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Left Foot Poet Apr 2014
The first cut, indeed, the deepest, for when they cut the umbilical chord, and a life forever, alone, now forever commenced, another
sea of troubles, a cursed journey begins.

"Judge, O you gods,  how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all"

julius-caesar act-iii-scene-ii
Left Foot Poet Apr 2014
all thy
despairing words,
lifted from furrowed-lined brow

resting now
upon silver-trayed fingertips,
whereupon and thereupon,
enhanced, rotated, cropped,
18kt gold coated

turned to a good turn

ported to a novice station

sorted to unforeseen places

don't ask why,
please do not cry,
it is what
needs doing

possess the unpleasant,

format all cares, away, away,
onto a calendar of a new life,
a world where

where sugar is dietetic,
everything that tastes good,
all taken in moderation,
lest you lose too much weight,
all cavities are filled with good

where we all speak in rhymes,
dueling wits laughing,
collapsing into each other's arms
succumbing to each other's
oral pleasuring

where apples grow on
Eden trees,
Red, for love eternal,
Green, for life perpetual

as for knowledge,
well that inherent,
what you need to know,
what you seek to know,
desired and sudden there,
for all need knowing
inherited, and well-placed,
simply awaiting your asking

even inspiration,
beckoned, binary

this, my world,
now, yours...
Poetoftheway Jul 2020
brown skin farmer girl (this changeling poem)


we are I’ve decided

alike and unlike.

I know, an epiphany.

we are both brown skinned,

the sun has wrested my skin

buried it in dark loamy,

soiled brown side by side,

now alike.

your hair is long(er)

now, mine too.

a cascading mountain ranging,

edging south from your Columbia,

to my  Columbia

over my ears, down my neck,

which like yours, dreams knightly

of being loved by endless kisses,

a prince(ss) charmant


we could not be

more different,

than how god us designed.

but here’s the rub,

people change,

they dream of becoming,

reinventing the original design,

and this explains

not the why, but the how,

how this poet came to write

this changeling poem


and you think we could not be more different and
more alike, and you would be rightly correct.
Left Foot Poet Jul 2020
what color is hate?

think hard, answer, not easily up-conjured,
obvious choices, careful be, exclude not, some voices,
no rush, think upon it careful, after all, hate hates variations,
it, as old original as the Garden of Eden

you desire answer, something quick, *****,
look to very nature of hate, so easy spewed,
after centuries of construction, yet, there is
nothing quick about hating, tho learnt early on

some variants of millennium length, eons short,
oh weep, at this great irony of ironies, hate is so
innate engrained, is it in the red blood, cells of the
white colored brain apparatus we all share?

unnatural impossibly genetic. don’t believe it.

hate is colorless like air, like clear water.
how else could it be so easy given, taken.
innocent innocuous is the color of hate,
easy transmitted, and never to be a vaccine

until it can be seen how we implant it within ourselves.

Sat Jul 11
Left Foot Poet May 2015
If she didn't color her hair,
what color would it be,
I ask,
making early morning holiday
bed talk

Gray, she replies

disputation, I say,
for I see yet much
brune underneath,
nary a single hairy grayling

smiling with affection,
she salutates:

appearances of a changeling,
I am or always be,

like one of your new poems,
using old words for new colors,
my rainbow always ends,

decorating our bed
Left Foot Poet May 2014

that which used to take ten minutes
now takes an hour or

something's that used to take an hour or
now take ten minutes, give or
(mostly I do the taking)

(or as the little voice whispers, the mostly

betcha you'd like to which is what
and what is which being bewitched,

I ain't spilling no beans
cause I value my insanity's privacy,
and I don't got to give that up just yet

but if you want the worst of what little I got left,
unhappily I will approach the old muse
begging me giving me something to use,
bad she turns away bad she say

"You all tricked out,
you wares worn,
ye old styles from yester last month
you been styled by
30 days max,
ring in the new, and if all sold,
or none-at-all,
too bad for you

then you gotta decide:

wear a watch
or watch the wearing
with  small
pleasures sighed,
confirming,  night-moves,
Keep On Keeping On
Left Foot Poet Jun 2020
 (1320 ~ 1389)

The tide of my love
Has risen so high let me flood over


Close your eyes for a moment
And maybe all your fears and fantasies

Will end.

If that happened
God would become an infant in your


And then you
Would have to nurse all


(20th - 21st century)

the floodplain of my love
has spread so wide encompassing all of


Opened your eyes forever
And every prayer and wish uttered see

true realized.

Since this is inevitable
God, our parent, will have raised us well,

each ever cherished.

And then you and I
obligated to write His song, name it

Left Foot Poet Jun 2020

another mourning morning, usual signs of warning,
wanted to wash away the distress signs of no sleep,
turned on the tap, out came only troubled waters,
my only friend, the voice from the mirror, pretending
to be coming from me, speaking: Oh Lord, Oh Lord!

is there no surcease for me, somewhere, can I find,
little bites, small plates, pieces of peace, the kind
of kindness that eases, repairs the dividers of mind,
the country stone fences that been growing wilder,
when, troubled child of 10, window breaking, beyond
youthful mischievousness, evil streaked, so deemed

Give me a boat, give me a bridge, give me a road, a home,
one of those things poets, songwriters about, wax lyrical,
Oh Lord, give me time, 45 seconds, even two or three,
Being strong, being confident, am I not entitled to that,
a boat, sturdy mast, cause sailing from storm to storm,
just glimpsing dry land, is that too much, a pale beyond?

love, nah, a bridge too far, not even on the menu, not blinded,
I am off key, not well enough, between the peaks between,
I am out of sync, bubbling discombobulated, a **** besided, behind,
lend  me a finger, not even a hand, a kernel, not even a cob,
a string, forget a rope, a washcloth to bathe and dry,

lay me down, lay me down, to live, even just not dying.
When you’re weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all, all
I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
When you're down and out
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you
I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Paul Simon
Left Foot Poet Jul 2015
for our children and their children

the reason we say so oft,
in whispers emboldened,

I love you

to our children
is not the utility of
its summarizing brevity

no, no.
it is because

the eloquence of simplicity
supersedes any other poem
we could ever write...

July 26 2015
Left Foot Poet May 2020
no plea here tendered,
long time are we past
the boundary of cooling
cooing brotherly tenderness

reason has been Joseph sold into slavery,
nary a Moses, who talks to God, is answered,
be seen or heard, to reconcile the divisive souls
of our fratricidal words

a morning’s reflection,
soon to be gone, passing,
of two pockmarked differing clouds,
scratching this morning blue drenched sky

a white, rotund cumulus rose,
one gray, rough, tumbled, worn,
ill tempered, of rain possessed,
but both clouds, each purposed

but this Sabbath day,
as this pale land reopens,
to bitter cries, minor rejoicing,
wise counsel, foundering, ignorance prevailing

forbearance, a weighty silence, circumscribed,
daytime highlights, disregarded, heads closed,
nowhere to found, just, a colorless pallor, a rasher
of fratricidal words
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