some like their dogs with bared fangs
a warning before a bite

While

poets inhabit a place in between
slathering and a bark

Land of the free
words fed intravenuously
like opiates into opened veins
until the lies they tell us become truth

Propaganda filled drips
drown out the screams of the innocent
killed by fear and misdirected hatred
and soldiers fighting "wars" on terror

How then does the aggressor become hero?
while handing out oppression labelled as democracy
liberty  comes encased in the shell of a bullet
and if you resist.........freedom

comes quicker than you wish

I thirst in my search
for words
that came first

in verse and in song
what's been here all along

since Peking (wo)Man
singing in the womb
at Zhoukoudian

when the first moon climbed
above branches frozen in time -

our rhythm and rhyme -
a memory of a memory
of the history

of how a poem came to be.

Cure me within the seize
     of artistic rapture
capturing human spirit in
      boundless creativity,
lay 'pon my ******* a sonata
    written of affection's simpatico,
whisper me a sonnet
        scripted 'neath my skin,
  soar me to limitless grandeur
     elevated beyond cloud vapors,
beckoning rhythmical renditions of
    abstract layers in love, splendor & art,
amidst the harmony and lavish
            poetry of a soulful heart

~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

i should've known
love so deep
will pierce so sharp