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 Mar 2022 Seranaea Jones
Khoisan
Disengaged purple haze
Hearts in hands
a ring of lust
inside the mound
cheating murmurs
gagged sound
head down
on her knees,
if you please
the autumn sounds
of leaves in a chapel
deep underground
~
A room lives in Zoria
And also the trees
At a critical distance
She seeks their shelter
An abiding solace
To wash free
To swim sea
Who can blame
The suffering of her stream
Whether it be
A time for hanging on
Or a time for passing
Let the waters come
And overtake her
Flooding her with
Safeguarding arms

~
For those suffering in Ukraine
I imagine the man across the alley judges me
but I don’t know
I think she likes me
but I don’t know.

I feel sad about the thoughts of him and her
that I don’t even know
my imagination captures me in an I-loop.

Then I read Edmund’s poem
                      he takes me on a spiritual adventure
                                    into peace, love, life, nowhere, somewhere,
                                              dancing in the rain

I think about dancing in the pain
               and here I am still waltzing
                            dripping and glistening.

Poetry invites imagination.
This poem originated in my mind after reading Edmund black’s wonderful poem, “When Words don’t Reach,” https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4550183/when-words-dont-reach/  I had been caught in a depressing loop of pain and mind focus on my back pain. Not much imagination there. Until I read Edmund’s poem. And he made me ask myself if I could dance in the pain. Thank you Edmund.
When words don’t reach
                    Peace is death
                       Pain is life
                             Hell is love
                  
                  Somewhere is nowhere’s
                                 To hide


                 When words don’t reach
                               Death is peace
                                 Life is pain
                                   Love is hell

                    Nowhere is somewhere
                                      To hide.

                     When words don’t reach
                             The whole world
                                  Dance in the rain.
A Bro/Ken  🌎
The sky can only be kissed by a poet.
I swim against God's awful
tide my whole ****** life.
I'm determined to find love
from anything that matters.
My heartbeats a jackhammer
tearing up the concrete in
terrible no name streets we
strolled before our deaths.
Even the most devout Christians
accept that Jesus was a guy
guys get ***** as do gals.

Yes, all of us have a creator in us
starlight
life-creating energy
poetry
and prose.

Maybe Jesus didn’t have the kind of darkness in him
that we have
the kind of drag
of pride and self-centeredness
that I have,
but by God!
he was faced with the same choices
between fidelity and desire
between horniness and selfless love.

Yep I fail in ways he did not
but he failed to get rid of lust just like I do
he failed to avoid selfish desires.
Of course, I act on them
and ***** up in ways he did not.
But do you think he didn’t feel ******* up at times?
Of course he did.

All of this humanity
is what makes me like him.
Jesus was a guy.
That he was more
is what makes me love him.
My mama had pictures of Jesus with rouge and a pretty face in our home. I never did like those pictures of him. Then I saw a picture of Salvadore Dali's Christ of St. John of the Cross. That's the kind of Jesus I could relate to as a teenager and young man. When I got my own apartment I got a print of that picture of this man on the cross. It captivated me and set me on a path to pursue this guy who was human and hairy like me. At that time in my life and for the rest of it, I did not like an overly divinized Jesus, a Jesus that made him less than human.
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