Candy hearts confirm who loves who!
Chocolate roses do not need water.
Cheek to cheek spoons love’s tune.
Three little words, rub my back!
Rose petals paint a sensual autograph.
Diamond earrings kiss red paper hearts.
Unspoken words discerned below burnt bridge.
Love’s four letters, care about you.
Love’s proposal transports to seventh heaven.
Poets sing love songs on key.
Slam poets rhyme under yellow moon.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Bench Fly, Cherita
“Hug a tree”, in the gym
a sweaty language
its meaning dim.
A dumbbell fly in the hood
flexed by rats in sweats
their sneakers laced good.
a sweaty language
its meaning dim.
A dumbbell fly in the hood
flexed by rats in sweats
their sneakers laced good.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Child Molesters
Edited---This subject took on special meaning to me when a friend of a friend was charged with Child Molestation and is now serving ten years in prison. This man is 70 years old and also a hoarder.
I wrote another poem about his hoarding titled the Crab Shack, had I known then, that poem would’ve been much different. His family is still trying to get rid of all the stuff he amassed.
I'm the next door neighbor
a friend of a friend as
I shop through my life
to manage this trend.
Young boys coerced
drawn to will stay,
to fan my obsession
and blow me away.
Frightened by my longings
their eyes open wide
choke dark secrets
this horror must hide.
If their Daddy finds out
they will go away
and I'll have
no more special friend
no more sick play.
I'll tell you
it’s love
that’s why
I hang around
but love shouldn’t
hurt
make you feel bad
or hide in the shadows
stalking and sad.
Mother's
caution your babies--
on new friends debate
advise your children
to always tell,
lest they become
the hunted,
lost-- inside their shell.
I wrote another poem about his hoarding titled the Crab Shack, had I known then, that poem would’ve been much different. His family is still trying to get rid of all the stuff he amassed.
I'm the next door neighbor
a friend of a friend as
I shop through my life
to manage this trend.
Young boys coerced
drawn to will stay,
to fan my obsession
and blow me away.
Frightened by my longings
their eyes open wide
choke dark secrets
this horror must hide.
If their Daddy finds out
they will go away
and I'll have
no more special friend
no more sick play.
I'll tell you
it’s love
that’s why
I hang around
but love shouldn’t
hurt
make you feel bad
or hide in the shadows
stalking and sad.
Mother's
caution your babies--
on new friends debate
advise your children
to always tell,
lest they become
the hunted,
lost-- inside their shell.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Dessert
Dessert
is sweet
on the tongue,
it satisfies
the taste buds,
it completes
a special meal,
and it is
time spent
with a good
friend,
sharing past history
without judgment.
It leaves you
privileged
and
content.
is sweet
on the tongue,
it satisfies
the taste buds,
it completes
a special meal,
and it is
time spent
with a good
friend,
sharing past history
without judgment.
It leaves you
privileged
and
content.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Persistent Noise
It persisted
throughout the day
the drip, drip, drip,
ping, ping, ping
clap, clap clap,
until I stopped hearing it.
The sounds retreating
into the background,
to a distant roar
of a thousand hands
clapping,
encouraging minds
to delve deeper
to pursue
with a vengeance
that which needed
to be drawn out.
As a bucket lowered
into a deep well
deeper and deeper
until the only sound left
was the creak of the crank.
At the bottom a splash
drifting upward
higher
louder until,
water
icy cold
and wet
guzzled down.
Clear fresh water
pulled out of the earth
returning back towards the sky
an endless cycle
of energy
redeposited
into our depleted frames
multiplying
percentages
a thousand fold
until the roar
becomes us.
throughout the day
the drip, drip, drip,
ping, ping, ping
clap, clap clap,
until I stopped hearing it.
The sounds retreating
into the background,
to a distant roar
of a thousand hands
clapping,
encouraging minds
to delve deeper
to pursue
with a vengeance
that which needed
to be drawn out.
As a bucket lowered
into a deep well
deeper and deeper
until the only sound left
was the creak of the crank.
At the bottom a splash
drifting upward
higher
louder until,
water
icy cold
and wet
guzzled down.
Clear fresh water
pulled out of the earth
returning back towards the sky
an endless cycle
of energy
redeposited
into our depleted frames
multiplying
percentages
a thousand fold
until the roar
becomes us.
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