no one has yet directly protested the bestialitySo the massacrers gigantically speed up in cruelty;So long the morning! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !The massacrers…
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In fair
Well color;
▌▌
Color
In unfair
Evil color.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 7 November,2017
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RARe 2nd Stanza – What Coronavirus Hates
Clear houseTowns, carsThings, schoolClear allIt seems this is clearanceHates coronavirus.AboutRARe 2nd Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Golden
Ornaments made of gold,Both are too wonderful in factAnd pure.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 24 March,2018
The tree
The blessed treeThe significant treeKeeping the good performanceBeing the history, the witnessOf the facts in time, in placeEra after era standing freeYou have been extraordinaryO, tree!You would wait for the great menTo come under you and sitYou were ready to serve themSprouting instant leaves to shadePeople knew you and knowAnd will know till they liveO,…
The Contribution Of Grass
Grass grows wonderful flowersThe beesAll-day long gather thereFor nectar,Grass coversAll the fieldsTo make green, coldTo look beautiful, soft;To make surroundings usefulTo hold soilLoving allMaking environment well.
New Year every year
Inform us to change.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 11 December,2017
Worldwide operation killing human
From person to person, nation to nationPervading partition, violating condition,Using weapons and fire to cut and burnAnd in wars and violence with gunpowder and gun,So, human has been now so meanBut should have been on topmost position.
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Speech
Tell
Nice;
Humanity
Comes above all.
▐▐
Now
Do,
You
Too
What you said, dreamt
Get at morrow.
About
RARe Stanza:
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
6 Lines Poem ─
Syllables Meter: 1-1-1-1-4-4
Rhyme Scheme: aabbca; ababca; aaaaba.
RARe Stanza refers Right Angle Reza Stanza.
Geometric Theoretical Explanation of ‘RARe Stanza’
The 1st 4 (1-1-1-1) lines stand on the last 2 (4-4) lines,
At the joining point, line No. 4 and 5 there the 90º angle is generated;
The 90º angle is known as Right Angle in Geometry.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 5 June, 2018
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Anacreontic
On the universe,The vast natureFull of theInnumerableCreatures andObjects andThe whole creations,Among themThe relations,All these showLove and care,Depending onOne another,And helpingOne another;Human shouldLearn these allAnd practiseIn practical life,To avoid allThe chaosesIn the societyArise in timeAnd out of time.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │21 January,2018
Cute
StraightDied,At age nothing;Beauty, strength last.AboutRARe Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dear, how can I forget thee?When I was a little beeYou were old but a real flowerMade me drink honey there.IIYou were aged in familyBut spoke nicely, clearlyWho came to you silentlyYou made them sound properly.IIIIn the village you were commonTo all even to a new bornEach tree, each laneKnew you well dame.IVCattle, domestic and…
Love all of the world
That you can be loved.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 26 August, 2018
You are created great beings, mankind
As, to live like lower and other animals you intend.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 15 December,2017
Then Now And After That (Chain Verse)
Dear, forget your sweet past!You were, you had;Sense the poisonous presentYou are, you have;And get ready for worsened future justYou will be, you will have.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza |10/09/2017
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Are matter
You show to me;
Such I show to you
We all one another.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * ᵯ®
▌▌
So
Well show
Well receive;
Chaos and dispute dismiss
Stay blessed and close.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * ᵯ®
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 18 December,2017
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Years change in nature
Humans have no changeThey only get failuresWorshipping greed, envy, enmityHatred, wrath and bestiality.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 11 December,2017
Loose
HugeCare,EnvironmentAnd health well use.AboutRARe Stanza:– – – – – – – – – –6 Lines Poem ─Syllables Meter: 1-1-1-1-4-4Rhyme Scheme: aabbca; ababca; aaaaba.RARe Stanza refers Right Angle Reza Stanza.Geometric Theoretical Explanation of ‘RARe Stanza’The 1st 4 (1-1-1-1) lines stand on the last 2 (4-4) lines,At the joining point, line No.4 and 5 there the 90º…
House,
NoiseMoreDecoration,Driver, fuel, cash.
RARe 2nd Stanza – Hearing And Sharing
Hear newsShare viewsUpcomesDiseaseAs coronavirusAnd all other affairs.AboutRARe 2nd Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Time Is The Greatest Tool
Time always is the greatest toolThrough which this, that go allGood and bad; well and evilJust in time and here’s no foul;In time, here one got birthIn time again shall get death,In the morning one is fitAgain at evening, is unfit;In time something is builtAgain something is destroyed,In time this world was doneAgain in time,…
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When the cock does loudly crow
I see your nice brow;
* ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * ᵯ®
▌▌
The day quickly breaks
Some rays from the dare sun come
Through the window pane;
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ᵯ®
▌▌▌
I see your bold face
Full of lively, confidence
Then the sun rises.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ᵯ®
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 18 December,2017
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The songs of Your name
You know my dear Lord.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 17 December,2017
RARe Stanza – Value Of Sharing
Pale!Kneel!Bell,Tell;Share your deep pains,Lightened find all.
Air is important
For immortal soul.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │13 January,2018
RARe 2nd Stanza – Desert
DesertInward,Showed fitOutward,They feel shame to focusJust empty their whole world.AboutRARe 2nd Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
By Him, in Whose hand are my life and death;
Till they fully believe Him as One God,And all others are His creations, creatures,And none is like or equal to Him,And He does not have any sharer,And neither He does beget someone nor He is begotten,And He is the only Creator of the entire universe,And do accordinglyHe said and ordered.
Heaven
Flowers, fruits, springs, all thingsThese are pure having uniquesomeComforts.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │16 January,2018
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Her name
A pet cat;
I named it her
She is not like other cat.
▌▌
She behaves
In separate
Not like other cats;
But she well knows
She is pet cat Tom.
▌▌▌
She is
Much emotional
Tempered as well;
Her owner knows her
She also knows the owner.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza │ 14 December,2017
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Plant
Take care of theseThat give necessitiesTo support your life.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 09/09/2017
The Short Lyric
Enmity forgetDon’t be enviousGive up greedAvoid chaos,Dream greatBe honestHelp mankindKnow One God.
To My Son
You are my dear sonMy adorable sonListen to my one suggestion,Grow yourself a big treeThat people may get your fruits freeFlowers, leaves they get easily.
RARe Stanza – Ghost Town
GhostTown,FrostDown;People see thoseThere at dusk, night.AboutRARe Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Haiku For Hibernation
Hibernating toad,Look at frost, snow all aroundIn hole hibernate.
Storms
StarsFall,Earth is goingTo be starless.
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my personal
fallout shelter….
when i grow weary
of the world’s assault!
and, baby,
i need you now!
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i am the heart of stone,
my feet speak their silent prayers,my silence clothes their waiting.i feel the passion, the beat of stone,i am their embrace of both earth and sky.you are the fire both hot and cool,that defines the breath of their being.i am the time only mountains know,you the tick of the flesh born clock.as eternity bows with humble…
there’s a dead man
funeral home… nobodycame to see…but hell, nobody camewhen he was alive….nobody called, nobody wrote…and Mr. Nobody went abouthis days, doing what you doto get by… cooking small meals,and drinking black coffee….watering his plants, walkinghis dog, sitting in his chair….staring at old photographsof children grown and moved….and of the woman he lovedfor forty years… buried beneatha…
the stranger arrives,
his smell like rain,and something else.his soft insistent knockrings like a bell,his hand on the knob…can you hear?the sound of his footfall….tis but death come knocking…he brings no baggage.will you open the door?
equality…
by personal moral values.equal means equal.each person’s values are different.we are not qualified to judge!every person…has the right to love,and to be loved.has the right to happiness.we cannot define love by fear,cannot define justice by ignorance.if we were all meant to be just alike,we would be clones.we are not!the beauty of lifeis in our diversity.whether…
>
your knives, your flags.get out of your tanks,your planes, get offof your carriers.stop the bombs,the rhetoric, the patriotic march….unball your fists, open your hands.proclaim this a new day….the first day of forever…when humanity decidedto become human again!
woman…
births,nourishes,loves,gives,sensual intimacy,spiritual companion…the most human,creation,darkness and light;the door of eternity,opening and closingby her will!woman…demands,deserves,RESPECT!
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free to be hungry!
free to be homeless!
free to be underpaid!
or worse, free to be unemployed.
free to be sick without care!
free to be the object of racial prejudice.
free to be oppressed by the ‘haves’!
free to be subjugated to unholy wars!
free to be lied to!
free to be used!
free to be American!
free!
