A man
Takes care of his gal.
A man
Takes a stand and fights down and out.
A man
Supports his babies and wife.
A man
Does what's needed,the protector of what's right.
A man
Kisses his ******* her head.
A man
Brings flowers no matter living or dead.
A man
Can listen and not just hear my tone.
A man
Makes me warm, not freeze me to the bone.
A man
Is always here, never leaving me alone.
A man
Is noone here,
I'm
Waiting
By
The
Phone

Diaspora
From the Greek

When I heard the word I felt it
And I looked it up
In my old red dictionary

I could have used the Internet,
I suppose

But I like to run my forefinger down pages
Of words

I read the definition
And I felt it
Oh

Oh
We are diaspora.

Am I using it correctly?

We are a diaspora.

Diaspora
From the Greek

From the green valley of Ottawa
From Scotland
From Ireland on wooden boats

From the French village thirteen children
From the mines in the North
From Poland and from Germany

From the churches and
From the Blueberry patches
From the Island Manitoulin

From the dark lake Kagawong
From Kinburn and Arnprior
From Markstay and from Sudbury

From Waterloo
From Kitchener, Michener
From the Suburbs

Oh

From the Suburbs
From the red bricks, red currants
And geraniums
From green island cabins

From the desert

Oh

From the desert
From the potholes and pipes
From the salty wind
Cracked Caspian Sea
From the middle of the east of nowhere.

From the mountains

Oh

From the mountains
From the crystal water fountains
From the tram bells
On the cobblestone streets
From the torrents of the Rhein

From the white cross

Oh

From the white cross
On the green hill
From the river Laurence
From the French and from the English
Plains of Abraham

We are diaspora
We are a diaspora

Diaspora
From the Greek

How did it end up here on my tongue?

It is diaspora.
It is a diaspora
Diaspora is a diaspora

And I wonder if it misses its other pieces
The way that I miss mine

Ours

There is no
Roping us back together now

There is no
Home to go back to

There is no
Point of meeting
Of reunion

No
White steeple in our old town

No
Yellow slide in our backyard

No
Old folks on an old farm

No
Walled house on a hill

No
Luzernerring 93

No
Familiar riverwater

There is no
Ancient Greek anymore
Diaspora

Only fragments of fragments
Of roots of stems of words
In different dialects

There is no
Place for you to belong,
Diaspora

You’ve been sliced to pieces
And scattered
Into the wind

But
When people ask you
Where you are from

You say simply
From the Greek

Oh

From the Greek

And
When people ask me
Where I am from

I say simply
From the diaspora.

As I write these words of mine
As I pass throughout time
I wish I wasn't blind
Of the love we left behind
Of all the sweet words you said
If I leave you I would rather be dead
Cause you are the person I want to be with til the end
You make the solid tree bend
With the love and affiction that you send
I hope our wounds would mend
And get back to the love we used to spend
And live our loves happy til the end
Without making it all just pretend

Come, child, let us play,
Let us feel the the world together.
Let me be your friend.
Forget about them.
Their mean words hurt?
Yes, that's why I'm here, child.
To ease the pain.
To release the anger.
To them, who always hurt you,
Where was mom anyway?
Oh, there she is.
Screaming with dad as always.
Something new?
Leave them, child, and come with me.
We won't be far.
Just near, by the river,
With no one but the two of us.
Child, come, let us jump.
No, it won't be long.
Come, child, you'll see.

Supine,
under a quiet
and ethereal sky
i lay down.
leaves behind,
a tired and
wounded mind
and let it rest
against the
splendid garden
of your chest,
while boughs
above sway
gentle chorus
songs of love
that chime
the breeze
with nature's
tenderness

I talk
                                                            ­               but all of my words are sin

I move
                                                            ­               but all of my actions are sin

I think
                                                           ­               but all of my thoughts are sin

I dance
                                                           ­               but all of my rhythms are sin

I sing
                                                            ­              but all of my tones are sin

I write
                                                           ­                but all of my poems are sin

All of me is a sin

I am a sin

©IGMS

When we were young,
Innocent as our smooth skin.
we didn't understand.
Why they stared
This is for the kids like me,
the kids who still feel your hands.
Who didnt know about the birds and the bees.
Until,
you showed them.

Now, we're adults, scarred.
A lovers wrong touch triggers unwanted memories
and you haunt my every move.
You made me.
Broken and Untouchable.
This is for the adults who are still children.
Who cry into the blackness
for the life you stole.

Neither sea on rock
Nor rain on tree
Speak words as sweet
As yours to me.

Make me
Beg
Until
I
Explode,
Lay your head
Down,
When I
Grow
Old.
Love me until I
Love myself.
Wanting
You to do
This
Noone else.