I do not apologize for poetry. At my last reading at Authors Book Store another poet was not happy with me. You can read her review here: http://wswp.weebly.com/the-write-stuff-blog
i’ve lived beyond my years, longer
than god intended. replaced old
loves with new ones. let sleeping
dogs die where they lie. got high
on daybreaks hiding behind clouds
of a seventh heaven. i do not believe
in a cold hearted moon. i feast in a
ghetto of malcontent. harlots and
demons have been the apple of
my eye. poverty is not my empty
pockets. there is no one to forgive.
i am buddha’s son. a groom to a
thousand brides dancing in castles
with dungeons and dragons. each
has satisfied my appetite. i have
tasted their blood, they have licked
my wounds. i was bound by no chains.
my escape never blocked. my dignity
requires truth. i would do it all again
in spite of god’s good intentions.
the squirrel said you can never have
enough nuts to the owl. the owl said
nothing. a passing bear went about
looking for berries. we carved our
initials underneath birds and bees
doing what birds and bees do. i
counted his tattoos. divided them
between love and hate then kissed
each one. he traced my hairless
chicken skin and offered me his hat.
we built a fire of dry wood and wet
leaves. smoke rose as morning fog
waited on the sun. he respected me
with his smile. unlocked my treasure
chest of pearls. pierced my flesh
with sticks and stones. honored me
with rice and tea. i challenged him
with an empty brain and shared
tobacco with eagles flying high.
spirits blew through a hollow canyon.
breezes chanted over tops of trees.
tomorrow it may snow. i may fall for him.
a squirrel can never have enough nuts.
expressions on his raw lips tell
me we are close. leaves are
letting go of sleeping branches.
tomorrow will be shorter than
today. we have stacked our
wood high for our coldest hour
even for dogs. i have saved him
something pretty. silent nights
share their blessings. his aroma
will fill my senses. i feast on his
harvest for i have no seed or
rain. simple truth is more
beautiful than a heart of gold. i
have stolen from both. kissed
until my tongue dripped blood
on a bed of straw. no season has
been a sacrifice. we will be
snowflakes piled deep. lucky to
be going nowhere anytime soon.
i want to meet a black bear.
cover him with lambs wool.
voodoo cannot find us. lotus
and wild horses wait to greet
us. we know to rest bones,
grow strong again. he will have
a garden to sow. my hands
will carry his bag of seed. for
every season is free love.
There are things I will never forget
The time went to the park on 11-11-11 because if the world ended we would spend it together
The time I figured out that you were afraid of duck noises in the dark
The time when you made me a mixed tape
The time you brought me two real roses and a fake one and told me, “I’ll stop loving you when the last rose dies”
The times I’d stay up late on the phone, whisper softly
The time we went up the mountain on a snowy day and you carried me through the cold because my socks were soaked and i couldn’t get my shoes on
The time I first really snapped
The time we argued
The time we didn’t think we’ed make it through
The time I couldn’t stop crying and you held me
The time when if one of us was sad it was the others job to make sure the offender was broken
The time you brought a puppy and a pretty balloon
The time I lost it all, I couldn’t stop crying but you didn’t hold me
The time I begged you to turn around but you kept walking
I had to let go
I will always know you
I will always hear
Thanks for the adventure
Now go have a new one
when the sun cracks the sky
with a crimson complexion,
atrocity will look for me. fog
will melt. my lurking revealed.
a cockamamie sacrifice. i will
play the part with foolishness,
cunning innocence, and fancy
foot work. an unwanted man
has no liberation. no slithering
between thighs of high spirits.
i will make a covenant with no
promises. quietness guaranteed.
a merciful rogue i will feast
on my finger prints. keep my
pistol cocked. execute as god
does. my shame has been
erased by the blood of a dead
dali lamai. i smoke pall mall
menthol black shorts. my inbred
traits dictate what i say. i would
rather be a ginsberg or thomas
paine. queer with good breeding.
see coming unexpected. setting
bridges on fire like an aurora.
loyal as a river freezing over. i
could start tomorrow if you need