‘freedom’s just another word
for nothing left to lose! ‘
kris kristofferson
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the face of my god is dark,
she whispers to fallen petals,and mountains and rivers speak forth.her lips call crows and name them eagles,her hands are filled with bowls.she names the darkness morning,and from the light she weaves the night.she bathes the human spirit,in the sweat of tribulation.she nurses the unwanted child,and places flowers on unmarked graves.she gives lost lovers candles,builds bridges…
spraying the crops
old people sitting in the cold…babies born to babies,with nowhere to turn…young people living in cars.one war over, another begins!the price of oil goes up.meth labs, break ins,another business closing doors…the lies and the promisesbecome even more hollow….salvation, redemption, just plain survive!the buildings on fire,they just stand and watch!black skin, brown skin, white skin, all….indignant,…
rage….
injustice on rampage,by the handsof a would be god!morality bartered,righteousness tainted.the system swallows,souls disappear!those that enforce,and those that send…above the law,without question or cost.justice defined by color,by possessions, by privilege.while poverty rapes,and despair sings in chorus.the backs bent neath the blow,the brows marked by the whip.the spirits marked by prisonsthat count dollars and change.while the…
rigpa…
each breath released….not clinging,nor grasping, no tiny deaths!letting go of…creating by returning,life seamless,not confined to flesh and bone!
when the money is gone,
they padlocked your house,and repoed your car…the years have passed,have taken their toll.even the fires of love,burned down to embers…at the end of the day,at the end of the road…all you have left are the children.they carry your heartto a new day and a new world…love the children!every child that is borncarries the holy seed.whatever…
i would rather have had
of me and you….even if it cost me my life….than to have lived long and peaceful,never knowing you!i’d give up all i’ve ever had,to kiss your lips, to take your hand,and walk by your side for one day….i’d give up the kingdoms of the world,to hold you in my embrace.i’d give up eternityfor one eternal…
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across distant plains.
the sky ripped with color
as is time itself turned.
the thunder of a leaf
that clung for too long…
falling as if suspended
by breath…. the silent stare,
then turn to the door;
stepping away, as if to fly.
nothing left behind….
not even remorse…
what’s done is done,
he takes his final bow!
leaving the sounds of living
for the dead to discern.
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joy, peace, stillness,
seems like it shouldnt be so hard,what else is there that matters?we keep looking the wrong way,keep turning our backs on the truth.forgetting where we came from,with no idea where we’re going!life runs like sand through our fingers.we race madly towards the flame.are we moths, would be gods,or just small children,who’ve lost our mother?
blackbird fallen;
lie to me, love meone more time…the arching of your soul,wrapped in legs around me…the cry of the oceanjust outside the shell…i kiss you, you tastelike my wanting,words mean nothing;black and white photographsin a world of color…i can feel the rumbleof the train on the tracks,you bite my shoulder….i open my eyes…and the room is…
my God and your God
but if they be true,they have the same last name!Compassion!until we understand this abiding truth,we cannot go further on our individualpaths to eternity!
>
from the housing projects,and the trailer parks…month to month,till the checks run out…food stamp cards,small items stolen and pawned,trading pills, or meth forday to day…the walking poor,a multi-colored sea,lapping at the shore of prosperitylike a bastard dog….salvation army dressed,often mission fed,preyed on by the holybent on their salvation!unemployment lines,struggling for GED’s….going to school just long…
>
looked into your mother’s eyesin that special way….i loved you!before the stones were hauledto build mighty Rome…i loved you!before the fire was first litin that long lost cave…i loved you!before our ancestorscrawled up on the shore…i loved you!before land and seawere seperate entities….i loved you!before day and night,when light and darkness were one…i loved you!and…
that old man
the other day…just talking, and listeningto his problems…came back and thanked me,a second time, for justtaking the time to care…sometimes the best prayerwe can ever prayis just that… taking the timeto care!
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do you love your neighbor?
do you hurt when he hurts?
do you feel need when he needs?
do you care enough to be involved?
do you believe all people are equal?
do you love yourself?
do you love God?
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this body has to die,
for this spirit to step free,and remember who it ‘is’…we borrow urns for the journey,but urns are not the journey.and pots made of clay,cannot hold oceans forever.the dance of death,smells of womb, and depth…the hidden name,sets paper walls ablaze.the kiss of death’s lips,turns great trees toward winter.leaving stains in the snow…ah, but more snow will…
you do not have the right
i will not allow that.i am not an ‘it’, or a statistic,i am a man!
some hearts are born hungry,
mountains tremble, and trees fall.some souls are born thirsty,with a thirst that makesrivers run dry, and clouds weepwithout aching tears.some spirits are born reaching,from beneath the earthto the realm of the sky,touching, always daring to touch.some beings are born to love,and love so much so hard,that the void left by the floodcannot be filled…and so…
spraying the crops
old people sitting in the cold…babies born to babies,with nowhere to turn…young people living in cars.one war over, another begins!the price of oil goes up.meth labs, break ins,another business closing doors…the lies and the promisesbecome even more hollow….salvation, redemption, just plain survive!the buildings on fire,they just stand and watch!black skin, brown skin, white skin, all….indignant,…
i am the brown skinned lover,
the window left open,the latch broken by desire.i am the turpentine tasteof the dangerous and forbidden.i am the graveclothes leftby the door to your room.i am the rabid dog,howling against the wind.i am the moment beforethe storm tears down the house.i am hunger sharpenedby the loss and the fury.i am legs uncrossed,quivering and damp!i am…
just an intelligent conversation,
an..honest….expose< br>……of……..the……….heart….a..dedicated….response….. to…….need…..a..compassionat e…..desire……..for……….chan ge….nothing could ever be more sensual!
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walking in awareness,
breathing in awareness,
giving in awareness,
touching in awareness,
listening in awareness,
doing in awareness,
speaking in awareness,
living in awareness….
awareness,
……now!
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we who would,
standing in the faceof if and should.we who can,and almost would;never quite reachingthe farthest shore.we who dare,beyond our fears;close our eyes andjump into eternity.we who prayto an unknown God;making a conscious choiceto be more than we are.we who would,and today we will;whatever the cost,without regrets!
everybody soup….
hands and hearts….boiled in the brothof human experience….seasoned by time,and salty tears…till fused togetherwith the sweet taste of life!
in order to break
you first have to knowthat they’re there.you have to feel themcutting into your flesh.you have to feel,and to name,the weight of oppression.a bird that’s never knownlife outside the cage,has no idea what freedom is!a man whose feetare buried in the ground,can never touch the sky!
the hands on the clock
from despair to the edge,from the edge to the fall…they call it flight!the gift of the bodyto the spirit,of the spirit to the night.i call it nails,the to and fro saw,dust on the floor,and dust becomes dust!the river names itself,when it breaks through the rocks.the rocks shout with joy,the night weeps and shudders!
who am i?
every page turned betrays the last,no footprints left on stone!even crows curse the coming storm,the pilgrim trudges snowbound fields.memory dimmed by time and ghosts,sacrificed to the need for sin!be that your body?clothed in naked heat…or the intimate beckoning of death?am i then the spring that never came,that you buried by autumn’s door?the sticky guilt of…
stop funding the greed!
failure to pay taxes,mistresses, deals donebehind closed doors,votes bought and sold…lies upon lies upon lies.you have to be wealthy to lead?you cant stand on your own works,you have to stab someone elsein the back?none of you have a clue…what real life is like!when a system becomes this corrupt,you have to take it down to the…
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…act the truth,
stand up, and shout!
make your life a real life!
do something that really lasts.
small things, big things,
in all things be true…
to your heart, to your mind….
to what you know
…you’re supposed to do!
never settle, and never mettle
in things that have no value.
validate your time by living,
your living by giving,
do what you’re given to do!
speak the truth!
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you search for God
kneeling before tofu altarsof your own conveniencebut what you search forhas never been lost!cant be defined by rhetoric’s shape,cant be contained by names, sects, or creeds…& cant be bought with plastic card faith…what you search foris the spaceinside the shellthe place where the soundof the oceanabides in stillnessyou are that shell!what you search foris already…
do we fill the empty plate
the empty cup with spilled blood?do we sing of freedomat the funerals of the children?scratch ‘equality’ on their headstones?do we sacrifice murder on the altar,while praying to gods made of stone….do we write infinity with an oily brush?just what the hell have we become?
he leaves behind
young…pregnant…….girls……..having………babies….mere echoes ofhis unconscious self,crying out his name….against the ragethat lingers wherehis heart should be….feeding the hungerthat..devours…..him…… .from………within!books unopened,stories never written!
walking across the semi-frozen grass with my old dog….
watching the sun come up over the horizon, and thinking.Carlin, like so many others, was right! we are owned.this quit being a democracy a long time ago.the rich, the elite, the corporate gods, call all the shots.they buy both the laws and the lawmakers. they pick thepresident…they use wars, mis-information and fears, to manipulatethe common…
a new day dawning…
or how long the labor…dont know how badthe birthing pains…but the time of changeis upon us!let us work together withdiligence and determination,to insure the changeis for the good!we are the human race…let’s be human!
just for once…
take the fingers off the button,unload the planes…open your churches to the homeless,your homes to the hungry…turn your prayers into ears,that listen, hear, and care!give somebody the best gift of allyour time!hell, it’s Christmas…let’s act like we understand!
