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the pain you feel
howls out within
to be articulate

and haltingly
   you start
to carve its silhouette
on people's minds

knowing that nothing's gained
unless your pain
meets with itself
in others
old friends gather
tied together
by lines of
silver silk

threaded from
heart to heart
embedded in thought
and action

actor trained
like the rhythm
of drumming fingers
on raked stage

toungue twisted greetings
bring saltwater to eyes
searching for the mentor

a congregation of etudes
belies, the sadness,
laughter hides the absence

shared memory,
memories shared
bring life into focus

years pass by
but still, the silk threads
play the heartstrings
and still we raise our
eyes in ritual goodbyes

and hug each other closer
til the next gathering
old friends remembering
the good times
 Jan 2017 Alyanne Cooper
I’m writing again
I’m not sure if this is
Good or bad
While I love to write,
I only write when my
Heart is
short and not that great
but it's been a while
 Jan 2017 Alyanne Cooper
Love is a word
like a sword
that has worn
out its scabbard,
a lonely *******,
or a red rose
that opens alone,
a dream that lingers
for too many seasons
and passes in the shadows,
furrows in the dust
on a bannister,
a rock in the garden
of lust,
an empty place
at a table,
a ring on a cobweb
in the rain,
a long hair on your bed,
a nail in a blank wall.
I am not a number
I am not 2200
or 3.3
I am not this these things you claim me to be

I am not a number
I am not Candidate #15392701
or Profile 235
I am real... I am alive

I am not a number
I am not 8/10 on a good day
or a 5/10 when I don't care
There's a mind and soul where you believe is bare

I am not a number
I am not what you need me to be
I am everything you wish to be
I am ... infinity
Hope is the last refuge
of the broken and bruised
the painfully confused
who feel ill-used
yet hold on to
a chance to renew
the positive that is
long overdue.

Hope is a smile
that breaks tears
causing some to fall
and others to disappear.
It is a fool’s game
of poor predictions,
bets placed from
bad positions
but still sustain
the lost
and unforgiven,
those painfully driven,
living in the dreams
of what good things
tomorrow might bring.

Hope is a trinket
saved despite the need to eat
so, that when this homeless man meets
his long lost loved
he can give that gift
to the man he misses.
It is a warm spot on
a sidewalk vent,
a hand offering two dollars,
a stranger offering conversations
to break the cold blindness
of this windy winter loneliness.

Hope is daylight
to a prisoner who
moves to make things better
in an unfair system,
an institution
that tries to turn them
into numbers,
less than human
equal to dollar signs.
It is consuming all that bull
running down that rodeo clown
goring him to the core
and making it out
of that gated door
before idiots slam you
back in again.

Hope is a good ear
and a mouth shut
someone who hears
what other people
need so badly to say.

Hope is the lessons
that I have learned and lost
found and forgot
given and taken.
Whether I was right or mistaken
fool or genius
hope is the stream that
swims between us
in shared language,
in shared body movements,
in shared history.
It is the energy
that directs us towards
better days for
all people.

Hope is good
not necessarily
making its lack evil
but it is what people
need to get by,
a reason to stay alive.

Hope is transitive,
equal to what we do
to make dreams reality.

Ultimately, hope is the promise of
compassion yet to come.
 Jan 2017 Alyanne Cooper
morphine took charge
night came on
and turned into mourning
 Dec 2016 Alyanne Cooper
Oh, those poor
without a ***
to **** in
who celebrate their
thin-skinned twittering
king ascending
in his gilded elevator
of gold stolen
from the empty plates
of those
who do pay taxes
with real axes
to grind
it boggles my mind
just what in
the hell
could they have been
I mean, Sweet
Jesus, we'll all be
in the end.

Where e're we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees,
From fear of priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies.

--Shane MacClowan, "Thousands Are Sailing"
Well son...

It all began in Fairyland
In the lab of the mystical toads
As trash throughout the land had gotten way out of hand
Along side of the pixie dust roads

The system they had wasn't working
Leaving empty all the garbage cans
And everyone of the Fairies backs were hurting
Bending over picking all of the trash

In an off the wall guess Teddy Toad thought of this
Something the Fairies all liked
A horn on a horse as a matter of course
Then the trash men could go along for the ride

So they took a horse and Duct taped a horn
Cause we all know Duct tape works wonders
But it never fit right in its slip and its slide
In the taping of over and under

Science soon prevailed in the cell from the horn of a cow
Mixing it up with one from a horse
Purely by accident they just happened to chance
Upon what is now the Unicorn

Who's very first job was giving litter a nod
In helping to keep the streets clean
But before too long the Unicorn evolved
In the preforming of different activities

From the up turn of nose in sneezing rainbows
In the prettiest of sunny weather
To giving kids rides as they grew wings to fly
The ones mixed with birds of a feather

Or the burping of clouds when they opened their mouths
That only know how to rain Skittles
That sometimes floods the streets in candy knee deep
Running sugar sweet straight down the middle

So if you're ever confused on how Unicorns were first used
Or had any doubt to how they came about
You can set your mind at ease
You now know they were created because Fairies all hated
Bending over picking trash off the streets

Goodnight son, sweet dreams...
Wrote this for my friend Sally A. Banyan because she likes Unicorns...
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