Poem 1 ~ The Women In My Life
the women in my life
are forces of nature
with words, paint and drums
they know how to run out the liars
they are poets, musicians, painters
dancers, singers and drummers
activists
bringing the world more life
through their vibrant colors
their melodies and music
their words and dances
their medicine
chances are you've seen them
on stages, or scaffolding and maybe
even street corners with signs
talkin about injustice, about peace
or how they don't believe in hate
its great how they envision
the world a better place
for the whole human race
the women in my life
are my muses of future
Poem 2 ~ Ruby Slippers
trying to ride
the tides of reality
as presented by this material world
that has no hold on it
but merely presents a plausible view
it's nice to know that this is not it,
that there is something else that lives
on the edge of this technologic world
chock full of strip malls and strip clubs-
doesn't every new movie show one -
women taking off their clothes for money
or out of boredom,
or to show a truth not told
it gets old this wanting
to see what's behind
door number one or the iron curtain
or is it the great computer
the greatest wizard
of the Outer Zone that still lurks
waiting for us to ask
the right riddle to his answer and
Dorothys everywhere wake
with that urge to click their
ruby heels together
to go who knows where
but we are not in Kansas anymore and
more than Toto know this
though many piss on the knowledge of that and
continue to be contented
with their Iphones and Ipads instead
of realizing that the world as we've known it
IS really coming to and end
it's okay, the r/evolution really won't be televised
or even tweeted
whatever that means
who knows,
we thought we did
we were wrong
now we only know we are not buying the bullshit
of being happy with the latest toy
we are merely waiting for a sign and
we look for them daily
in purple skies and unusual weather patterns -
that have become more normal than not
We await 2012 and hope
it is not the letdown of Y2K
Hooray!
did we forget that farce fast? ...
alas, we forget how gullible we are,
just waiting for a sign
of a new beginning or ending
we could start ourselves.
ruby slippers
Poem 3 ~ Destiny
embracing your destiny
should be painless
as morning being birthed
through the aperture
of consecutive indigo
nights that pass through
the sieve of sky and amber
stars rolling on low boil
it is not a TV drama
or the nightly done rightly
news though it may be stranger
than any writ down fiction
because most modern day
humans act so hastily
yes, so often times stupidly
thinking tomorrows won't
catch up to them in an eye-
blink and disaster has struck
people wail and weep but keep on
doing the same unquestioning
things over and over again
just like our sunrise blooms
into another day
we expect to live just fine but
A Nation can't sleep knowing
that Japan is going down and
no one in power ever said
let's stop the obvious threat
while daily we spend billions
on war
more people are dying
from tech-no-logic insanity
can't we help fix this now
In California we swim
the same sea that washes up
thousands of miles away
from the radiated shores
just off of Fukushima and
our nuclear power plants
San Onofre and Diablo Canyon
- the Saint and Devil twins -
sit waiting on the fault line
for a destruction sure and
all we hear is tongue wagging
the same lies of yesteryear
it will never happen here...
fukushima #3 blacksmoke
Poem 4 ~ A blessing of blue corn
she plucks twelve kernels
of purple-blue corn from its husk
to have a future divined for her
she is nervous about the past
anxious for a future cast, yet
she is trying to decide
her path which seems to crash
down around her whenever she thinks
she knows all the answers
From each Direction
she asks for guidance
then enters inside and
opens herself up thirsting
for possibilities
wondering what will be foretold
in which direction
she will ultimately go
Blue Corn
Poem 5 ~ Going Home
She's says she's going
home? her friend asks
because she's a gypsy and
spends time in many places
it only takes a beat
for her to form a response
home is not a place...
certainly not a house
with a collected life inside
even if they are beautiful
things, carefully selected
over lifetimes
she knows, most of her
worldly goods
have been given, sacrificed
or thrown to the four winds
home is people
who love her
when she's there or when
she's just a spark of memory
those whose heart beats
are syncopated with hers
locked in this back and forth
dance called a life
The Gypsy Woman
Poem 6 ~ Being A Border
I've been here all of my life
on the edge of this or that
a bridge between my people
crossing people
come to me
to enter more worlds
than I can even fathom
I am is a border
something of a fence sitter
except in my case I am not neutral
I take both sides, I am from and for
both sides, yes
I live the in-betwixt and in-between
I am the center and the balance
I see good and bad
at every turn
at every crossroads
and every crossing is a ritual
what do you offer to enter?
seven shiny dimes to the mother
of all mothers, of the salty waters
or nine pennies to the wind whisperer
the keeper of the last door we enter...
I've been here all of my life and
all I want to do is cross that line
myself, want to pass the torch
having been now totally scorched
by this playing at blind justice
is there really such a thing?
I think not.
someone always has to win
and someone loses
even if I know the secret
that losing you win
still, that's because I'm
a different kind of thinker
having the luxury or curse
of being from the middle
living on that fine line
between this or that
here or there
it's a fact
being a border is no fun
you have to let some in
and keep some out
and then all those
convoluted routes
people take to get there --
even when they know in their heart
it's not for them, and
they should've stayed put
they figure that out later
sometimes when it's too damn late
but wait, why'd I let them in
if it wasn't for them?
oh yes, because it was a lesson...
lofty this job of mediator
border deity
job seems too big
too pretentious
somehow playing god
when all I am is an idea
I am a border
a door
a hoarder of hopes
of injustices
tucked inside promises
of new lives,
lives really not new or better
simply different
I am a border
a line
a big lie.
"Wall of Crosses ..."
No comments:
Post a Comment