#havens
the waters of the Sound, churning,
make my hands a five-in-hand knotted,
full of writhing wriggling writing poem
lines with an go<hesitant~go slow, knowing that,inspiration is daring me, just as the whitecaps are, troubled trolling so nearby,
gone can hear them mocking me with their
17knot ‘breeze,’ your lyrics are but
blowing in the wind, soon enough will
shift to someone else, leavening your
deflation with a non~riser sour-dough mix
of unfinished sadness
in advance, knowings that every poem
more like a Monarch butterfly, here but
for a momentary traversal travesty,
gone faster than the eye blink, and this
infilling fleeing fleet urgency more
likely to die on the pyre of unfinished
rejected draftees, unselected for service
nonetheless ~ “follow” lyrics refuse me
to let~leave a poor tribute to vine~die, the
fingers speak in unison, urging me on,
not wanting to escape from this fantasizing
moment, urging me to tap tap tap
evermore!
“ Come taste and smell the waters of our time,”
Richie invites us all to find our own water,
let it work its magic upon our
nerve endings, but,
mine full of sendings, how?
can one sit seated in the Poet’s Nook,
same vista, no visa required ~
just to see it each time
differently, only the truly creative can love it
so much, that they tip into unexplored unexploited
veins of fresh blood and words
and eyes that discern and earn the ability
to write of the old with new inside insights
those! they are the ones you need to follow!
creators! with a small C, see them feel, see them divine with rod, their original water,
from which they emerged, and drink once more, for the water follows them like nutrients, raw materials that nourishes
and they in turn, return to their watery
birth site, their emotional placentae,
drawing from, returning to it new creations
for all of us to follow, fire our senses,
make us!
make art in all our hearts,
and don’t mind me, just
*”close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
‘cos*”
We
ain’t nothing but a dream,
our disguised muses visiting,
pleading to be
usefully used…
Aug 28, 2024
Aug 28, 2024 at 3:02 PM UTC
Hong Kong protesters out in the streets
It's there they clash with police
Fighting to avoid legislative defeat
That would put them in the reach
Of the government's gripping grief
Hong Kong was a place to hide from fascism
But became a mad schism
Driven by hedonism
Justifying a decision
For China to make an incision
Meanwhile in Mexico
They're telling the rest to go
Back to their own country
Because a fascist is hunting
Using social issues for stunting
To distract from economic punting
Mexico was a tolerant purgatory
For those avoiding a death so gory
That nobody would know their story
As the drug cartels take all the glory
With the police and politicians they're affording
Using all the drugs they're exporting
These places used to be safe havens
From corruption laden
Militant ravens
Who are actually craven
Hiding behind guns and the arraignment
Of any other tribe walking their pavement
Now there's nowhere to escape
From the horrible hate
In this globalist state
So the noblest slate
Is to no longer wait
And set things straight
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 4:45 PM UTC