CK Baker Mar 2017
the walls of inside passage
look the same
from sound to straight
tugs and plugs
dot the coastline
and the quartermaster rolls
giving time for evening glare  

pods are in sequence
and the high tail smashes
and jaws at the krill
white bellies and sea cows
bob and weave
as bow heads glide
over haida gwaii  

northern lights dance
and tlingit chant
as the tide settles softly
on savory shores
their getting hungry in hoonah
as the blue back and beating drums
mark the life blood of the sea  

driftwood nets
and sitka spruce
surround the cook house
ravens and tinhorns
man the scullery
kerosene lamps flicker
as clam shells roast on open flames  

villagers stroll
on pebbled sand
…in the harbor of souls
where ships set sail
on might and mass
into the steady winds
of the golden skies


ice fields (to the north)
of kryptonite blue
cutting hills at
a glacial pace
knuckle clouds
above the snowline
where warlocks
craft a hidden trade  

trappers, skinners
muscle shoals
grizzly feast
in kodiak bowl
determined pilgrims
on dead horse trail
in search of gold
the holy grail
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
I only took the moon veiled in my cube
I took her innate water off but not for good.
Now the sun can’t take its eyes
off the blindfolded black moon!
Off this night the sunup is yet to unleash
the dawn, let alone the tucked away noon!
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2
~for Kim Johanna Baker and Edmund Black~

The Instigation:
Edmund  Black “weary weighted,” I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“


<•>

both of you shush;

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace,

the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common
that an honorable,
so gladly accepted


so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better
for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
It broke through the black box
shining down the sky
the first light touched
the bottom of the night!

Yet the sun sets, flies away.
Didn’t it catch the black swan night?
I never knew I could love, Love.
B/c as a young girl, Love was..
Daddy’s anger flashing before our eyes.
It was all the lies,
That we insisted on living by.
Like “sometimes you need tough love”
Which usually consisted of..
Beatings for hair brushes left on the kitchen table.
Or Ma’s love for alcohol that made her unable,
To love me..
They way I needed to be.

It was the rule “out of sight, out of mind”
That always tried to turn a blind...
Eye to the things that never really felt right.  
Trying hard everyday to hold tight. 
Like those weave braids that I loved to hate,
B/c the gripping pain kept me up late.
Still, I never dared complained,
B/c I learned early that beauty was pain.
& my hair was to be a crown to a queen,
Taking the spotlight from all insecurities seen..
B/c let’s face it , middle school boys can be mean.
Always mocking my “white girl” name,
Digging up my dirty shame.
Then here came,
The “hot boys” that was full of game.
Always playing w/ my emotions,
Inviting drama like I ain’t already live w/ commotion.
Like I wasn’t already,
Unsteady.

“If it don’t apply, let it fly”
Like Mama said, “never let em see you cry”
But to be honest I was a bit confused,
Then again, slightly amused.
B/c I was taught boys are mean when they like you,
I learned early being hurt was something to value.
One day Ms. Jackson told me “pay em no mind”
But I thought it was only right that they’d, KISS MY BEHIND.
But I said nothing cuz I knew “stay in a child’s place”,
Letting my frustration take me to outer space.

Where there I could fantasize how it feels,
To be head over heels.
For someone who,
Doesn’t have to...
Live 2 lives w/ a chick on the side,
That will end w/ Aunt E keying his ride.
Damn, there I go again , running my big ole mouth,
Telling people “what goes on in this house”.

It wasn’t long before I caught..
On to the idea that love wasn’t what I thought,
B/c this Love constantly resisted & fought!
& it too didn’t seem,
To want to be loved by this thing..
Called Love .

Then came the moment when lost, I found,
The most beautiful sound..
Of a heart beat living within me,
I was chosen to be..
His mother, & learn of everlasting..
Love that has been contrasting..
My views everyday.
& I must say,
I was going the wrong way,
Tryna find where Love stay.
& all along it’s been within me,
Both figuratively,
& literally.

It was a blessing when me & Darelle’s world clashed..
Together. & Together we smashed..
Down every figment,
Of what I thought Love meant.
Or should I say what Love was ..
Because...

Now, Love is,
My heart beat syncing w/ his.
Replacing my dark days with light,
Now, Love actually feels right.
It flows out naturally w/o trying,
Taking away my every breath w/o dying.
Life is renewed within me..
Every time I see..
Kamari’s beautiful face,
Watching his incredible soul fill up any space.
& now that I know,
What I know..  
I love,
Love.
Anthony Perry Jan 2016
I am unsolved, I am a statue in mortality, my smile has had an impact on society but my life has never been absolved

All I wanted to do was entertain, but instead, someone betrayed me and let my blood fall like rain and with nothing to gain

Before and after, my eyes have always been open so while you figure out who's the killer wheather it was Rob, Ed, or that guy Hansen, I have to wait, invisible to the world and lost until then

I've been killed, tortured but you all just talk about which side they cut first or how my body tore, the name is Black Dahlia and that name has become a media whore

My smile has been smeared ear to ear, my body severed in half, my veins drained of every quart but I am still proud to say my name is Elizabeth Short
Kody dibble Mar 2015
Racing, blind nights gone weary,
Missing like cold wind, blowin'
Trees, objects of nature caught ruthlessly divine,
Simple cognition or possible chasing lights drowning tears mark moons and mansions alike, in the presence of fire,
The great blind rat lifting it's tail, in disgrace showing motionless mass,
Get the blackness on the Jordan river death urge silently moving like herds of sheep in the hills of Holy

Thousands of nation men, trodden down with sand and mud just to get the right passage of mind and thought
A small Vietnamese girl,
About the size of a...
Nevermind the voices you hear they all come awake and slowly disappear

Droughts of ether alike in tunes I might just do without the rest of doubts hedges lawns and patios
Glazed in passionate flowers
Paradoxical a nebula unhidden,
Slow chasing the candle lit masks
Yeash
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