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1.

When I
was young
I listened to
Billy the Kid

I galloped
across the
living room floor
giddy upping
in an ecstatic
square dance
with my beloved
America

excitedly
enraptured
boundlessly
enthralled
in youthful
zeal
ebulliently  
yodeling
hymns
whistling
reveries to
America’s
heroic prairie
songs

a precocious
kinder beaming  
moved and illumined
by the broiling fanfare
of trilling trumpets

to uphold the promise
I pledged allegiance
to diligent  work
galloping onward
on ponies of
reverent faith
respectful duty
playful engagement
and guardianship

2.

expectation
never fell short
of resounding
supranaturalistic
optimism

energising
the sweep of
a nation’s
self evident
exceptionalism

our democratic
vista stirred
and steeped

a nation of
wheelwrights
building
wagon trains
to traverse
stratified latitudes
with sturdy ladders
erected with common
sense sensibility
of hands to work
and hearts to God

earthen
yeoman
dancing in
wheat fields
threshing sheaves
of prosperity
their exertions
elevating
families
raising
a glorious chorus,
a peeling crescendo
of horns of plenty
splayed across
landscapes of
an ennobled
nation
placing fruits
of labor upon
ascendent
alters to
to receive
the anointing
of abundance

the lighted grace
of infinite possibilities
shines for a grueling
world listening to the
clamouring drumbeats
sounding in the hearts
of all grace anointed
republicans


3.  

No lullabies
no quiet moonlit nights
we ardently
dance on keys
boasting soul
filled dexterity
the quick self
assuredness
extemporaneously
jazz tapping
across bold
hidden rondos
grasping
transcendence
squarely set
in the minds eye
of unbroken resolve
our cool countenance
an unassailable
righteous destination

any
spare sweeping
plaintive introspection
lends space to
affirm
an
affirmation
beginning
with the individual
unum to e pluribus

solitary dancers
incorporated into
fully enfranchised
troopers

the gyrations
the rhythms and steps
of individuated melodies
join to form a harmonious whole
a beautifully woven consensus

this democratic symphony
perfected in an intelligent
choreography of
separate people
sojourning  
toward
a mutually
constructed
shared destiny

aspirational desires
call forth generations
of spirits boldly engaging
the challenges upholding
the rights and privilege
of all citizens
the celebratory harvest
of a new nations
natural law


4.

As a man
I cruise
along
Main Street
in a joyless
joy ride
gliding by
disassembled
factories
moldering schools
defunct governments

surveying the
demolished ruins
of cities,
the decrepit
wrecking ball
of history
is busy,
rolling through
towns
not worthy
of cast iron
destruction
forged in
foreign kilns

we built palaces
to democracy
in the tiniest hamlets
dotting the granges
wholly assimilated
into a national congress
of freemen

today our
congress
is scattered
dialog seeking
resolution is considered
betrayal to holy
partisanship...

selfish insistence
masquerades as
high ideals

portraiture
of obstinance
is a grotesque
reflection
of virtue

we have
reduced
the peoples
house

to a battlefield
for tribes…..

once freemen
now captives….

soulless ghosts
wandering lost
inside grand
rotundas...

mocked
by murals
and inert
granite statuary
howling
expiration dates
of timeless
psalms

sojourning
the trail of tears
drinking from bowls
of anguish

our only
respite
the silent
ruins we
find impossible
to leave

fear fills our bellies
rust stains our hearts
abiding acrimony
ain’t easily brushed
from dust laden cloths

the deconstruction
of dead cities, mark
expired civilizations
centuries in the making
hammered by the blows
of the mightiest blacksmiths
with precision and deft craft


5.

the spareness of
Martha Graham's set
frame black shadows
of fortitude

it always starts
with the individual

then surely
sure footedness
measured footsteps
boldly dance about
the lily pads
of the keyboard
a resounding ballet
the arms wave
like swaying stalks of wheat
but hurry to respond
opportunity knocks
conditions change
the group awaits
to be joined

my pirouette
remains my solitary mark
on the weaving spindles
crafting the mosaic
of a complex American
complexion

the possibility
the promise
laid before us
wheat fields
of democracy
tilled planted
attended

the wondrous yields of
an Appalachian Spring
the promise
hectare of grace
apportioned to all
citizens

the promise
harvest of liberty
freedom
of opportunity
all anointed
freemen
conferred an
amazing grace

civil discourse
was once spoken
we can learn the
lost languages again
sitting on the porch
with neighbors
sipping ice tea
sharing thoughts on
hot summer evenings
caring too care

but scoundrels
became heroes
we fetishized
idiosyncrasies
of insisted
entitlement

we ******
the whole by
exalting the part

we dare not condemn them
lest we condemn ourselves




6.

the west was once woolly wild
I hear the sweeping sound
of my youth rustle again
the dramatic symphony
of a brilliant people
filled with courage
undeterred optimism
claiming a continent
manifesting a new
Pax Americana
a century
of immigrants  

coming to integrate
coming to assimilate
coming to believe in the promise
coming to make a new promise

I came to hear Copland
when I was young

when America was young
when promises were made
and sworn by a brilliant
fanfare of trumpets

when America was young
Copland composed
when America was young
a promise was made

come forth brothers
come forth sisters
come claim
the promise
of a simple gift


Aaron Copland:
Billy The Kid

11/29/11
Oakland
jbm
The trees have shed everything in defiance of frozen air,
Nudely and bravely they boast of their strength with a stoic’s stare.
Their leaves have deserted them, their fruit has fallen, they don’t care.
The trees in January stand strong in loneliness, and bare.

