There was an error in this gadget

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Boom

Blinding Sun Related Keywords & Suggestions - 



Boom

She woke a tiny girl in a large apartment
marooned on a canopy bed high in the sky
Walls of glass – far above this new concrete
city -silently scurrying far far below -her bed
piled high with pillows – a cover to be called
a duvet – as though it made all the difference.
Her mother took her swing, made a good deal,
accepted as a sign from a divine Universe the
tall man who kept coming back to Do-Drop-In
diner and finally after thousand cups of coffee
and steamy side-wise smiles took them away
to here –Her mother now wore shoes with high
heels and bright red lipstick – lifted a little finger
when she sipped wine – from a closet filled with 
fancy glasses – all the same – all sorts of repeat 
things like that here – fat stuffed animals choked
with neck bows glassy-eyed on the window seat 
like one of those infinity mirrors things repeating –
on and on in this endless apartment -a pinned up 
butterfly behind glass walls –she lay marooned on
this canopy bed high in the sky and -it was wrong 
selfish wrong -she knew it-but she could not deny 
that she ached for the small stream at the end of 
the dirt road behind the school where she used to 
stop on the way home - looking for tadpoles and 
the glint of copper pennies -she knew it was wrong 
to look for a line that would draw them back – back
to wish each thing to vanish into a vacuum of never-
had-happened – for time to fly back to the then-when
she walked on ground - bare feet in the soft warm dirt 
of home – hope a thing that was only an ache in her 
mother’s eye.



Sunday, February 12, 2017

Re-sound Melody










Re-sound Melody

Who shall sing my song when all that is
left are scattered rhythms
Who shall gather scraps and stand face
to the wind upright in the gales and sing
rag to a bloodied eye - torch still aflame
root of all that was and can still be right
Who shall sing my song?







Sunday, January 29, 2017

Call to Midwives All Dedicated to Valarie Kaur*




Call to Midwives All
Dedicated to Valarie Kur *

time to shoulder the burden of birth
of heart, soul and hope
time to march on this soft earth
of all creatures, creed, and life
time to cope, to touch, to give,
to reach toward the light ...
time to shoulder the burden of birth
of this more perfect nation world -
struggling to be born not from the
"darkness of the tomb" but from the
"darkness of the womb"
"breathe then
 push... "*


Valarie Kaur is a brilliant and wonderfully articulate young attorney activitist - 
her words at a particular multi-cultural NewYear's gathering left me breathless .. 

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Coming through the fog

Morning Fog 







Coming through the fog

Ah 
my siren 
felt feeble – 
the plumped 
preen lean – 
yet 
now in spite 
of this single stab 
seeped fulfillment 
cheat – I shake 
the sodden to leap -
truth emblazoned 
on my soul – 
to climb the 
mountain – 
flee fear 
hold tight 
to my
chest 
the reap 
of all 
that is 
righteous- 
past to  
future – 
see them – 
feel them 
feel us -
standing- 
shimmering, 
warming chilled blood - 
bolstering burgeoning 
this ever unquenchable happening of hope 
gathering – here, there, everywhere,
coming through the fog, coming through the fog

Saturday, December 3, 2016

soul murder



soul murder 

listen, 
banging on the back door 
files of despairing dead arrive
flies flapping in swirls of night
damning anatomy of soul murder rises -
screeching, souls pulled over razor pointed
heinous history, burned, beaten, shot, stabbed, 
water hosed, dog-ravaged, hanged from trees, 
dragged behind cars, left to die on wire fencing, 
our myriad murders, our unprotected heroes -of 
then, now ripped in hellish heave backward again, 
screeching in righteous recrimination draw messages
in their crusted blood spilled for naught,here they are 
pulled from places of rest, leaning in exhausted  agony - 
these resurrected, recriminating warriors of past struggles 
won-now defeated long after the fact, faces of disgust  push 
patterns of themselves through the net of the creaky screen door -
come to shake their heads, eyes deep-dark in agony of our betrayal 
our permitting this 
racism reload - 
reinvigorated and 
balloted as normal 
embracing the dark
seeking spirits to 
destroy 
listen,
learn
light,
fight
now




Saturday, November 19, 2016

We are coming




Just a little new perspective on where we are that I just jotted down - needs work but general idea - that truly turned the time around for me ... as much as I was disheartened by the recent turn of events and plans for the future based in part of exclusion and backward thinking .. I suddenly realized that this election has taught us that "hate" and sensationalism is more powerful than peace and plans for a better future and so we are now faced with a stellar group of throwbacks who would cast this country backward prior to the civil rights movement and forward into an age of darkness and despair. Unless - we see that we have now been given an opportunity to do all the good we can for all the people we can for as long as we ALL can - together... for.....
💗💗
We are coming...

