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 Jun 2020 liz
r
The smoke burns
 Jun 2020 liz
r
Remember when we burned
down the federal fences
and let a black family in
a white house built by slaves -

man, the fire was hot
and the smoke smelled like freedom -

but that was then, and here we are
not so much later, the rails are made
of iron like the fists of a dictator -

the smoke burns my eyes, man -
and now - I can’t breathe.
The streets are bare as
the cherry blossoms still bloom.
Life will carry on.


A walk in the woods
will still be enjoyable,
while six feet apart.


Slow down and observe
the beat of nature, for it
is good for the soul.
Three Haikus I wrote because I was inspired during these crazy times
 Mar 2020 liz
fiachra breac
wind whips around the eaves,
whistling by the Velux,
rattling the back gate.

which consequences do I own,
whose hands are inside mine,
what veins belong to me,
and where do they lead?

what if the walls don't hold tonight?
what if they crumble and break?
and I get ****** out -
the contents of my room
shooting through the sky,
burrowing deep into my skin,
piercing the clear, cold night?

_________

It's settling down now,
but you always knew it would.
These things pass, and tomorrow,
you'll collect the detritus scattered on the road.

You sink deep into the pile
of old blankets
and duvet
and wisps of remembrance

You're safe here
at least until tomorrow,
at least until tomorrow,
at least until tomorrow,
 Feb 2020 liz
Nat Lipstadt
bid me follow, unbutton that grimy work shirt,
present me ruby nippled *******, silently commanding
worship, suckling, an invitation to come unto me,
my initiation to the pleasure of getting to know you intime

you will laugh with surprise, as the anointing oil of relief
crowns your head, slicking down to caving cavities,
river running in crevices, that feed the buried places,
replenishing the almost forgotten secret of letting go

your pleasure is my greatest pleasure, for long known
the best taking lies beneath unabashedly giving, gentrifying,
you will full fill me, me eager drinking your noises, releasing
my purposes, coming to take my re-education you remedying

your short fingernails will pierce, new additions to my scars,
my history, your chapter, verse and stanza, all now, a claim upon me, that cannot be refused, for elemental silk threads now bind, each may pull, at either end, for the thread is of our singular commonality,
human tissue
 Feb 2020 liz
Jenny Gordon
There IS a reason we're told to beware of what we...everything, really.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMLXXXVIII)


Swear off the pleasures I knew ere cuz thence
I'm too, what, eh? beleaguered to avail
Me of indulgence, yes.  No choc'late, pale
As loving oft to nibble it fr'intents
Home in my father's house.  And thus, what hence?
The id'ot box passe, I'd in betrayl
Now clean forgot the litrature's detail
Which shaped my thoughts and manners, yea, my sense.
Take oh, the lux'ry of an essay fer
Lo, minutes on familiar turf I knew
Weeks, months, so many years ago as twere
Likeas my other "food," and what ah, to
Effect?  As if my thinking clears in poor
'Scuse for brief seconds, oh how sweet tis too!

24May19d
There's nothing quite like whom you associate with...eh?
 Jan 2020 liz
Onoma
Adressee
 Jan 2020 liz
Onoma
do not wear my words

as flattery, even if you should

find them addressed to you.

they are the reverberations

of our combined power.

sit on the ground,

and look up.
 Dec 2019 liz
Onoma
in your heart of hearts

you suffer all givers

of space.

our untouchable full

arrival.
 Oct 2019 liz
Graff1980
Untitled 308
 Oct 2019 liz
Graff1980
Soft pink petals,
part unfolding
as the flower blooms
sweetly growing.

Arms around me
while I am moving
in a sloppy circle
cause we are two
who are grooving,
while her
soft flower arms
enfold me in their
springtime charms.

A tiny droplet
becomes percussion
as soft music moves us
to a percussive mood
in this wonderful interlude.

She clenches tighter
and I smile.
Her head rests
on my shoulder
and the world
gets less colder.

So, watch this weary
old romantic
start to tear up
as he imagines
a true love.

In the evening we are talking
while soft footprints
on the beach
finds us walking
sandals in hand
because we both
enjoy the feel of sand
on our bare feet.

In the morning
we wake together.
Her hazel eyes
and hair of fire,
her tender touch
does so inspire
that in this moment
I loose
a hundred pounds
of life’s abuses
and gain a shiny new
point of view.
  
I wake from wonder’s reverie
knowing this is but a fleeting dream
that will never be my reality.
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