For this tree loves everybody
it is bright, it is lovely, it is … short
truncated yet hopeful
all the colours of the rainbow
This tree does not care who you ****
or what you put in to which hole
This tree has no holes, no cracked old bones
just a spectrum, a bole covered in a gentle bark
no reprimand, no judgement, an open elemental heart
It has no plateau of leaves to offer shelter
but it is here and it loves you whether
you care for the woods, for the rain or not
This tree loves everybody
Its bark is deep, it is cracked, it is flawed
and though it is aged and short, truncated
by fate and the nature of this place
it is unbowed echoing all that we hope
will come to pass, for this tree is yours
it grows all the colours of the rainbow
Let it brighten your grey sky grey day
Let it remind you that things may yet change
Let it smile for you when you can't raise
enough brightness inside to chase away
all that we've lost, all that we fight for
For this tree loves everybody
and so can we all,
                       so can we all,
                                      so can we all

He lives in dreams and faraway breaths,
Sighs sing, echoing, from untouched lips.
Memories of dust, bloom into rust
Imprinted on wrinkles, forever-
Permanent. Forever forgotten.
Unbecoming and rotten.
Stir these thoughts, through slotted lids
Eyes turn and twist in wild ways.
Wade and slosh through imagination,
Hushed pigmentation, and
Shushed incantations.
Invoking ceaseless visions of untouched lips,
Dreams that he lives with faraway breaths,
In peace, he rests. In ash, in dust, in flaking rust;
Permanent, in thoughts, born to be forgot.

-SLuR

I’m standing right in front of you
No matter your anger or opinion
Mine is as strong as yours
You can tell me how you feel
But if it doesn’t make any sense
I won’t agree no matter the cost

You can be a mother or a lover
I can be a father and just another
No matter I’m not going away
You think you love them more
That’s because you don’t understand
But someone new, I know she will

Hey lady, can I still call you that?
I once poured my heart out to you
But now it’s time for hate to die
Everything is in God’s hands
I’m ready for his judgment
But today I can live again

There is nothing I have not felt
The last strand of guilt is a silent killer
I do not owe more than I have paid
The only person that knew what I felt
Was the shadow I created on my own
Until sunset, then in darkness I forget

For Garcia




Ah, Harlem, Harlem, Harlem
Washington is Algeria before rebellion
F. Garcia Lorca, Indians, Indians
Ghetto walls still suffocate mothers’ mouths
This city cries
Wakes punching
Wastes then expiates
Hammered by the furnace of the sun
Lorca, Lorca
The madman is still breathing
Fred’ eyes bleed
His bed burns crimson
Wraith and werewolf sit
**** false justice
Garcia, Garcia
We need you
We need you with a gun
A gun, Garcia, a gun
Or (and this for your ears only)
Harlem, Harlem, America
Wash the blood from your
Babes blind eyes.





T. H. Donahue
6/25/71
Edited 2/8/2015

I made a film last night about a man
who hates  neckties—silk, cotton,
and bow.  It is a documentary
of sorts,  that reveals  his
drawbacks, peccadillos,
discrepancies, lies,
and misdeeds.

I am the only character, me,
you can not watch it.
Never.   It is mine
to slowly edit,
and wallow
as I view.

it's nights like this, when we tangle
together like weeds in a seabed of lust
i beg for once, your eyes instead
of your mouth, would confess
how you felt for me.
your lips grow like ivy along the grey
mortar of my spine, your fingers write how
much they don't love me all over my body
and tiny birds take flight from my breath
to be together, is to be apart
when i am with you every word is a mistake,
we press our lips together
harder than we want to press
them against each others mouths
i keep tripping over apologies
and you just want someone who
is steady on their feet
i once knew a boy who told me
he wasn't an artist, but painted
the shores on my cheeks
when he spoke, even the trees leaned
in to hear his beautiful lies

Im gonna tell god everything.