Posted by admin on March 6, 2011
Time –collapsible – a recycled can
Waiting for an electronic crusher
To make old friends into new friends again;
A clear, clever, carefree moment ushers
The turn to other days, better or worse.
Happy, sad, wistful – a whirring blender
Cutting melted emotions thick and coarse
Flies the dart of memory. Hard, slender,
The shaft catches my eye like green pixels
On photoshopped pics, while my eyes can blur
The edges of friend photos not fixed
with false themes. My joy is made briefly sure.
If decades can be reborn in an hour,
Why do most of life’s moments drag on sour?
Posted by admin on March 4, 2011
Free verse, sounds real terse; you open your purse,
And spill your sanity onto the floor.
The song and dance of lies and truth are words
Turned weapons for humanity’s hot rows.
Does the might of a rich man’s green paper
Give credence to repression’s glutton stick,
Or might a weak voice rise and not waver
before the propagandic politics
That rule the mean man? The mean man, blinded
By media, tired for lust, lost in self,
Sees “I”, only “I”; no “we” is sighted;
The crazy voices ring their siren knell.
The poets of plastic, metal, glass–cold gods–
Force his willing oblations–but what cost?
Posted by admin on February 27, 2011
A world of people, a world where you
Are invisible and intangible;
Where my eyes scan bits, bytes, pixels for truth
Of your beauty unimaginable.
An idea, sturdy as hot shifting sands,
That has ricocheted from cerebellum
To cerebrum; that forces heart and hands,
And pushes passions silly momentum.
Do you exist at the end of these bits?
Are you a bot? A not? A deceiver?
Time, that merciless maddening mistress
Will make me a cynic or believer.
When love is lost with the click of a key,
Think kindly, twice, before deleting me.
Posted by admin on October 2, 2010
A perfect rose in a perfect bouquet
Delicate, soft silk petals that each lay
Open and fresh amid brighter flowers.
Each a smile, caress, or slow passionate hour.
A second rose mixt with rougher flowers
No less perfect, with other soft powers,
Sits bruised and torn with petals worn and rude.
I lift, and her sharp thorns open hot blood
To run freely from heart to hand. It gnashes,
pricks, resists, is lifted up biting harsh,
Until I place it lovingly beside
Her sister, queen of majesty betimes.
Twin roses, Queens of my heart, stand entwined.
Their purposes, passions, desires, aligned.
Posted by admin on February 25, 2009
Do you want me to write a verse for you?
To name your beauty or our love so rare?
Why talk of lips and face so tender true,
Or speak of feature’s clear and sharp to stare
Into love’s eyes with words not fair enough
To tell the thought hidden deep in my heart
Not that you’re not beautiful, but too rough
Am I, and not moved to the poet’s art.
Dull darkness moves me to speak of you now
To express my love if that love it is.
No phase, gentle or kind will tell you how
Poetics like this do us not justice.
Day, night, all time passes wond’ring of thee
The perfect hopes, the nights, the days to be.
