and ice has formed on the lips
of the heart…
close the eyes softly,
prepare for snow…
praying for the promise of spring!
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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!
they’re macing unarmed
whose freedom did they threaten?whose do you threaten?in the land of the freeand the home of the brave,truth has become the newterrorist threat!we stand on the cliffoverlooking now and tomorrow…will we dare to leap?will we dare to get involved?there wont be a tomorrowif we dont!the true cost of freedomis living in a way thatdemands freedom,by…
robin’s nest,
from scrapsof living.rainswept,the earth,a lover satisfied!shadows of the wheel,turn slow as the sun.tiny deaths,the spider’s web,glints in the light.the last barkof the mongrel dog,cups and plates stackedin the drainer to dry.forever, the book fallsto the floor.love tastes like rust,rust and burnt coffee!
as i sat quietly thinking,
upon my door..i got up and crossed the floor,and opened the door.a disheveled man stood there,without speaking…i felt uneasy…there was something,i just couldnt place.his hair was long and grey,his eyes were like fires.his hands were beaten,but there was a strength there,and a sense of purpose.i finally stammered,‘who are you? ‘…he smiled, ‘i am you! ‘i…
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…
when i finally…
my self called me a whore!and i spent weekson the porch,fumbling in my pockets…for my identity.i stopped a passing strangerand asked him my name…he pointed to the ground,and muttered, ‘other’!i gave a wino my last dollar,pulled down my hat.and walked off alone…but i could hear the footsteps,could feel the heavy breathing…and turning to demand…saw my…