Flavor Profile

Childhood tastes
like sweet and cream,
candy and chocolate
but also
that icky stuff:
spice and bitterness,
that in adulthood
become appealing.
The sour
becomes piquant
with that same
spice and bitterness
mixed with
a soupçon of sweet
and judicious salt
with tangy juices.
But even
spice and bitterness
are made more tolerable
early on
with earthy grains;
yet syrupy fizzy drinks
unfortunately emphasize
spice and bitterness
rather than alleviating
my negative reaction.
My flavor profile expands
to include the savory and salty
eventually including
spice and bitterness
in moderation, as seasoning.
Growing old brings love
of the oily and herbal,
floral and nutty,
and I start to pursue
spice and bitterness
for their own merit.
Fungal, fishy, fatty,
even smoky and pungent;
maturity in my mouth
goes best with
spice and bitterness.

Dear Sister

(for T & C)

O sestra -
self with a different face
- I love you more
than I love myself.

I wish I could live for you
and make sweeter
each bitter day
with the knowledge
of this love reciprocated
total
and eternal.

I would make it so
(were I Queen of All)
that I had never caused you:
pain, discomfort,
unhappiness, illness,
or any deprivation.

And yet:
I have been leaving you
ever since I got here
and I cannot
bring myself to stay
for your sake alone
because this pain
is overwhelming.

I've known since I was
very young - - -
eight, or seven - - -
that suicide
comes to us by blood
and by madness,
and none of us
anywhere
is immune.

Whether I leave you
by my hand
or another's
know how I longed for death.

I seek an end and a beginning:
a new life
where I stand
a better chance
of happiness.

Silly Cat Poem Multipost

(Trying out a variety of other forms: lanterne, haiku, thanbauk, and monostich).

"Feline Folly"

Cats

fuzz buzz

wrap around

both my ankles

Trip

"Neko"
Sharp claw in my leg -
Will you please lay or sit down?
Velvet your paw, love.

"Cat"
My cat she purrs
Find her furs warm
My purse emptied

"Feline"
You are so cute - hey, stop that!

Temperance

(I don't think this is a formal poetic form, but could be called a tetrina.)

Prefer moderation to temptation,
high virtue to profane sin.
Indulge infrequently in loud singing,
so in heaven to find your star.

But if moderation guides as a star,
sometimes give in to temptation,
and sometimes revel in roaring singing,
and forgive yourself rare sin.

Because abstinence always is a sin:
no resistance earns you no star.
Especially if your pride is singing,
for self-love is too temptation.

So be moderate too in temptation.
Experience your share of sin.
Give your senses time for joyous singing.
Light eyes with the shine of a star.

The highest star up has known temptation.
The angels singing have known sin.

Peace

(This is a pentina, a form which is newer to me.)

They say liberty must sleep on a bed that's bloody
for she only ever awakes from violence,
born out of the bellicose urge
for whom we must continually fight,
lest the state of war be our chosen nature.

They say we humans have an unsettled nature
and nature herself has claws all bloody.
The strong have might and the weak must fight
against the slings and arrows of violence
but still also the antisocial urge.

We understand the self-protective urge.
After all, it is only human nature.
It is harder to make sense of plain violence
or one man's glee in the malicious and bloody.
These are psychopaths we must fight.

Peace is not merely the end of the fight:
it is freedom to indulge the harmless urge.
Sometimes medicine can make us bloody
and we do find suffering in nature.
But peace tends to the absence of violence.

Yet broken bones are not the only sign of violence
and seeking peace means fighting a just fight,
not vengeful descent into grimmer nature
or the incautious leeway granted to the urge,
but trying to end oppression - mental or bloody.

Both bloody body and broken mind suffer violence.
Reciprocation is an urge we must fight in our nature.

Silence

(This sestina was prompted by Neil Gaiman's The Sandman Volume 3)

You feel you are alone in the dark.
Your heart beats in your chest so ragged.
The last time you felt such despair was never.
The quiet around you in your ear is screaming.
You swear to me your mind is on fire.
I lay here in longing of that angel's kiss.

You cannot remember the feel of a kiss.
Memories of kindness are swallowed in dark.
No light reaches your heart from the fire.
No reason lights your madness, so ragged.
Your voice impacts no one, even when screaming.
I wish I had never met you, never.

Silence is replete with nothing and never
and nobody and no one to give you a kiss.
Your countenance sends all suitors screaming.
Your soul becomes home to the dark.
Your heart and your psyche, quietly ragged.
My eyes become empty and without fire.

Silence inverts the temperature of fire.
Silence reverts time to never.
Silently eroding the smooth into ragged.
Silently scouring a statue's kiss.
Silently killing me in the dark.
Silently keening, silently screaming.

You open your lips breathless - no screaming.
You hold out your arms freezing - no fire.
You blink eyes for light, but only dark.
You wait for a friend, but she comes never.
You lift your face for love, but no kiss.
My coat and my security are ragged.

You hear a song worn out until ragged.
You see yourself die alone screaming.
You taste the tang of solitude's kiss.
You feel the burn of the dying fire.
You smell the odor: hope won never.
I balance on precipices alone in the dark.

No one hears your screaming alone in the dark.
No one brings fire to warm your home, never.
No one accepts ragged brush of my kiss.

