mornings brew a coffee-colored universe:
milky way of latte mixes,
spiral galaxies whirl on the caffeine-intoxicated mug
ground beans fell like the Geminid showers,
the aroma danced with rising planets,
and swirling reverse black hole of sweet bitterness lets you taste warmth and satisfaction.

like a shot of caffé espresso,
i would never think twice drinking:
though it scorches the mouth
i'll take the stellar influx,
just give you the taste of heaven
that the cosmic dreams only had.

Revenge itches, where love never reaches,
It itches in the shared cups,                          
                in the shared beds
                in the shared bodies,
But never, in the shared hearts,
For these days, they are not shared

All love is today,
Is a folkdance in a folkworld,
With folks one will never truly love,
But pretend to be loving, Living
How lively!

The roads, the parks, the brothels,
All flood with bodies, not souls
For the vessels are empty,
staring at each other's empty faces,
Prizing empty words to one another,
And mocking anybody different,
How lively!

And in such fragrance too,
Some bear to protest,
The lively call them dead,
In which case, dying is more beautiful

I never drank out of my
                        empty vessels..

They were expendable
                              holders.

Instead I put Ketchup in them,
            my chips diving deeply.

Every so often a chip would sink
       into this cup sinking slowly...


Only to be found once the potato morsels
                had clung to every tomato..

I do love my little egg cup,
His brother much the same,
He holds my egg so perfectly;
Boiled eggs are not a game.

They bounce about for 4 minutes
Before they take their test,
They need a place to hold them straight;
My egg cups are the best.

When the soldiers are awaiting,
Those buttered friends of mine,
I need my little egg cups
To keep them all in line.

They come with little cosy hats
To hide their eggy heads,
I take it off and just like that;
Prepare for eggy bread!




© Karen L Hamilton, 2013

Cup your palms around
that candle dear lazy
Spells to cast to the wombs
keep our ghosts outside
peering into tent *****
yellowing irises and
stamens strangely swaying
but nonsense
Butte no
out there
they stalk you dear lazy

Though the lines are false - The words hold true, We lose our minds to the little ***** that our brains have - Lost, Treasures we believe mean more to us than those who buried them - Why follow a stray letter that blows towards our lovers, Caught blind & broken- with only the last words that may have said I Love You, Watch us laugh realizing - That our Pain causes everyone else the humor they seek, Flee from the land and - Find the place our roots first began to grow, My understanding of I that found - out he was she, that began at we, Oh to feel the tears of our holy faith - infrequent but ever so prevalent, Finding out that big words we use take - small ones to explain their meaning, Pleased with the dictation, this line looks stitched, A Puzzling fear causes the hand to quake but it fights the - shiver, tell a story about what was written, lose yourself in a call for - eyes, These are the last words of this poem they mean very little I Love You

the roses on her grave are dead,
so am i
the ground is frozen solid,
can you hear the deer wander
reincarnation
can you hear the flutter of the butterfly wings?
abandoned tea cup in the shed
now a spiders home
i'm alone