Do you know that feeling
When unexpectedly
A friend or family member
Exposes their bigotry?
Well, I can be very out spoken
Bigotry after all is
A cognizant distortion

I recall last summer
In the marketplace
The sun rays
Blessing the day
Children laughing
Parents smiling
My voice welcomes all
Some of the kindest people
I have ever met
Mexican migrant workers
Such a pleasure to appease
Used tables, chairs and dressers
And used shoes on their children's feet
A Muslim man his wife and daughters
All greet me with kind words
The gleam within their shopping eyes
While on guard to be reserved
Native Americans I do respect
Their culture and their lands
For after all upon their blood
Is where America stands

And with this beautiful tapestry
Hanging upon my days
I'll stand against the hatred
America's oldest plague.

My life is full of poetry
in lyrical design
Expressions in a rhythm
that ascend and then decline.

One moment I am full of joy,
then sorrow breaks my heart.
My soul is touched by music
and the thrill that it imparts.

I love the rain, embrace the sun
and smile at winter snow.
I crave the full moon's silver light
and dance beneath the glow.

I savor sweet aromas
taking pleasure in the breeze
And love the gentle rustle,
as it passes through the trees.

Yes, poetic is the gift of life,
inspiring me to rhyme.
I'd write a million odes to it,
but I just don't have the time!

~
from the anthology of the unwritten,
from the tombs of the stillborn,
where carcasses of idled titles and orphaned stanzas
do not compete for proof of life,  
and
nameless birth certificates unissued,
yellowing and wasting midst
crumbling aleph bet spawn

here
comes a poem of concession
comes a poem of summation
of a life lived, knotted poorly, not well,
worse cursed as vanilla inadequate

the satisfaction in the writing,
the gleeful breaking of the sac,
the gushing relief giving way to
the childbirth of a new moon-poem,
arrested, wrested

a single plague affliction,
the cancer of weakness,
means Pharaoh wins

the cancer of weakness
no cure, no pharmaceutical poultice,
spreads insidious; one day - pain in the remote,
your big toe, then
next you can only street stagger
begging forgiveness and the kindness of strangers
hoping for the accidental cure of touch,
the miscellany lottery ticket probability of low chance

the visible mark you leave,
a weak indentation upon a pillow,
it is the dented head, cut deep by the shadow,
shake it out and you're a disappeared one,
nothing to show,  
did someone once sleep here?

you were once upon a time
binary
a 1
now a 0 -
flip flop bottom top,
listening to Frank's "That's Life"^

my litany too long;
woeful work this business of flailing,
posting a tired-out self help love poem
ain't no cure for the falling-out-of-love
black and blue, self-inflicted bruising blues,
the wrists ache
the bones don't freak
but squeal, somebody's squeezing me

the alarm clock, a death knell,
everyone saying don't worry  
you got a proven record,
the boss's eyes twinkling
"but what have you done for me lately?"

funny

Death says
Hey, aren't you the boss?
Who shall over rule thy Dominion?
What have thy done to yourself lately?

Answer: never end a poem with a question mark @
3:06am

Grievous grace, has due yesterday’s blue
Autonomous avarice enigma entity’s hue
Identity crisis guidon guile’s due
Mystic symbiosis’ existential true

Apostrophe sabbat transcendental kitsch
Consortium liaison’s libido’s glitch
Translucent opulence’s lambent’s a *****
Metaphysical mystique is black as pitch

Terrestrial equestrian tellurian's terrene
Adamant tenacity’s obtusely obscene
Obstinate loquacity spiritually serene
Maniacally meticulous  dexterity’s preen

Lucid cogent fecund’s maieutic
Incarnate’s manumissional eidetic
Spatiotemporal telemetry’s fanatic
Logistical tactician’s primal ecstatic

Chicanery dynamism’s  opulent fealty
Intrinsic innate retrospective cruelty
Indigenous endemic inherent frailty
Corrupt costume counselor subtlety

Gambit alluvium aloof impunity
Immunity is Epicurean absurdity
Who are we to us complicity
Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s congruity

Long lived dreams
painted with clouds
in the sky,
so vivid,
just a touch away
from her delicate fingertips,

They keep her feeling alive,
they keep her wide-eyed,
whilst the salt
from the crashing waves
spray onto her dried up lips.

A fire burns brightly
deep down inside,
but she's too numb
to feel the pain,

Through her beautiful,
innocent, tired eyes
you can see the flame.

She pushes it all aside;
in her dreams
she finds a place to hide
again.

Every day
she does the same.

Exhaling as the sun sets
each and every night,

Dying, over and over again;
reborn, time and time again,
at the sight of morning's light.

Holding her own trembling hand,
trying so hard not to lose her grip,

Balancing
on the edge
of her world,
trying so hard
not
to
fall;
she won't survive
another slip.

Listening out for answers
howling in the vicious wind,
she fails to hears anything,

Clutching hope, and faith,
praying that her love for life
will conquer everything.

She's a fighter!
Tomorrow
she will be reborn again;
from the mountain top
you will hear her sing!

By Lady R.F. (C) 2017