tackle the hard issues
I am sure there is some
hope but I can’t find it under
my chair or in my oven.
It is not in my bottle or my press.
May I have some
of your hope in a can?
I’ll pay you back
when i am the famous
leader of Bhalahabaloon
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About
I am a poet. I am a mother. I am a someone’s wife. I cannot stop writing. I have tried. This is very anti-progressive of me. I will apologize later to my chive plant.
I work at writing but it is not what I call hard. I am a natural. But I don’t just write down whatever and call it something. No. I have pride. I have standards.
I am political and I am popping jokes. They are subtle, often times overlooked, but if you find yourself laughing or crying, you can bet, I’m glad I could assist, reach a dead metaphor out to you.
If you like my words, my poems, share them, print them off. Tape them up. Let me know. If I make a mistake, let me know about that too.
I am trying to be the best piece of U.S.A that I can be. Poetry is my way. Its not medicine and it is not an organic lunch. My poems are hard to swallow. If I offend you, you can bet I am happy about that too, because that means your alive enough and thinking enough to respond. You probably just missed the joke. ( I don’t know anymore than the fools who keep selling out our country or the great ramblers of the past. I don’t know a thing, and my friend, hahahahahahaha neither do you).
I am not a master of poesy. I am twenty-eight. I am a burp. Remember that, remember I am a fool. I am like you.
If you are a writer as well please feel free. Share your lines and advice.
Sometimes people think I am a good writer, and they believe that I have a good sized ego. That is not the case. It is far to big and it thinks it is a bunny. I am sorry for any claptrap or bloated dogs it tries to sell you. I work endlessly at my lines, and want those who I share my life-art to be just as passionate and as eager as me.
I love writing. It is my family history, it began before I had a name. Maybe I was hurt into it. Maybe I hurt easy. Maybe thats why I can’t stop.
I know I won’t even think about it until justice is in the reality of every molecule.
You need someone to write love poems. I know you do. You’re begging for someone just to care, just to give a damn and love.
My poetry is for you.
It is for the lot of you who suffer or love.
It is a reminder to you, that we are in this together and we are alive.
So lets party.
I am nothing but a solitary grain of sand
but with you, I am beach.
(I will keep at least my swimsuit on, no porno here). Who doesn’t love a beach party?
If you would like me to read at a poetry reading email me at a_burie@hotmail.com.
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that has gotta be the cutest picture of your face EVER
Hope is in the flower gardens,
the stencils painted on the sides
of rusting dumpsters.
Often my cabinets
offer no help.
Hope is not available
over the counter at the drugstore
where they sell cigarettes,
energy drinks,
lubricants and condoms.
These are only tools.
Often mistaken for hope,
they are empty husks.
Hope is the early morning
birdsongs waking you from sleep
and a pot of coffee already brewing
when you throw back the covers.
Were I a god,
I would litter hope
along the streets
like fastfood paper sacks
clog the gutters.
but we can lend hope. it works somehow to know others have pulled through. but it isn’t easy sometimes, is it? slog on, slog on, we just have to slog on.
slog on… thanks Rick. it does work to know others have made it. It is the only way we know we can. Are you making it? I saw the family pictures. You and your family look great…
Radloffpoetree……were i god i’d make a better world where hope wasn’t needed. ha
dammit. trumped in the afterthought.