pain nails me to The Now there is no pulling away the only escape lies in finding the drift, riding the swells until there is nothing but those sacred undulations
POEM: Agony’s Anchor
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Tag Archives: poetry
POEM: The Impulse to Self-Destruct
energized by french fries Oedipal knife to the eyes when all know the truth, he still lies takes without asking burns while sun-basking fidgets reveal attempted masking always plays the ponies rules with wicked cronies -- but, like him, they're all phonies passes on a Big Mac just to shoot some bad smack opts to be skinny for his heart attack
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POEM: That Hazy Hamlet
a small town a cluster of buildings, really visible from the train and everyone who passed it must have surely wondered whether it always sat looking as they'd seen it for me, that was under gray & dismal skies my logical mind suggests that the village's situation changes daily but, really, it will never cease to be that hazy hamlet i viewed through running rivulets of rain that day on the train.
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POEM: Everyday Magic
If you can't see the magic in a flower or a leaf, how can you see it in the work of some cutpurse thief? And if you can't see it in stars of a hinter night sky, how can you see it in the tricks -- a conjuror's slick lie? There's woe in where we find great awe -- those simple illusions. And what we miss reflects our keen everyday delusions.
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POEM: View Killing Fog
Clouds roll over the low hills, enshrouding the vast plantation, crawling down into the valley, filling it like a bowl, until it drifts toward one like horror show death mist, or like the mustard gas that sank into the trenches, once upon a time. But without the threat of death, except for death of that view of rolling acres of tea trees that stretch out to the mountains.
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Salt Marsh Haiku
land dragged from sea river-snaked salt marsh what moves? what's still?
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POEM: Figment
I'm in a special mode of mind. One in which nothing is ahead or behind. Everything is shades of a me that doesn't exist. So, maybe I'm a reflection of all that is -- in as much as there is an "I." I don't know how I slipped into this anti-solipsist stance -- believing everything exists, but I. I'm a figment, but since I can't be a figment of my own imagination, I'm not sure what flavor of figment I might be.
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POEM: Calamity Came
We heard the sound, distant rumbling. We watched the castles fall, crumbling. The choice of running to the rubble, or staying safe in our bubble. But either way, someway it'd hurt with either hands or head in dirt. Some tragedies are too galactic, and words just sing anticlimactic.
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POEM: Nom de Guerre
They called him "the Emperor of Pain," the they who didn't know his real name, a name that was comically disjointed to his reputation, a name that was to this man as that gentle lisping voice is to Mike Tyson, and so they gave him that ridiculous name, and he became both more and less than what he really was.
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POEM: Finding Your Zen through Travel [PoMo Day 30 – Epigram]
I Pray for smooth travels... but not too smooth; bad experiences make good stories. II Mother nature is the kind of mother who doesn't play favorites. III Fairness and simplicity are fine, but the solution that works may be neither. IV Difficulties only ruin trips attitudinally doomed. V Think of lost luggage as an exercise in creative decision making.