Average

Don't be pretty
You might get raped
Don't be ugly
Or you'll never get laid
Don't be skinny
Your tits'll be too small
Don't be fatty
They won't see you at all
Don't be shorty
On you they'll look down
Don't be tall
They'll knock you to the ground
Don't be smart
They'll hate you for one
Don't be dumb
Or they'll all have their fun
Don't be funny
They'll all run in fear
Don't be dull
They'll make your eyes tear
Don't be happy
You'll never get home
Don't be sad
Or you'll be all alone

Considerations on a Cold Morning

Icy silence shouldered in the cold
bleak of winter mourning
solitary and confined by my own
inability to overcome fear
To reach out despite past knowledge
of that reaching meaning pain
always pain
Sometimes my reaching is inartful
too rough
and I injure the other
But more often it seems
I am swatted away violently
or held and burned
by the grip
or worse
trusting in a stair that isn't there
I fall flat on my face
and bruise nose and dignity
on the cold, unyielding ground

Still Mourning

The consummation I devoutly wished
Consumed me all up with its hungry flame.
I was so full of passion and daring,
But you were only playing a child's game.
I believed that you were burning for me
The way I was smouldering hot for you.
You certainly burnt me repeatedly,
But it was ice and not flame in your view.
Now all that is left is cooling ashes,
Dark coals, and low embers just a-dying;
A safe hearth is impossible to keep
With those who can smile but keep on lying.
So don't play with fire, my friends, fair warning:
I am twice wed, never loved, and still mourning.

A Dark Air

Dark sorrows range wide and far
Because they are so myopic from tears
They can only see what is close by
Blinded as they are from their fears

Sorrow deep
Morrow weep
I'll be alone again
in the morning

Suffering in silence makes no friends
But neither does a loud keening
You can't get close when you're a wound
And life has lost all its meaning

Sorrow deep
Morrow weep
I'll be alone again
in the evening

So journey forward seeking peace
Do not others' troubles a-borrow
Put off putting an end to today
You can always do it tomorrow

Sorrow deep
Morrow weep
I'll be alone again
in the dying

How to Be a Friend

Care for their needs
and be honest about your own
(which requires that you know yourself)

Respond to their communication
even if only to laugh or cry
Share your life with them in return.

Look out for what they ask
but do not pry or manipulate
give both play and respect as desired.

Learn them enough to read
their emotional states without presuming
you always know exactly what is necessary.

Offer them what you have
but never pressure them to accept
what you think must be best for them.

Be a support, not an imposition
and ask for the same in return.
Never ask for what you are not willing to give.

Blues and Reds

Anxiety comes in
a higher key than despair
The pain moves at
a swifter speed than dolor

Stresses start forward
Sadness draws away
Some medications blend them
Others whipsaw  back and forth

Right now I feel blunted
awash with a gentle haze
The reds and the blues are muted
with few sharper contrasts.

Children of the Week

Monday's child has a great big face
Tuesday trips and gets called "Grace"
Wednesday's child is a stupid hoe
Thursday's child is ready to go
Friday's child gets money by giving
Saturday's child stays hard for a living
But the child born on the Sabbath day
is flighty and lies and is super gay

I apologize for this one, I couldn't help it when it happened and I'm fairly embarrassed.

Pantotos: A Prophecy

Every seven generations,
a new youth arises and
changes the future of the
people.

Every seven years, your
body replaces itself.

We are all interconnected.
We are not one.
We are many.
And we are all cousins.

As above, so below.
The patterns repeat themselves
and all the cosmos is a fractal.

Every seven generations,
the first become last and
the last become first. Change
takes all time and no time.

The smallest cracks will destroy
the greatest mountains
given sufficient geological time.

Those in power always find
their end, and those without
will arise.

First do no harm, but no one
should be restrained from
acts that harm none.

Every seven generations the
unpredictable can be predicted.
Contradiction becomes necessary
and logic fails.

The invader parades as native
far from his homelands after
stripping the natives of theirs.

The oppressed are a sick family.
The ailing youth must unite
to create clean air and water
as the first medicines of a
new and healthier people.

No one should die, but many do.

Every seven generations the
cosmos refreshes itself, and seven
on seven is a true rebirth.

Math is the basis of all things,
from nature to invention.
But also in the measure
of consequence and intention.

Carelessness is a worse
vice than malice, and
ignorance worse than
wrong judgment.

Strive to increase social and
natural bounty - be fruitful and multiply.

Thou art God and I am God and the
smallest speck of dust is God and
you are all my relations.

We will learn all there is to know
about all that can ever become or be
from first to last, open to close,
beginning to end and again and again.

All things are fractals. All things
are God. All things are you. All things are me.

I am you. We are them. Thou art God.

Know thyself. Love thyself. Become thyself. 

The Present Absence of Other

Going home again
to aching loneliness:
solitary silent shame
No greeting at the door

A real questing for character
without external reinforcement
No approval but my own
No restrictions here alone

The question of self left
undefined by the future
unrefined in the present
undesigned from the past

Internally inflicted inquisition
leaving behind uncertainty
wobbling and lurching
dimly toward the unexpected
hopefully into some light
recursively beginning to end

Protection

Cthonic Mother
who art Hekate, Trivia, the Morrigan
Protect my mother G T J
Now named W, though she has been still this year
formerly H
and having unknown aliases and akas
Keep her far from the still
for alcohol is killing her
Protect her from the men who've loved her
for they have loved her wrongly
her father and her brothers
her husbands and her lovers
Save her from herself
and all the self-harm she wills
Never let her again serve sub
serviant - as operator, card-dealer, cashier
Let her again find her world
enjoyable
by the impertinent behavior of kittnes
named after 80s pop songs
May neither Gulf nor Atlantic hurricane
wash away her home
at the F W R facility
and may none of her pasts -
Louisiana, Nevada, or Florida again -
disturb her healthful recovery,
and turn her towards the light.
and let her daughters heal
from wounds she wrought
and let herself heal
from wounds her mother wrought
And may the curses on her line
be lifted
And may the tares from the grain
be sifted
And the tears between her family
no longer rifted
Cthonic mother seal the rifts
Earth Goddesses heal earthquakes
Dark ladies turn the fates
Let good intentions pave the way -
not to hell, but to grace.

