“so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.” Ray Bradbury
read these words in another’s poem
and I am changed, words from a page,
touch me and I hope ole Ray approaches
from the great beyond where he surely
abodes, and states with great solemnity,
**** son, good way to start the day,
now stroke the woman, the dog, feed
the chickens and the birds, and for sure,
water those shrubs and plants in this one
hundred degree weather, whether you
like it or not, cause changing is a 24 hr
occupation and the need for touching
never ceases!” Ray
Jul 20, 2023
Jul 20, 2023 at 9:22 AM UTC
“the ones that feel everything already know...” Harlon Rivers
*curse this blessing. leeches leach this blessing.
this summation this summary judgment
this sum of my addiction addition
where from this mark of cain upon my eyes, intended to drown
a brimful poet in a wellspring of their product?
blood sweat and tears the tea my quill is
in the rivulets that drown the scarred pathways perforce dipped
walk the streets and all secrets to me betrayed
yours not mine for in my possess but one
feel everything
every scowling every halved smile the ecstasy of belly laugh
I know I know
the libretto of a thousand operas
that do not all reach a final act
a-few cogent my x-ray ability aNd and the most
desperate with out the disparity of no partition
despise
curse this blessing bestowed, I rather*
die
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
as well as I know the colors of my blood, my guts, my words
yours,
they, were the first words, my eyes read this day
mine,
this, my last belief, as my heart thundering beats
come summer,
we will write together side by side,
the windy, invisible, indivisible
words composed will permanence survive
that will be our true benchmark
of lives well lived,
forever preserved,
death defeating words
you,
help me to
see too well,
so laughing shouting,
you,
fine woman-poet,
I know thyself
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding snakeskin cells as
lead from no. 2 pencil
am **** and blood, skin and hairless,
all-to-come-to-go,
return retuned, at their own chosen speed,
gen of regeneration of disrupted oils and heavenly blessings,
morning cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon’s decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle
you may kiss me with all your heart unto a robust welcoming,
scorn with spittle and deem unfit,
I know the difference and it is inconsequential
see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old leaking birthday balloon, or a haiku
that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing
think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of
your nippled forefinger, but my powers are unlisted,
therefore unlimited
for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensating,
the temperature of your breath, the many odors of you
as inputs that bear newborn children notions in
my chested gas chambers, the belligerent bellum bellies of my brain
my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight and dawn when from
wells the visions, the fluids - the words are drawn
they, the residuals of a man’s *********** with
other humans, kin akin, and the thriving discourse between l,
man and parental gods of invisible powers, that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the codex human DNA
in the vial labelled Medusa
Who else?
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
for The Masked Pimpernel
~~~
the body is breached,
gums bleed, tongue bitter bitten
skin eruptions sequence
as if markers on the Appalachian trail,
the nose runs cold and wet,
forming edifying rapids
when tears-as-big-as-raindrops tonic-mix in
ashes of rashes,
cuts, all self-inflicted,
but from the inside out,
intersect like a crossword puzzle
across my chest
every orifice, even the ears,
demand their day of aperture,
overseeing the in and the outflows,
controling the vertical, the horizontal,
demanding the outer limits be opened
if just for a day...
*so so many poems attempting to escape,
all at once,
here I, bedridden lay,
astonished, for I have just
awoken*
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Send me an email, explaining why,
you don't want to have ***
anymore,
easy all around,
easier that way,
we'll meet in bed,
nonetheless,
without awkward good nights,
no more a wind passing
the wondering why,
only passing onto sleep
sure a little
hand holding,
a forehead kiss plenty sufficient,
now that I know why,
we are no longer joined,
though we are still together
an email, no face to face chagrin,
worse yet, no screaming, pouting,
no sighs when you turn to face away,
I'll understand the reasoning
an email will suffice,
to end the doubt of
is it me or is it you?
why this was the only
recourse,
to full sponge away the stain
on our relationship
an email is just another kind
of ***********
right?
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
you want what I cannot create.
you want what you want,
you utter incantations,
to harness my magic
to no avail.
long time lesson learned,
so obvious,
so human,
for trying to change
what is
given us,
our source material, life defined,
limiting us to what is visible.
creating is a coexistence warring,
but it is a closed loop,
no external input receivables acquirable,
other than thru the filters of mine own
misperceiving imperfections
you demand, insist, that I
create as in the past but
I cannot.
my needs complected, complex,
created incomplete,
you want the simplicity of raw,
scratch me for pain, surge waves
of love from tempest hurricanes
you crave the sad and the sadder badder,
I crave the exhilaration of watching a
new day's light earth birthed,
the small ironies appeal,
tiny is better than
the major battles, remembrance
of past morning glories
you want what I cannot create.
strange.
I want what I create.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
our love making is an
amphetamine
coming together,
crack ******* this stunning pleasure
wilding dreams,
mescaline pretense too real
daily life,
the modulation high of a flotation device,
some call it cannabis-like
gentle drowsy,
a glass of tea and
she...
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
self made.
his own self-summary,
DedPoet
what?
no DNA, parenting, cells coded
making us predestined to be
exactly who we are?
no environmental pressures?
ha. yep.
crossed and resurrected
afraid, ashamed, ashes
re-birthed from his memories
neither
your average God or Phoenix
but a
self made,
a re-made man
there is no reason
to say more
except
to quote his own
self-reflection
*(Heart mirroring heart)
Wellspring of memory
Fountains of life's water,
Crossroads of storms
(Echoes of waterfall)
Mirrors mirroring
Reflecting reflections
Remembering well
(The times of one's life)*
responsum to
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1208453/ode-to-reflection/
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
~~~
how I find her...
so many possibilities
neither fire nor spark
more beacon, aura...
mesmerizing inciting comforting suffocating
guiding mystifying arousing yet never
blinding
always binding...
hydra headed sun
*this, the one poem I cannot
but fail...*
the light in her hair
find her, find me,
a match, a deuce,
she be my selfie
see me in
the light of her hair
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC