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allen currant Oct 2014
wind blown bodies
rush by flustered
and the diagonal
rain is exposed
under the one
streetlight

that feeling of waking
up and everything is
exactly the same

where has the warmth
gone? it is in that wood
stove with logs stacked
neatly outside the
uprooted tree did not
die for nothing

the only place to go is
back go back home
back to work back to
sleep back against the
wall

at night i used to hear
whispers clues and
remnants of an
unknowable beauty

now i walk always
with listless purpose
and it is loud but
empty the scraps
banished and i wake
up to the dreaded
sameness that robs
me of my body
allen currant Oct 2014
every monday
she says she
wakes up
regretting
who she is

that going
through all
the *******
and fear is
not worth it

every monday
wishing for the
other side the
life of power
of comfort and
ignorance

every monday
she wakes up
wishing
she was not
a woman
i spent a long time talking with some friends and hearing the painful stories the women had was gut wrenching.  i don't often look to imbue my poems with definitive meaning but i want everyone to realize there is a constant, daily struggle that all women go through.  every single decision has to be calculated and then later analyzed to influence further behavior.  women are in a chess match with society to simply lead a comfortable existence and that will not stop until we destroy misogyny and make sexism a thing of the past.  if you are a man, think about your actions and decisions for once, see what it feels like, you are under no threat.  there must be an open, candid dialogue that exposes the virulent ignorance of our male dominated, overly masculine culture and forces everyone to rethink how they exist in that culture.
allen currant Oct 2014
hidden in
history and
buried under
layers upon
layers of
sediment

lithified and
cemented
in the dark
no uplift
no melting

locked away
in a vault
with no
combination
no key no code

resting silent
in a file in a
cardboard box
under a table
in some well
kept well lit
office building

clinging to
cobwebs in a
safe musty
basement
behind the
water heater

there lies
everything
i've felt every
thing i've
ever wanted
to be
allen currant Oct 2014
i went looking
for hemingway
among the stacks
found two of
his works and
two dozen critiques

hemingway and...
hemingway with...
blank and hemingway
analysis of....
a look into...

i saw in those
spines hundreds
of lives destroyed
by a drunk who
drove an ambulance
in the war

but what a writer
he was
allen currant Oct 2014
oh you
are broken?
as if you were
functioning so
recently

you are still
functioning
nothing broke
everything works

you were not
half of a whole
you have a
hole we
always do

your "you's"
make me queasy
"you" traps
contorts everybody
into a conformity
traditional
archaic

"you left me broken"
like a simile
of a fragile bird
or plain nature
please tell more
about that internal
fire
please

your heart beats
just the same
there is beauty
in you

so do not talk
to "you"
whoever "you" is
they are gone
and it is clear
"you" got inside
but they did not
break a thing
allen currant Oct 2014
a girl is waving
through the
window those
much too big
windows of
the library

clanging with
vending machine
change and the
humming that
is tucked into
some well lit
corner

she is waving
oh her way to
forget her head
but she is almost
almost there

she is waving at me
through the window
and i wave back
on an impulse

left staring at the
window wondering
what it was
that made her wave
allen currant Oct 2014
a famous poet
once said,
"you must be
incapable of
sharing wisdom
of your own"
and i have to
say i agree
with him

it's like that
distinguished
philosopher
once said
"the fact that
you know who
i am does not
make you smarter"
and that rings
true to me

the way i see it
if you want my
opinion if you
ask me i think
i think
"..."
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