I turn to you,
sweet and innocent lines,
with all the world behind you,
all the demons, death, distress, darkness.
To you I believe what I say is true.
What I thought one else should know,
only you do.
I write upon your open body,
embrace it as a woman’s lips,
the ink of my veins called forth from inside,
the bottled hopes brought to land
by low tide.
A tiring sensation delivers my life
into a realm of seeking for a new unknown.
Do not leave me as others do.
Stay by my side as dogs do.
Stay upon me like clothes upon the wealthy.
In the world where we are together,
the rivers have hands that pray.
the birds have learned how to cry
and worms have hearts and a central nervous system.
everything is human here.
spiders pay rent to stay in the corners
of our ceilings.
trees sing folk songs about their fallen
brothers and sisters.
the wind is their mother, swaying
them to sleep, trying to quiet the grief.
the rocks write poems about the ocean
but never show them to her.
they cry erosion and she
does not know how to
give back what she has taken.
I kiss you in front of the bruised face
of the moon
and can hear the blood pooling
underneath the silver skin.
there is no shame here.
the grass begs for our bodies and we oblige.
the crickets tune their strings and
start playing their symphony.
we are never alone, but we are free.
the earth has a pulse that we
check with our bare feet.
even the concrete hums
Wallowed in a waste land
Untruth and forced dreams
Hallowed in the common man
He followed what he seen
Assumed to be abused
The fire inside him
Decidedly beside him
He's residing inside us
In the dust of life
Where ignited is the signage
Where his blight is confiding
In moonless nights
The fighter inside him
With wrongs making rights
And it's alright
Never to song
Longing for the knife
For the hype
I will come burning through you like a wind out of the Hejaz,
a hand to pull you from the depths of that outer sea.
I will reach into you and sooth that heart like a theme of yearning,
a kiss that breathes fire into your chest.
And with these hands I will build an oasis where once there was dust.
You have come as a soft rain out of the West,
a whisper of the world in the Elder Days when all was green and young.
You go walking as the soft twilight under stars,
a music that winds through the tired land bringing memories and sapphire.
And with these hands you pulled the veil from my eyes and smiled.
I have been wandering in this desert so long I have become a part of it,
thinned out and hollowed by the empty places.
I saw your footsteps in the sand and had no thought but to follow,
heedless of what I would find when I arrived at your resting place.
Filled with this yearning so sharp as to cut the silk of my illusions,
I can only ask your permission to drink from this well.
They exiled him from their loveless land
for willingly breaking its rule again and again,
he was asked to kill love, once and for all
love that moves as silent waves of the sea,
never ceases to move, within the depth of his heart.
He was chained and treated like an outcast,
how could a loveless world understand,
the meaning of his passion, that binds him with hers.
He was out of his mind they surmised
never could they imagine they were the ones insane.
Every morning a grubby voice will ask him:
"Do you still hear the music of love the waves play?"
he was calm and said"I am yet another one, like Prometheus,
this is my fire, I stole it for me, her and all other lovers,
your heartless world can never snatch it from me,
not till the moment my soul departs my body"
"Thorned coronet or a spine ridden diadem
Columns of my vertebrae you rowed up to the side of them
And slid a braquemard, home plated, in my diaphragm
Brutus to a Julius or Cassius to a caligula
You're shaking when you speak and you act rather ambiguous
Piteous pit falling I'm spitballing
And ballin up all of my shit
With a straw on my lips"
i am not your diadem, i wear that crown
beside no man
and i made you a diagram, warned how i felt
bout lion men
these days i get inside of them
and make their caves abandoned dens
and slay the sly clawed underhands
who tried to eat the wunderkid
you see these eyes? don’t lie to them
i’ll shoot the guy who tries to land
a bullseye in my vibrant lens
you’re crawling back to call me sin
not violent, i'm just not contending
i will not be rendered weapon
when i’m more like armageddon
in the body of a woman
if history was written off the way that you wanted
i’d be a trident in the hands of a tyrant, loveless
and you would be a poor king, so innocently luckless
recklessly denying of each bloody broken promise
so if we’re drawing from the vein of the kings and crowns
let history go ahead and repeat itself now
i’ll be the advisor to the feckless frown
'til the body count draws out a map of the grounds
behind the scenes yeah i can see you now
if you wanna save the city put your ego down
and no, this isn’t ‘bout the battle or the soldier crowds
it’s ‘bout what’s better for the starving citizens in this town
for the good of the people, i need to knock you down
so i will play your brutus and decimate the capital
ides of march around the bend, you sure love that pedestal
sic semper tyrannis, you declared it yourself
et tu brute? yeah i’m just here to help
I think you’re
kissing salty ocean rocks
and thunder drills
The way golden lyrics flow not from lips but strings
and tie up souls
It gives hope to a long forgotten place that once held the promise of sanctuary
and a fresh start in the land of granite rocks, kiss
A temporary home in your arms
and I think I’ll be alright if you just stay here.
