"honoring" poems
*consciously, willfully, I wish it
quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward,
in its natural game, set, overmatched,
the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment
the water songfully swishes,
as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now
the only natural authorized aural apparition,
the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning,
honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren,
as well as admitting their noises disfigure
the fast approaching majesty of the end of
our summer seasoning of humanity
consciously, willfully, I wish it
once again, lush is the quietude,^
now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder,
how come I to write of these moments so oft,
thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities,
in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last,
see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life,
come the fall, the winter, the early dark,
the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind,
that...need I say more?
consciously, willfully, I wish it
the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand,
shall stay in place, be the capstone of my summer living vision,
become permanent part and parcel
of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when
I will write, soon enough,
my vision white weeping clouded,
you will weep knowingly, sympathetically
consciously, willfully,
I wish for that as well*
8/27/17
6:35pm
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
A Hebrew Prayer from the Sabbath Morning Service
THESE ARE THINGS that are limitless,
of which a person enjoys the fruit of the world,
while the principal remains in the world to come.
They are:
honoring one’s father and mother,
engaging in deeds of compassion,
arriving early for study, morning and evening,
dealing graciously with guests,
visiting the sick,
providing for the wedding couple,
accompanying the dead for burial,
being devoted in prayer,
and making peace among people.
But the study of Torah^ encompasses them all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I briefly considered editing, adding to, rephrasing this translation.
But reconsidered almost immediately, and instead wrote this down.
Among the things that are limitless perfect is this prayer.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
honoring the glass artistry of Dale Chihuly
A rainbow of serrated globes,
Friends to the water lilies,
Floats in a sculptured pool.
A surreal yellow glass Medusa
Woven through a white crescent trellis
Gleams in the midday sun.
Choirs of chrysanthemums
Sing with multicolored flora
Blown from molten soda, lime and sand.
Sheltered in a geodesic tropics
Orange herons stand on legs of glass
Amid living palms, bamboo and wild orchids.
Towering blue spires
Lift skyward out of the soil
While butterflies dance
In the misty veil of a waterfall.
Nature and the shimmering world within
Happily converge in the florid vision
Of an effervescent man with a patched eye -
A man called Chihuly.
October, 2006
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
Sitting in a bar.
A beer with perspiration.
Its raining outside.
Hear the shuffleboard shuffle.
Intoxicated poetics.
Sober state of mind.
Stools shrouded in mystery.
Double doors leading in.
Bartender’s creations. (chemical concoctions)
Saloon of slumlords and hipsters
Open mic night.
Hippie Howls.
Don’t worry we got this under control.
Malboro reds, cowboy killers.
Don’t spend you life wishing,
Spend it living.
Better yet, spend it drinking.
Liquid courage. (men becoming beasts)
Awkward rages.
The best is coming.
Shielding secret shame in this scene.
Hidden in a pint of pilsner.
Free thinkers in a haze of hops.
Lets get drunk.
Make shift graveyards on the walls.
Honoring the dead.
Rest in peace.
Nothing less, nothing more.
Old Heidelberg.
Before my time.
The stalls scrawled with graffiti.
For a good time call.
Scratched onto the stall.
“Spread love like butter on a hot bun”
Sherlock and Watson.
Bromance.
This is a bar of friends.
What is this bar?
Drunk off this atmosphere.
Window panes with neon signs.
Disillusioned.
Concealed.
Unfinished.
The moves fast and goes right by.
Springing forward without a shadow of a doubt.
Members of the Great Unwashed.
The signs of our time.
I think we’re going to split.
Can I get another drink?
One for the road.
Don’t cut me off quite yet.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
It's been over forty years,
but I still feel the tears from
thirteen months of combat in
a no - win situation called
Vietnam. The years just keep passing
by, and still many Vietnam
Veterans die, and no one wants
to admit why.
The anger and saddness is
still there and what makes it
worse is a society that acts
as if they care, acting like
they know where we had to go
and what we had to do, and
now they just stare.
Our tears flow for our brothers
whose names are on that Wall,
the ones who answered the call
and gave all.
It is American tradition to honor
War Veterans, but they shut the
door on us and some just can't
forget.