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walking down the street,
and offered to pray for him….
he turned and said:
‘dont pray for me unless
you have something i can eat…
maybe a cup of coffee…
and if you havent got anywhere
for me to sleep… maybe,
just a blanket, or a coat…’
he thought a minute, and spoke again:
‘i tell you what, forget all that….
i dont want you to give me anything…
except a chance to work, and earn my way! ‘
they were speechless…
he turned and walked away!
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shaking the dust
marching onwards to Jericho,a trumpet by my side.living on manna,and the almost forgotten dreamof the promised land.knowing what a man doesis washed away by the rain,and what a man believesis lost in the night.but what a man givesstands like a mountain,season after season,till all becomes still!shaking the dustoff of my feet….tipping my hat,following the crow!
the heretic kneels
alone in the darknesswith life….and prays….with no need for salvation,redemption, or change….no thought of self,of need and want,he just lets go…and prays….nameless, part of all….formless, evolving forms…..from soul to spirit….becoming….the scripture of small creatures,the hymns of the wind…..eternity unleashed in each moment…..the heretic prays!
and so we are but this…
for a moment and gone…the flower that blooms for a day.the rain dropp dissolving into the earth,the small stone washed away,when the river surges.the memory of dawnforgotten in the night…the lonesome farewell of the snailcrossing just before light…leaving only a small wet trailas evidence of passing! , , ,and the shout of joy,that sounds like…
dont call my name anymore.
for every tree you cut without thinking,you’re cutting into me.every river you defile with your waste,you’re defiling me.every ocean you poison with oil,you’re killing me!you fear hell?hell is your own creation,the result of your actions!quit blaming it on me,you did it!smokestacks polluting the air,bombs falling on helpless people.nuclear reactors melting down,jobless men and women standing…
how many deaths must i die
how many crosses carried,how many deserts crossed?how many tears must i cry(tho they be at night when no one can see) ,how many bruises, scars…how many times must i bleed?if I am not I,then whose breath this stranger?whose feet in my shoes?whose hat on my head?i stand in the moonlight,and look at the rafters,measuring rope…
i was thinking about
and the tobacco road south…old men in overalls chewingtoothpicks down at the depot.furniture factory ghosts,cheap gasoline, old trucks…fried squash and okra,and the smell of cornbread cooking.and the right of every childto have an equal education…the right of every man, and woman,to be free…. free, and proud…they cut down them old trees…hell, we always thought therewas…
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there’s more than we allow.
beneath the grain, born in the pain,
the reality of now.
Jesus saves, yet we dig the graves,
for the poor and downtrodden.
not much loss, they pay the cost,
the beaten and forgotten!
my religion is compassion.
swords to plowshares slowly fashioned.
you can be what you imagine….
unconditional, true passion!
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if i couldnt trust you
eat with you…why would i vote for you?if your words are lacedwith hatred, deception, and fear…why would i vote for you?if you’re part of the problem,and see no need to change…why would i vote for you?if you’re so insulatedin your affluent world…why would i vote for you?if you’re drunk on apathy,and cant feel the need…
this body’s not my home…
a tumbledown shack,weathered by the years.a cup stained by use.a fire gone to embers,a prayer lost in the din.the sound of the hawk’s wingsin a sky no one can touch.bury it, or not! i dont care!you can burn it on a pyre,or leave it for the wolves.i cannot take it with me,have no use for…
all people just want
white, black, Hispanic,Asian, and Arabic…chains an offenseto all that breathe…one cannot be freewithout the other!there are no illegal people,or invented people…the least worth as muchas the most powerful.put down your fat bellied guns,and your patriotic rhetoric…all are created in the imageof the eternal!
the soul dies in the body’s tears,
weeps with empty fullness.my heart does not speak to me,we walk in silence…veterans of wars you cant imagine,returning to homeless streets.and the bodies of touch and wanting,are strewn with a beautiful horror.yet the guilt is named to be forgotten,as memory turns to vanity.the sins we wear on the outside,are nothing to the sins we carry…
for any government to be fair,
just as important as every other.every citizen has to have equal rights,whether black or white,rich or poor, gay or straight.whether they believe in the same god,in another, or in none.whether they speak english,or another language.whether they are educated,or not!every citizen has to have an equal chance,for employment, for education,for housing, for love and happiness.and every…
when dialogue stops,
and ice has formed on the lipsof the heart…close the eyes softly,prepare for snow…praying for the promise of spring!
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close your eyes dont touch.
give them rice, roaches and lice,
just dont give them much.
truth too strong, sell your song,
keep them marching to the beat.
riot squads, in the name of god,
kill freedom in the streets.
the wheels of justice keep on turning.
you keep spending more than you’re earning.
people keep dying, bodies are burning….
feed the beast, the world keeps turning.
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if you’ve not heard
look in the mirror,and see yourself.look at all others,and see yourself.look for God,and see yourself.look at yourself,and see all of life.look at yourself,and see all those suffering.look at yourself,and see all others.look at yourself,and see God!every thing you feel,is being felt.every thing you need,needed by all.every tear you cry,on every face.every prayer you pray,a part…
for every flower that opens,
for every bushel of corn,another child starves.for every bullet fired,another mother weeps.for every coming of dawn,another face is forgotten.for every hand extended,another door closed.for every prayer prayed,a homeless family waits.for every flower that opens…
who makes the choices
that decide who eats,who has shelter,who has medical care?the choices…whether or not to bomb,whether to pull the trigger.whether to see that justice is done,or to turn the head,and walk away…whether to acceptpeople for who they are,and what they are…whether to stand upfor the other person’s rights,the other person’s beliefs,the other person’s way of life…whether to…
nothing but a camel,
nothing but the night,the longing and the star.nothing but a hundred faces,and all of them divine…nothing but the voices of love,and one of them be mine!
the only loss one cant survive,
anything you’re not willing to die for,is less than a moment lived.who are we if not to leave this mark,to give this body as a gift?for this breath to be bridge and lantern,and this howling to light the dark!
revolution, or
maybe it takes oneto have the other!how much injusticedoes it takebefore we demand justice?how is it ever fairfor a few to live in luxurywhile children are going hungry?class warfare? or justthe right of every human beingto have his/her needs met!how long will we wait?how long will we let this go on?revolution beginswith revelation in the…
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they’re people too!
often more so than we are,
with a deeper reverence
………..for life,
and a deeper understanding
…of the sacredness
………..of the mundane!
give them back
…their rights to life!
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she has a disability,
not some freak!she has feelings and dreams,just like you!she works hard, harder than most,and gets things done,in spite of……she loves to read and to think,her mind is not warped….she doesnt want your pity,she wants your respect.she’s human, not a joke,she’s nobody’s mistake,with a heart open and caring….she can do what you can,and maybe even more….for…
the smell of coffee brewing,
sunlight working its way through blinds,and the nip of autumn air.the song in my head no oneelse can hear, coming from nowhere….the sharpness of things seen,and things not easily seen….thoughts pulling like undefined gravity,driving me to get up, and go again.time passes, leaves fall,but the tree remains, strong and steady,ready for the coming storms.something deep…
equal,
…equal,….equal,…..equal,……equal,…….equal!dont it sound good?wouldnt it feel good?think about it,and then do something about it!equal!
the well read soul
and takes his brother with him.only the ignorant take without giving…their poverty, well disguised by possessions,never goes away!faith has nothing to dowith ignorance, with blind following.faith is built on knowledge,and honed through experience.the person that stands upin the middle of the storm,and asks why…has already spokenthe hidden name of god!
you cant go on
on a steady diet ofJesus, pills, andpatriotic pride…sooner or later,hunger will demand,the meat on your plate,the meat they put there!
must true love
who drives the nails?who stands at the footof the cross and weeps?who carried the cross?who conducted the trial?and who are the faceless oneswho stand and jeer?who judges life worth giving,and how much does love demand?will love forgive?does love have a name?who’ll bury the body?who’ll guard the tomb?and on the third day,who’ll roll away the stone?our…
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fighting for preordained sections of land,
oil and mineral rights….
we dont own the earth,
…………….and never will!
you cannot convert other peoples
to your capitalistic form of Christianity
with a sword and vengeance….
ask the Native Americans
…..how they feel about this!
you cannot bring about justice,
when your judicial system is oiled
with money and color…
when you have more people in prison
than any other country!
you cannot convince anyone to do
the right thing when everything you do
is based on selfish greed….
doing the right thing means being human,
being human is something we’ve forgotten!
you cannot bring about change,
unless you’re willing to change yourselves…
all good things begin within….
we are what we choose to be,
not what we pretend to be!
