The stream (all workshops)
Prestidigitation
I’m not here to sing or dance
play a tune or do magic tricks
and if by chance
I speak my melancholy
it’s not how I want to be
but when that stillness comes
there is no where else to run.
black hillside
-
I spat the blood, spewed the clotting
tongue out hanging metal spotting
eyes are swimming worlds are plotting
black green rotting black green rotting
-
My breastplate long had cleft in two
I'm yellow red and black and blue
I stare the hatred at a few
My eye on you, my eye on you
-
I bit the vein to show I would
I lit the train to show I could
I hacked the knee of giant wood
I fought each good, I fought each good
-
a fogbound day a folly stood
The verge emblazoned once with brush and trees -
the road to visit childhood - desolate
Encroaching farm undressed the land to seize
the verge emblazoned once with brush and trees
Here ignorance has caused the human species
to clear the land, allow the salt to make
the verge emblazoned once with brush and trees -
the road to visit childhood – desolate
.
So much morphine to block the pain...
I hope you dream of younger days
in your mind, strong running free again
instead of here in sterile haze.
Labored breathing, thanks cigarette,
heart monitor's monotonous beep;
a scene I never will forget
as dad approached his final sleep.
He gave me love of the outdoors;
now trapped here in this lifeless place.
He'd prefer duff, not polished floors
or fishing in a full tailrace.
On the other side of maybe
I meet a lot of folks
perhaps Jess will open the door
between the tiger and the lady
but you see there is nothing
not even the smile of a Cheshire cat
can disappear
inside a room too big
or too small
for gratitude
to enter
but if I'm right, a poet just might
slip through the cracks in its opening
Dreamscape for you to see.
Would you expect more from me.
For walking in the clouds
Hold me gently in your mind
Leave all the unkind things behind
Run with the waters of mountain streams
Bubble oh bubble in love of dreams
Hold a picture in your mind
Of feelings felt sometimes
When heaven bows to the earth where I lay
A lonely person formed from clay
Touch my soul it’s the thing that goes on
Forever your hand in mine
Walk with me to infinity
Leave troubles that scar
Leave those days far behind
I want to be a poet again
and dissolve into the internet to change the world
It would be cool to be able to get up in the morning
and have martial arts like Bruce Lee
Soon I might wash and shave most days
and write the greatest novel ever written
Maybe I’ll take a walk for the hell of it
and spread a meme to end poverty
Yesterday I listened to an Anthony Robbins tape
(please don’t tell anyone)
and felt some general gratitude
Today I went to a great play with a friend
and wrote this.
Depths
Plunging...
Into the crystal clear pool
Many secrets hiding
Where the luscious sapphire water
Of lonely indigo yearning
Meets with aquatic forests
Of rich emerald velvet desire
to reveal a haven of acceptance
Where the starlit silence
Of her fairy childlike devotion
is pure and resplendent in a swirl of melding
This tide pool of loving...
The meridian of many an unchained soul
you are a lovely sonneteer
the only thing about sonnets
I know is
that there are 14 lines,
last two must do a twist,
someone must read at least
lines of only five syllables,
stressed,
somehow that's all I know
about sonnet composing
my maiden one was laughed off
as free verse one
my own sense of creativity,
as on my broken down car’s bonnet
I sit composing a sonnet
hope they will laugh once again
but then this ain't
no sonnet
thanks friend
gloomy perception
is running like rain
licking the heat
between loins
sated like tame lions
that terrible propensity
for the pulse shuttle
in the jerk of the vein
sink hot mettalic
lust
the phallic plunger
run in dirty fingers
these dart days we
throw against
the shadow wall
like knife shark
bites in drywall
catatonic
abbreviation
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.