Poetry Nowadays

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Pathetic pandering to the same tired people,
Tongue tied they can only snap the same tune.
Clubbed to deaf with cliché, hypnotized blind
They…we are prey and predator, snake swallowing
Gorging on our behinds, entangled in our entrails.
What happened to living words, dancing sparks
the match to set off a forest fire of emotion
Shattering the dam, the walls and washing pain away
Where is the blood caressing pages like ink,
Tracing the cracks in shattered hearts so we can breath.
poetry nowadays needs mouth to mouth resuscitation
So let’s pick up pens, pencils and computer keyboards
Open our spirits and let the soul breath life unto the page

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Sign Language: Talking to God

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If I could talk to God on a misty morning,
I would remind him that humans are beautiful
and blind and deaf to the perfection of ourselves.

I would beg him for a sign, a language, sign language
to help us remember what our heart cries daily.
We could communicate the intangibles with curled fingers.

I would not ask for peace, or love, or money but understanding.
I would not ask to see or hear because sometimes the truth is bitter
I would ask only for a sign. A language to filter our spirits.

Man’s Search for Meaning

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I am number 119104

Moses told me to stay, his word echoing across centuries

Honor thy father and thy mother, declared the stone words-which,

Eternal; prophesied my long days on earth.

We, humans, departed, carted, from possessions parted

To hell by another name not so sweet, Auschwitz

We were concentrated-crammed into tiny train cars headed to concentration camps

Lined, searched and stripped—then teased and stripped naked,

The only relief the water pouring from the faucets as we stand completely naked

Our friends are smoke, bitter acrid acid smoke floating to the “Heavens,

Smoke is death and death is cigarette smoke floating to the heavens.

We, blank, battered, broken, beaten by baseless banalities-

Life meant nothing, corpses are gory rag dolls unwanted

Dragged bump bumping on the cold earth, earth so cold that we are numb,

Toes blackened, no scream as gangrenous black toes are torn

I am number 119104

 

Human no longer, but masses of bodies clumped nine to a wooden pallet

Shaking in nightmarish throes because it is better to live in a nightmare than wake,

To the living hell, our skeletal bodies clicking and clacking caricatures of death coming closer

Psychics all we could see death, coming closer. Nothing mattered, nothing but preservation

Of self, even biting bloodied lips to hold in bloody laughter as the bloody Capo conjures pathetic poetry

We, baser creatures, dropped into hellish nightmares break, but not all for

Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet-and light shines in the darkness and so fated,

We, cows, cowed by constant callousness head to Dachau aboard a train

Each straining to glimpse a future through small windows, I strain to see my home in flashes

Seeking salvation but the words beat me back and the past is swept away

But we dance, for the train is not headed to slaughter and we will not die today

Et Lux in Tenebris Lucet- light shines in the darkness

 

But even battered, broken, beaten there is still beauty.

For, we said “how beautiful the world could be” when blessed

With a solemn sunset splattering the red blood, blue veins,

 purpled bruises and angry black hate across the skies

like some maddened painter splashed us across the skies.

“How beautiful the world could be…

Be my wife, I remember asking her to be, to say I do,

I due to death but no longer as she rescued me

Giving me life and reason though her life is uncertain

We commune as one and my wife and I are become one

She is my tree of life, giving me the courage to face the world

Like the dying woman smiling silent tears streaming as she goes,

Her only friend her hallucination in which the tree talks

 

Doctors of death, dealing in denial we can’t escape our patients

Patiently planned escape not fated but ended with rotten potatoes

not freedom, but freedom found bound within barbed wire confinement

Suffering acquiring meaning and life becoming purposed, fated

No longer disease wracked suicidal starvation but rather sacrifice,

Bleeding heart no longer numbed but raw, reality rapidly realized

Endless hate in sadistic flesh sacs, demons walking in flesh of capos

Brothers in race but venomous snakes measured against momentary

Kindness in soup from the bottom or saved morsels of bread broken

The very best of us did not survive.

 

 

Then suddenly, Freedom.

Nothing.

