"albrecht" poems
Awake to your heart beating
in your stomach, in your thoughts, in your skin,
wildly
Awake to your fingers clasping your
own chin
As what sounds like another man
but isn't, he's you
screams aloud words you can't make out
Awake to your chest in a cold sweat
Only then,
Awake and
tell me
about your
so called
nightmares
- salome albrecht
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
Tap, tap, and tap faster now
to the beat she’d exclaim
Her fingers would dance over black and white keys
as her expression screamed passionate
She held herself up with ease, dressed in love
Poise could very well be her middle name
Patience and respect dangled, I imagined
from her tousled brown hair
Laughter to be thankful for in her piano lesson
Clap, clap, and clap faster now
to the beat she’d exclaim
- salome albrecht
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
Six O’clock knocking on the shadow
of an older generation
He’s blind, imprisoned
after a lifetime of adventure
Screaming out loud
through his expression, motionless
Mr. Lovemore,
blind grey eyes capture me and leave me heartbroken
Fascinated by the walk of his past,
he’s a teacher , I’ll push him in a wheelchair
He can imagine I’m pushing him through Africa
Six O’clock, a listener
as I read out loud to him, old aged
- salome albrecht
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
un-damaged brains are such fertile fields
waiting to be sowed - as those with infantile
imagination are prone to dyslexic deficiencies
and given their dreams, have ensured their imaginations
be like foetal embryos - those prone to nightmares
will never be prone to Disney's wedlock being fulfilled -
dreams are imagination's thieves - and memory short-circuiting
a fake - analysis of conscious memory
is unlike analysis of unconscious memory -
albrecht dürer seemed sensible - we've become sensible,
but also too naive - our modern sensibility
extends into a belief in demons and angels
with modern pharmaceutical companies -
nothing has changed even though man is
in flux - with modern dentistry's trickery -
how can man trust man
and not feel obliged to distrust him
for reasons that provide us with travelling communes
or jeep-sees - see what lost diacritical approaches does
to the tongue entombed in optics? chiral-optics -
you can say gypsy and say jeep-see like a handshake.
god, we're paying for our original sin
with the virtuoso of animal plagiarism -
a mere peasant is also but a mere Mozart -
i too claim my right to talk easily among scaffold-men,
talk of his girlfriend and Smurfs due to height
and Gargamel - i rather among them than in
what is talked as the pop of the Smiths' vocab
of schooling and regret blues; cats demonic, dogs
saintly.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
Albrecht Dürer’s
brush and ink
on tinted blue
Gently touching
long-fingered
“Praying Hands”
Stirring religious
veneration and piety
since he drew them
My pale
imitation
performed each night
Freckled hands
stubby fingers
chewed fingernails
Stirring divine
forgiveness and love
each time I bow my head
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
*Albrecht Durer didn't paint houses
Rosa Parks wasn't content with her seat on the bus
And Randolph ain't playing covers for a bar full o' drunks* ...
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 11:50 PM UTC