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Iraira Cedillo Mar 2014
Notes for the Cactus Poem
The teddy bear cholla and the fat fat

. . .
Iraira Cedillo Mar 2014
Notes for the Cactus Poem

The teddy bear cholla and the fat fat

. . .
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
a fool
came to my town
having no knowledge
of cacti

he was
greatly impressed
by a certain flower on a
cholla

before i
had a chance
to warn him, he put
his hand to the plant
and proceeded to breathe
deeply of the scent of
the bloom

"Ooouch!"
the obvious happened
i then proceeded to ask him
how it smelled

"It was the most beautiful fragrance
I have ever inhaled!" he said


So.
*who was the fool?
Try something new, even
if you may at first be afraid

Use caution, but sometimes
you could be pleasantly surprised!

THIS DOES NOT INCLUDE DRUGS
OR ANY SELF HARM BEHAVIOR

DON'T BE SILLY
AND STICK YOUR FACE
IN A CACTUS!

Cholla: the bristiest and
most unforgiving of all cacti

-
SøułSurvivør Aug 2015
... is being in
the fetal position
around a cholla cactus


10W
SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/15/2015
And ain't that the
TRUTH
JL Davis Jul 2017
For several long years,
A lonely speckled brown bird had been captured
From her home among the thorny shrubs
And prickly pear, her nest
In the barbed cholla cactus,
And kept as a prisoner locked up
In a metal cage and only being given
A minuscule amount of sustenance.
Sometimes she went a few days without
A thing at all.
Many times she went hungry for food
And kind companionship,
For her life behind bars was very dismal
That she even longed, many times,
For a quick death for then at least
She'd be free.
Oh!  If only!
If only!
If only she could find a way to flee..........
For she really was a brave little thing!
Indeed, she did believe that one day soon
She would be freed.

Not long after, her cage had been left open,
And so she had tried to
Escape but only to have the metal bars
Roughly shut before her.
And, all hope was gone.
Every day since then she's died
A little bit more and more with each
Passing day.
Oh, it was never in any outward way,
But instead, it was done on the inside of her,
In her heart and it greatly wounded her spirit,
Slowly, just like a flower that withers away
Under the sun's scorching ray,
So she too slipped quietly away...........
Slowly,
Slowly,
So slowly and feeling so alone and lowly.
For she was too weak and hadn't much strength
For even a beetle nor ant.
She now welcomed death,
"Please!  Come for me!"
Words spoken in desperation.
Words she would not recant.
And, with a torn and broken wing
That had been injured by her cruel
Imprisonment, she wasn't able to fly.

One day during the eighth month of August,
A severe thunderstorm struck,
Roiling across the vast dry desert
Landscape with flashes of bright lightening
And high tempestuous winds
That caused a cloud of dust
Along with a heavy downpour of raindrops.
This summertime storm continued raging,
Unmercifully and relentlessly,
For many, many hours.
And she was placed outside, alone
And frightened, amidst this catastrophe,
When along came a strong gust of wind
Swirling around her, knocking the cage
To the hard ground where the bars crashed open
Upon the rocks.
She could smell the cool damp air.
She could feel the warm wind ruffle her feathers
As the raindrops fell,
Pitter-patter, from the darkened sky,
Illuminated only by the bright flashes
Of lightening.
She heard the thunder and she was greatly
Frightened, but she knew that this was her last
Chance to escape the bars of her prison
And be free, forever and ever.
FOREVER.

