skyscrapers
are metal and glass
melted sand and twisted earth

what are skyscrapers but
mangled mountains
and burnt beaches

fans spin and breezes blow and music plays and
children fall and showers wash and fences
cover and kites fly and grass grows and railings
balance and bugs crawl and glass shatters and
cars go and fireflies light up and volcanoes
erupt and tides rise and planets rotate
and stars shine and hands hold and feet
walk and bushes rustle and birds sing and
kings rule and helmets protect and water
quenches.
these things remind me of what you do
  to
     me.

K.K.

And the moon seeps through the runs in my stockings,
Snow melts off ruddy cheeks and boils to the atmosphere
Patchwork skies and yellow air.

We threw snow behind our shoulders for lack of any salt
Steeped, stewed and warded off our demons,
Invoking the wrath of the wandering cars
And the moon seeps through the runs in my stockings.

A lonesome traffic light directs the phantom engines
The dewy skylights have yet been good to me
A fog of breaths entwined lift up to the
patchwork skies and yellow air.

As our tinny music on cell phones dampened the stillness
The lamps shone out to nobody still
Loud, jarring, paling the night sky’s starlight,
And the moon that seeps through the runs in my stockings

Our riotous whisperings
Were but cracks in the ice
Our cigarettes were torches held against
the patchwork skies and yellow air

This city is a tyrant
Its icy stillness grasping through my clothes
The stillness sears my inhibitions,
the moon seeps through the runs in my stockings

We fell into the yellow cab
Made inert by our indiscretions, plagued
By the moon that seeped into the runs in my stockings,
The rosy skies and clearing air.

Grandad Cat
curls his tail
and wants to tell a tale
to his GrandKits Cats
He claws them before him
and he meows a catchy tune
that he shall
tell them a tale

But little Toby
he purrs:
*No, Grand – you're such a bad story-teller
cos you only have
one tale

Mentioning old habits, (even in light conversation)
Makes me
Crave.  

            -*only those who have seen the monster       themselves will know how awful this feeling is

First love,
It's been years,
It's been tough,
But I've made it through the tears
It's been rough,
But I still miss you, dear

I remember you,
I remember us,
You said I'd never kiss you,
but I decided to call your bluff

We laughed, and we loved
Staring at the skies above,
I remember your eyes,
A shade of brilliant blue
when I lie awake at night,
My thoughts still stay with you

You've moved on,
but I'm still here,
Writing songs,
About the past 3 years

Lovers come, then they leave
But girl, you'll always, stay with me..

Boxes of currency
Invisible promises
That will remain unseen
Covered with green bows
Strewn at your feet
Wilds of the magnificent earth
These disguised offerings
It is only a fraction of your worth

The beauty of her robe
Will be no more
Stripped
Bleeding
Torn
On the greedy quest
For rare sacred jewels
That lay upon her chest

Beware dark queen
Your hearts blood
They will sift and glean
Dividing the precious ground
Into to sections mapped and drawn
Soon to be  a desolate pawn
No sounds of life ever more found

Worshiped stones and minerals
Evil hands cannot resist
As many with title insist
It is their god given right
To remove the royal cape of the people
That protects African citizens

Oh great queen
Rise up with power
Against the approaching hour
In your hand the golden scepter hold fast
Devils from your lands cast
Forever reign over Africa’s future and past
Beware dark queen

For the People of Africa    


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby