The stream (all workshops)
It's so loud.
Shrouded with sound that never
dissipates,
Get away from me.
The hatred that spears and twists in my body
Can't you feel it?
Be quiet.
I can't handle all this noise
An ocean without shores rocking me
back and forth
What am I to do if it happens again?
floating adrift,
What exactly
am I
hiding from?
An awful blade
that cuts away at me
reshaping my face and body
until i become someone else
anyone else.
Why won't it stop?
My faith is shaken in our political system
when I see day- to- day shootings in America
A system designed to protect the people
Has been deeply compromised by the Dollar
Our leaders would rather protect their jobs
Than protect the safety of our citizens
Dividing the American Pie in pieces of leniency
Puts holes into our political kettle
False claims fostered by Those in power
Wrecks our basic planks of Democracy
Criminal acts by our top leaders go unpunished
Causing me to wonder if dictatorship has arrived
THE OTHER MAN
I look into the basin for a moment
Before looking back up
And he's still there, staring
I do not know this man
Through his deep, bloodshot eyes
His hard, unsmiling lips
And his shabby unkept hair
He stares coldly at me
Still, I do not recognize this man
But his eyes tell me something
I simply cannot believe
I am you, he says to me
This is where I walk away
Digging deep to regain peace
No buried treasure will I find
Even locked in your embrace
I feel alone inside my mind
Holding hands and I’m a ghost
You’re touching vapors, not a man
Though I’m with you, I am gone
Without the means to understand
Everything is not enough
Just enough is none at all
None at all is easier
Than always trying not to fall
Your hands are perfectly gentle and strong.
I’ve seen them turn wrenches,
and balled tight in anger.
I’ve seen the way they glide across your steering wheel,
and across my skin.
You hold my hand in yours
like it’s made of pure gold,
and you carry my heart all the same.
And your eyes…
Emerald green,
soft when you look at me,
sharp when you protect me.
both are beautiful.
Your skin is soft to the touch,
your smile makes me weak.
Bzzz...hmmmmm
Skrrkktictictictic
Whirrrrrrzumpzumpzump
Chumpchumpratttle
Zzzzzipclunkclunk
Hmmmmmmmmmmm...
DING!
I swear by Shelley’s steely soul,
as poets, we have ups and downs.
Some lows, some highs, some times of trouble.
(Some bastard’s bound to burst your bubble!)
Sometimes, we’re high as church’s steeple,
and poets can be placid people,
until some sad, sick sons on bitches
unpick from poet’s cloak the stitches!
I say, we’re only killing time,
composing raw and raucous rhyme,
yet, sorrow in our souls is sowing
a mustard seed of faith that’s growing!
You feel sorry for shooting stars
because they're so brief.
I say that can't be right.
You're how I feel when I see one.
We often linger on things
We have done in the past
Suffering from our earlier actions
We bring the suffering into our daily lives
Shadowing our every move and thought
Continuing the anguish imposing our daily penance
It is not enough to ruin our days and nights
We even project our wrongdoings into tomorrow
Internally weeping for the future
Today should be the day
That we not dwell on the wrongdoings of the past
But on what we can do to change today
Sail on beautiful dreamer
slip off into the night,
your mind demands its freedom
but you want to run and hide
no one's expectations
can hurt you here tonight
you’re free now, go
do as you please
you’ve finally made your mark
but will freedom grant your inmost wish
a shadow crosses your mind!
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