My Poetry is magical and mystical
beautiful and strange
intricate and obvious
my pen marks on the page
tears of moon milk agony
edges crisped by searing rage
My poetry is my paintbrush, my scissor and my glue
This diamond is a heartthrob that I’m throwing out to you.
To the Rave
Street light Glow
A foreign blow
From slow to quick
Heart burning wick
Tongue acid drop
Or sheer Ex prop
Lights trail to green
Minds churn in dream
Magic bus to place unseen
Freak show awaits
Wearing disco traits
or metallic and blue
or neon hue
From make-up bold
Puffs of previously rolled
Strange jokes are told
As time unfolds
And out we pour
To factory door
In Jumping Line
We stow our dimes
In secret places
With sheepish faces
In, snaking in
As pounding beat
That ageless treat
So crisp, so neat
Does one all greet.
Two lovers share
I say words of wisdom, you say ‘palm tree, glue.’
I say two times three, you say ‘fine, and you?’
Here’s the things two lovers share, a space cleved ten by nine
An apple orchard stained by secrets, and if they’re lucky a little wine.
In time the apples rotten, the earth claims their bones
But not if they’ve had the foresight to build megacity tombs
Either way, the truth exists yet, that everlasting flame
Two wicks brought close together can burn away all shame.
For Travis Phillips
I sit here now
Having been washed by God’s water
having said om after bathing naked
In an orange pale pink purple blue and you sunset
Unspoken thoughts are sitting Buddhas in your eyes
Yet the thoughts are released
Musical waves fill a heart, a space, a mind, a now.
white pink and purple
petals in grass
Where are you?
The tear reneges
Green forest lens
Our hearts once close bound together
Cool shade came in, around the box of green smoke din
Summer showers, a promise, no flowers
It seems the us promise wasn’t built on truth
or I haven’t enough heart to face it if it’s there.
I feel a coward that I am not with you
But I have been happier on my own
I truly have, love, I’ve been happier on my own.
What shall I do?
Where does my whispering spirit wish to ride?
Can the driver take those teeming
snorting stamping five horses there?
First Prize Poem
When was the last time you whispered your own name
and told yourself a secret?
Something you hadn’t been quite sure about
but the whisper makes it true.
And how long has it been since you mimicked a birdsong
Pursed your lips and created the blue sky?
If your memory still holds the surface of that summer lake
Shut your lids, take off your clothes, and baby take a dive.
Rip your jeans, sweat with running
And tell your boss just where to go.
At least you will have reclaimed your will power
And reentering life
Can be more fun than the last time
Just visit the forest and take your first breath
And bawl like the child you are.