I rage at the incompetence of my words
Another futile attempt to
Pierce the caul
That filters my dreams
Ripped from a woman’s womb
Not of a woman born
Seeking companionship
Finding only scorn
The obfuscations of Satanic spawn
The TV’s point of singularity
Into that black hole I’m drawn
Blinding me with banality
They killed Lenny Bruce
Disguised as overdose
They though they broke him
The Pharisees did boast
They died faceless, unknown
They are forgotten corpses
Devoid of flesh and bone
His words live on
I am a Poet
I dance
Between the crushing weight
Of conformity and chaos
I move to a rhythm and beat
That speaks to my unique vision
My songs are pain
Not joy
Of questions
Not knowledge
Of a broken heart
Not love
I am the pack less wolf
The outsider
You never see me
I hover on the edge of invisibility
I am the embarrassed pause
The faux pas
And the lost cause
I am a poet
I am what the world made me
And what I was meant to be
Archive for November 24th, 2009
I am a Poet
Tuesday, November 24th, 2009Darkness
Tuesday, November 24th, 2009Blind lightning snakes invisible against the coal black night
Macabre laughter drowns out the pleas of the Poets
The death rattle of innocence masks the Bard’s song
The empty stomachs of the hungry
Roared in thunderous accusation
The universe was engulfed in shadows
The Moon doused its radiance
Light died painfully
Its screams sucked down
At the point of singularity
Hungry animals devour the strong
While the meek became chaff for the scythe
The preacher man wrung his hands
And cursed God
Love became rape
Cannibalism replaced altruism
The Few
Huddled in the cold sheen of despair
And listened to the dying screams which haunted their darkness
They heard the approach of vicious evil
.And clutched each other
Cursing the skin that separated their essence
On This day
When the Light Died
And Darkness prevailed
They prepared to Die
Child of Apollo
Tuesday, November 24th, 2009I met her.
A woman with a child’s eyes
Filled with wonder and questions.
She danced through the snow
Cold could not touch her.
Her heart burning passion.
Her soul a prism
Where she shaped dreams.
Others faltered.
Her steps were ordained.
A child of Apollo.
She was her own Muse.
She spoke to the world
In a language
That caused wonder.
Armed only with quill and ink
She changed worlds
Shaped hearts
Made tears obsolete.
Her words were like songs
Indelible
Unforgettable.
They vibrated in time to a universal clock
Ticking truth and beauty.
Poetry was her art
Her passion
The altar where she shed
Her life’s pain.
All were amazed.
But no one saw the sad girl
Behind the beauty
The words…
She was a child of Apollo.
Her steps were ordained.
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