Left Foot Poet

Apr 2018

Still Crazy

Send or Request Money

a Facebook choice (new?) stumbled upon,
what! no more the check is in the mail stall,
which strikes me funny, cause my preference is
to send offerings before being asked,
which is one of those
items that I list on Linkedin resume as a
serious flaw under honorable man,
listed under miscellaneous skills,
next to
often cranky quirky guy who is
collaterally damaged and has been
taken advantaged of

Send or Request Money a two way duality

prefer send to request
for me it’s more intriguing to be owed

a tool to uncover honor-enabled humans
that I close upon closer to my heart
nearer to thee, my human god’s creation

and that’s why you and them
even me - even god (get in line)
call me
stillcrazyafteralltheseyears

for he who knows that I call him,
friend most honorably honored herein

Apr 2018

Sally A Bayan

Unknown

?????????

Time is not flying
the evening hours are so slow, inching by
and spent tossing and turning
my restless mind roams dark avenues
my restless feet roam the bed,
left...right...then back, over and over.
the bed, that was my hammock....no longer sways
a promise of peaceful slumber, flies away,
???????
new and strange images
start to trail me...they're heavy tassels,
tagging on the hemlines of my mind,
seeking to connect...to be known
???????
this late hour, i recall
a forked road, not far from a winding road,
from afar, a child admires a white castle
high as the clouds, its windows, foggy,
its high fence, mossy...on its front lawn
is a treehouse, perched...resting like a bird
inside a very old tree, leaning to its left side,
with a long set of steps...all painted white.
just below the white steps are gathered,
doyens of poetry...seated in their own chosen
corners...tacit, yet, empowered by their brilliant minds
the tips of their feathered pens, smoothly sliding on
paper......strange, that they're waving at me,
why, they could be dead!
???????
i must be dreaming...my muse is showing
me paths, i would think twice of treading
???????
a quartered moon selfishly glows
unsettles even more, my murky thoughts...
yet....my pressing thumb is on my journals
i must heed.........the need.
???????
"o' my elusive unknown poem,
kindly show me...lead me to your home
let my pen give light to your dim path
give second wind to my weary mind and heart,
deny, even a bit of a space......for wrath,

help me, push me...my efforts musn't cease
show me your face...we'll both have peace."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
~
Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 21, 2018

...started with a dream.....then scribbled...and scribbled...
I don't know if there is any sense in all these...pardon me, guys...

#strange #dreams #doyensofpoetry #whitecastle #unknownpoem

Apr 2018

K Balachandran

In the territory of pain

hospital smells yell,
Each narrative more loud;
redemption silent!

#pain #yell #redemption #hospital

Left Foot Poet Apr 2018

"man the tomatoes?"

man (?)
the tomatoes?

patty m.,
a grievous error thy commissioned

tomatoes are the quintessential feminine fruit
red juicy, round, curvy, sweet
with a flavor at once the same,
yet never again always different, diffident,
asized, and blonde or red, never contrived

without it,
would pizza be pizza?
without it,
would **** ***** love,
be merely a good salad

or a poem

ever be the same?

“me love tomatoes”
cookie monster

#pattym #man #the #tomatoes #cookie #monster #leftfootpoet

Apr 2018

False Poets

**** the BS: this craft is the raft we hang onto

there is no value in a poem that reads
_____
_____
____
M M l i f e s u c k s x x x n o p o e m i g o t

just

nerve; crap bs, a denial of craft

seek the intelligent intelligible,
kiss the sensational thrill that
emotion harvests with resonating tenses
that beg our brains to differ, sense

this claims,
there is no value in no words is
a hoax cloaked as art by the weak,
make thy metaphors metastasize,
my every cell, a preposition,
preposterous and precious and
comforting in their
privations and provocations

speak to us in alpha and
line our eyes wide,
with pictures at an exhibition
of a faun immobile and beauteous

let me hang on every word of yours and
let it be the raft that sees me happily
unsafe home

take your bs line poem
shove it down your silent voice

this is not avant garde; this is insulting

p.s. write me a smile and all will be_____.

#**** #bs #this #craft #is #the #raft #we #hang #onto

Left Foot Poet Apr 2018

Seepage (seep yourself to leak away)

(seep yourself to leak away)

all reveals are feints;
I take you right
but I am moving left,
always left,
then left again

when I turn the faucet of me on,
brown, rusty pipe water comes out,
never turning clear,
even if the flow
went on for a millennium

someone traveller passerby
reads my excellent explicit illicit words,
with kind sweetness
observes a valid conclusion:
Poems take.a lot out of you

correct+wrong

not take, give
they are the slow seepage
of my overburdening
which is
yes, yes, I know, all relative,
but perspective is a
sometime summer thing,
and all the springtime streets
filled with filthy frozen slush

having come from some rusty water leakage,
never turning clear
no matter how long the street runs away
from you

so you take yourself to give away,
seeping and leaking

ah words;

so useful and so inadequate
crushed petals from the Tree of Life

you ask me If I have read my brother,
the prophet-poet Jeremiah?

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?

When your words came, I ate them;
they were my joy and my heart's delight

Then the Lord reached out his hand unto my mouth and said,
"I have put my words in your mouth."

these are those words

written months ago

#seepage #seep #yourself #to #leak #away #leftfootpoet

Apr 2018

Francie Lynch

The Greatest Story Never Told

I have a true story. Unbelievable, but true.
You have one too.
This too is true.
It's so unbelievable I can't tell you,
As you cannot tell me.
I think mine more far-fetched,
And you think the same of yours.
You wouldn't believe me,
I won't believe yours,
Even though yours is probably more believable.

It's a secret, but not a secret,
Because I want to but won't tell it...
Because who'd believe it.
They'd sooner believe in voodoo... not true.
Why tell a truth none believe.
It has a dangerous intrinsic result.
What personal good is found
In crosses, nooses and needles.
There's truth there, but refutable truth.
Unbelievable truth.
There's the sticking point.

I'm scared.
I'm silent.

It helps me understand broken hearts and crushed spirits.
The lonely, hungry lost stories of the unfathomable.
Believe me. Don't believe me.
The result's the same.

Legends, myths, folklore tales grow
Because the whole truth went untold,
And mixed with a partial lie,
Becomes our reality.

So, I'm reticent to share mine.
I'm open to hearing yours,
If it's what you say it is.
But I doubt it.

#mythpoem #folklorepoem #legendspoem #stories #lies #religion