Past Issues :: 2006 October 1 :: Street Poetry
Your littered remains:
For the unbidden one
I have been gathering,
Your scattered things,
To look at and examine.
The white and silver watch,
You nearly flung at me in the Taxi.
Observing the customs of your country,
Were you? and presenting your chosen,
With a gift?
The card you gave me in late March,
Telling me to take a chance on life.
The blue/gray necklace you found on the street,
Thinking of me when you placed it in my hand.
And your one love letter, promising me, unbidden,
The moon and the stars and the sun.
Your other remains lay here and there,
Awaiting their eventual rescue from forgetfullness.
The yellow and white bouquet of flowers,
I picked in the shadows of Mt Hood.
On the only day of fun we ever really had.
The day you drove the white van,
With your hands gliding over the wheel,
Effortlessly, and with a strange grace,
As if they had never left it.
Your smile was genuine then,
And your happiness real.
I have gathered these littered remains,
To ponder, to look at and examine.
Trying to dissect the mystery,
We still have not yet solved.>
And there is nothing,
No answer lays waste,
To my searching.
Fearless scrying does not help,
The wooden pendulum spins its lies,
And no truth is unloosed in its circles.
But always I have wondered,
Why the whispers in my ear?
The feathery whispers...
"I'm going to punish you"
I never knew what it meant.
Why? And for what?
Was that the "destiny" you spoke of?
You made that oath the night of April 18th.
It was your promise to me,
And often did you repeat it.
Often between kisses.
It was your promise,
And it was realized,
Was made manifest,
Was yet again repeated,
On that last night we shared.
The whisper ought to have been my warning,
But I did not hear, my ears were deaf,
To the promise of you.
Knives of Many Whores
These things I do
Screaming to myself
Scrambling my head
Sitting on the bathroom floor
These shadows I follow
Old memories I inherited
Traveling down my family tree
These things I hear
Sometimes I turn around
Knowing I am capable of more
These things I know
Will follow me here
With dreams I wallow in happiness
See the truth beyond cycle
Sing into sometime other
Than castaway old behavior
Shadow With a Regret
It is innate, I’m sure,
that for words I sit and ponder
And like my mind does more often than not,
into darkness I begin to wander
It is not an outright choice or a way
in which I have set
But a lingering itch that is somewhere within.
Like a shadow without a regret
As I drop in silence
And my tears echo
with our purpose here on earth
begins to feel lifeless
Because this chaotic dream
Our hell hole
begins to find your fault
For your mindless dribble
continues to fight back
with the numbness of your heart
and I begin the glory of a new life and I want to say I love you
Food for Thought
Seems like everywhere I look
There are stark reminders
Of man’s egoistic basic nature
To some, this is not clearly evident
They can’t see the brutal reality
Alas, some cannot see the forest for the trees.
Our callused reaction to the indigent
Which is so appalling
The testimony of this is quite evident
I digress to muse what you envision
For actions speak louder than mere words
A reliable measure of one’s demeanor
Is the compassion for our fellow man
I ascertain that I can conceive of no less
A picture does indeed paint a thousand worlds
And the portrait I behold is not pleasing.
She
Good she-mind laid to waste
She takes care of her man
He lays her to waste
Uses her up
Forgets why it is he needs her
Wraps veils of vanity ’round himself
Neglected bridge over mote
That leads to her meadow
Crumbles
Tumbles into putrid liquid
She is thirsty
She drinks the poisoned water