PASSION IN EXPRESSION: Poems

ANGRY


Angry.

A chalice crushed

to make believe, to

blood and ghosts,

and clever dreams.

A hoax.


A clever rendition of

theatric merriment,

meant to spin a lover

out of control.


Hades bond has

freed men weaker

and more full of life;

men kinder but with

the world's fastidious, glassy

glare entombing

heroism, smiles,

and goodwill.


Hopeful, but

out of

control

am I; a

willing participant

in this experiment

of enlightenment

though

incognizant of irreverent

wills,

on cities on hills,

hiding lives of steel,

forming even more

"harmonious" thrills.


Entwined the lover and

the believer

dance.

Making night a

fiction,

and light

a

dreamer's reality and

portent of

chance.



BLACK TOMORROW


Always at the bottom,

Always at the top;

Vacillating.


Meandering through a

symphony of secrets.

Never realizing, the course of

history lies in wait

(doesn't it always),

with only my feeble strength

to bridge the expanse.



MELANCHOLIC


Loudly.

Boldly.

Seen and heard.

Bassing.

Throbbing.

Voice reverbed.


Anguish.

Crying

to the stars

Blood in purple—

Demons born.

Hate for inside.

Scratching.

Bite.

Hurt’s dark center

Of deepest night.


In thickening swirls

Of

Filth and flesh,

Hearse

Of most wretched souls’

Lament.


Dragging ghosts from

Soulless men; memories black from

Sins therein.

Ancient finds of grief unfurled,

Another lesson?

Another pearl?


Fury raging inside of me, retort of a

Blow, decidedly.

A puppet, a strumpet,

The Imp's pure delight;

Flesh lodged in incisors,

How delicious a fight!


With belch (he)

expresses to all

in plain,

"To kill the fire,

To spoil

The flame,

Would be a

Coward’s desire

And a crumbling

Shame."



MERCENARY’S SONG


Aflamed with passion!

Enticed by light.

The wane of darkness…

The imp in flight…

An assassin aroused,

with light withstood,

the tragedy of foes

Of livelihood.


Palms pressed together,

blood pressed to the brink,

as Christ in reflection;

O saintly symmetry.


An agenda of mercy,

An agenda of light,

Propelled in grave fury,


Staffed with sword and sickle,

Kindness and grit,

Love and vengeance,

Justice unlit.


The assassin unfurled.

Truth won’t be denied.

Or equity sluggish.

Or hurts pacified.

Vindication be nimble!

Vindication be swift!

Leave a perpetrator naught

Aloft the neck!

Blade’s entry be smooth,

Let the red blood flow!

In my life and thine,

For we’ve a common foe.


But judgment be simple,

On my soft head, in spite of

Headiness and sin.

In the midst of terror, rage,

Hate, and deceit,

A human is all I’ve been!



BROWN ANGEL


I give a sideward glance to

Frida Kahlo’s image on a poster

on my wall.

I see her face now

against a mass of gold embellishment,

clouds, and songbirds.


And when her grave opened up,

Alas, and did freedom’s song

Reverberate through the earth?

Did a harpsichord ring out amidst

the borders of life and the deep?


For you see her soul lives there,

On the fringes of life and death,

constantly roaming, never finding a home.


Extinct are the values of a blood red heart;

a common man’s soul, with the will

but to love,

eat and inspire.


Sucked in the choking flames of

evolution--- must we evolve to a thicker hell, to such

a broader and broader perspective,

that we lose the details, thus the

point?


Diminished is simplicity; a flower’s

budding center of sweet and life.


In a massive way our eternal traveler will

Always speak to us in halls of faces and concepts,

With brown and orange squished colors,

Amidst agony’s unfading darkness;

And a fighter’s idea of life.



STACCATO


In fear she stammered,

In haste they walked.

Alive in newness, but

Alone in love.


To hope is natural,

To doubt is frail.

Make me a believer,

Banish my hell.


In fear I’m walking.

In faith I believe.

This doubt not receding.

This faith to proceed.


Embrace my newness,

Come soften the falls.

Prove that true love

Is real after all.



LOVE’S JOURNEY


Caresses.

A sheath.

Red velvet

and roses

and wine after dark.


The feverish

languid    movements

of a clean

emotion with

embraces and the

gentle brush of fingers

and toes.


On cumulus clouds

of decision and hope my facts sit.

And on wings of a dove

I send my affection to you, to

embrace you, to pull you,

to leave you

enamored with

excited and gentle hope for

the wholeness of our love's fruition.