She flew.
She flew as far and high and fast as her
Broken wings would let her go,
Up, up, up into the darkened stormy sky,
Where the thunder still roared just
As loudly and the lightening flashed
Just as brightly,
She flew.
She flew right on through the August's storm
And she found..........
FREEDOM.
At last.
Oh!  How she did fly so fast and so high!
How she did it she didn't know,
For she had always been just another bird
That never did know how to fly.
But, now.........
Look at her go!
Up, up, up she goes, all the way on to
The shores of Mexico!
Patrick Kennon Aug 2019
Soaking in the sun sitting soaked in sweat
Let me go, oh gentle soul, guide me down river
Giver of all, whetting stones for steel locks, stretched and sharpened
The tarp end vomits smoke, we sit and poke at embers
Who will be the enders, the final players of the game
When the angles get to complex to even stay, much less analyze
A burger and fries another artery dies, cauterized, desensitized
Flays land on the lip of the glass, imparting ****
This cigarette is down to the last hits, **** coffin nail
Move as slow as a snail, strike like lightening
The tightening of the eyes is reaction to chemical unload
Another rock in the road kicked into the gutter
harsh scratching rattle
Pushed from flat into bowl, pressure and precision
You wake up every day and try to envision
things going right
Put your spirit in flight, there is no reason to fight
Be a kid, fly a kite, everything can be alright
if we can just
love
Patrick Kennon Jul 2019
Something, small, silver
Turning in hand, of a child
Eyes wide, concussion, cry
Gap tooth ******
Sing slow, for me
Cane Cholla cufflinks,
barbwire scars
Chainsaw mars and disfigures
Sew it up with boiled
dental floss
Rayven Rae Aug 2018
melt into the sun, the infinite glow and breathe
penetrate: filter the soul’s contours
and grasp
closely
all that is holy and that which believes it is

dance in the infamy of a thousand giggles, a thousand *******
caress slowly and hold close the eyes of a lover
and surrender to your greatest fears
betray the demons, dance with butterflies

find the place inside where hidden lies
desire and indulge in chocolate covered kisses

sing songs of peppermint songs of rubberband questions
why is she smiling and fall breathless
making love to life to god
to all that is holy within;

pray

surrender guilt into cotton candy, skeletons and
sink into mint cookies, ******* moments
palm trees sunflowers and dante’s inferno
the hell of a thousand lies and conquer the night

worship stars swirls rocky road ice cream smile
twirl up up down in laugh breathe sing holy holy holy
pray surrender demons and questions

surrender

give into ginsburg captured on that last day that last morning\
desert songs cholla and speak their names to the sky
the night chris nate take back your stars
perched granite sacred rainbows and forgive
fill love into crevices bend shape hold

breathe

breathe a thousand roses splashed into the sky
swallow grains granules lick and ingest strength
heal heal conquer and give
trust the skeletons trust the fall trust the touch
of a donut-flavored tongue and whisper i love
to hear your laugh words small words
big words words of accusation words of love
words words words

loose yourself fall into another and let your universe
turn upside down shake time
mock lies delve into the abyss

embrace falling stars fallen souls fall slowly
sink into strawberries sticky with ***
lawnchairs and graveyards

find beauty in everything in every vaginal opening
and give life yourself and seashells
to that last morning

surrender to the soul’s embrace melt away
the flesh of yesterday and rebuild forests

find forever in teardrops lovers in strangers
the matrix of the possessed centaur and wrap icy fingers
melt fire and give into yourself

pray

pray to the moonlight earthworms dasies
pray prayers of solace prayers of death
of intangible misgivings and of all things holy

and melt
fall away
rebuild
caress
B-R-E-A-T-H-E…
unnamed Apr 2017
Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem:  The Gal from Tucumcari
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written:  April/2017


The next woman I marry
will be a Gal from Tucumcari.

she'll be tougher than a
desert Tree Cholla

Wilder than a New Mexico
tumble ****  -

Why sonny boy!...She can even
rope a steer, and bring it down
to it's knees.

She's adventurous indeed
that gal I marry from Tucumcari -

She'll know how to fix those
country vittles  - biscuits, grits,
with gravy -

as she sips on a cup of her
favorite joe....

that gal I marry from Tucumcari -

When I see her come riding pass
my place off Route 66,

I'll know it's her - passing
my door.

She'll be driving in an old pickup
filled with hay, as she goes pass
the sagebrush.

She'll be wearing old worn out
dungarees, with a scarf around
her neck, and spurs on her boots -

Sonny boy, I'm here to tell ya
Gods, gonna send her to me....

That gal I marry from Tucumcari  -

She breaks wild horses
to set them free -

she's rough and tough
with a whole lot of moxie

She's the woman I'm gonna
marry from Tucumcari  -

Copyright (c)., Ken Jordan 2017

— The End —