The stream (all workshops)
Minuteman…
Who really knows us the persons
who are set to be the unknowns
many mystics have claimed to
know but we are of the real
Can anyone hear, have we also
became voiceless articulators
A shout in anger can hit walls even
bring down a host of bingo callers
But still the shout in anguish to
walls that don’t have solidity
may never startle Doves
Society bigots tend to placate us with
morals while we trip guilt and turn
I say F… it we need our own voice
they don’t heed our morals
Long, are the shards of morning light
as they creep slowly into my room,
splaying particles of hope to my right
to my left, the shadows spell doom.
However long I've been sleeping
matters not, as the sun starts to fleck,
across my tea that's still steeping
wish I didn't have this pain in my neck.
today, just like everyday has begun
starts calmly, as hope shines on me,
what's transpired yesterday can't be undone
and, that knowledge alone sets me free.
bashful, I hide between
pages in a book
and alone
I surf black seas of night
ride the tide of stars
and wash upon the shore
of moon-flower blooms
dilating my eyes
I dive from mountaintops
call out the names of gods
climb through desert desolation
as if by
one grain of sand at a time
and I am like dust
that floats aimlessly
in some solitary spin
what if everything were perfect
exactly as it is
since you are awake
to read and understand this poem
and your life is not all that bad
because you're not hungry or thirsty
and you have a bed in which to sleep
and your lover is good,
your children love you and
your friends respect you
what if
after i cried and
the door slammed
and sirens stopped
and tubes
threaded down
my throat were
wormed into veins
if crevices were
given up to
your hands that
do not love me
after tongues
like steel
tug of latex and
lysol sheets
light, tight as
swaddling
what if suddenly
THANK YOU CHRIST
yeah!, I know your type
contrarian to the bone
one or two compatriots
scheming, conspiring
contriving ways to make
a fool of the world
its ways
and most every one else in it
soon you'll greed for a following
start generating bigger and bigger noise
garnering attention
gathering only catcalls
and guffaws
"why won't anyone listen!?"
i can not love you more
than i have loved you
for i have loved you long
and held your love so dearly
in my heart of hearts but now
my eyes have opened
to find my heart in mourning
and when the first bird
sings outside my bedroom window
he sings a sorrowful song
for you have found me lacking
though i can not understand
the how and why of it
and yet my love for you
was gentle and long suffering
I'm really sad
Fighting getting mad
About what I can't have
I don't wanna talk
So I'll go for a walk
And sit in a park
I'm seeing doubles
Guess, I'll blow bubbles
To mask my troubles
I'm sick at heart
My belly starts
To expand with farts
It's kinda funny
I'm feeling hungry
Can't eat or function
Deeply suppressing
My depressions
About life successes
I can't fit in
Cause, I'm too broken
To make any sense
It is mid spring as I drive by
this clear and tumbling foot hills creek
and stop before the bridge so high
dismount my truck to take a peek
This stream which many call a river
runs to white descending waters
as if it is afraid to dither
on its way to final resting quarters
Now is the time which in riffles run
above the heads of quiet pools
white sucker fish spawning in the sun
they lay stacked up like utter fools
I spied a dainty bruise
powdered away, by a vacant stare,
another pair of pale white elephants
get to prove that they're not there.
Empathy, is probably
that word I'm searcing for,
heros never get the chance to leave
except in times of war.
Great, are my expectations!
Overly zealous, are my dreams!
Do the rest get off scott-free?
Should be a law, or so it seems.
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