The stream (all workshops)
RANDOMLY SEARCHING THRU MY METHODICAL RAMBLING
IN HOPES TO FIND THE CREATOR OF ALL THAT IS
I START TO NOTICE MY SURROUNDINGS
WITH A SUDDEN URGENCY
THAT HOLDS THE ABILITY
TO DRASTICALLY CONTAMINATE
THE SESS POOL OF HUMANITY
GIVING OFF THE ALL CONSUMING FEELING
OF BEING SWALLOWED
ALIVE
MY CLAUSTROPHOBIC ANXIETIES CHURNING DEEP WITHIN BEGIN ITS RACE FROM MY CORE
TRAVELING AT FULL THROTTLE
UNTIL RELEASED WITHOUT REMORSE
ONTO MY CONCIOUSNESS
Back and forth and back again
On my swing I'd fly
With my friend the wind
Pushing me higher and higher
Such freedom in flight
Small moments in time of delight
I was doing fine today
birds all singing, springtime views
but that all soon went away
as I read the morning news
Headlines had the usual stuff
storms and death, unending war
the rich who never get enough
Congress bought by cash and whores
Big news beyond my comprehension
things I can do naught about
vague additions to my apprehensions
not quite enough to make me shout
there is one truth
that radiates from each and everything,
it lingers in hungry eyes,
it bleeds through with blood of a beaten wife,
it's in the stink of burnt rubber and
it's reflected off of shattered glass
it's in the rain drop molecule on each blade of grass
it's in the warmth of homeward love
in the simple breath we take, each day
it's in the contour of the fray
it's in each prayer we pray
it's in each word we say,
the one truth,
radiating through each and everything
Poetry, challenging to the mind
when youth finds challenge in mere speed.
the subtle thoughts philosophy engenders are overlooked
as dusty tomes descry
it seems they look askance, offended,
if mention of another life is raised;
their gum well chewn in cheek,
tobacco too, their death taste in advance,
they do another dance from ours
whose lives enhanced by deeper thoughts
become enriched beyond the sudden flirt,
I write poetry to abort
Tell readers what others shun
The scripts however long or short
I attempt to spin and spun
For creative writing fun
Whether its good or not, I won't say
I'll leave it for critiquing sake
Listen to the words
Which are sung in my voice
And use them to inspire
Your verses
Hold tight to me
And let my wings
Carry you to places
Yet unseen
Open your mind's eye
So as to record
All that you are about
To gaze upon
Do not ask,
But rather contemplate
so as to later put pen to paper
of all the wonders you will illustrate
Let your pen dance on paper
Without thoughts
Of where it might go
Free yourself and let it flow
.
He hurts himself so purposely
to see if he can summon pain,
and carves her name for her to see.
He hurts himself so purposely,
and numbly, proudly, bloodily
surveys the damage with disdain.
He hurts himself so purposely
to see if he can summon pain.
He loves to play the martyred artist,
nails the role in DeNiro style,
stigmatas the tune like the matador,
maligning his own equator ...
and she,
she prefers the cause of the underdog,
weaving words to suit convictions,
well formed trickery, spellbound witchery,
and meaningless just the same.
The prima donna agenda
the need to feel splendid
pole dancing Sabbath
center stage habits
and those two,
they got to have it.
A shimmering tower filled with light and love
is off in the distance hovering up above
I walk until my poor feet are sore
As the pain recedes I think I can walk some more
The Earth is dry, thirsty for the rain
I feel bad for all I can give is tears from my pain
As a single tear rolls slowly down my face
it seems that I,unknowingly, changed my pace
My walk is fast and the pain I do not feel
I'm asking myself if this is all real
The sand completely covers my clothes and hair
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