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this old spicket
having stood the testof time and weather,heat and cold….surrounded by weeds,occasionally coveredby a lone spider’s web…rusted and tarnished…..just waiting….for someone toturn the knob!
real men…
real men dont lie.real men dont takeat the expense of others.real men dont quit.real men dont make excuses.real men dont follow blindly.real men dont abuse women.real men are good fathers.real men live by respect.real men dont seek violence,but dont back down.real men get involved.real men face their fears,and their failures.real men own their mistakes.real men…
making love, dew damp
lonesome train whistle!
the true concept
we burn the bridgewith fingers that grasp!not knowing,we will never be free at death,unless we let go in this life!when the sun rises at dawn,there is light…sadly, we spend mostof our mornings and evenings,still waiting on the sun to rise!distance…the illusion of me and mine,that falls short of, ‘i am’!
your heart…
that my heart cant hear…my heart bleedingby the grave…unmarked, and unclaimed.our tongues reaching through bars,our cells drowning in stone…only wings, and the soundof the river remain!
heroin and homelessness,
cold nights, broken glass windows,even Jesus got baptizedin a muddy river!blood on the kitchen floor,roaches crawl up the walls.Agent Orange, and picket signs,flags burning in the alleys.babies never seen their daddy,mothers working, minimum wage.breaking into churches,and sleeping at the altar,dont turn back time, or stop the wind!empty graves, orphaned parents.the nursing home smells like deathseeds…
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our depressed children…
why dont we try liberating them
with a constant diet of family love,
both father and mother!
with open minded listening,
and the assurance that
we accept them for who they are…
and by living our lives in an
involved and compassionate way,
every step, every day…
thereby insuring they
have a real future!
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Native America tragedy,
poverty has its remedies,none of which are good.crystal meth and crack cocaine,Devil drives that old train,cant fix the hole or ease the pain,and wouldnt if it could…still the wheel of lifekeeps on turning;in the land of illusions,crosses burning.small town heroes falling,the ghosts of freedom calling,yet the truth is quite appalling,pawns in the game.Wall Street ghouls…
yours lips wet with desire,
curtains shout,and seas divide!while rain drenched leavestempt the wind with touch,as small children playhide-and-seek in the shadows.time burns the edgeof page and thought,armies disperse, abandoning cars.rainwater stands in half empty pots,your hands open and close.the tongue wrapped aroundthe butterfly’s wings,heat waves lap at unknown shores.your breasts rise and fall,be it dream, or want…while thunder rolls,and…
i rose from the grave,
i shook the chill silencefrom my bones,and walked through the last door.i stood on your porchfor the longest time not speaking,watching the wind blow the curtains,listening to the creaking of the boards.we are no more than the last step,no less than every mile.your reports of my deathfall on deaf ears…i can still taste the sweat…
speak to me as if you knew me…
the stones on the path will nothurt your bare feet….the fire will not burn your hands.eyes fly like crows across distance,be it across the room,or across the world…and pages are writtenwith the pens of angels,to be thrown into the wind.my heart cries for deliverance…your tongue rests against my arm….seize the moment, for there is no…
I am not the I your fear defined,
I am not the shoes you bought to wear,and put up for special occasions.I am not the truth you pawned for food,not the car that broke down on your way home.I am not the picture you chose to paint,using only colors that you liked.I am not the sin you couldnt commit,nor the reason for your…
waiting for the snow
where spirits inhabit fossilsand the earth spinsnaked and completein each turn.this old body’s worn out!the turtle leaves its shell,grows wings, flies into darkness.lying again at the Mother’s breasts,watching her touch the windand create forms!snow, tiny flakesfalling, defying gravity,clinging to the windowpaneeach a tiny lifetimemelting without a whimper,melting into the light!
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the priests of rhetoric
masturbate in hidden rooms,
by the bodies of young boys,
the price paid without doubt.
the neon screen blares,
cancer has a new name…
dressed in pride and patriotism.
street vendors passing laws,
feed the monkies!
the truth is
it’s all a lie!
they drink martinis behind smoked glass,
sell the souls of the poor
to pay the rent!
leaving black scars on the faces
of children who were never born…
in a world already bought….
bought and sold for nickels and dimes!
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from a renegade Buddhist
we come to carry torches,over and over,again and again,till all the night sky be lit!
the old man
the detox center…the boy turned to him:‘pray for me…’‘son, i prayed for youwhen i took you in,when i sat and listened,when i fed you,and cleaned you up…now pray for me,and most of all for yourself,when you walk through that doorlike a man, and ask for help! ‘
WE THE PEOPLE,
….on the earth…demand fairness,equality, shared dignity,and a just dispersionof all needed goods….having the desireand the fortitudeto work and to giveas readily as we take!believing that all life is sacred,and should be treated as such!and that the only true successfeeds every hungry mouth!daring to respect each other,and so be respected!
i heard you crying…
but i can feel your hunger,your pain, can smellyour fear…just like it was my own.there are no wallsbetween the living,no self imposed barricades,no structured classes…there is only breath!and blood! and need!tongues groping for soulsthat taste like our own!
i dont want you…
if i cant have youspiritually,walking…not behind me,nor in front,but beside me,as my true companion.i dont want you…emotionally,if i cant have youeternally,aware of each moment,alive in each moment.i dont want you…conditionally,if i cant have youtotally,immersed in the give and take,the ebb and the flow.i dont want you…unless you want me,the same way!
do not speak of god,
nor the creator…i do not dwell in temples,creeds, or written scriptures.i am formless, taking forms,i am infinite, becoming particle.i am clay and grass,stone and wood…i am flesh and semen,and intimate eyes!i am hungry, will you share?i have no home or bed,may i sleep with you?i am lonely, will you speak with me?i listen, will you…
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the caw of the crow,
the growl of the bear,
the scree of the hawk….
the stamp of the deer,
the language of whales,
the whisper of the trees,
the silent affirming mountains….
the song of the rivers,
the chant of the grasses….
all raised in the court of living…
voices crying out against injustice,
against the works of the humans
that would destroy their home!
the true democracy has voted…
and we’re out!
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they would cut the wings from sparrows,
take the laughter from the small child,and bury the old man’s shoes.fill the cup with oil,and burn the pages….erase the names and the memoryof having been…but the sparrow flies beyond their reach,and they cant touch the wind.the child gives his laughter freely,and the cup has been turned over.the pages feed the fire with desire,and names…
my soul hath returned
before written history,before there were words.when god walked naked in the darkness,her long hair birthing leaveson branches that wept.the stones whispered praise,the trees bowed in prayer!the gutteral moan of the windhaunts the walls of the cave.i dream of fire,both shaking and sweating with cold.while god talks with the wolves,the turtles, and the owls.and sounds mimic…
rape is a horrid act of violence
a terrorist act against the victim!anyone found guiltyshould be dismembered!whether the victim be female,or male… they should be treatedwith the respect due a wounded soldier….the human heart knowsthat when one of us is disrespected,we have all been disrespected….in this knowledge lies the keyto healing!
butterfly….
then gone forever,leaving only the echoesof your small fragile wingsriding the wind….eternity, an instant,nothing else needed,holding starlightin the palmsof hands made of dust!
the working poor
in a field….if you plant enough,you can cull the weaker ones,and have a good cropto do the job…this is the mentalitythat we have to change!and it beginswith putting namesto each and every face!
when the Buddha in me
he leaps with joy!as if great waves of stillnessarise from a calm, placid sea,to lap at the shores of…we are those shores,and yes, we are the waves,but most of all…we are what remains,after the shores are stripped bare!
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whether you’re Christian,
Buddhist, Hindu, Moslem,
or atheist by choice…
we are all born human!
with the potential to be…
fully human!
we have choices everyday….
what we do with our time,
our will, our feelings, our actions…
determines what we really are…
it doesnt matter so much about labels…
what matters is what’s inside!
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are we the judge,
the sinner, or the sin?holiness, or brokeness,the fire,or burning branches?do we hatethe wrong in others?or the wrong in ourselveswe cannot see?do we pointlike bare branchesto the moon?or lie on the ground,and rot?who do we change?where do we begin?are we then,the sinner, or the sin?
overthrow, it’s time to go,
the heart dont lie, the tears you cry,the hard work of human love.look to God, look back at self,the burden’s on our backs.the future’s there, if we care,enough to take it bacK!and the worrld comes crashing down.in too deep, the fearful drown.stand up and be, or just sit down.what goes around comes around!
the truth…
to concepts,or even words.sometimes what is feltis too deep to express.or perhaps the spirit moans,and only a few can hear…usually the oneswho’ve been beaten the most.that fire in the gut,that burns the last thinggrasped for…and leaves the heart as nakedas the whore on the corner.but even she knowsmore than priests or philosophers…she lies sleepless in…
do not mountains,
their time, and die?does not the sunrise in the morningonly to lay down at night?are not universes born of dust,only to return to dust?why should we be any different?all that lives but a fleeting glimpseinto the workings of eternity.yet everything that comes and goesleaves an indelible mark,a footprint on the water,a face put to the…
do jail cells demand certain colors?
are they the colleges of the hopeless?or just a place to hide the firetill the flame goes out?does anybody want to be poor?does anyone deserve to be poor?who picks the judge?who enforces the law…the law passed by filthy rich politicians?is God white?how about Jesus or Buddha?does He live in the suburbs?what kind of car does…
sitting in my old chair
green beans… waitingon the storm.wind whips through the trees,a streak of lightning, occasionalthunder… breaking beans.thinking about my grandparents,working down at the mill…farming, grew four gardens…cows, pigs, chickens, andturkeys…no one ever went hungrythere… no one around themwent hungry…there was always food to eat,and work to be done….but that day has come and gone….now we work on…
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but a door….
your heart opens
with your tears,
with your words.
not an ending,
but a different journey,
so much the same.
not a time for sadness,
but a time for awe….
standing ‘neath the wings
of flight….
as the gifts of loving,
remembered,
fall like rain….
death. a cool drink of water
for lips parched and swollen….
death, the shadowy stranger
that feels like a lover….
new fallen snow
on earth preparing for spring!
death, the turning of the wheel,
the birth of a holy child,
the prayer our spirit prays!
