Poems Feb 4- 12

Feb 4

Rent with thorns
And rending them too
The hiker fights
Through the thicket
For hours alone
He struggles blindly
And right when
He's about to abort
He bursts through
And is under the stars.
Bleeding and Sweaty
He smiles, whispering
"It's worth it."

Feb 5

Run screaming from my sight
Look upon me in horror
Point with your finger
As your eyes bulge
And you mouth gapes

I'm here to wreck your homes
I'm here to kill your sons
I'm here to conquer you
And you can't stop me,
I'm an American.

Feb 6

Jeremy stood in the station
Watching the train pull away
Without him.

He stood sputtering and spiting
Taking a look at his ticking timex
He was late.

Sudden;y so many plans
Came crashing to the tile
There had been time.

Time for what?

He couldn't quite remember
But at the time he had time.
For whatever he spent it on.

Now he had plenty of time,
But couldn't think of what to do.

Feb 7

The unconscious runs wild
In the beautiful moment
Of Blessed relief.
The waters have become
Still and the wind
Has ceased to whip.
I wish I could
Live forever
In the eye
Of this
Storm.

Feb 8

The Snowman

A Fresh blanket of white
Cuts out the imperfection
Of color.

Nowhere can
That undesirable difference
Be discerned from the depths
Of Monochromatism.

As the Snowman's eyes
Sweep the snowscape, all
is perfect.

Until a stone,
Black and intransitory
Is spied exploding through
The perfection.

The snowman secretly
Strives to submerge
this assailant of
His sight.

But in disturbing the one
He uncovers the many
They call on their heavenly ally:
The sun.

Soon the snowman
Will be forced
To retreat.

While the stones
will remain
Always.

Feb 9

The catch of an eye
From across a pulsing dance
Floor fills the object of desire
With an inflated feeling
Of self worth.  A swollen ego
Forces its way through the crowd
She's wearing red.  Her hair
Is dark.  He knows how far he can't
Go.  But pushes to the frontier
Of his ability.  The night ends.
He confesses.  But was it a
Crime of passion or curiosity?
Only the lonely can know.

Feb 10

Pinned to the Wall

It's about global glamor, of course.
The world swirls in a glossy pormotion
From which a post production debutante
Vested in double-breasted vestments
Smiles to you and redefines your concept
Of sexy.  This wrinkle-less provocateur
Cuts to your wick with a lip glossed
Smirk, designed to keep you focused on
Aphrodite and ignore Persephone.  And that's
What you are.  Blinded by booty who
Really cares that this woman has been in
The Heram of King Heroine for a Ten Year Run?
Who cares to know she's rocked
with HIV/AIDS since their first album?
Mine eys have seen the glory of the coming
Of the Lord and that glory has distracted me
From the corpses of the child workers
That were trampled along with the vinyards
Where the grapes of wrath were stored.
Another version of the truth is marching
On. Glory, Hallelujah, Amen, and
Pay no attention to the man
Black bagged behind the curtain.

Feb 11

Don't look down on me
Like you're someone special
Don't talk to me
Like you know who I am
Or who I will be.
For you may treat me
However you want today
But tomorrow,
You're gonna give a lot of money
To hear people call my name.

Feb 12

Locked in the dance of death
For well over three decades
Through surgery and silence
Births and baptisms
Confirmations and college
A brother looked at a sister
And mused aloud in irony:
"You know when I realized
Mom and Dad love us?
When the waited for us to grow up
Before they got divorced."