The stream (all workshops)
Before you stand we
the blessed fruits of your womb
before your frigid stillness we stand
With heart heavy, broken and bitter
we stand before you rent cocoon,
crushed carapace of tender warmth
lying in the cold grip of death
Paragon of virtue,
the serpent had struck
tell me what broke the hedge?
Was faith bartered for fear?
Love for hate?
Guileless garments for ignoble robes?
Pain not death was the Evic curse;
why then has the joy of procreation
Brought tears in this stygian harvest of death?
Wheels of feeling spin about the heart
and lungs, in blood, in air, in muscles,
start up rhythms that impart an impact on the brain,
a strain that tempts the nerves to do their special dance
and prance about from head to toe;
electric impulses that goad the body
into spasms wonderful, and stark,
as, set in swing, they carry out their tasks,
even though we didn't ask them to begin.
There was this poem
I tried to write
But it escaped like a fish
While I was fishing
In the river of my mind
Where things just didn't make any sense at all.
I swear...
It slipped off my hands!
Such a slimy fish
Swimming and running away!
I knew I wanted it
A magnificent catch to behold
Too elusive to touch!
I knew I'd better be dead
If I didn't get hold
Of that little thing faster than I was.
I thought to myself
If I caught that damn fishy,
I would be hailed
Avoiding your eyes
they're guilting me
my inadvertent sighs
you, I pity
Whatever we had
for me, it's gone
I'm a coward
we carry on
Up to a point
leaves will seep
into all its waters
until the cup overflows
so much as to stain
meticulously starched table linen.
Then we shall face with reckoning
its true substance!
intimacy
strangers naked in a room
Straddling, eyes glazed,Weight pressed
Entering your body space, Exploring crevices and nooks
Exploding in your head or your horizon
intimacy
Twenty something German woman
talking about threesomes
To a total stranger
And suggesting ........what was she suggesting ?
intimacy
A glance in passing, a feel, a smell
A thought, a caress,
Words not spoken ,
Wonderful warm wetness when he has gone
pretti escort footsteps
past the tall church eskrow
the black limbed forever hinges
of streetlights and rainkiss
in summer
the leaded panes of heroes
and dead heroines
wrap winters drifts past the sharp
block endings of dead apartment
housing
the closed up theatre that has seen
enough the nickle rails where the
seven thirty eight freight squeals
through town come morning
waking mothers junkies and miners
awake for the shifts
Hopes and fears come dancing
within the deep of night.
Upon the stage of dreams they play
and disappear by light.
At times as unknown characters
their lines of script are read.
At others, friends and family
in scenes of joy or dread.
Sometimes recalling what was seen
when comes the waking hour.
But most remain obscure by day
without sleeps magic power.
Attempts made at remembering
a futile task at best.
So racking of the consciousness
is quickly put to rest.
I stand on a cliff,
Holding the remnants of an hourglass
The waves coming from afar,
Slaps the edge.
It's screaming
The names of the world
Lost in time,
Like the voice
From the deepest place of my heart
today a fundamental was cleared
it's all about eyes,
I thought mine
were the most beautiful
till I saw yours
your eyes are
much more wonderful
mine even today
are stared at by guys and gals
old women and men
also look into them
what they adore
I’d love to know
for sure....
but friend
you mustn't close your eyes
as they love yours
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