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will you kiss
set firm by death’s stillness?will you layyour naked willing body,against the body cold as stone?will you closeeyes frozen staring inward,lost to all green and bursting?will you whisperyour innermost secretsinto ears lost in oceans?will you cry,your tears fallinglike ashes on ground now bare?will you scream,shaking your fist at god?knowing…you cant rollaway the stone,with a pigeon’s remorse!
do you know what love is?
naked in bed….sipping good brandy…..old dog asleep at the footof the bed….phone unplugged!dont give a damnwhat day it is!
running down the road
cause mercy’s just a prayer,and justice is blindgive what you gotmore than hope can allownothing more importantthan right here and nowhe’s a joker, he’s a clown,he’s a fighter, he’s a man.sell his soul to protect you,got his heart in his handswide open, and looking fora bullet to the head…when you stand, dont back downsomebody gonna…
falling down poets,
falling down reactors,falling down planes.hollow men with masks,hollow dreams, hollow drugs.hollow patriots, hollow Jesus,hollow bodies, hollow hugs.drunk men drunk on power,drunk preachers drunk on salvation.drunk drivers lost in the night,drunk politicians annebriate the nation.lonely men carry the biggest guns,lonely children follow behind.lonely widows blame themselves,lonely lovers lose their mind.truth slaps against the glass,truth breaks down…
dont call my name anymore.
no more churches, temples, and mosques,the wind has no need for a home.no more battles or wars in my name,no more judgements bound by your fears.no more talk of heaven and hell,till you walk the path before you.for as long as you killto feed your greed.as long as you allowchildren to go hungry.as long as…
home…
goes to rest,the soul goes to findit’s lover and friend…and the spirit goesto heal and be forgiven….the place no one elsecan see or touch…inside the palm of God,close to the breast of the wind…the place whereyou can stand naked,and never feel cold!
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everybody talkin’ about change.
change your look,
change your luck,
change your politics,
change your religion…
change the country,
change the world….
change the day!
change your underwear!
loose change, pocket change,
winds of change, march for change….
but all real change begins within…
let’s work on that,
and then everything else
will change in turn!
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tis the sound of thunder,
the sound of crying,that drives the pain.the footfall of a thousand angels weeping.tis the sound of faces,without form or name.the sound of feet,with nothing to gain.the star above a thousand children sleeping.tis the heart unbound,the shattered soul.tis the hand extended,that cannot hold.the waiting at the edge of endless night.tis the broken vase,the candle spent.the holy…
as i grow older
i’ve grown tired of paper kingdoms& dreams that endwith the taste of blood in my mouth.i do not believe thatGod lives in synagogues & churches,or in the exhortations of evangelists,or in the rituals of priests…or in hell-fire & damnation,the sword of judgement, the end of time,or in holy graves…i see God in the eyes…the eyes…
stillness wrapped in stillness,
an ancient holy book writtenon a leaf, that falls freely,turns bright with passion,and crumbles into death!who are we?and what remains?more than the inflection of voice?less than scriptures etched in stone?a star? a caterpillar? a gust of wind?does the soul retain identity?the spirit have a familiar face?does the name change…from Henry to pebble,from William to speck…
religion is like a condom,
of man to touch the actualpresence of god…never allowing the seedof man’s inmost desiresto germinate, and conceive!
kindness…
of years of abuse,neglect, loss, and hunger…the mirror of past actionsplanting human seedsin common ground…the expression of God’s breathon a world of empty houses!the action of forgiveness…
that old shutter,
the wind rises, making angry faces,water surges past stopped up gutters.trees bend and sway with magic,the grasses moan in orgasmic delight.the world threatens, its final statement.death taunts as if by choice.long dusty roads beneath the eyes,flood, and are then reborn.life teeters, lightning creates,bones to dust to beginning seed.standing in the doorway, drinking thunder,laughing quietly at…
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i am nothing,
nothing but the breeze
walking through the trees.
nothing but the caw of the crow,
the echo of the mountains’ silence.
nothing but the empty bowl
held by the hungry child.
nothing but the dark face,
the white hands,
spoken in different languages.
nothing but the blood,
of the family killed by the bombs.
nothing but the lonely terror
of the suicide just before dawn.
nothing but the footprints
the lonely traveller follows
on the way back home…..
nothing but the leaf
turned from green to red to brown.
nothing but the memories
of love calling back to you.
nothing but a prayer,
an offered hand, an unknown friend,
a tear, a smile….
the dance of the living,
a small fire on the darkest night!
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i felt the bullet
the sickening gasp of lightlost in the void…i felt the emptyof your stomach turning,as you staggered weaklydown that long dusty road.i felt the bone crushing painas he struck your face,again and again….i felt the sicknessof the stench of the alley…i felt the fear and despair of the cell,the not knowing whenit was going to come…i…
are we then love’s refugees?
are we the only ones still bleeding,infidels by choice!whose house and whose light,whose name on the box?will the soldiers then come,and bury what we’ve been?when feeling departs,another intimacy begins…too often lost in the waves,and insects that sing of night.have we lived our life,to be flashlights and rubber boots?doth not this ache strip silence,to that which…
if we were conscious
and why we’re doing,what we’re doing,every moment of every day….we wouldnt have to worryso much about the‘end of the world’!if we really livedevery moment of our lives,we wouldnt fear death!if we gave all we haveto give, we wouldnt be worriedabout what we dont have!if we listened instead of talking,we’d find what we’re looking for!
a small child,
cracking walnuts with a hammer.i often feel this waywhen i try to comprehendgod, infinity, and the meaning of life.scientific thrustsonly leave more questions.and philosophy turnswine into water!i can still taste the walnuts,perhaps that’s enough!
i am, become…
of streets gone empty,of factories deserted,of shops closed down.i am the abortion clinic bombedby the right wing fanatic,and the baby left with a babythat she cannot raise.i am the food pantry,the mission, the soup line…my faces used to be your neighbors.i am the tractor rusted in the snow,the well gone dry…i am the young gay…
when your breath stinks of wars,
when your tongue is a strangerthat your heart denies…when your feet sink in the sand,and your hands tremble with lust….do you think that deathwill kiss you first?
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Armagadden, not the end,
not soldiers wearing masks,
not the plague, not nuclear disaster….
not prisons, not persecution,
not being labeled or hated.
not losing it all,
not guns, not drugs, nor
one world order…..
but i do fear….
not living all that i can live,
not giving all that i can give,
not matching beliefs with action,
not seeing all people as people,
not doing what i know is right….
not standing when i should stand,
not saying what i should say….
not writing the words i’m given….
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and so it comes to this.
of passion, and unbridled emotion.my old worn hands tremblea little as i pass the cup.and your eyes have a farawayglint; not conscious, not here anymore.lips that once knew the languageof mine, are terse, and set.where did the living go?the laughter, the touching,that lay awake at night andwatched me sleep, as if drunken.and all the words…
we are the carbon killers,
…in….pretentious…… arrogant……..robes,burning sacrifices of coal and oil,on the…altar…..of…….self-worship!devouring our very flesh,wild…hogs…..without…….rem orse,blindly following the fire,drenched…….in………gasoline,masturbating…in….the….. .halls………of progress!
spirits wail in the napalm night,
dreams whisper from cardboard boxes,ants walk with angel’s feet.the sound of mouth’s stricken,deeper than just need.the soul of fire shudders,while glass eyed leeches feed.history written with grave cost,we are what we have done.while outside the door anger lurks,and the bullet seeks the gun!gods? i think not….even demons fear to tread.the hand takes from its own…
i am ready for autumn,
and there are nights when i waketo the taste of snowflakes on my tongue.i’ve turned in color, burned with passion,now i await the fall.the lips of my creek yearn for ice,i watch the birds prepare to fly!
those brown skinned babies…
and around the world.laying dead victimsof bombing and gunfire…are our children.those white skinned,black skinned babies,born into the housing developmentsand trailer parks,into crackhead pill poppingpoverty… those,are our children too!those blood stained babies,found in desperate dumpsters,our children, again.those unborn babies,born into hopeless situations,or never to be borninto a world cold and hard…our children too!
i am only as old
dollar signs in dimestore windows,milkshakes for a quarter.non-filter cigarettes and broken Trojans,long hair ironed with loving hands.when revolution smelled like sex,and god reeked of napalm.when young girls with hard nipplespassed doobies to wide eyed poets.and the streets convulsed with anger,that sat at the back of the bus.while religious M-16’s jammed,and radical students were beatenwith patriotic…
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burning flesh amid cries,
student protestors shot down….
flags smolder, stink like freedom
whored out for change….
and now again,
the great planes fly,
dropping death and liberation
o’er ghostlike oil fields…
too many questions….
lined up like cattle,
and shot…..
in the name of homeland security,
in the name of profit and loss…
their profit, … our loss!
