the next poem seems within me
yet somewhere nestled deep
and out the moment of birthing panic
it will finally be free
there is a verse to be sung
that i have yet to know the tune
a melody for every tongue
the light for many like you
the artist's pad may be blank
but energy roars towards fingertips
and soon when all is outloud
the sketch will come to life
and live.
August 15, 2005
my mind is a barren cage
from which my canaries have taken flight
to sing for more fulfilling grains
than what i cast tonight
my heart is an empty vessel
from which inspiration has been drained
pricked in fearing my expectancy
that drought precedes the rain
my page is absent meaning
mere transparency on display
in cliché images as definitions
summing the nothing i loathe to say
alas
my life is full of these moments
and often times others with riches
nevertheless i still feel frustrated
by these economically challenged glitches
September 14, 2004, NYC
Shadows of wings
of missile-clad, military aircraft
fly across the wet reflections
of my human
on the shower floor.
I sigh at what they’re there for.
Black box static
in rich american technicolor:
“deTHpiKable acts, no mercy”
segregates me
from my planet, Earth.
I mourn for Sylvester’s bird.
Shower drops fall
with tears of empathy for my brothers:
friend, partner, kinfolk, lover who
jumped like lab rats
from the guillotine.
I repent my brother’s sin.
My Soul cries out
in pain for humanity, the end near.
My terrified child, bound and gagged,
wriggles escape.
He stands and preaches.
I listen to his teachings:
“Break from shower
shadows! Flush the black box and dry away
your woes! Take from me your wings. To
them give new life.
Set our angel free;
Be strong, feel love, show mercy!”
October 14, 2001, NYC