Composition: Verbs-become-Nouns

Selection inspection
dejection rejection
Envision derision
decision incision

Coercion suspicion
pernicion ostracion
Appreciation depreciation
accommodation miseducation

Diversion compulsion
aversion revulsion
Domination distortion
indiscretion dislocation

Ingression submission
aggression depression
Apprehension pretension
indecision persuasion

Ennervation emaciation
punctuation explanation
Caution emotion
ambition duration

Incursion inversion
recursion dispersion
Exploration desperation
inspiration devastation

Internicion prescription
Aspersion decimation

A Taste

Bitter metallic burnt

Gun smoke and blood

Salted with tears and sweat

Soured regret substituted

For sweet victory

And instead of the spice of life

An herbal infusion for a remedy

Lightning

Flashcrack connection spark
Sudden sharp vacuumhole
Lightsound deviant in the dark
Oakwood galvinized steel pole

Neuronal flare and eyebright blind
Capillary passive activity bloom
Patterns in nature and in my mind
Oxygen zipping out of the room

Popcrackle and zigzag splint
Crashing down with thunder rumble
Noise and image clashed with flint
Drywet hardsoft mumblejumble

Withdrawal

I am made of hate and pain

(Can't talk, sorry, might bite)

One muscle spasms and then

A full body contraction 

(fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck)

Shaking and writhing on the floor

The only thing I want is to die 

Someone please give me a cigarette

Or a bullet between my eyes

Pause.

A wave of brief clarity and still.

But it doesn't last long,

There's always another wave to crest

Torturous seesaw, rollercoaster riptide

Carried out again on a sea of rage

Loneliness and despair 

(It's okay, 

I understand what you're going through)

(No, you don't, not unless 

You've been here, too,

Or you're here with me now)

Don't you dare come near me

I don't know when I'll change back

Not Jekyll and Hyde, 

more abyss and mask

Worse than a werewolf 

No better than anything ever

I am violence and mindless and fate

I am incapable of caring

I am raw feeling incarnate

One giant exposed nerve ending 

Cause and effect, determined

Nonetheless wholly unpredictable

Without all the data defined

Abstracted for false objectivity

And left mewling in the trash.

Fret

Twist wring twitch fling

Bounce bounce bounce

Hum click thumb tick

Jounce jounce jounce 

Prayer

Our Mother

Who art the Universe

Hallowed be thy body

Thy queendom is

Thy will unknown

The Earth she is our Heaven

Give us this day our daily breath

And absorb our trespasses 

As we absorb the trespasses against us

And lead us into temptation

But deliver us from annihilation

For thine is the queendom

And all life and existence

From beginning to end. 

So let it be.

Exercise

Pretension

Condescension

Paternalistic assumption

Ascension

Facilitation

Integrative cooperation

Invitational Invocation

I call out silence
I do not know whether you can hear me
Over the sound of your own misery

Spellwork is an uncertain art
Mixing herb and metaphor
But science and myth both belong to knowledge

My neurons sing synapse crack
My thoughts pop through the ether
Astrally projected invitation offered on the wind

To you, it's me
Come home, girl friend
Ears and eyes extend like satellite and lightning

Render close again
What once was foolishly sundered
And return to where you have yet to begin

Helpsong

When I'm suicidal
What I need is a person
Someone to be with me
In my home at my side
Asking what I need
And giving only what I ask
When I ask for it

But no one has ever done that
No one has listened
No one has heard my requests
I am ever offered what is good for me
According to people who aren't me
And who only ignore me
When I don't ask for it

Broken

I am a shattered pane of glass

One moment frozen from disintegration

I am a broken plain of grass

One second prior to conflagration

I am the shattering pain of loss

One year harder into manifestation

I am the breaking shame of dross

One decade after the devastation

Commandments

Thou shalt dance

 even if it's offbeat

Thou shalt sing

 even if it's offkey

Thou shalt create

 even if it's misshapen

Thou shalt read

 even if it's childish

Thou shalt write

 even if it's unschooled

Thou shalt love

 even if it's painful

Thou shalt live

 even if it's fleeting

Resolution: The Revolution

Resolution: the revolution

We resolve to find a solution

Degradation generation

Let us learn an invocation

No justice no peace

No racist police

No more state lynchings

White supremacy must cease

It's serve and protect

Not kill and profile

Cops: do not murder

One more mother's child

End the brutality

Relearn morality

Stop the fatality

Don't fuck up reality

The rainbow coalition

Avoiding perdition

By paying attention

Defending our position

There's only this chance

Take a fighting stance

Resolving to find a solution

Resolution: the revolution

Oubliette

My home is a dark hole in the sky

I warm myself at the hearth of night

I sleep on the mantle of a dead star

My pillow, soft bosom of its rocky heart

No one has ever come to visit me

In my house at the edge of infinity

But there are no rainbow bridges here

Only acres of pain and streams of tears

I eat only what you leave for the dead

My heart beats only inside of my head

No blood to warm twixt skin and bone

No energy fueling my mind or home

Contradictorily I suffer such pain

In the house to which there is no lane

No bridge to bring anyone back to me

And no one who would come here free

So I sleep in caves inside dead stars

To provide a shield against rocky hearts

Only as warm as the night can provide

A hole in the sky with me home inside

Assortment of Poetry from the Last Decade (or So)

But first, a song:

Shadowdancer
Do you know the way to call down the moon?
Can you find the perfect setting for the stars in the sky?
Can you paint a sunset on a Saturday night?
Have you felt the breath of wind at midnight?

