Though they walk down every street
To people that you want to meet
And take you where you want to go
Running fast or walking slow
They never seem to get the love
That the face does up above
They never let you down
yet they're forgotten on the ground
So maybe once a little treat
For your tired weary feet
fun poem, we are always using creams and potions on our face but never really care for our feet
show me how to wear diamond
dreams without trembling
beneath their weight.
I am a pebble, peeled off
from a peak, fraying and falling,
faltering at its feet. end up
locked between the lips of
married mountains; eyes
hinged to the sky, feet sinking
into earth, chest caving into
a coffin where my heart hides
its head. as despair crawls
in to devour the decay, I linger
between the decomposition, dead
to dust to soil—waiting
to bloom again.
Hand motions in the pattern of a cross
and a baptism from a few yards away.
Early morning in a suggestive state and he was
honest about what he saw, and how he feels.
Traps laid in the ether
long - long ago.
the bread crumbs are the blades of
serrated knife edges if the red shroud is
allowed to veil our vision.
But it is not
for the garment is worn loose.
And before the children of God
discovered blue dye,
the sky was a searing violet.
Eyes to the east and the keys of
death and Hades hung from his tongue
as his face burned with the fire of 10,000 suns.
His flare for the drama is an American quality
and his feet were forged of bronze.
Late sep 2020
as autumn plants her feet,
cities burst into smoke, shades
and silence, until I can only sit
& grieve as a ruby-dream fades
into the mist; tell me this is earth
breaking feasts to mark the birth
of our bond, tell me this remains
the season where hearts rain
like leaves as they, as we, fall
in love beneath golden trees
& we'll only need to loosen our all
to cling tighter than we please;
tell me that when the perils flee,
you'll return, arms open-- tell me.
The messenger must be ready
To pack his bags and leave.
He will not cling to useless weight,
His message is too sweet.
He will not stop to catch a breath,
He cares not for his needs.
He runs to tell of what he knows
— A poet with his feet.
The soldier stands in shining mail
And seems, of men, the best.
Because he stand on guard all night,
The citizens can rest.
He has no need to question if
He’ll pass the final test.
In bravery he'll meet the foe
— A poet with his chest.
The farmer tends his crops and reaps
The produce of the land.
He plows the field and tills the dirt
According to his plan.
His yield, year round, is sustenance
For animal and man.
He helps the tender seeds to grow
— A poet with his hands.
The scholar can by careful thought
Reveal the source of rain.
He takes a youth with passions wild
And makes him wise and tame.
O’er books and notes he slaves all night,
Our hearts and minds to train.
In gold he never found his wealth
— A poet with his brain.
The poet fills a simple verse
With wisdom to the brim.
He feels within his breast that beauty
Is his closest friend.
Where does the humble poet fit
Among these noble men?
The poet, with his measured words,
Is all these with a pen.
you are like a big toe
you're ugly and you smell funny
i really need you though
you balance me out
There lieth the one of marble limbs
with crystal sealed eyes
on the porphyry bed
with Syrian nard upon her feet
and pomegranate flowers in her hand
the queen of star land
in the House of Purple
the centuries grow on her back
with colours ever flowing
through her darling palace grotesque
where muddles the Form and Time
in exquisite shape she is there
the poppy queen
sweet tasting lover of the Death
with brittle passions she has build
the gardens of tusk like stalactite
in her ever jewelled chalice
the Sphinx drinks of Lethe's wine
and penetrates with odour
of the Acheron
in the purple corridors
there is joy of silk and pearl and azure
and moon marble monolith
she will kiss thy lips Adonis
in the rosewood path
she will milk thy heart Antinous
amongst the first spring buds
she will drink your eyes Helen
in her waterlily bed
she will rip your body Daphne
in her night veiled labyrinth
the Land and Sea and their Lords all
have bowed their rose gentle heads
in her land of liquid
to the queen of New and Old
Moving the feet
Left and right
Belief in belief
On this wintery night
Beneath the starlight
Looking at the dark blue
The racing in the head
All the things left unsaid
The messeges never sent
Non escapable, this
non answering pleas
No ease, no fire
all smoke, left cold
Life is a lie
What a life
The cold feet,