Tag Archives: poetry

The wordless song

A Love Note

A Love Note

If I scatter my glittery mess on your shoes,

spewing peace and love like a good little muse,

you have two choices as far as I can tell,

you can sweep it aside or allow it to gel.

It’s hard to find darkness when you look to the light.

It’s hard to see peace when you’re ready to fight.

It’s hard to have compassion when you’ve become jaded.

It’s hard to see the colors when they’ve all become faded.

But.

If you listen to the sound of the grateful song,

you’ll remember the words and start singing along.

The joy you will feel as your heart catches fire

with the passion for living, loving and desire.

It will fill your bucket from bottom to top

with the world’s best laughter and the strangest of props.

Disappointment will become a thing of the past,

if you trust that the bad times, like the good times won’t last.

Grin at the absurdity presented each day,

wave at the jerks as they pass by your way.

Wish them the best as you let them slip by,

with a whistle on your lips and wink of your eye.

You’re the blessing they need if you don’t understand,

just be who you are wherever you may land.

 

THE VOCALIZED VERSION OF THE WORDLESS SONG

 

Sin-seriously

I don’t want to know the killer’s name or how it did its deeds.
I want to know the wo/men’s lives because therein lies the key.
To make the dead, neither sinner nor saint
but to revive their lives that are stained with the taint
of the bloodied hands of a death most gruesome
the details don’t matter in all the confusion
except to remember the lives that were lost
not glorify the murderer of stolen future’s cost

The Family Portrait

The family portrait never sits quite right

the way they think it will

with puzzled faces looking back

bewildered in the still.

Their airbrushed pretty faces

hide the secrets that I hold

Glossing over everything

the unspoken remains untold.

The New Toy

A blind eye in my family line denies that it is so

When forced from under his vulgar façade

He admits that he is that low

Why laughter and a joking word

Are used to take away

Why groping hands and choking words

Were never child’s play.

Air Weaving

What the people around me don’t know

is that I am hyper aware

of all their dirty secrets

that are woven in their hair.

Events, they rarely touch me

no matter what they be

mind over mind redundant

crystal clear I see

The patterns of the lives that pass

right before my eyes

are rainbow colored epiphanies

pure as a summer sky.

But things are never simple

they’re never in a line

Things do not run linear

scatter fields of emotional land mines

Because people lie

and people thieve

and people want to win

People hurt each other

as if it’s not a sin

I witness every nuance

each glance

or expression

they try to hide

I’ll keep all their secrets

locked up safe inside.

If they ask me for the key

which they rarely do

I backhand them bluntly

straightening the askew.

The Wailing Wall

I used to know a baby that shined a holy halo from the crown of his head.

When anger or hurt would come near him he’d shiver and cower in his bed.

The rawness of the world took away his glow, even then as an infant small,

He knew that everything he’d do would not be enough to save them all.

I once knew a boy that shined a dimming halo from the crown of his head

He used anger or hurt that came near him as his tools against the dread

The blackness in the world stole away his glow, even then as a boy not tall,

He knew that anything he’d do wouldn’t be enough to save his own downfall.

I once knew a man that shined a flourishing coin between his fingers misled

When aggressive words would punish him, he’d just smile with his words unsaid.

The evils of the world had shown him what to know, but his spirit heard the call

He knew that everything he owned was becoming holy, his bed his own prayer shawl.

I used to know a man that shined a holy halo from the crown upon his head.

No anger, hurt, or hypocrisy could touch him as he’d stand tall among the dead.

The disregard of the material plane was now everything, he’d shed

The rawness of the world returned his spirit glow, even as he’s enthralled

He knew that his place as a “Miracle Man” was found at the Wailing Wall.

Tribe of Artists: UNITE!

If you’re a writer, a poet, a painter, an artist of any kind, I’d like to help you succeed. I’d like to do a featured artist of the week which will allow you exposure to my fellow bloggers. If you’d like to be featured (aka pinned) then drop me an email with a link to your page(s). If selected, I will make sure that I cross reference your work on Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and of course WordPress.

I believe strongly in supporting those with talent, drive, and ambition to bring their humanity into beautiful fruition. Although, and yes it pains me to say this, I can’t pay you anything, if we all share anyone’s art we really dig, we can spread even more beauty in the world. If you have a show coming up, let me know, I can post that too. I really want to help.

If you haven’t already done so, I encourage you to check out Activate Your Life! on Google + via the Anjana Network which is a group for artists of all sorts to find support and encouragement in their artistic field of choice. I am a moderator there and will happy to check out even more ways to help you promote your life’s work.

My email is the same as my page @gmail.com as well as at hotmail.com maremartell that is (Trying to confuse spambots may confuse you too but it’s my name with the appropriate suffixes). Let’s see what kind of an empire we can achieve when we lift one another up in love.