You say you're gonna give me the sun & the moon
You'll crown my head with a circlet of stars
But baby I don't even know if you have learnt the passages of my heart...
...much less the paths of the stars

(Refrain)
'Cause I'm a shadow dancer, baby
Flying on misty wings
Yeah, I'm a shadow dancer, baby
I run from the sun and I know what the nightingale sings.

I cast my magic spell on you
To turn you to the night
But if you can't see through the darkness to find me
Your only friends will be your own demons

Now baby I cannot guide you to me
Because you stand so far in the sun
You keep yourself in the light and pretend that you've got nothing to hide...
...but what you make plain I know is a lie.

(Refrain)
'Cause I'm a shadow dancer, baby
Flying on misty wings
Yeah, I'm a shadow dancer, baby
I know what you hide from yourself in the light of morning

So when you next see the moon casting shadows
Or when you see the stars falling out of the sky
Know that I dance again the nighttime
'Cause in the sun you let yourself go blind

(Refrain)
Oh, I'm a shadow dancer, baby
Swingin' on a star
Yeah, I'm a shadow dancer, baby
I run from the sun and I know what the nightingale sings.



Desert
I truly deserve
every bad thing that's ever happened to me
I know you agree
I'm a dolt and a moron and a fool
and I'm useless except as a tool.
And the only way we relate
is to hate on me
Truly you know
what I can do to stop this little game we play
There is only one way
to do this today
I cannot stay
For very much longer
I know that you're stronger
because you lie
about how I
have hurt you
But my lack of strength
and resolve makes me wait
I hesitate
Though I've found the gun
There's no way I can handle
this heavy mantle
And your gravity
saps me dry.

Relativism
If there's no such thing as truth
If there's no such thing as knowledge
Why the fuck d'you go to college?
Why the fuck d'you go to college?


3.1415926...
You, a doll.
I alone undressed it softly
Quiet and light
disrobed
Beginning careful
Finishing now
It was entirely
with gentle or morbid care
the toy uncovers you.

Interaction of Old & New
New era discotheque
The bright lights
have only changed a little
mirrors and chill rooms
A heavy bass thud
So the crowd can track
what they are supposed to do
And only in smaller circles
is true talent showcased
A more complex interweaving
of melody and rhythms
occurs in a nearby room
in a jungle
of tunes and beats
While on the main floor
the DJ spins
the same old
same old
and remixes it
into more of the same
for more of the same.

Enflamed
I am on fire
I wake thinking of you
I go to sleep doing the same
And when I dream, you visit me
and, sometimes, call my name

I have no ambition
other than to sleep at your side
and give you joy
and give you peace
and a safe place to abide

But I am tortured
by your distance
by the absence of loving speech
So I cry out as I wake
and in my dreams do you beseech


Prayers
I yearn for your happiness,
for your peace and tranquility,
for your physical and intellectual pleasure
and for your nearness to me.

I dream of our togetherness
the solitary solidarity of two
you could lose yourself in me
and I myself in you.

I beg for your presence,
for you to just give me your time
so I can give to you my love
in other ways than mere rhyme.

High School Dissociative Spell
Did I die?
Just a moment ago,
Did you feel a change?
Something internal
but the earth felt it, too.
It sudden got quiet
The wind ceased to blow
The sun just got cold
& the light seemed to slow
& all of the world
just stopped to go
& I can't help but wonder
did I just die?
I'm no longer dead,
of that I am sure
But the way I am living
Is no longer the same
as surrounding mortals do.
I'm certain I could fly
I've done it before
quite exhilarating.
& I've flown on my own two wings
but
it no longer makes me dizzy!
So did I die?

Prelude to a Change
Whoops, I fell in love for a while
and now my dreams are all over
Graduation has come and gone
And still you keep me alone

I never knew what I meant to you
I guess I'll never see
On to Georgia without you, my love
Alone, unhindered, and bitterly free

What was woman taught of independence and self-mastery?
Naught but the ludicrous defense of her precious virginity
I gave you the latter, you insist on the former
When all I ever wanted was a we
The only thing I ever got back from my love was me.

Small Love
small love have i
to give to any but you
and, in turn, you cannot take
out of fear (hope?) for that love
you know is dead
yet you cling to it
help(hope?)lessly
she wipes the stars out of your tears
making your heart dull
no longer does your love scintillate
so i ask the stars to shine for you tonight
because i want to see your
eyes smile again
you take my hand like
a dying butterfly (it must be)
you grasp at words
and form half-words to reassure me
but the eyes (windows to the soul, they are, and all)
they dully gleam behind your facade
where are the tears that don't come?
why can't i cry for you?
why can't i help to heal
these (those) beloved wounds?
little love have i to (waste on a lost cause)
give - but i would give that i could
give it to you

Pandora's Box
Sweet lies we tell ourselves
 of loves & sunshine & glory
   of miracles & gods & joy
     of kindness & truth & beauty
Such honey-coated bile.
We open our hearts and in them we see
Such things to make us cower
  and try to slam them shut
    before more flies out to eat us
      in the dark.
Rape & murder
Treachery & infidelity
Greed & lust & ignorance & impiety
But after it's closed
  we look back in fear
    and hope is the shining white-
      the biggest lie of all
It encrusts the heart like fat on an anorexic.