Completion of our circle

stands not with coitus,

but with time's enveloping

hands which will allow truth to settle,

facts and feelings to

catch up with one another, entwine,

and facts (like acid) to eat away at emotions' bitter deceit;

for a solid foundation to be layed.


So not in agony,

but in happiness,

we walk hand in hand

into the sunlight, and

hope our circle will be

complete before our journey's end.


But should our fingers part

beforehand, may traces

of our love pass us by during our

days in heaven.


This is true love's devotion,

as my pulse quickens for you,

this is my song on our

love's lifelong journey.



SAND


Time will tell us things my dear,

Whisper now to us should we bend,

A painted masterpiece of truth---

Our love and dreams from here to end.



The ending’s not that far it seems,

Gloomily looming in the dusk,

Grappling eagerly for our love and dreams,

Leaving tracks ‘midst doubt and trust.



This is everything to me, you see, our end,

Just like our here and now. You’re the other

Half of me, my dear, meet me at the end somehow...



Let our tracks end in trust, let our lovesong shout and say:

“With faith all things are possible, our love will

surely find a way.



ASSURE


Here within the pages of my mind,

Paint me a picture.

Write me a song. Tell me of thy truest love's affection

To the highest pitch of a note.

Blues lavenders and greens,

From the heavy hands of a

Lovely god.


Spin me a Hepburn tale

Of black and white

In the pages of my mind.

There's a tale I've spun of my own;

Of your sultriness, flesh to

flesh, and bone to bone.


A laughter I live for.

And a wit and smile I love.

Though spun not to your mind,

it instead projects from matching pools of

Dark brown, a white flash of teeth,

and hopeful fingertips

Gently testing the waters of time.


So.

Cerebrally, ease me.

Paint me a picture.

Write me a song of thy

Love's affection.

With body, tongue, or deed

Do it quick!

For I fear your soul's disdain.



AWAY


Come out of yourself. Away!

Come out of yourself with me.

To the fringes. To the deep.

Where we’ll stay. We’ll be.

Come alive. Come dance.

Unreservedly.


My sweet love here’s our chance.

To live as king and queen.

Let life be our castle, the seat of

Chance our throne,

This rolling ball’s our oyster,

It’s challenges our home.


Let’s live, our eyes in wonder,

Our minds with happiness.

Our palates with satisfaction!

Our trained wings crave the test.


Come close. So close to the razor’s

Edge, that you can feel the heat of its

Metal, just close enough to graze

Your skin,

Satiate the desire within.


Come out of yourself. Away!

Come out of yourself with me.

To the fringes. To the deep.

Where we’ll stay. We’ll be.

We’ll be.


My love that’s where we’ll be.



GREEN


There is a place on Earth,

Here on my little

piece of the universe

Where all is quiet,

And peacefulness

Insulates the air.


There is warmth

And love blooms

In your heart.

Judgments are stilled,

Hope lives,

And contentment

Reigns supreme.


My little piece

Of the universe

Is in this room,

This little house.

By my side at

The movies,

In my car,

Everywhere I go.

This is my world,

My green.


The place where

You should live,

The place where

You should be.


Live with me,

On this green.

My little piece of earth

Is rose and serene,

Except for when

I get chatty, laughing

At everything.


Most days are mild,

Traveling is wild.

Sensuality a fairy tale thing,


Here on this green.

Join me on this earth

Here on my little

Piece of the universe

Let there be you and me

On our little piece of green.



ZOMBIE


you speak at me only

when the sky's the right

hue of blue


your laughter rings only

in the echoes of my mind


true love exists only in

exaggerated faces in this

silent comedy of truth


our touch only these verses

and syncopated rhymes


and should this portal open

from a wardrobe


how would you... would you..?


should swine sprout wings to fly
could you... could you..?



if Venus and Pluto align

you'd need to... will you..?


should your land of reason

and dreams exist in a slit of time

(like the land of Goshen to the Israelites)


how would you


would you


react?


Or would your eyes go blind to

the sign

like an even

deeper

deeper

ZOMBIE.



EXPIRE (NOT)?


my love has an expiration date,

so come thee hither soon.

'tis weeks or months or

days or hours 'til my

passion's journey's

entombed.


fickle intent, trepidation,

or vice, may soon be

your demise.

for distant one,

you'll find my heart

is endowed with

watchful eyes.


your smile to date

has haunted me;

to your lips i'm so inclined;


the softness of your hair, your

skin, a never ending bliss, I find.


shadows dwell in hearts mercilessly,

test if thine be true.

knowest thou, imagine wilt,

what the dark of heart can do!


lover, settle in your heart today,

am i pal,

or am i prey?

muse,

or to amuse?

are you serpent, or

are you dove;

let two souls entwine

in a constant fountain of love, my love.


for, my love has an expiration date,

so come thee hither soon.