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i know that it feels like
almost engulfed by, ignorance…it never fails to amaze methat people spend so much time,and energy, looking for someoneto blame.is it easier to blame, than to takeresponsibility?is it easier to hate, than to lovethe unlovable in ourselves and others?is it easier to close our eyes, andlook the other way, than to see:1. the faces of the…
the quiet beauty of
the deep sadnessin the lost staresof people walking them,no direction, nowhere to turn…and the agony of the apathetic,standing behind windows,curtains closed,who turn up the musicto drown out the rain,and so, feel nothing at all!
broken glass,
the spoon tarnished…with time.an old lid turned up,half filled, half empty,wearing a spider’s web,and time earned rust.a dog barks, a truckgoes by….an old mattresson the bed…a baby’s bornin a rundown trailer,an old woman diesalone in her chair.life turns, the handsof the clock sharp….cut the fingersat the touch….the untamed heart,on the unknown path,fallen leaves leftby the…
i am the headstones without inscriptions,
i am the grey beard, and the morning pains,and conversations with parking meters.i am the leaf that waited for a thousand years,(or so it seemed, if not longer) …now turning in the furious rage of passion,and tomorrow i will fall!i am a snowflake on the lips of time,the wheel steady in the worst of storms.i…
church bells ringing
walking these streets againdown by the old feed store,and the row of empty buildings,listening to the ghosts of the past.the railroad tracks stand silent,that old train dont run anymore.here and there people walking,aint nobody talking,stray dogs and broken bottles,stopped to light one last cigarette.i can still hear my mother calling,can still see my daddy’s tired…
i watched and listened as the young
for her pro-life stance…‘i understand that you’re pro-life,and while i admire you for the intentof your stance, i have a few questions…’‘go ahead, it’s pretty cut and dried.life is sacred from inception.’‘what life, or better, which lives? ‘‘all life! ‘‘ well, let me ask you this…did you vote for the man who sentyour son off…
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gnarled and bent old limbs,
cursed with fears inbred….
where black folks hung for being black,
and later, white folks for standing beside…
‘holy’ hatreds spat, crackling in the fires;
acts too horrid for the light of day,
and the lonesome cry of the night,
testifying against….
now the hanging tree takes different forms…
poverty, crack cocaine, trailer tub meth…
young girls put out on the street,
by pistol carrying punks
in big wheeled cars….
schooled by the prisons,
and left to die;
no hope, no jobs, no chance,
driven by those fears
while the ghosts of hatred dance!
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writing one last letter…
– dont think it matters!the words are composed ofthe things i’ve done… bothgood and bad.the commas are for my mistakes,-Lord, we’re gonna have a lot of commas!mistakes both of omission,and commission…the periods are for the timesi gave up, quit trying,lost my way…but the body of the letteris filled with hope….hope that sees things asthey are,…
God died yesterday…
He sent me His last breath,smelling of bourbon and good cigars.i went into the holy of holies,and found a dirty little boy playing…he told me he saw angels in the clouds,i told him they were bringing rain.and off we walked together,stopping to marvel at the trail of the ants…needing nothing more, and nothing less,than to…
seems like the hardest thing
after a lifetime of battles,triumphs and losses,loving and losing…is to dropp everything he has,everything he knows, andbelieves inat the door…and walk out into the rain…alone and naked, with hiseyes, heart, and hands open,and no expectations!
the small bird
for years;flapping its wings,trying to get out.then finally one morning,the door was left open!the bird emerged,battered and bruised,but victorious….and flew awayinto the limitless sky.
old train hurtles by,
the vacant,…the dispossessed,……the evicted,………the forgotten,………….the expendable.rattling the tracks,with the rhythm of yesterday,on the way to tomorrow,beyond…the…..far…….ho rizon.and the hawk that flies overhead,can find no flesh, no blood….the tombs of the livingsilently testify….the kiss of the deadlingers on my lips!
i’m different – so!
my heart same as yours!i work long and hard.give you more than i should.but i’m not your slave!Jesus was not white!never killed to convert the heathen.never sold the truth!there are no chosenpeople, no special people,just human people!i cannot judge you.i can barely judge myself.compassion, i pray.dont dare tax the rich!take it from the old, the…
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‘human impaired’!
they
…just
…..dont
…….se e
………color!
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when i meet a stranger
the only distance betweenme and him/or her…is the distance betweenme and me!
when we speak of revolution
do we understand the concept?justice has nothing to do withclass, religious beliefs, skincolor, or economic station…it has nothing to do with revenge!it cannot be used for politicalpurposes…justice looks, smells, tastes, andfeels the same for all people!justice is marked by a true senseof equality.doesnt sound like what we have now?therein lies the reason for revolution…it we…
how many deaths
how many times left aloneon some nameless shore,watching the storm carrymy boat off to sea?how many blackbirds deadbeneath the tree?if i die inside of youwill you remember my name?or am i just an old coathanging in the back of the closet?a hat your grandfather wore….a deck of cards forgotten in a drawer….a spider’s web clinging…
why is it
we are with the most,and are closest to…is the person we know least about…our self!
he said:
without a lover,trying to do the right thing…then one day i stood up,packed my few belongings,and walked off…in search of…’i watched him as he rolleda cigarette, his gnarled handssure and steady…stared at the light in his eyes,and the doors…only he knew whatwas behind them.bought him a cup of coffee,and shook his hand,no need for words…wondered…
the breasts of God,
of those left todie of starvation…in a godless world!
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we walk hand in hand through the fire.
through the streets of hell unashamed
we who are written by desire.
with prayers for the wounded,
for the bodies left beside the road.
with a hand for the children
bowed beneath a heavy load.
speaking truth without deception,
living by the code of the heart.
knowing there is no difference
in the shadows between light and dark
risking it all for a stranger,
might be your long lost brother.
standing for what we feel
standing for one another.
and the souls of the weary weep….
in the ground where the beaten sleep.
knowing the life given’s all we keep…..
fallen angels, fugitives, and black sheep.
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what we discover…
or a better world…but the universe within!and in so doing,make this worlda better place!
you would spread peace
end poverty with slavery,execute justice with your prisons,end prejudice by not looking…protect freedom of speech with oppression,teach the truth with closed minds,and fill the plates of the hungrywith nuclear threats…i say,‘Liar! ‘
socialism, existentialism,
patriot lies, god dies,unmarked graves in a field.the addict weeps, cold hard streets,poverty has a heavy hand.discrimination, salvation,leaving footprints where we stand.single mothers, live for another,food stamps and minimum wage.desperate young men, without a friend,commit acts of senseless rage.the prisons turn, the money earned,fills the bellies of greed.children taught to kill, against their will,to survive,…
i chose to believe
the smell of sunlightunwrapping the day!in the eyes of strangers,the stories unspokenwritten on facesby trial and fire!in the companionshipof dogs… who knowand sometimes divulge!in the lamp and the ashtrayand your body wrapped in sleep!
the killing of the children continues,
you speak of bringing God back,as if He were in retirement.in the name of liberty you march,the price of oil screams and soars.build more prisons, dig more graves,call on morality and justice.still, the bodies of the childrentestify on your back streets.you spray the winds with chemical death!and turning the pages ofyour bloodstained Bible,you call on…
it has always been
said without saying,in this country,(and i’m sure in others)that killing someoneof a different nationality,a different race, a different faith,as an act of war,is not murder…but it is!i’m probably not as passiveas i should be…if someone breaks in your house,and threatens you family,i say fight back.if someone tries to rob you,fight back.if someone rapes your wife,or…
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16 penny nails
…hammered in the
…….outhouse wall,
the rope,
…still tied in a knot…
…..the still warm bodies
……quivering, in shallow graves.
the children of the man
….who pushed the button,
……who made the choice….
the Mexican immigrant
….who washes the car
…….of the oil field supervisor,
….whose family lives
……in a broke down bus…
the ground up pills
…the boy snorts up his nose,
….while his momma prays;
and his daddy beats a young girl
…in a whorehouse across town.
the old man’s vomit stained shirt
…as he lies in the floor,
…..wondering if anyone
…….will ever find him.
the young protester’s bloody face,
….standing for the mug shot;
……his father’s company
……..just closed another plant!