The Lonely Philosophy
When, in fact, there is no whole
only many subjective becomings,
And when there is no true communication
but a great & terrible silence,
Grave & overwhelming,
THERE IS STILL DANCING.
On this bridge, Lorca warns:
BEWARE! - and
BEWARE! - and
BEWARE!;
Because when you are aware
of how completely separate
and meaningless
you are
Then you can compose fairy music
in your head
And the fairies bring gifts
to those who create for them.
The fae long ago left this plane
and so are jealous of any
who could tell of their ways.
Do not teach your music to the masses!
Trampling, they will soil
your clean and pure robes
and your music they will ruin,
bawling it out noxiously as they
gyrate in their own filth
dry-humping, rutting -
(it's the only way they know how to dance)
and this music is for light feet!
Light hearts! Cold, light thoughts!
And solitude.

Poinsettia
Blood drops
spilling o'er
a crown
of gold
green stems
of life
support the
crimson head
Christ born
on this
SILENT NIGHT
Later to
be crucified
with his
dropping blood
spilling o'er
a crown
of gold

Heart's Wood
Tendrils of friendship
bravely extended
Often finding no point
on which to fix
and dig in, winding
round dead supporting
structures of bygone relationships.
Sometimes find
temporary or passing
foundation for growth,
occasionally meeting
like with like and
springing off of each other
towards separate goals.
Rarest of all is when
two (or more) come together,
grasping the same
living trunk and covering
the entire organism
with a leafy and fruitful
blossoming that carries
both towards a like end.

Barren
Growth not rejected
But wholly unnourished
Though watered by tears
And fertilized by ashes

Our friendship inspected
And not having flourished
Though we may be peers
No love, only clashes

Heart thrice neglected
And hopes quite demolished
Leaving nothing but fears
And misery that quashes

Affections deflected
And heart left impoverished
Holding back jeers
And anger that bashes

Spring Solar Bath
It's rare that I write in the sun
or about the sun anymore
for I've been nursing a moon-tan
a thousand months or more

I seek a place to lay in the sun
on the beach near the sea where it's warm
following years of darkness and death
of night's winds and winter's cold storm.

Why is it I feel so inept in the eye
of the sky or society's views?
Is is that I fear to gain a new color?
Or my pallor I prefer not to lose?

Yet even in the heat of the day
a cooler breeze still blows
And a little ice is needed
for the propagation of the rose.

Panicpanicpanic

sweatbeatheart
tearskin crybleed
cheap shot
fired off the port bow
defenses up, heart races
Must return to offensive stance
Armor on, no holes in it
no failure permitted
shakelimbsracemind
squirmround screamgroaning
fight flight freeze
curled fetalround my knees
rage cage mindaflame

Poetry from Childhood

(ranging from fifth grade through sophomore year of high school)

5^th Grade, 1^st poem ever.

Bring Forth Thee

Bring forth thee,

I say,

Bring forth thee.

Cower!

Before my blizzard and storm.

Cower!

Under my fire and wrath.

Beg!

For mercy from harm and torment.

Beg!

For mercy of thy family and soul.

Shout!

Out thy dreams and fears.

Shout!

Out of the darkened hole.

Bring forth and search

for justice ‘till the end of time.

Cower! Beg! Shout!

SHOW THYSELF!

Revised versions of 6^th grade poetry.

Truth and Justice

Noone can find it,

So why search?

Noone can see it,

So why look?

Noone can hear it,

So why listen?

These are the truths of truth.

And justice?

Can it be found?

                or seen?

                or heard?

Justice is oblivious

To us all.

Windows

STARING

they are blind

CRYING

they are dry

ASLEEP

they are awake

A WINDOW

a vast openness

NEVERENDING

but limited

Life

Life is a magnificent thing

                            a terrible

                               horrible

                               thing

It’s worth too much to buy

                            much too

                                      cheap

                                      to

                                      have

Life torments you

P  U  L  L  I  N  G    Y  O  U

left                                                                    and                                                       right

I’d

hate

to

have

this

horrible

thing

everyone calls life

8^th grade Works

A Note From Your Secret Admirer

Love me;

If you should not,

for it is after your heart I sought

though I know it cannot be bought,

but then, if you should not,

You would be to blame,

and, not to my shame,

my excited heart

would give sudden start,

for from you it must part,

and my love is off the chart,

it would suddenly dart,

right out of my chest,

it would truly jump-lest

you loved me as I do know best.

If you should not.

It is after your heart I sought,

though I know it cannot be bought,

with grief, or shame,

oh!-

do you know my name?

I suppose

not.

Yet, true that I know,

that I love you so,

Yet I sit here and wonder,

and yet my mind does blunder,

as I sit here astunder,

“Do you love me?” my heart does wonder.

But, to my own shame,

you are not to blame,

for my excited heart,

from you it would not part,

and my love

is so high

off the chart.

As my heart is on fire

for you I aspire,

for it is you that I so admire.

From heaven above,

comes my sweet, strong love,

so ends the note

of your Secret Admirer. 

I Have Often Sat

I have often sat and wondered

of how man has blundered,

of how God is so strong,

of how our ways are wrong,

or how birds have flown,

or how the wind has blown,

or how love does beat,

or how many cheat,

or how awesome is God,

or how man is so odd,

or how many have not just sat and wondered.

I have often sat and thought

about how man after God has sought,

of how we are in shame,

and how Cupid does aim,

or how rain beats a window pane,

or how many nights I have lain,

right, wrong, and in pain,

thinking, just thinking,

and having no inkling,

of how many people who have never just sat and thought. 