Faltering steps through fields of flowers…

Nothing

But slowly we wake wondrously to reality,

The nightmare is over for most,

No more “Soup from the bottom please”

Or “Attention, Attention” and alarms

No more death smoke rising silently

I step, after faltering step

Through a field of flowers and fall.

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

I am human again.

Subspecies aeternitas.

The future has finally arrived.

 

 

 

 

Memory (revisited)

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What is a memory but a moment immortalized

In the moonlit mind of a midnight dreamer?
A gem of golden gladness gloriously displayed
or a moment of madness mirshed with misery
standing tall, torturous in one’s mind

Solid and immutable as a diamond by stress formed

Is a memory a gem to be held, polished, and admired?

Or a deadly shard with which to cut oneself
is it so concrete and rooted?
Or rather a bubble of iridescence capturing a fleeting moment

Of sun and reflecting a million rainbows?

Each glance back casting the brilliance of experience

Upon the fragile moment and seeing the subtle nuance

Of the bubble sounds dancing in the breeze of time
a memory moment so fragile and mutable

That the experience of seeing it changes it

And the rainbows dance to a different tune.

So fragile that we grasp it or we try,

Our desire to know invisible hands reaching

For that moment until they have it

Then …“POP”… it is gone forever
A burst of air gone

The moment, the kiss, the words gone
as a bubble bursts and leaves behind air

So the lost moment leaves an aching emptiness

Is memory a river, rapidly running rampart,

It’s riotous rage ripping the bank of the past

And rising to the present
the inundation seeping through everything

And overwhelming now and sweeping everything to the past
Maybe a mountain, an obstacle obstructing openness

And overshadowing opportunities opening up
maybe a memory is a mystery madly made magnificent

 

Or maybe a mirror

Autumn is Chocolate and Freedom

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The leaves crunch under my feet,

orange brown flames that lick at my toes

and melt into my mouth.

The chocolate easing into my reality

drowning out forgiven history

Each step, each bite building a monument

that soars on the chill autumn breeze

a castle in the clouds but real.

I swallow this feeling whole and pause

the hole now filled while wholly unaware

by kind gestures that transcend miles

and discover depths before unknown.

The leaves are dancing before my eyes

earthy fairies released to bless the air

with glints of their red, brown, orange and yellow wings,

transcendent in their sacrifice

like the gales of laughter

and bubbles of joy that from me rise

each iridescent color a perfect marvel

I stand alone in the dusky wood,

framed by a timeless sunset

older than time and beyond forever

but younger than a newborn memory.

I watch the butterfly leaves dance death

rejoice life and make parting sacred

I take another bite and swallow the moment

and then I dance because pain is precious

made perfectly poignant by pity personified.

The moment, a canvas

and pain the brush, the brush

in the hand of an artist

who kills the sun and bleeds it

smearing the sky with its sacrifice

the fiery orange, pale pink gold and royal purple

of faded glory illuminate the sky

to offset the darkness within

and without as I dance alone

each step a history, a memory

eating the moment and tasting in my mouth

chocolate and freedom.

 

Dedicated to my friend Granny Lica

They Say Time Will Heal

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They say time will heal, 

but what do they know?

The illusion of peace

time paints over the pieces

lasts till pressure is applied

and the cracks start to show

 

They say time will heal

But can they really feel?

this nagging needing

of my heart, tired of bleeding

though the wound is healed

the pain is only sealed

 

They say time will heal,

can I trust them?

Time ticks and tocks 

and my mind’s eye is blank

then memory madness flashes

and sudden sadness lashes

out and sinks me again

They say time will heal,

I am waiting.

Silent Lies

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The lies we told each other with fake faces
The promises we made to break are now breaking me 
As the silence speaks volumes and the words aren’t heard
We said forever but we didn’t even begin 
Doomed before we could become we are now broken
Veiled dreams torn and guttered, strewn apart in my dreams
We could have been but our strings once unraveled refused
Once we beat in harmony like a two person band 
But now the music is only the aching of my heart 
Straining against the constraints of my skin 
Searching for you but you are not listening 
You are not listening