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only the naked man,
can stand in the heat of the fire,and slay the corporate beast!only the naked man,who wears his scars with pride,can forgive the unforgivable,and so heal this land.only the naked man,without pretense or game,can stand up to the truth,and set the captives free!only the naked man,with nothing left to lose,can find the lightin a sky darkened…
listen!
something familiar!in every facesomething thatreminds you…in every flowerthat blooms.in every cloud,in every leafblowing in the wind.in every childthat’s born…in every old personthat you bury.in every manworking with his hands.in every womanraising her children.in every mountainstanding silent…in every riverflowing free…the song of living,the dance of darknessand light….the universe unfoldingin your hands!
gonna march barefoot on Washington,
gonna stand on the steps,take off my hat,and tell then that common folksare still about!gonna sing them a song about working,something they dont know much about!show them a picture of my house and family,a picture’s all that’s left.gonna hand them a dollar bill,make them read,‘in God we trust’…ask them what this god looks like!gonna, gonna,…
i know that
for i’ve seen the lovein a small child’s eyes!and yet i knowthat hell is real…for i’ve seen what we’re doingto these same children!
down in the poverty south,
another football hero,bathtub meth and anger.dark shadowed mother weeping,waiting on the preacher.while the unemployed old man,scratches up pennies for smokes.baptism remembered,before erections and gunpowder.neath the picture of his cousin,who died in Iraq…the old factory building collapses,empty on empty…Jesus died for your sins,even He cant get a job!sister hot and pregnant,turns the fan on high.the last…
i’ve been divorced before,
ended badly…and i know the deep levelof pain and anger and loss…where there was great love,there will be an even greatersense of hurt… as if the wholeworld comes crashing down on you…one of the hardest thingsfor me was when there werechildren involved…. especiallysmall children….(and all children, in a parent’seyes are small!)i can remember waking up…
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coal mine Christmas
late October stare…
sleeping in an abandoned boxcar
down by the tracks…
small pine branch fire,
eyes scour the road;
coffee, a few boiled potatoes,
a smoke as the sun goes down….
a returning vet….
with no place to go!
oil wars, bombs light the sky,
dead bodies walk in his dreams…
disillusioned, disembodied,
homeless, in America!
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>
the act of opening,like a rosebud,like a mother,opening the door…like a childopening a present,like a womanopening to a man….opening…all the hidden chambers,every door to everysecret kingdom of the soul…..opening the box that holdsyour secret thoughts, desires….opening…the door of the cage,letting the winged breath fly….opening….your heart to itself,and to all hearts beating….opening….the vault of conceptions,the entrance…
i stare at my face in the mirror,
of the clock… moment by moment…every feeling, born and unborn,every taste, intoxicating, burning the lips…every smell, faint and overpowering…every touch… real and imagined…and who am i? and what have i to give?i am the sound that you cant define,cant put to words, cant control.i am the fire that warms you, and destroys you…the water you…
when the money is gone,
they padlocked your house,and repoed your car…the years have passed,have taken their toll.even the fires of love,burned down to embers…at the end of the day,at the end of the road…all you have left are the children.they carry your heartto a new day and a new world…love the children!every child that is borncarries the holy seed.whatever…
we
ourselvesmostclearly…< br>intheeyesofotherpeople…< br>in their struggles,their mistakes,and their triumphs!
lovers share the same breath,
while poets of the revolution,linger by fires long dead.the human heart changes,slowly, with agonizing feet.the hint of truth merely,the perfume of fallen trees.no I and you, only the bridge,that comes from and leads tothe unmapped flame!the soul has hands,well skilled and driven by need…when the only need is we,the only name unspoken!
i am sick of your justice…
sick of your bursts of gunfire,and your bombs without conscience.sick of the napalm fingers of your equality,trading flesh for nickels and dime.sick of your powder and your pills,sick of the rape of the young girlbeneath your flag!i am sick of your nuclear bibles,sick of your buying and trading.i am sick of the pound of your…
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staying down by the tracks.
do what you have to do,
forget what you thought you knew…
and you better watch your back.
raised up right, followed the light,
stood for what you believed.
off to war and back again,
medals made of lies and tin,
gave much more than you received.
the horns blow, patriots rise.
somewhere another innocent dies.
stars and stripes in the land of lies….
freedom bows her head and cries!
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>
i too oft kissed compassionon the cheek…betraying my conscienceto feed my hungers…too oft dug shallow gravesin my haste to keep going….too oft took a sip of water,and poured the rest on the ground….too oft crossed myself,gave a couple dollars to a begger,but kept some back for myself….too oft looked into the eyes of need,and only…
no one to drink with –
if a man is an island,i lie undiscovered.do old men make good lovers?do you burn old books?or use them for your pillow?and the old pair of jeansyou just wont throw awaystill feels good on your ass!tired of reading old newspapers,i changed the candle by the bed.swept the floor, took out the trash,carried the broken branchesto…
we travel whole lifetimes
struggling, fighting, loving,dreaming, believing against all doubt…to find our brothers and sisterslost in the passings,in the comings and goings,of birth and death…to find the face of our mother,in lands foreign and strange.to do the work of our fatherin the ruins of our shame…to know each other,the scents familiar;and hear the sound of our own heartsbeating…
‘in God we trust’,
it’s a wonder it doesntburn your hands!but by your actionsyou make the lie the truth….in money yout trust,your money is your god!in god you trust!
she lives her life
shuffling papers, washing dishes,sweeping the floor.sipping on sterile water,her hands squeaky clean…even her cat’s been declawed!he comes in from work,both tired and bruised.his pants are dirty,his hands ache and throb.pours a small drink,and lights up a smoke…sits quietly with an angry stare.two worlds revolving,two distant shores.the phone rings, wrong number,there’s a knock on the door.she…
you are my body,
your flesh sustains me…i see through your eyes.your lips quench my thirst,your heart feeds my hunger.your darkness my womb,your emptiness fills me…you are my body,and i am yours!
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…is my body,
then
..may
….my
……spirit
………fly
………..away!
if the cost of freedom
….is my identity,
then
…may
…..you
……see
……..yourself
………..in
………. ….me!
if the cost of freedom
….is my time,
then
…forever
…..is
…….m y
………gift!
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she drained every ounce
and left his body lifelessin an alley…took every ounce of feelingfrom his senses…every streak of lightfrom his darkened path…took his every original thought,and the identity of his desire,and wadded them up like paperfor the fire…now every reason she had to live,every thing she ever knew about love…all lie betrayed by her tearsin a shallow grave…
manipulate, masturbate,
man wants another woman,woman needs a better man.never happy, not content,you steal your neighbor’s wife.trade your morals for desire,at the cost of another’s life.and the sound of the heartshakes the ground.hunger burns, the sea churns,and babies drown.you pray to God,but your prayers fall amid the furor.in the temple of the selfbowing down to the mirror!
fifty years married…
he sat by her bed,holding her limp hand….alzheimer’s, and a bad heart,eyes that didnt know him,anymore!he pulled the tubes fromher nose, from her mouth,from her arms….and whispered into her ear…‘go, be free…i wont be long…’true love pays the cost!
you can only take so much
before he’ll come backand tear it all down!people arent cattle,arent meant to be herded…even a man of peacehas a breaking point!when you finally take away hope,then the man becomes a beast…trapped with back to the wall,he’ll turn and fight!
i am nothing more
of broken glassin a deserted alleyon the bad side of townreflecting the lightsof a thousand lives passingthat dont even know i’m herethe nameless naming!
now where will we go
the price is too heavyand the payment’s come duewe stand and face our own raging egos,the mistakes of the past taunt us from the shadows,if we cant redeem today they’ll be no tomorrow,we were born to run never born to follow,we look in our hearts and find that we’re hollow,confessing our sins and drowning in…
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poets walkin’ outside the law,
spewing bloodstained words,
painting the picture they see,
they feel, they live…
talkin’ truth in the age
of propaganda…
holding the raw, beating hearts
of those in need…
with trembling hands,
and jaws set firm….
standing in the face of the roar,
fighting against all odds.
outlaw poetry?
hell no! outlaw ignorance!
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Reagon babies lying dead
oil battles there, even toSouth America!American workers stand in lineto buy the goods they lost jobs to…bailing out the bankswith more borrowed money!more Chevy’s sold in China,than are sold here!Japan’s Hiroshima carsflood the market…their kids stay in school,their workers have jobs!yet still whaling, and nuclear disaster!terrorists steal planes,or get elected to office….trading clean water for…
what are you going to do,
when it wont buy anything?not a loaf of bread,not a jug of water…not even a gallon of gas!when you’re left alonein the dark, with no oneto count on by yourself,with no friends,no instant gratification…what are you going to do?
the true concept
we burn the bridgewith fingers that grasp!not knowing,we will never be free at death,unless we let go in this life!when the sun rises at dawn,there is light…sadly, we spend mostof our mornings and evenings,still waiting on the sun to rise!distance…the illusion of me and mine,that falls short of, ‘i am’!
sometimes it just seems like
that you feel like you’re drowning!cant see where you’re going,all sense of light swallowed upin a grey fog….keep on walking!sometimes it seems likeyou lose everything you thoughtthat you had…everything you’ve worked for…everything that mattered….keep on walking!sometimes it seems likeeverything you do, everything you think,everything you say, andeverything you feelis the wrong damned thing;every action a…
love,
by design…self immoliationsby candle light.intimate Gethsemenes,crosses that smell familiar.bodies left silentby unmarked roads.small furry animalskilled by cars in the night.yet i stand by your window,with unrestrained eyes…hands opening and closing,drool on my chin.watching you sweep the floor,of any last trace.naming the demonsthat stole the night!
i walked down liberal boulevard,
made a final right on questioning…and knocked on the door of an old house.when the old woman answered i asked her,‘can you tell me, does truth live here? ‘she laughed and shook her head,‘that’s who i hoped you were! ‘
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driven by the wind,
to where, i dont care…
believing,
with no reason to believe,
against the turning odds…
getting back up,
slower each time,
in spite of time and the aches
of a long weary road….
going….
just keep on going,
with eyes that see,
and ears that hear….
giving…..
at the risk of losing,
more than i can bear to lose,
all that i can do….
longing….
for rebirth and bloom,
and the small joys lived
in the eyes behind the hands
of those i’ve helped up….
living…
as if it were a gift,
bestowed on me,
to be passed along!