For some better late than never,
but for me it just won't go away.
Now a whole new generation
in a different era thinks a simple
" welcome home " will do. A
generation that is blind to what
went on, and the the injustice
that we were served,
a generation that looks the other
way when the homeless living on
the street try to speak .
A generation that ignores the number of
Vietnam Veterans taking their
own lives every day.
The shock of this is so much,
I just don't know what to say.
Some of us choose to live another
day and this new generation
honoring us needs to know
that we will not just go away and
that they will have to deal with
us someday, giving more than
just a " welcome home" that
comes a little late, and they need
to know why our minds are in such
a f*^k^d up state.
Jon York USMC Vietnam 1969 -70
,
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 11:30 PM UTC
every time he touched me
i felt him memorizing me like a wreck
every time she touched me
i felt her heartbeat caught in my own neck
they are problem solvers.
i had cushioning companions
fuller and calmer than me.
perhaps someday i'll tell them this
if i ever learn to handle it:
the open, raw closeness.
In the meantime, i'll remember her
laughing into my legs
immersing us in the soft hair from her head
and his enchanting voice
inflating my lungs;
the simple gift of speech in bed
the moment right before their contact,
a few light-years away from being.
the moment between shine and its reflection,
just a hollow eternity to all the space in between.
company?
I starve for the long moments
that thick time of silence together
feasting on whatever he just said.
community?
I crave gazing at an orb of truth
wholly understanding one another
a vague sense of being like her family.
civility?
honoring the ghosts of our realities
and remaining gravely touched
by the mortal ritual at hand.
I couldn't deserve either of you
just promise me you'll understand
or at least try to
get the **** off my land
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
S = Sweet & or a Sensitive Feminine Female
T = Totally a Feminine Female
A = Absolutely a Feminine Female
C = Cute & or a Caring Feminine Female
I = Intelligent Feminine Female
E = Excited & or an Enthusiastic Feminine Female / Girl / Woman - - At & For the Present and Into the Future
******************************
L = Loving & or a Lovable Feminine Female
E = Ear's Pierced , Tired of Clip On's , ( The Pain & Torture )
E = Entertaining HRT , ( Hormone Replacement Therapy )
L = Leelah ( Picked & Dedicated in Memory of ) - ( Leelah Alcorn )
A = All About Helping & Being There for Other's
H = Honoring ( Leelah Alcorn's ) Final Request , Too Not Let Her - - Death be In Vain - ( 11/15/97 to 12/28/14 )
******************************
C = Cuddle able & Caring Feminine Female
H = Hair That is Eventually Long & Very Beautiful
E = Eye's That See the Good in All People
Y = Young at Heart & A Very Beautiful Feminine Female
E = Eating Healthier , So I can Maintain a Feminine Female Figure
N = Nylon's & Tights , Beautiful & Truly Make My leg's Stand Out
N = No Body and or ****** Hair at All
E = Excited About the Future , Of Being the Feminine / Female / Girl -
I Hope Too be in the Future
******************************
GOD BLESS YOU "" ALL ""
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Dear Depression,
I see you. We all see you. You're not very avoidable. Those slivers of light you try to enamor us with. How death seems so delicate when we talk of flowers and restful slumber- for all eternity. What the lights do not show; a grotesque, scaled abomination with a gluttonous appetite for happiness and life. I can't let you gnaw on anymore souls to leave nothing, but sunken eyes and bones. They do not belong to you nor were they yours to take. You're not welcome in the mind's of my friend's and family. Life is welcome in their heart's where joy can still be found. Don't find yourself slithering down our throat's anymore, in the empty stomachs or scars we have. The thoughts we think when you entice us are dangerous. You stole her. You stole him. You stole me. I can't recognize the stoic, numbed faces I gaze upon. You undo any progress ever done.
It's been so long since, I've heard them laugh or flashed a smile I meant. Still, your might looms over as you admire the damage you've caused. Next, feeling the audacity to sneer when we weep. Depression, you're a monster who causes nothing, but suffering. Those tears are not your's to season hopelessness with. You make the covers seem like the most comfortable coffin, you make our skin look as if we've fought thousands of wars. The sun an inconvenience with the days in reverse. We've tried to compromise, you are no friend. Just a foe.
