The stream (all workshops)
Your unassailable intellect led you to believe
that you were my savior.
You wouldn't sail the route across my charts
and so weighed anchor in death's harbour.
By believing in your own divinity
You failed to uphold your oath.
You did harm...
Your Gordian knot undone
by the dull sword of my ineptitude.
I secured freedom
and found my way home.
Disguised as an uneducated wretch
I passed through your kingdom.
Blinded by the facts...
You didn't see me leave.
There are people rising now,
millions fighting back
against decades of poverty
and contemptuous oppression.
There are men and women rising
fighting for the futures
of their children,
marching into muzzles
of aimed and loaded guns.
There are ordinary citizens rising,
flooding into battered cities
braving snipers and beatings
to gain what we enjoy.
There are people praying
amid this monumental struggle,
thanking God for life
as others seek their death,
Maliciousness falls in a toxic seasoning
upon fragile head of little poppet whose
untainted effigy freshly picked simmers
in a stew of negligence.
Violence delivered upon her pallid flesh
harshly decreed by the loathsome giants,
whose barbaric stride crush her body
beneath putrid ocher feet.
The reek of long festering decay drops ominously
from these ogres' damaged brains. Eyes blank,
jaws clenching teeth, and fists balled in unwelcome
approach, the nightmarish realities lurch forward ...
I live in a box-
Cold and dark-
I have not heard
Another living thing
Since I was locked here.
When they put me here
I screamed and fought
To break the box-
The silence-
A silence of the purest breed,
The cold like none other,
And the darkness...
A darkness that would put
Hades thumb in his mouth.
She was as effervescently complicated
As a bottle of cheap, pink, sparkling wine.
But, if eyes are windows of the soul,
Her vacant orbs told a tragic story.
I was often vaporized in her endless agendas,
Left behind in her angry, dust storms,
Spun furiously in her lethal tornadoes,
And burned completely, by her acid rains.
No one was exempt
From her pious arrogance
That had bought a home
Behind her cold eyes.
When I wake up
The sunlight’s hands reaching into my eyes
Divinity, you were a goddess I contained
We wash our pasts with the memories we regret
Skewed versions of what we want to believe
Take me far from here, to a place without fear
I welcome the change
Of Vibrations
When we speak a word
A certain vibration is generated
And
This vibration is picked up by the brains neurons and
We hear that particular word.
Likewise, once we call someone
Let’s say SARAH
The words would be
3 1 2 1 5 =12=3 as per numbers
Allotted to a particular alphabet
I so love your skin's feel
beneath my old rough fingers
e'en after a caress I steal
the memory still lingers
As touch moves on to gentle cleft
I'm filled with anticipation
of patience I am now bereft
please fill my expectation
And as each little roundish nub
also begs for attention
calling out for a light rub
and a poem's lyric mention
Just the sight of your soft curves
fills me with such delight
and never ever fails to serve
to enrich my appetite
`
Gnarly fingers
veil his face,
skin thin and crusty
at spots:
splotched parchment
of years in the sun
water
cascades
from his forehead to
his chin
then meets gravity;
raindrops
through his soil-grimed
singlet, jeans and boots;
hours of toil
simmer away
in rivulets
of forgetfulness.
`
Sadness has a sound, friend.
I have heard it
sobbing, weeping in the throat of the widow
and the children.
All wrapped up in quilts;
quilts of happy colors;
as if that will change anything.
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