Tag Archives: poem
Untitled
Indecisive flowers
Trees raging against the sky.
The earth is fruitful.
Alma
Unconditional
God came down to earth to make amends
But alas, such time had passed, he had no friends,
They all looked at him wrong,
Said he should move along,
His presence was spoiling their weekends.
Outraged by their outlandish audacity,
Their abject lack of perspicacity,
He formed an intention
To hatch an invention
Inspired by his wrath and pugnacity.
He thought to bury them in a flood
Sink their bodies in the silt and the mud
But he did that before,
And he’s not one to bore,
He couldn’t go back without shedding some blood.
The idea of setting all of them on fire,
Like the Sodom and Gomorrah they admire,
Seemed to be fun enough,
But this new batch was tough,
The flames of hell would hardly make them perspire.
“Slaughter their children!” he decided at last,
As he so very often did in the past,
There is no better way,
For a real god to say,
“I love you; now love me and do as I asked.”
Gertrude the Destroyer
The earth buckled beneath her weight,
A form it never could create.
A swirling mass of colors,
Consuming all it discovers.
Ripping through the fields and mountains,
Hot magma wrenched out in fountains.
Time and space bent in around her,
Reality left to flounder.
They used all the tools of the state,
Extremes winning out each debate,
Soldiers, missiles, bombs and others,
All sent out while our hope suffers.
Losses beyond accounting,
Figures all reduced to nothing.
From great king to lowest toiler,
Razed by Gertrude the Destroyer.
Light
Diffused in the ambience,
Lost amongst static,
Alone in space and in time,
Distance made frantic-
Violence released me,
Set me out among the stars,
Death is all you see.
Atomic Era
Split, the atoms are harnessed,
Humbled before man,
Once a thing, now another;
Lost from what began-
Found now in power;
Expressed, extracted, exhumed,
In our last hours.
Killing My Self Laughing
I keep seeing,
The captive cached,
alone and cold,
Like the morning,
Mild moments bliss
Maintains a pulse,
And yet submits,
A sorrowed sound;
Somber and low,
Loud in feeling,
Like laughter died
Lacking an ear.
Comatose
Addled by my mortality,
I retreat from reality;
Let it rest for the day,
As would I if I could again,
Let this new become what has been,
And leave my mind to play.
What dreams I had when I was young!
Songs of color my mind had sung,
Vague thoughts caught in fugue state.
All I dream now is darkness,
Strapped inside this drifting harness,
As life and death debate.
An Ode to Rob O’Horo
He had pictures in a dusty stack,
Joy flowed out from every frozen stance
As he leapt full meters dancing the gopak.
I often think about that,
Everything I loved about him,
My favorite moments and most influential chats,
The smoke of an empty shell casing expressed as his whim.
Poor man drank himself dead
All while entertaining my young self.
More than most, his imprint is pressed upon my head,
His humor and wisdom were both top shelf;
He offered so much guidance through film and book,
When I needed it/him more than I knew,
We stayed up all night discussing his life, what it took,
And thus I learned about mine and grew.
Coy was I in response to his caring stance,
Until he took his own life, and it destroyed me, but…
Boy, let me tell you, that man could dance.
Grow Gray With Me 