9^th grade Poetry   

Dusk of Good/Dawn of Evil 

In the twilight, an arrow flies,  

Bringing death to Godly eyes.

A second goes through our love;

His evil foes laugh at Him above.

A moment too late the bird sees the shove;

And arrow through a bow ends the life of a dove.

Innocence, purity, love and Christianity

Die in the dawn; evil moves his pawn. 

America 

A day and a night and a night and a day,

Everything and anything going every way.

Someone knows noone did nothing wrong

Making this line a little too long.

Should she, says he, rhyming to far

And, yes, mother said get the dog out the car.

Samurai warriors, and spacemen, too.

Estados Unidos-a wonderful stew.

German, Irish, Gaelic, Jew,

Japanese, Chinese, Russian, too.

Spanish, French, Italian or Greek.

Norwegian and Scottish are not that meek.

Austrian, Finnish, Welsh, Portuguese,

Thanksgiving dinner; more turkey, please.

A day and a night and a night and a day;

All of the children come out to play.

Someone knows noone did nothing wrong

Will a world war end God’s good song?

Should she, says he, rhyming too far

The death of a friend, your life, will mar.

Samurai warriors, and spacemen, too.

Judeo-Christians won’t fight with you.

German, Irish, Gaelic, Jew

Many of them have simply no clue.

Spanish, French, Italian, Greek

The end of God’s love, you should not seek

Austrian, Finnish, Welsh, Portuguese

The days of our lives; yes, they are these.

A day and a night and a night and a day.

That is the end; there’s nothing to say. 

Wave Bye-bye 

Ten little fingers, long and slim,

Tiny little fingers-only ten.

A knife will slip and leave nine;

Eight are left by supper-time.

Fire burn and Cauldron bubble;

Heat makes seven without trouble.

Six and five are gone real quick.

They fall down; they won’t stick.

A gun will subtract down to four.

After three, only two more.

One of these two, the cold has made numb.

Now all we have is the one thumb.

Evil person makes the owner cry

As that thumb is killed; good-bye.

Ten little fingers, long and slim.

Tiny little fingers won’t grow again. 

Walking Out 

A tear ran down his cheek; this would end, somehow,

Somewhere, and sometime, but wasn’t over now.

They met one day, so long ago, and quickly became friends;

And for her, the world, he’d said, he’d walk to the far ends.

He wondered now, what she thought, and who she loved and why.

She didn’t stay quite long enough; and her coldness made him cry.

And once upon another time, that same girl, she said:

Before I’d hurt that little boy, I’d rather be cold and dead.

But she’s not dead, just cold, and with another man.

But someday they’d meet again: the mother and her son. 

Pink Slip

She came in with clouded eyes,

Red and pink, like when she cries.

They’d lost their house; they couldn’t afford

To pay for their room and board.

Their kids into the orphanage sent,

Lest their lives on drugs they spent.

He could not keep a job;

And every night she would sob.

They had lost everything;

They’d even pawned her wedding ring.

Then one night, in the alley they chose

In each other’s arms they froze. 

Again 

As  

I

sitandweepandcry

I

wonderwhythephoenixburns

and

theworldturnsandturnsandturns

whensuddenlyIspringfrommytears

like a phoenix from ashes

( ashes to ashes and dust to dust )

I

am clean and whole

again

(suchisthewonderofGod’slove)

to every season

(turnturnturn)

there is a reason foreverythingintheworld

And I

begin to cry

again.

Depression Leads To Suicide (And Other Obvious Statements) 

I wonder

What does the cold

Angry

Blade of a knife feel

Like

On my wrists?

I’ve never felt it

And

I’m scared of the pain

It

Hurts too much

And also

What would a rough

Tough

Strand of rope feel

Like

Around my neck?

I don’t intend on

Having

One there soon but

I’m

So depressed.

And what

About going over

And flying off a cliff

Into

The dark night?

Do you really

See

Your life pass by

As

You fly (or would you pass out?)

It’s a really

Really

Really good thing I’m

Afraid

Of pain as

I

Walk

Down the steps

To

A

Horrible suicidal death.

A pit of despair.

Cold. Alone. Noone.

Can I kill myself?

Or will I be too afraid?

I’m scared. 

Knife 

Steel

Teeth

thatcutintomyskinormeat

Biting

Sharp

Cold

Angry

Dead

Hate

ifeelthepainanditsscary

Hate

Dead

Cold

Alone

Stiff

Self

nowimdeadandcold

Noone

Cares 

Music

 A haunting song

A melody clear

So far away

And yet so near

A flute, a pipe

An alien tune

And sadly it ends

All too soon

It tugs at my heart

It toys with my sould

Then it comes prancing

Like a year-old foal

It can be new

It can be old

But can it be bought?

Can it be sold?

The wind as it blows

Sings a new song

It carries the birds

As southward they throng

I hear it loud

I hear it sad

I hear it good

I hear it bad

When was it born?

When will it die?

Does it live?

Or simply fly?

