It was going great

it was going great, then the war came

and I had nothing to give.  my mouth was

useless, my hands vanity.

 

the insanity of your talking points

are cuts on my chest , nails in wrists and ankles

I hang, why have you forsaken me

I am your child. you taught me to love

liberty and justice great peacemaker

 but when I acted freely, you chained

me to the ceiling and beat me to suicide anger.

 

it was going great, then the war came

and I had nothing to give.  my mouth was

useless, my hands vanity.

 

the insanity of your torturous orders

are spears in my ribs, nails in wrists and ankles

I hang, why have you forsaken me

I am your child. 

you taught me to love

god and prayer great peacemaker

but when I acted holy, you chained

me to the ceiling and beat me to suicide anger

 

it was going great, then the war came

and I had nothing to give.  my mouth was

useless, my hands vanity.

 

 

 

i tell ya

the older I hag, the less I want

to interact with cornbread or ugly

fruit.  I find myself happy

most of the food times. 

Life is an apple pancake.

Please maple syrup and butter me up

I do not like  dry and fluffy,

better if  I live wet and  doughy sticky

what is your dream

really what is it?  do you know?  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I still want wings

What Legends Are Made Of

 

 

You -my versifier, my rhymester

were just a school boy, learning the

ancient craft of Rumi and Blake.

Supple and casual your tongue was,

now is the fierce fork of holy prophesy.

O body, the shame is not you

but is my soldier family

who disease existence with

perversion via giddy orders

from ill formed morality.

They plunder you an innocent

so I declaimed your sacred lines

into the wild, and to the warriors’ horror,

the lioness laid down with a calf

of her prey, and made it her cub. 

Baked Lavender Stuffed Goats

 

 

You, my friend are fried green

peppers and your smile is salt and heat. 

Others’ put you in a small compartment

under their sleep.  Having no way

to smooth out your chained body, I pace

the dirty alleyways and wallop the unnamed

who holds us in the womb and beats us

with fists of courage. The peacemaker is a joker

that confused outsiders bow for.

 

 

The variegated oppressed learn to pulsate

the mind to breathe deep rhythm.

Their wait is not a cup of wine or chunk

of hot flatbread dipped in cucumber sauce. 

Curse the world again to propaganda

another victory. Such lexis is dull and ordinary.

The children hymned and danced in

the lavender while the goats grazed fat.

The pervert insisted the goat first, then the lavender.

The songs could not be gathered by the master’s torture.

With his baby talk, he is hollow and asleep with bones.

Light’s augurs cannot be caged until all the winged are boiled.

Your hunger strike is not an oiled fast.

It is night dear moon and the sun is high and hot.

You learned the danger of explosives and heart.

Next is the danger of your freedom.