The stream (all workshops)
There's an odd familiarity in
recognizing one's own shadow,
not that pundits, patriarchs
and protagonists select one photon
of evidence over the other. A woman
in a burka, no matter its colour, usually
doesn't consider herself exploited,
dominated or persecuted though she may
be hotter than hell.
Have you ever heard the night desert
in the silence of its dunes, the figs and
the pomegranates whispering like old friends?
All fingers not equal
So are their functions
Like spaces we occupy
In the scheme of things
Surpluses spill at on end
Complete lack at the other
The hand that gives always
Not the same that receives
Blessed, the prayer goes
For the cheerful benefactor
In such humanity evolves
A law for the charitable
Not obligatory or forced
Without any gain in mind
For it to pass the tartlet test
My name is Arabella
And I’m really such a girly
I like to wear nice dresses
And my hair is blonde and curly
With underwear by Reger
And Prada on my feet
Made up to perfection
I give all the men a treat
My perfect breasts the envy
Of the women that I see
They look me up and down
And how, they wish that they were me
I’m very nearly faultless
And quite soon with any luck
I’ll have the money saved
So I can have the nip and tuck
On an overgrown path
along a road less travelled
hid the bearer of small eyes
peeking out into the light
huddled
a flicker of memory
casts a mantle over her eyes
the touch of a loving hand
her only dream or desire
terrified
she runs into the shadows
as fight or flight whispers
and paranoia kicks in
all in keeping her safe
trembling
I want to save them
all the children of the night
I want to show them love
and compassion and family
hope
ccBuk pulls himself out of retirement,
I resurrect him for this poem
merely triumphantly
he lives here
occasionally;
there is a bluebird officiating
collecting
pages of recollections
offering truth in unmeasured doses,
pulling puppet strings
and nine wild horses
she was no school marm, or perhaps she is,
hiking her skirt up past her ankles,
suffragette ghosts
walking in the slut walk on Wall Street,
naked from the waist up, inside
your head
There was a girl called Fanny
She looked the Hulk it’s uncanny
Bellowed and blew
Made a hullabaloo
Then turned back into Fanny
His grey eyes barely visible
in between green blades of grass
though crouched he stood
in readihood
his hunting skills first class.
~
The breeze was in his favor
plus, he was hidden in tall reed
an awkward stance
will eat circumstance
so his best is what he'll need
~
A polished element of surprise
and rehearsed moves he knows so well
he's honed each skill
with intent to kill
quietly longing for death's smell
~
SEE NO EVIL
Down through corridors of yellow lights
walls stained by Death’s stench
into a soulless dark I fell
and from behind the curtains forward came
the French I knew call my name
aged beauty mummified
eyes of clear grey glass
figure long ,slender and tall
did to me speak...
and I did fear…
Christ have Mercy
on us all
Twinkle, twinkle the pin-ups shine
Like diamonds in glittering glories
Pebbles and sand, stars and sky
The outer reflecting the inner world
As above, so below, the cliché goes
An image in the mirror mimics
While the shadow follows suit
Molecular matter reduced to atoms
Broken composites of the indestructible
Electrons, neutrons and protons
Vibratory in natural spiritual state
A foundation of structural universe
Parchments in free and made-up forms
Like pebble and stars in comparison
State
The world has fallen into utter decay
The Swastika flaps in the nuclear wind
Banner for the Nazi’s and now the KKK
A pure race they want, with no mixed up breed
A master race with no genetically modified seed
One world currency, army and Government
A breach of trust with fraudulent intent
We’ve been the pawns in the power games
Our minds controlled, broken and bent
The world is now in a fucking state
Their lies have spread like a biblical plague
Run, save yourself, before it’s too late
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