Is their naked strength in the wind how they are supposed to be?
Do they welcome autumn, to rid themselves of their greenery?
Perhaps they don’t notice that the lives they gave have set them free?
They have lost something beautiful, but are they less of a tree?

Spring water flows into their roots, branches drop their icy weight,
The first sun-kissed buds emerge to witness the tree foliate.
But does the tree even notice this, its cause to celebrate?
The tree is at its life-giving most, but it does naught but wait.

The tree changes before me, and because of it I change, too.
But in that moment, when I love that tree, it feels nothing new.
And I think back, if the moment someone loved me, if I knew?
But I am too like the tree, oblivious to what is true.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
HIGHQUEUEMIN Jan 2012
It’s human nature

Withholding for no reason

Why am I surprised?
Poet took a grandiose leap of faith,
   amid a big swig of moonbeams
   dabbling toes beyond starry galaxies
Milky Way spun in translations
    Pluto still looked perplexed,
Big Dipper gave a smart **** grimace
    wondering what the hell was
   going on 'neath the stratosphere
   when human beings can't keep
       their heads above ambiguous clouds
            feet  firmly planted on ground,
delving lofty heaven's bliss
     escaping the wrath of hell's fire,
  aggrandizing endless poesy that
absorbs sparks of a universal desire
        never phasing sun's obstinance,
   but, if you believe in poetry
      there's no telling where
        boundless skies will surrender**

...and the man in the moon tilted on his axis in a
    backward's spiral and unabashedly winked
Jess Brady  Sep 2015
ABC Drugs
Jess Brady Sep 2015
Always acrimonious about allowing anyone around.
Baneful behavior caused by a belligerent boy in the background.
Crack doesn't **** if you're careful, they coerce.
Don't do drugs and use your dollars to disperse.
Elude every emotion except empty and exhausted.
Forget every feeling that he fabricated and fostered.
Glassy eyes look guilty and glimmer groggily.
Halcyon is halted, heave into havoc hazily.
Iniquity makes insatiable impulses inherent.
Justify joints with Jane as joy jaunts without judgement.
Killer Ketamine kisses knock-out keen knowledge.
Lovesick, lonely, loveless, led towards the ledge.
Marijuana manipulated meditation makes musing mystical.
Nebulous nadir needs nicotine for nostalgia and nirvana neurochemicals.
Oxycontin as an oasis for obtrusive obstinance.
Panacea is a parody of popping pills, the provinence.
Secret street corners selling shrooms and speed.
Troubled tired teen talks about truth and tragedy.
Ubiquitous umbrage under unfathomable urges.
***** vacates vulnerable verges.
Wail and woefully wallow in **** while waning my whit.
Yield and yearn for yao, yes you can stand it.

Puff puff pass.
Puff puff laugh.
It's funny how the drugs lasted longer than our love has.
A poem exploring the use of drugs to escape heartbreak.
Bell Apr 2021
yestereve we succame
A lengthy ballad of longing
formerly one of obstinance
flared in a cacophony of passion

Whilst usually twirling in a seemly epitome fashion,
yestereve a caprice thought laid heavy on hearts
as there was no doubt of desire
nor were there objections to her
for even when my affections consumed you
lady desire was just an inexorable

yestereve she picked petals from a Sinensis blossom
there went the pain
any semblance of grudge
along with sanity
reason
and lastly, walls as carefully constructed as that of Pyramus and Thisbe's
such vulnerability unmatched
for your sweet scent lulled me from the arms of reason
for reason, although safe,
is the most intricate and fragile part of the ballad
and the first to fall victim to the cascade

What a fool I must be to have gladly forgotten the kinks of your hands
or the freckles on the back of your neck that form a perfect triad.
The way your upper lip curls when you grin
made my glissade blissful and passionate
Your flustered twirl
the very epitome of aubade

Ignorant of the harsh retombe of reality
Your flustered face En L'air
Every touch a pleasant surprise that formed a grand symphony

A moment of unfiltered emotion
A heavenly ballad
so cruelly of yestereve.
twas hard to replicate this feeling after knowing how it all ends
The Terry Tree Aug 2014
Invisible leaf that resides among one billion
Reminding us at will to stand still
The constant battle that our lifetimes can create
Aren't always open to agree or negotiate
Much like your nymphs we are like children
Crying in obstinance "Deliver us from evil!" with your grace