I don’t understand

How it’s so beautiful

Or its secret

To stay so young and full

It’s one of the wonders

Of this Earth

Sad and lonely

Or full of mirth

It changes and twists

Or stays the same

I love it so much

Even its name

Music Music

Muh-yoo-zikh

Music Music

Click tap click

Wonderfully happy

Unpleasant sad

It can be good

It can be bad

A haunting song

A melody clear

So far away

And yet so near 

Sketchworks 

Slick bristles

shiny

soft

dip

into

paint

that is thick

and

wet

It’s

brown

and

shiny, opaque

It branches

out

and

makes trees

Green

that’s warm

lovely

leaves

on trees

or grass

on dirt

Sunshine is

yellow

translucent

pale and bright

at

the

same

time

how pretty

It

makes

a  

lovely

picture

lovely shades

of brown

and

green

and

yellow

swirly

twirly

brush bristles

shiny and soft

asthepainting

un

folds 

Verano 

una brisa caliente

sopla a traves de me cara

no alivio del calor

el arbol ofreca

no sombra

el perro

jadea

no alivio

somos

vamos a  

freir 

Rainbow 

The rich warmth reminiscent of apples

Burns to a gleaming orb of bronze

S p i n n i n g   t o  g o l d

Slipping to grassy hues

Or watery dews

Or violets 

Canvas 

Why have I never noticed the unending blueness

Of the tranquil clear and open sky?

Or the lacy needle work of tree leaves and branches,

Too tiny and intricate for even a paintbrush to follow.

And the warm, dusty, gray-brown coolness

Of the earthy clean dirty soil.

Is the dribbling, glimmering, shining, flowing

Liquid coolness of water easily forgotten?

Or the golden powderpuffs of clouds

That melt and spin and shine?

Such wonders are these!

Such pleasures galore!

And all is only a part

Of God’s canvas-his creation! 

reflections of myself 

only a baby

no wonder why

i always feel

i have to cry

one year is gone

i soon can walk

and even sooner

i can talk

two years now

then three and four

by five i’m worthless

that’s less, not more

six and seven

and eight and nine

getting shyer

all the time

i’ve reached fifth grade

by year ten

said “misery

will be my end”

sixth grade comes

seventh, too

even in eighth

i feel blue

ninth grade here

i’m so depressed

with suicide

i am obsessed

not yet fifteen

i feel reborn

and sometimes

i’m still torn

i know God’s good

i know he loves

but life hurts

it pushes and shoves

i watch those younger

so young and pure

they make me feel

so immature

i wonder if

they love me still

(my family)

treat me like a pill

and so it comes

to an end

but God for me

love has no end

10^th grade Poetry  

This was the year I decided I was going to write a hundred poems. I lost the entire collection, but here are many of the ones of which I still have copies.

Storyteller 

I’ve swirled

and I’ve twirled

and I’ve spun

and I’ve done

so many

pirouettes and  

spins.

I’ve leapt

and hopped

and I’ve skipped

and jumped

and twisted

while leaping

and flown

to the heights

of a  

wooden floored

room.

It’s mirrors show

endless me

twisting and

leaping or  

writhing and  

creeping.

I

love

the journey

from beginning

to end of the

dance.

I can

soar over

the fear

and creep

below the

joy or

I can  

fly on

eagles  

wings

and the

grand

finale comes

I go

fasterandfaster

fasterandfaster

fasterandfaster

and it’s

over.

The curtain

is down.

I bow. 

The Eagle 

She’s weeping.

Her children

hate themselves

and each other.

She’s bleeding.

Torn by an

inner war

between her beliefs.

She’s scornful.

There is no

understanding

or intelligence

inside her house.

I feel misery.

For her and

her kind-

they have been left

to fend for themselves.

They cannot support

nor can they be

supportive.

I am sorrowful.

She is like

dust in the wind-

only to be blown

away as we pass. 

Big Brown Eyes 

Like pools of chocolate,

their semi-sweetness,

their rich darkness,

the warmth I see flowing within,

fills me with delicious joy from head-

to toe.

Like a deep pond of muddy unclarity

the frank mystery

that lurks in them

draws me deeper and deeper in-

I am over my head and drowning;

but I don’t want

out.

Like those of a beautiful horse

wild, reckless,

but free!

They enthrall me with a sense of

hope and daring;

and I dare to ask:

shall I dare on?

Ah! but the hope and dream

of stable warmth and sure love

I think I shall-

dare on, that is. 

Thunderhead 

Torrents shimmer down

and sleet may be curdled soon

in the violet clouds above me.

Their purple hue startles me

as does the clash of thunder

and the splash of lightening

that came before the former.

I wonder for whom the hammer saws

and who the nails are pounded for.

God is making a casket;

I hope it doesn’t fit me.

Little streams become rivers

and rivers go running

downhill to turn into flooded plains.

There is a funnel cloud in the distance

but it refuses to touch down

and the river threatens to spill over the levee

but for now we are safe

in our little trailer. 

Good Night 

there is a quiet silence

i can hear the solitudeness

of my soundless environment

there is a black darkness

i can see the nothingness

of my sightless area

it is night

and there are no

senses of my brain

working properly

i can’t see any of the noises

i can’t hear any of the movements

of my surroundings

i hope i can fall asleep

in time to be saved

from the boogeymen

of the lightless quietude 

Anger 

It grips me by the neck;

chokes tears and redness into my eyes;

a cold icy wind blows down my back.

My emotions are a rollercoaster;

misery is its best and closest friend;

I am fried and frozen by turns.

There is truly no explanation;

it is not comprehendible by anyone;

and in it I am forever lost. 

Brevity 

For a brief moment I

think I

caught your eye

a smile a glance

an understood telepathic

(or not)

message

conveyed our thoughts

our desires

and suddenly

the moment

was over and

the candle was snuffed out. 

Baby’s Breath 

So tiny

the little explosions

they aren’t even fully open

seemingly

When will they burst  

into a full bloom

Do they simply stay there

and die in tiny

popcorns

like a little bit of wadded up lace

that has been

unraveled and raveled again

tiny stiff green necks

hold up their ashamed cotton ball heads

how accentable

they complete

the proudness of velvety

blooms that are haughty

with pride

One day

the lace will pour out

into a giant

blanket that overly rivals

the velvet rose. 

