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The Silent Grains of Sand (a parable)
Morning’s sun rising from the horizon
leisurely dissolves the blanket of mist
losing its grasp of the shimmering surface -
exposing a sea of diamonds sharing their
secrets with the shoreline’s grains of sand.
Adam and Eve - original witnesses in
a brand new world all to themselves,
found that perfection leads to vexation in the
cradle of civilization’s raw material, waiting
impatiently through vast primordial days.
Oh, the scenes these silent diamonds and grains
I Am
I am built
of many organic parts
I am
Herculean in my weakness
my Herculean weakness I
am shellshocked
flesh and blood and
hair and I.
I am 21 years of migraines
and three,
count ‘em three
kidney stones,
the result of uric acid building up
and solidifying.
I am
type A Positive
and I am blue eyed and white
and will not apologize for that I
am a capable humanitarian and I
can hurt you worse than you’d believe
can you believe?
Ask Diane Crawford and Aaron Blankenship
they certainly believe
I can.
Hypochondria
(Thursday June 28, 2007. On the way to Jacob’s Field)
fizzness business
Ms. Fran Chise
has baked some pies
and opened herself up
to a baker’s business.
she’s licensed presently
for both coke and pepsi.
(I say wow!
and how?! how?)
she employs a soda repsi,
to her fine credit;
and, of course, she oft
subscribes to thirsty clients’
pocket-money debit.
now she has, in toto,
by assertive action, thus—
for her a necessary plus—
the four college years
(1)
young, fresh men
do much range quite far an’ wide,
all goggle-eyed.
(2)
slightly older males are s’awful more
in sundry ways; but they often do backslide,
do regress, and with ill-timed false pride.
(3)
by the Wayne by an’ by,
when did June, your
wife,
(4)
decide to leave your sorry
life
rather’n see’n’ your
For Jess and Joe and Kim, Real Poetry
You will be happy to know
I found real poetry
while travelling east
on the Valleyview bridge.
Real poetry is found
in the moshpits of America,
it is there, Kim
in breath,
in first breath,
awake.
A simple dream
Cold as a winter’s night
I silently question what’s right
Like a child I want to smile but it seems wrong
My heart knew what I had to do but I wasn’t that strong
The pain was blatantly shown on my weary face
I felt lost but my courage and determination were in place
How could I just walk away from a cause that called my name
A part of me wanted to turn away but my pride didn’t feel the same
I put my negative thoughts on a dusted table as I stood like a man
The American
The American says
“I am sorry.”
The white American says
“I am so sorry!”
While the white American man says
I am so very sorry!
The Pakistani says
“I hate the American!”
The Canadian says
I secretly hate the American.”
shhhh
My Australian friend says
“we all hate the American.”
He thinks it is cruel
what the white man did
to the natives and the black.
The world conveniently forgets
the tower of London,
and her perpetual evil,
or mother Deutschland
with her third Reich.
By Jack Kerouac - Running Through ( Chinese Poem Song)
by one of my favorite writers.