Teach us to draw upon our powers
Guide us to step down from our towers
Open up our ignorance to unlimited dimensions
Of consciousness and gentle contemplation
As we align our will with God
Spirit Mantis instruct our inner faith

Enabling our prophecy of strength and ancient peace
Bringing forth the song that sings and dreams
Of loving life force in between us, every soul
Survival's toll is not just individual
Calm as can be to walk on water and to believe
That every son and every daughter has a place

Look into the eyes of praying mantis
Observe the way her clever stance is
Like a meditation pose and prayer-like dance
He is our guide to quietly reside inside
The home our heart protectively shares and confides
A safety zone, a loving tone, and glowing space

As I kneel, as we pose, as we pray for all of those
Who cannot hear or see the beauty you bestow
Spirit guide us, please un-divide us
Show us your tranquil meditative flow
And in this may we hear what we behold
Will allow comfort to become the world we know

© tHE tERRY tREE
Classy J  Feb 2018
Lockdown
Classy J Feb 2018
Lockdown
People say I’m a schizophrenic but don’t hate for sometimes life just gets so hectic. Don’t know if I need a exorcist or a medic, or maybe I should ask a priest and get some advice so prophetic. Maybe I ask buddha or maybe I forget it all by taking a hit of *****. Should I ask Joseph smith or Muhammad but weren’t they just humans too, should I go ask Ron Hubbard’s ghost but don’t know how much that would actually do. Should I ask the great nothing that atheists swear by, perhaps I should I look into mysticism or should I give a ouija board a try. Hello mr.therapist we meet again, what do you think because the wheels have fallen off this wagon. Put needles in me like a voodo doll, because I’m messed up and rely on adderall. In the mental asylum talking to myself in my safety jacket, and my imagination is strong just the other day I pretended I was the guy from full metal jacket. **** ***** maggot causing a racket and sometimes I’m a inspector playing around with gadgets. Go-go gadget for I will eventually catch that dastardly wabbit, could make this my habit because I might as well for I’m bat ****. Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na Batman getting rid of these bad men who hold bad omens. O men of little faith we should sit back and wait, for it’s a strategist mind state. Hello darkness my old friend the worlds on lockdown wondering when someone’s going to push the button.Clean up on aisle insert country name here, but people think I’m as ridiculous as the mad hatter there’s always a conspiracy somewhere. Like 9/11 was orchestrated by your own government, or how the moon landing was screened on a elaborate movie set. Perhaps the earth is flat, perhaps Matt groening is a time traveller have you ever thought of that? What obstinance I must be ridiculous, what is this a sedative uh oh now I’m starting to lose consciousness. Woke up in a interrogation room, and had a person lurking in the shadows with red eyes I thought he was zoom. Want to get out of there in a flash, but I’m locked down so I can’t make a dash. Now it says here that you’ve been saying **** you shouldn’t, and it wouldn’t matter to us if you disappeared but that would sure **** for you wouldn’t it? Look here men in black you can’t control me, for I got a brain unlike the rest of these zombies. You can’t just zap this away and make me forget, and if you discard me I’ll just be a martyr that stood up to this *******. Well if that’s the way it’s going to be then you leave us no choice but to do things the hard way. Bring it on *****!
brooke  Mar 2016
Crab Wontons.
brooke Mar 2016
maybe i got caught up in that rustic
devil-may-care way that you leaned
on any counter, how the hot oil from
your grandmother's pans shot up and
flecked across the posterior of your
hand and you didn't even flinch, just
sort of sighed through your teeth
and how I spent the few seconds after
that wishing I could press myself against
your back because you are so solid.
But I digress, because I've learned that
idolizing people is a mess of self-inflicted
palsies

Nevertheless, my affinity for compounding
problems manifests in my lack of willpower,
in your forearms that are like thick bristlecone pine
branches, dry and scarred with your
obstinance--

and when you would go to wash your
hands, you'd roll your sleeves in
this rough, intensely **** manner
with your hip pushed up against
the lip of my sink, working the
dirt out of your knuckles.
So as you kneaded your fingers
back and forth; your Venke's
pulsing, I found myself to
be too hungry for you,
for this

I've never been around so much
man,  so much cord and bark
i've never touched a person and
not felt like I was going to slip
through them like some spectral
being, like their spine would
give way before they bend in
two around my palm, barely
grounded by their own
body weight.
The difference is (was?) that
you feel so full, so stalwart
and



(I got to thinking; maybe I wasn't ready.
Because for all your worth, all your
redeemable qualities, I'd cashed in on
the way you made me feel when
I hadn't for so long and that's not
the way I want to,
Not the way I
Want to
Not the
Way )
and we are

(c) Brooke Otto 2016

i wanted to leave this in my drafts but here it is.

written to Death Row by Jimi Charles Moody, definitely sets the mood if you're interested.

— The End —