Category Archives: 1, poem, poetry,

MIRAGE

it is too
much for
anyone

we stumble around
unable to see

someone has
switched numbers
someone has
changed the codes

nothing makes sense any more
it seems like soldiers,
armies,
divine leaders

are just
bursting up
out of the ground

if it is
not on a screen, not
been digitally altered,
an obvious lie
we can
no longer believe it

we seek shelter
in the familiar, tried
and tested, first
principles,
things of foundation

but they all
have become
L for
liminal

there is nothing
that is not a mirage

history is a nothing
to see here thing
just walk on by

WITH EVERY DAMNED THING

look what happens
when you put pressure
squeeze everything
you can out
of us ordinary humans

reduce the quality further
of our less, than stellar lives

force us
to turn within
find what
we can all bring
to the party

fish for and
snare
    what stories. fables,
myths, legends,
and, dare
I say it?, poetry
that we are sitting on
that we
have always hosted

and, to give
supreme benefit
of the doubt,

try to
       touch your heart

believing it not
irredeemable, for
argument’s sake

but of course, as you have
gathered, as we have
always gathered

               nothing there

bereft of empathy
devoid of
understanding, no
place
    for anything but
profit and greed

and a polished ideology
premised on a need
to never let anyone
smell
    let alone see (in
all its abject glory) such
ceaseless hypocrisy

at which
     revelation

we sigh, close ranks, recite
poems, tell our stories

back to
work
putting pen to paper
hit you with every damned
thing we got
  

NECK OF THE WOODS

cut me
some slack

a huge swathe
a tidy sum

use a sharp sharp knife
or maybe a hospital scalpel
sterilized, sharpened
to such an
edge

can cut
cloud

or, on the other hand,
to move in an alternate direction

string me up
and hang me, let me
die 100% marionette
my
   feet not
touching ground

not entirely convinced
you are fixed in viewpoint
regarding what
right and proper
to do with poems
in your
       neck of the woods
and with those that write them

the jury
   one day in, the next so very out