We were never meant to be the status quo -
trapped in Kevlar and cosmetics
kick the leather heels - free the sadistic squeeze
Let us rip the undergarments that bind, that cut our flesh -
Run fingers through hair and in shod ourselves in soft
sturdy shoes made for walking
walk the fields and mud and march the promenades -
shout with joyful unfettered glee
for we are united against each and every
outrage that falls across the way -
They have been gathered by a wise Universe
in one place - this unholy reunion of racism and restriction -
But we -
We - were never meant for the status quo -
We were meant for the wind
We were meant for mountains and seas and savannas -
city streets and sleepy suburbs -
We were meant always to ultimately leave the house -
Do not weep to leave the cold marble halls unto the appropriate agency - Leave it happily to the icy hands of men and some with empty eyes
the paper shufflers, the investigators, the writers of rules and restrictions, injunctions and investigations that even if passed, can no more be enforced than catching the wind in a glass jar -
Learn from our Native brethren and sisters the lessons they sang so long ago - the spirit cannot be sold nor overtaken.
Revel in the clustering of this minion of the old guard of flailing hatred
they stand together at the gate - let them be - we need them there
Let them keep on the lights so we can march -
babes in arms, young men striding aside -
unafraid, black, white, yellow, red - marching a convocation of old, young and all the in betweens -together in a chorus of polyglot symphonic celestial language -
We are moving as one - free from the "quo" -
changing the status of this now reborn land -
finally we are moving inextricably toward perfection -
Leave the lights on slave owners for we are coming
We are coming from each corner of this land to overturn each now exposed act of sneering contempt of constitution - written on parchment inscribed,
evolved illumated in the inextinguishable flame of our collective soul-
We are finally - as a people - springing from the loins of Mother Chaos -
born - free at last - fully formed from the collective of a billion teeming misdeeds, grievances, victories and eternal hopes and dreams -
We are the force of life
We are the force of love
We are the children and the creators invested with power cosmically past puny flailing fists -
We pour pity and power over hatred of ignorant impotent cloistered souls - Leave the lights on blazing in darkness now gathered -
We see you - easily - out from under sheets, unmasked, clapping in empty victory - grin your empty victory -
revel in ignorance that you are now finally exposed together arm in arm -
there you are in the bright light of justice - and...
we are coming .... U.S.A.
☀️☀️

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Master Class





Master Class

In the midst of the still - in the pause of busy
silken as tip of infant curl brushed bare breast
In the midst of the still - in the pause of busy
oil sliding melting remnant jot of jealous velvet
In the midst of the still - in the pause of busy
clinked-crystal pearlescent peal of single chime
in the cupped bowl
single silvery drop
echoing
light
listen
now


Sunday, October 23, 2016

The glory of a misplaced Monday



Author: alexis / Download




The glory of a misplaced Monday 


eyes still shut my mind runs
the day - adjusting the empty
spaces - searching the smile to
send as you leave - and you will
leave - off to the doings of your
happy day - leave me the emptied 
uncoupled hours ... I, scurry scratch
penciled-in pretend usefulness, 
rough-scatter-sketch meandering,
minuscule,  meaning ... and then ... 
though I do not by nature nor faith
nor temperament practice the 
falling to the knees of many 
I fall to my knees in grateful
supplication - uncurling - 
loosening - breathing -
with unclenched heart
opening - opening - 
to this glorious 
gifted Sunday
when you are
here with me
after all. 

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Submission


Submission 

at first light I will type the date, pat
my pounding chest with nibbled 
fingernails -as you glow taunting 
spent malevolent completeness
from behind the staring screen-
I will print a hard copy of you, hold 
the heft of you in my hands-rip you, 
shred you, burn you - and after - 
when you are reduced to a pot 
of ashes I will throw you 
to the wind over my garden - 
I shall rinse my burning face - 
in cool water-clear my mind of 
your mess and finally free -hit -
SUBMIT

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Unlikely Deplorable




Unlikely Deplorable

Damn I’m growing tired of deplorable
depressing my soul with a try to tamp
out the spark of light and hope and yet-
And yet, ain’t it something that deplorable
lights the fire to the straw, puts a spring in
our step and rushes us together - faces bright –
voices loud in righteous outrage - Standing together
without guise to smite the hatred deception, division
and oh the denial -Ah deplorable you unlikely champion –
I throw you in a basket over our shoulders and toss chunks
of you colored with the shimmering impenetrable dye of red,
white and shining blue… until those that would writhe
hatred around the flagpole – slither from their skins
dissolved.