Category Archives: Poetry

Protest

You turn my blood the color of my skin

I’m made of mud, like you, my kin

We breathe the air made from the trees

We drink the water from stormy seas

We laugh without ever being taught

We’ve all done things that we oughtn’t

I object to your hasty dismissal

which, my friend, is abysmal

I deprecate you right to your face

I am far from being your idea of disgrace

I am human, just like you

Deny it all you’d like, we both know it’s true.

The Martyr

happypeace

Come down off the cross, stand your ground

There’s no more time for fucking around.

You can’t have your cake and eat it too

Roll up your sleeves, we’ve got work to do.

This world is starving for the love you have

Quit being the electronics slave

Reach out, connect, make a fool of yourself

Dust off your “Give a Damn” from the top shelf

Open your eyes to the world as it is

Get out! Get going! You’ve so much to give.

Don’t mind the naysayers, there’s always those,

just keep on trucking, follow your knows.

Share what you have that you don’t need

Don’t give in to the excess of greed

Bloom where you’re planted from the seed

that brought you forth for you to succeed.

Get down off the cross and get to work

Enough already, your duties, don’t shirk

Shadows Vanish

shadows

Try as I might, I can’t keep from weeping

I wish upon wish, my traditions keeping

But from my heart, my tears are leaking

Your silence screams at my speaking

Oh, how I wish you’d trusted me more

Instead of looking for ways to score

From my chest, my heart you tore

But those are shadows of vanished lore

I love(d) you with every bit of my being

From our home you stole while fleeing

Every bit of our future fleeting

I wish, I wish that you were seeing

As these holidays warm others homes

 

I watch and miss you, feeling alone

My traditions are now gone to tome

May love find you someday, wherever you roam.

Set a Spell

howl

Kick the needles ‘neath your feet

raise your arms, the moon to greet

Call the wolves. Call the owls.

Under dark, the hailing howls

Lay the stones from east to north

Deosil way to lay the fourth

“Honor AIR that breathes my life.

Passion’s FIRE burning bright.

Emotional WATERs flowing free

Grounding EARTH, cradle me.

SPIRIT high, SPIRIT low

Heed me now, hear me and know

I raise my heart to greet the night

In the sun I claim the light.

I call to you to hear my plea

Grant me peace and prosperity

Material goods for material needs

Spiritual power, banish greed

Service holy giv’n in your name

The WHEEL turns, offerings of change

Beloved! Beloved! Hear my cries!

Balance me within your eye

Love and justice, wisdom, peace,

Hear me now, so mote it be!

Mem’ries

monopolytennessee

The crescent moon tilts slightly

against the indigo sky

through the shadows, I move spritely

with unbidden tears I cry

I trudge the road less traveled

My warmest sweater unraveled

So I shiver in the gath’ring storm,

grief overwhelming, I MUST mourn

As daylight breaks the night

I allow my feet quick purchase in the light

A haven ahead affords me rest

I am given respite at my behest

Home is where I’m going to be

If only my mem’ries weren’t in Tennessee.

These Are My People: Aunt Lizzie

The turning of the Wheel is honored in her space

the breathing of the seasons accounted at her grace

With eyes the color of summer sky she observes the holy

Appreciating each season as its revealed so slowly

Her hair is the color of bonfires, of cider mills or pumpkin pies

When she laughs, I mean really laughs, it could make you cry

She sees the world in music, notes upon a page,

Not a moment passes by that she’s not fully engaged.

She can make a piano dance a jig or an organ sing to God

But she believes, somewhere inside, that she is somehow flawed.

When she gives the gift of her, in whichever way she does,

There is never any doubt in mind, that you are truly loved.

 

Blue Gene

The thundering rain roiled violently in the warm November night

striking the man with sheets of his plight

He, on his knees on the side of the road,

had arms raised like and above his face

a thousand cries towards mercy

In supplication he wailed at the haunt of cars

A woman rushed to his side.

She didn’t touch him, but she united her voice with his prayers

He staggered to his feet as wings offered him passage

His breath of prayer accounted for, he was warmly embraced

He sobbed his shame into his cupped hands

while apologizing for his humanity

The chariot released him to the cross of spirits

easing his ailing heart.

He is loved.

“I’ll drink to that!”

Recklessly she discarded words,

that,

from another’s lips,

warrants confetti worthy celebration.

But because her breath is liquid lies,

the cloak of alcoholic obscurity

barely acknowledges discussion.

Smoke and mirrors,

meant with the road to hell’s best intentions,

whiskeys its way over the insult.

The gilded desperation staged as

Happily drunken after!

End War

​Will you take me to the river?

Will you take me there today?

Will you wash away the blood?

Will you join with me and pray?
Pray for peace among the suff’ring

Pray for tragedy to end

Pray for their sweet comforting

Pray for love till world’s end.
Will you join me at the river?

Will you meet me there today?

Will you help me cleanse the blood?

Will you meet with me to pray?

I miss you, my muse

alone

There is a place where we can’t meet

Where your face remains unknown

It is a place where silence stands

It is the time when I’m alone

Muses holding my creative reprimands

It is there where I turn from cheek to cheek

Longing for the words you speak

But in this place, organically grown,

Is a haven for me to be completely alone

It is a place that refuses other’s hands

It holds me warmly to meet its demands

It is there, where my rivers peak

Giving me the words I must speak

 

I can’t deny, I can’t erase

The billowing spirit

from your face

Emanating fiercely

From your own within

Reaching through

my waters

forbidden