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 Jan 2018 ConnectHook
Skendong
This is a wordy piece of prose
Jumping in and out of rhythms.
I hate to be negative of any expression
But this is of no use to anyone.

I am not advocating return to form
But it might help
If you know how it works.
The simple vocabulary

Does not stretch the reader
And the Mystery of Darkness,
Is philosophical rambling
Defunct of elegance.

A consciousness exists
Beyond our understanding,
Seek this, close your eyes
And enter the darkness…

Poetry is more than just
Writing down your thoughts.
Some material needs formality
Of poetic armoury.

And your images? Where are they?
There are all the trappings
Of abstract thought –
But I can’t see no ****** horse.
It should not come as a surprise
Though the right posture
A subordinate doesn't lack
"Do in Rome as Romans do"
With a curved back
S/he has to walk!

It shouldn't come
As a surprise
Watching journalists
Praise that shower
On a tyrant government
In power!
Modern slavery
 Jan 2018 ConnectHook
Shashank
black skirt climbing up her shining thighs…
she pulls it down and the excitement dies

from the men around her: “****, she’s fine!”
looking up from her phone- she’s next in line.

“may i see your id?” asks the giant,
she shows it to him- acting compliant.

female, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-one.
everything checks out- “stay safe, have fun.”

once she steps through those guarded doors,
she puts her pvc plastic back inside her michael kors.

no ‘x’ on her hand, but an ex on her mind-
she steps onto the dance floor and begins to grind.

many men manage to embrace her swaying hips,
bite her beautiful neck, and kiss her thirsty lips.

from their mouths flows a river of lies,
while hands below swim up sweating thighs.

she’s feeling ecstatic, but he wants more,
her “friends” watch as he carries her out the door.

to say “yes,” she’s in no position,
so he advances without a proposition.

the next morning when she wakes,
in funny places her body aches.

next to her he’s fast asleep,
her phone rings: bleep, bleep!

texts from her “friends” fill her screen-
things they typed, they did not mean.

“we’re worried…  where are you? text me the address!”
she gathers her things and pulls down her black dress.

tiptoeing through his apartment, she quietly closes the door.
she’s quiet in the car still, afraid of being called a “*****.”

when they asked her to come out that night, she said: “i don’t like partying anymore.”
Is the End Near for Religion?

-news item

No one will ever acknowledge a MePhone
As the Lord of the universe, or as
The Creator from before created time
Born of an IBM Selectric

True plastic of true limited resources,
Sing Advent hymns unto an Apple II,
Whisper aves on a strand of transistors,
Or genuflect before a Model T

No consecration will ever obtain
Upon the altar of a microchip
But the Animals were First

“We read in Isaiah: ‘The ox knows its owner,
and the *** the master’s crib….’”

-Papa Benedict, The Blessings of Christmas

The ox and *** are in the Stable set
In service divine, as good Isaiah writes
A congregation of God’s creatures met
In honor of their King this Night of nights

And there they wait for us, for we are late
Breathless in the narthex of eternity
A star, a road, a town, an inn, a gate
Have led us to this holy liturgy:

Long centuries and seasons pass, and yet
The ox and *** are in the Stable set
A Conversation about Whiteness

Wedding dresses, clouds in a summer sky
Those new tenny-runners in junior high
The towels the Navy issued all of us
Liquid Paper™ for covering typos

Wild geese winging the seasons, moved by God
The much-prayed pages in MeeMaw’s Bible
A sidewalk made playground with colored chalk
A blank page in the typewriter positioned

Ready, waiting for the next Langston Hughes
To write about rivers, or about…you
 Dec 2017 ConnectHook
kgl
Autumn
 Dec 2017 ConnectHook
kgl
i met him in september
and his hair was kissed by light
i loved him by december
as the world around turned white

i knew him in october
when the nights conquered the days
whilst divided in my feelings
i was safe inside his gaze

i sought him in november
when my smile began to fade
i listened to his heart beat
and i wasn't so afraid

i met him in the autumn
and i hope he's here to stay
'cause nothing's felt the same since
he first brightened up my day
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