Just keep your hand closed on my back and I’ll choke down whatever comes up
I’ll be okay for one more night because
beat down whatever grief was scheduled for tonight.
I'm not sure if I like that, or if I like this poem.
In late 1888, a Wells Fargo stage
Was relieved of its freight-
A strongbox, taken from its hold,
held thousands of dollars in coins of gold.
The brigands had a master plan,
To bury that box,
sit, and wait-
Then dig it up at a later date.
They found a spot on rock-hard ground-
Where it would lie, safe and sound,
So they sank it in a three foot hole-
to hide that box with coins of gold.
But what they didn’t realize,
that in the distance, sat a pair of eyes-
That had watched the whole event unfold-
and watched, as they buried that chest with gold.
Late that night, under a pale, lantern, light-
a shovel's blade split those rocks-
and the hole was relieved-
of that strongbox.
William Nelson Riddle, owned that property-
And he lived with a basic philosophy-
“Since it was found, on my ground-
I guess it belongs to me.”
“Nelson” died in ’28, at age of 85-
He never said what happened to,
Or if, that chest survived-
And the "Legend of Riddle’s Gold"came alive.
As time passed, the story grew-
each year, a bit more grand-
That Nelson took that strongbox-
And hid it elsewhere on his land
Greed is one of the “seven sins”-
"Everybody loses, and nobody wins"-
But the “want” for gold is a mighty strong thirst-
So his kin set out for a “family search.”
At morning’s dawn, the kinfolk came-
To search for gold, fortune, and fame-
They came with shovels, spades, and hoes-
And some “TNT”, so the story goes.
With disregard for propriety,
they descended upon the property-
Without a map, without a plan-
They spread out to search his land.
Now, the rabbits and the coyotes,
and the gophers(one or two)-
Gathered on a little knoll,
To have a better view.
They knew what was going to happen-
It was just a matter of time-
When the dew had disappeared,
And the morning sun had reached it’s prime
They dug a hole here, and dug over there-
The morning sun was getting hot-
and everywhere they looked –
Was for naught.
Now, it isn't very clear
as who said what, to who-
But it must have been insult'n-
to start that ballyhoo.
There was push'n and shove'n
and calling names galore!
Yell'n and cuss'n
using words you ain't heard before!
And that was just the men-folk-
the women got in it too-
screaming heard, from north to south-
Those words should never come, from a ladies mouth.
Fists being swung, shovels slung!
dust was kicked up in a ball-
nothing could be more entertaining-
than watching a family free-for-all!
Then suddenly, it came to a stop !
as quick as it began-
They gathered up all their gear-
and departed Nelson's land.
This is where the story ends-
all I know is what I'm told,
From my daddy, for he'd been sitting,
atop that little knoll.
(This is how I would like to have it end)
Somewhere in the "high above"-
at a table, two people sat-
One, wearing suit and tie-
and Nelson, with his beard and hat.
"Nelson, a lot of folks have you to thank,
for bringing that strongbox to the bank-
you saved a lot of folks their homes and farms."
Nelson, from his chair, arose-
standing erect, and proud-
Stroked his beard, then tweaked his nose,
smiled, and faded into the clouds.
(thanks folks for your patience)
Copyright September 16-2013 Richard Riddle
She thinks of nobody but herself
But still her bedrooms filled with nails she falls
And always seems to land on her wrist
Gashes a centimeter wide she needs stitches she needs to call an ambulance
She'll bleed out! God dammit she'll bleed out!
But she's not ready to die yet so she stitches herself up
Hoping she hasn't drained too much
Because she loves the sting the reason she lives is for the sting
And the DRUGS
PILLS: Oxy, Percocet, Vicodin, Demerol
She sniffs them she snorts them she even fucking chews them!
She'll do anything as long as she can float
She won't admit it but she loves life she loves the drugs
And pain and abuse that come with life
She loves the pain, oh god damn, she loves the pain
So she stitches herself back up she doesn't want to die
Repeat repeat she does it again
Dripping on the kitchen tile but this time is different
This time she's forgotten about the drugs and the pain
She's focused on her wrist and her wrist and her blade and her wrist
Too deep, she's gone too deep again
But she doesn't care she's not stitching herself back up
She's ready to die with not enough drugs and
Too much pain
She's ready to leave this world behind
Ready to leave the pills
Don't leave me don't leave me
I love you I love you
Grab the needle, please get the thread
Please just stitch yourself back up stitch yourself back up
I think of honor, and pride
And the clashing of swords
The Heart that beats inside
Master my weapon, an art form
I will protect my land and master,
At the cost of my own life
Arrows and katanas only come faster,
And I'll slip in to the light
The code I've lived by, do or die,