I am a Butterfly 

I am a butterfly

to all extents

my bright colors shout

Play with me!

and I dance and giggle in the breeze

You may chase me

as I flit from

tree to grass to flower to air to dirt to stem to leaf

and back again

I dart right past your nose

and soar high to the orb of golden dripping sun

until my spirit

flies down again to tease you some more

what a wonderful

little sprite! you may exclaim

but don’t catch me

please!

the instant you hold my essence

in your hands

I will whither and crumble

and be bruised

I will fly away again

but not this time on my own wings

for you hold them

my whole shell

dying

in your rough hands.

You shouldn’t have caught her!

the birds will scold

the wind and rain will mourn

for the life

of a poor me

who can’t live because of

your ignorance

I was a butterfly

but don’t weep now!

I will rise again

your children’s children  

will chase me

as I am born anew

under starry nights

and liquid sun

and they will giggle with me

and we will play

hide-and-go-seek

and I shall

forgive your unknowingness

when you warn

your children

and their children

not to catch the butterflies

and we will be happy

on God’s breath we will  

dance together

at picnics and on

summer days

and one day

you too will want to chase me again

and we will giggle

and laugh

and we will both be butterflies 

Omega and Alpha 

I saw a sunset once

all purply-black and blue at the edge

kissing the treetop horizon

with bright pink all rosy

a promise to return

I saw a sunset once

glorious golden yellow dripping down

covering one side of the world

with yellow quicksilver all drenching

a blessing that was praise.

Once upon a time

I saw the sunrise

through the ghostly fog, breaking it up,

dissolving it into a new

day. 

Compostition of Verbals 

       to live

       to live is to love

and to love is to languish

and to languish is to perish

and to perish is to die

and if loving is languishing

       is perishing is dying

and loving is living

then living is dying

       to live

       to live is to love

and to love is to know

and to know is to own

and to own is to keep

and if loving is knowing

       is owning is keeping

and loving is living

then living is keeping

       to live

       to live is to love

and to love is to die

and to die is to keep

       the love of your life

       close to yourself

       forever and always

because dying is keeping

       is loving is living 

Fallen Autumn 

after the long hot

of summer

i can finally

feel autumn

fall of hot

fall of fruit

ripe from branches

thick with fruit

falling

falling

falling leaves

blind heat

gone

falling with the apples

apples gone

pumpkins now

present pumpkins

pompous pumpkins

popping profusely

pumpkins

purple nights

orange and gold

falling

shimmering down

when you accidentally

hit

the tree

with daddys

football

falling

but i got  

it

falling down

in a tumble

rolling in

the leaves

tumble bumble

bumble bees

hide from

the gold leaves

protecting

gold honey

pods

pies of  

gold

pumpkin

pumpkin pie

falling off the

counter

falling

lovely

golden mush

mopped up

thrown out

outside

squirrels

hunt for

acorns

on the

fallen leaves

falling

from trees

golden

purple

red

orange

brown all

crispy

fallen leaves

dead leaves

fallen

old pumpkins

old leaves

old football

old me

fallen

fires

warm and toasty

in the

fireplace

lovely

golden flames

flaming

fallen

flames of gold

on the floor

fallen

gold

fallen

flaming

fiery

tree leaves

ghosts of

halloween

drift

among the

fallen

fallen

fallen

leaves

fallen

autumn 

Tears 

I cannot understand it

No matter how hard I’ve tried

Why has God allowed women

To be able to weep and cry

What’s the point of weeping

When we have so much

We cry at a hat’s dropping

As if our heart’s were crushed

What’s the meaning of tears

If nothing’s really wrong

We seem to be sad from joy

If we hear a pretty song

I cannot understand it

No matter how I’ve tried

Why God allowed women

To weep and to cry 

The Last Rose of Autumn 

It really is  

A sad story

To tell.

However,

It’s not a very

Long tale.

Remember

Those heated days

Of June?

Well, they’ve ended

And not at all

Too soon.

July came

And August

Passed away.

September left.

October will

Decay.

You and I

Can both

Feel

The breath of wind.

It is

Quite chill.

I was walking

And then

I saw

The velvet red

Mark of  

Summer’s paw.

Dew dropped,

Death tinged,

And so bright,

It reminded me

Of summer’s

Plight.

I smelt its

Fading lovely

Scent

Before its

Lovely life

Was spent.

Bring out your tears!

And cry your

Woes!

For this was

The very

Last rose. 

The Serpent’s Folly 

It’s nasty,

really.

What God has done

to women.

Pain in childbirth.

I look forward

to

it not.

Is it a

heinous joke?

An evil trick?

Is this why

the serpent

made

Eve

eat the apple?

Apple a day keeps the doctor away.

We

will crush

that evil

creature

who gave us

this curse. 

Q & A 

Will anyone cry if I die?

Will the sky up above lose its dye?

Will all of my friends soon come to no ends?

And will anyone cry if I die?

No, they won’t cry if I die.

No, the sky will stay the same sky.

My friends may or may not have no ends,

But no one will cry if I die. 

The Price of Things 

Did you pay for your whistle?

Benjamin Franklin did so.

He paid too much for his cheap little toy

When he was quite young, you know.

Did you pay for your food?

I know your parents did so.

They paid so much for a bit of some chow

When they were quite old, you know.

Did you pay for the world?

Jesus our Saviour did so.

He paid so much for all of our lives

Because He loves us so.