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we who sit at the feet of angels
with no hand to hold against the night,no kindred spirit, no flame of hunger.we speak, there is no answer,only the waiting that sweats & weeps.the formless bound in a thousand faceseach yearning to be held, and named.we who sit at the feet of angels…and drink alone…
if i reached up
from the darkest skies,if i pulled the rainfrom the clouds that hang.if i seeped the stillnessfrom the mountains strong,if i took the colorfrom the rose unopened.if i took the tastefrom the applebefore it ripened,if i pulled the nailsfrom the coffinand raised the body.if i took the gunsfrom the soldiers,and replaced themwith flowers…if i took the…
new dawn….
grey faceless buildings,wet with morning.one more cigarette,thinking about coffee,waiting on the mission doors……to open.kicking through the trash,a rat runs off…nowhere to go,…nothing to do.tighten my belt,squint in the sunlight,just thinking ’bout how,gonna survive this day!
i am, become…
Rosa Parks would not leave..i am the fires of angerwhen Martin Luther King was killed.i am the grassy knoll,where the true killer stood.i am the Little Bighorn,and Crazy Horse weeping…i am the men that built the bombs,and all the faceless souls screamingthrough their long sleepless nights…i am the brothers that killed each otherin the long…
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my preacher,poverty is not my brother.poverty is not my prayer,or the song that i singis not my answerpoverty is not my dream.poverty is not my teacher,not the hand that i hold.poverty is not my anger,not my spirit, not my soul.ah! but this poverty is realit races thru my mindcrashes into my heart,& leaves…
we walk the fertile ground,
senses raw and yielding,hungry for the night,and the last promise of lightjust before the dawn….with naked hearts pounding strongas waves against the shore….running on belief, an ounce of wonder,and the scent of a woman’s touch!
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That we’ve broken their statues,
doesn’t mean at all that the gods are dead.O land of Ionia, they’re still in love with you,their souls still keep your memory.When an August dawn wakes over you,your atmosphere is potent with their life,and sometimes a young ethereal figureindistinct, in rapid flight,wings across your hills.
From all I’ve done and all I’ve said
An obstacle stood and transformedmy acts and way of my life.An obstacle stood and stopped memany a time as I was going to speak.My most unobserved acts,and my writitings the most covered —thence only they will feel me.But mayhaps it is not worth to spendthis much care and this much effort to know me.For —…
In the royal decree that Alexios Komninos
the very intelligent Lady Anna Dalassini,noteworthy in both her works and her manners-much is said in praise of her.Here I offer one phrase only,a phrase that is beautiful, sublime:‘She never uttered those cold words ‘mine’ or ‘yours’.’
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But when he found himself in darkness,
with a group of unholy Greeks,and bodiless figures appeared before himwith haloes of light,the young Julian for a moment lost his nerve:an impulse from his pious years came backand he crossed himself.The Figures vanished at once;the haloes faded away, the lights went out.The Greeks glanced at each other.The young man said: ‘Did you see the…
When I went to that house of pleasure
with some decorum, the accepted modes of love.I went into the secret roomsand lounged and lay on their beds.I went into the secret roomsconsidered shameful even to name.But not shameful to me -because if they were,what kind of poet, what kind of artist would I be?I’d rather be an ascetic. That would be more in…
I’m practically broke and homeless.
has devoured all my money:this fatal city with its extravagant life.But I’m young and extremely healthy.Prodigious master of Greek,I know Aristotle and Plato through and through,poets, orators, or anyone else you could mention.I have some idea about military mattersand friends among the senior mercenaries.I also have a foot in the administrative world;I spent six months…
He was the son of a misused, poverty-stricken sailor
He worked for an ironmonger: his clothes shabby,his workshoes miserably torn,his hands filthy with rust and oil.In the evenings, after the shop closed,if there was something he longed for especially,a more or less expensive tie,a tie for Sunday,or if he saw and coveteda beautiful blue shirt in some store window,he’d sell his body for a…
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The actor they’d brought in to entertain them
The room opened out on the gardenand the delicate odour of flowersmingled with the scentof the five perfumed young Sidonians.There were readings from Meleager, Krinagoras, Rhianos.But when the actor recited‘Here lies Aeschylus, the Athenian, son of Euphorion’(stressing maybe more than he should have‘his renowned valour’ and ‘sacred Marathonian grove’),a vivacious young man, mad about literature,suddenly…
On this wine bowl -pure silver,
where good taste is the rule-notice these graceful flowers, the streams, the thyme.In the centre I put this beautiful young man,naked, erotic, one leg still danglingin the water. O memory, I beggedfor you to help me most in makingthe young face I loved appear the way it was.This proved very difficult becausesome fifteen years have…
Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Aristomenis, son of Menelaos,
was generally liked in Alexandriaduring the ten days he spent there.In keeping with his name, his dress was also suitably Greek.He received honours gladly,but he didn’t solicit them; he was unassuming.He bought Greek books,especially history and philosophy.Above all he was a man of few words.It got around that he must be a profound thinker,and men…
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When I heard the terrible news, that Myris was dead,
going to the houses of Christians,especially during times of mourning or festivity.I stood in the corridor. I didn’t wantto go further inside because I noticedthat the relatives of the deceased looked at mewith obvious surprise and displeasure.They had him in a large roomand from the corner where I stoodI could catch a glimpse of it:…
When I went to that house of pleasure
with some decorum, the accepted modes of love.I went into the secret roomsand lounged and lay on their beds.I went into the secret roomsconsidered shameful even to name.But not shameful to me -because if they were,what kind of poet, what kind of artist would I be?I’d rather be an ascetic. That would be more in…
He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen.
for the wounded and bandaged shoulder.With a somewhat abrupt movement,to bring down from a shelf somephotographs that he wanted to see closely,the bandage was untied and a little blood ran.I bandaged the shoulder again, and while bandaging itI was somewhat slow; because it did not hurt,and I liked to look at the blood. Thatblood was…
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A life of its own and a long one is led
The wingless pullover, the patient’s old vest;Now pass it some warmth, move the lamp to the bed.It dreams of the skiing; in darkness it pouredFrom shaftbows, from harness, from bodies; it seemedThat Christmas itself also sweated and snored;The walking, the riding-all squeaked and all steamed.A homestead, and horror and bareness beside,Cut-glass in the sideboards, and…
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All morning high up on the eaves
A dove kept cooing.Like shirtsleeves The boughs seemed frayed.It drizzled. Clouds came low to raidThe dusty marketplace.My anguish on a peddlar’s trayThey rocked;I was afraid.I begged the clouds that they should stop.It seemed that they could hear me.Dawn was as grey as in the shrubGrey prisoners’ angry murmur.I pleaded with them to bring nearThe hour…
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Try and don’t let me grieve. Come and try to extinguish
Madness, try and forbid me to feel, come and try!Do not let me rant on about you! We’re alone-don’t be shy.Now, extinguish it, do! Only-hotter!
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Stars were racing; waves were washing headlands.
Darkened were the bedrooms; thoughts were racing,And the Sphinx was listening to the desert.Candles swam. It seemed that the Colossus’Blood grew cold; upon his lips was spreadingThe blue shadow smile of the Sahara.With the turning tide the night was waning.Sea-breeze from Morocco touched the water.Simooms blew. In snowdrifts snored Archangel.Candles swam; the rough draft of…
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At twilight the swifts have no power,
It bursts from throats, a clamouran outpour that can’t grow less.The swifts have no way, highup there, overhead, of restrainingtheir clarion cries: ‘O, triumph,see, see, how the earth’s receding!’Like steam from a boiling kettle,the furious flow rushes by –‘See, see – no space for the earthbetween the ravine and the sky.’
I am finished, but you live on.
rocks the house and the clearing,not each pine alone,but all the trees together,with the vast distance, whole,like the hulls of vessels,moored in a bay, storm-blown.And it shakes them not from mischief,and not with an aimless tone,but to find, for you, from its grief,the words of a cradle-song.
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