'tis weeks or months or

days or hours 'til my

passion's journey's entombed.



LUV


Kiss the moon for me,

Yeah,

Kiss the moon.


Ride a beam for me,

Ride it through the stars.


You’re galaxies away in my town,

Our circles far apart.


Luv the world where you are,

Yeah, Luv the world.



A SAFE SPACE


there was a peace

she noted,

in her baby's face,

a warmth in her mother's smile.

there was a cool zephyr in June,

and apples on the trees in her backyard

this year.


there's been a humorous lift to

the air around her

and moments

were carried effortlessly to the

next, like a bee from flower to flower.


these were hers in 2013;

under the shady, sweet branches of a tree

called America;

her forever blessed oak.



THE AMERICAN WAY


there were people she swore that shook the world

in ties and powersuits. that could never be contended

all raucous and couth at the same time, carefully balancing

the shifting of our world unto two sides: right and left.


swinging bats of agenda, throwing blows of intellect,

beating reason and heart to a pulp, leaving the purple blood

of shame to distinguish our streets, plague our world, and leave

our children to play in its puddles.


blood.

purple blood,

settling far too long.


and I can hear the Navajos;

the Apaches; and the Cherokee

on The Trail of Tears--- firstblood deep

within the earth.


slavery and civil rights---

blood the darkest shade of purple;

bubbling, and gurgling, and SINGING...

"we shall overcome... we shall overcome...

"we shall overcome someday... we shall overcome..."



"AND DON'T FORGET ME!" says 'sistah

from the projects:

"MY COUSIN WAS SHOT FOR BEING IN THE

WRONG NEIGHBORHOOD."



"AND MY SON," says another, "FOR BEING BLACK

AND WEARING A HOODIE WALKING DOWN THE STREET."

"AND THE FEW DROPS AND SPURTS FROM THE

BROTHERS FROM POLICE BRUTALITY?"says a brother from the hood.


new blood.

fresh blood.

their blood.

your blood?


and as the pendulum swings

from political right to political left, both

chaff is cut, as well as

virtuous lifegiving green.


live for bare truth!

let there be green!

save the planet!






ETERNAMENTE LISTA


but

despite

exhaust,

she

lags not,

nips her lip,

then bites

at a dangling oil-soaked

onion.

she follows this by

a generous and aggressive

bite of mcdonald's meat,

angrily chewing.



a pool of ketchup

(like blood)

upon paper,

always paper,

is dolloped

to a finger

and smacked unapologetically.

the ketchup leaves her satisfied,

its saltiness now thick across her teeth.



her grimy hands leave

two grease

fingerprints on the

right margin of the

New York Times.



a freedom fighter she was.

so. they'd won the battle.

it was there in black and white.


yet 'till

she died,

and alone she'd die,

she'd eat like this,

live like this;

at peace,

but eternally ready.



LINEAGE


want and need

desire,

greed.



the liquor of liaison

with an antique breed;



hiding poverty;

revealing hunger,



each woman

a night underneath the stars,

to balm self-disgust from each

grey mistake.



a siren blasts so loud

somewhere.

my God, are we at war?

here in D.C.’s crumpled sheets,

with hell outside my door?

I never called us to war...



there is no war, save

his tell-tale

heart



sounding a cry of distress:

save me from this bed,

save me from this life.

save us in this heathen world,

make us right tonight.



he belongs to

kings david,

solomon,

presidents jfk and

clinton;

kings of households,

kings of state.



they lived in cerulean and golden

lands where

dreams were

unbridled, and

loneliness lingered.



woe and woe to grievous men

whose desires have owned

the night and

nations.



woe and woe to these men and their

future kin

whose hungers and vanity



intensify with epic

revolution and will

seethe forever and

evermore

in bitter and

heinous and

fateful and

noble

lineage.





THE ANCIENT WIND


The wind speaks,

“Wicked days are coming. Wicked days are here.

Days arrive so wicked, they hide all the fighting all the fear---

With technological marvels, celebrity watching, and T.V.

If I could just own this thing or that, THEN, I’d truly be free--- you all say to one

Another--- while the deepest furies rage.

Find the truest guarantees, I beg of you, in this wicked little age.

Find genuine work for your hands here, and an eternal heavenly home--- or be

Distracted to death, or swallowed up by oats that you have sown.”

Hear The Ancient Wind speak.