Depression, there are so many things I want to do to you. You break my heart when all your captors don't believe they are worthy of love, but they are the ones I love most. I will break you like, you've broken us. My bare hands would reach into your chest, ripping the lungs out; stomp on them to preventing future sufferers. I would crush your heart in the palms of my hand's- praying for the sickness and terror to end. These innocent people you've robbed of life, love, happiness, opportunity and a soul. Will have their revenge. Your blood covers our skin and we bathe in the warmth of redemption as our thought's belong to us once more. We let the pain held inside escape our sutured lips, begging your soul to ascend back into the abyss never to return. Your bones are mine to assemble a castle for the broken to heal. Your skull resembles a crown honoring those who had given into the temptations of surrendering. We honor them.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 9:29 AM UTC
sometimes we wonder why bad things happen
when we forget our blessings and count our tragedies
we mourn and grieve and hug and pray
and hug and cry and hug and say
I love you
we spread our fingers to hold numb hands
and we look each other in the eyes and let tears fall
we hold each other and don’t let go
for fear of life disappearing
before and our damp and betraying eyes
we watch in awe as others stand strong
laughing and smiling and honoring her spirit
unbroken unfazed and unforgettable
“Batman and barbies” he reminisces and shares
as composure escapes for a moment
the best daughter, sister, friend and teacher
above in the heavens for all to share
Allison, we love you and miss you dearly
and as we try to go on living in your honor
please forgive us if we break down and cry
You are beautiful and we’ll see you soon
it won’t be long
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
to my (future) husband,
as i sit and write this, i don't know if i've met you yet.
but i honestly hope i have.
if you're reading this,
thank you for honoring my ridiculous request
to do the final dance number that baby and johnny did from ***** dancing
at our wedding
(if we didn't do the lift, it's okay)
thank you for always being there.
through the breakdowns,
the rants,
all the bad.
thank you for always being there.
through the endless summers,
the sunny days that turned into fire lit nights,
the endless godfather marathons,
all the good.
i will always be there for you -
through all the bad
and all the good.
through your successes
and failures
i will be there.
and i will love you until the day i die.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
Boys will be boys, will be men, will destroy
Will take and take what you create
Will shame you if you deviate
Will make the rules they proceed to break
And after every encounter, you're a little more shaken
A little more autonomy from you has been taken
You rack your brain to find the words to demonstrate just how it hurts
Time passes - and the moment is gone
They were staring at your *** and you know it was wrong
You know you don't belong
You are an object for observation
But that's a whole different song
So does it make it any better when you play along?
Are you simply playing victim in a manmade system?
A child of the Fight, how do you extract from that mode?
In a world full of players, you let yourself be taken
How is it that you manage to let the simple words break in?
The glass ceiling is surprisingly sharp
And the burden on your back gets heavier as you approach
The child in the closet didn't make it this far
There's a fine line between honoring your wounds and hiding in the dark
This is the line I walk every day
On one side, victim and healer, I tend to my wounds
The other lives in reality and makes the right moves
But duality is a falsity
Of course one can't be two
And the structure I see in the world I perceive brings out the fight
**** the patriarchy
**** the Right
They're not right
Their vision is just limited
There are so many issues I wish to address
If I cry through the fight, does that make it worth any less?
Does my brokenness somehow discount the rest?
The weight of my burdens change by the day
And yes, victimhood is the easiest way
May I be the last to place blame
This glass house holds no shame
And if you won't throw the stones at the broken and stuck
Pass them around and throw them straight up
Let's all make the ceiling shatter and fall
And watch now as the shards rain down
And this can happen when we're all ready to be active
And act as protagonists in our own play
So **** the patriarchy, but do it in your own time, and in your own way
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
.
We have so mastered the poetic manipulations
Of writing convoluted " deep **** "
Concerning the superficial appearance
Of sexuality
That we have completely forgotten
That Love is a deep and lovely experience
Of truly honoring the creator
And the creation
By truly caring for each other
)(
Our words
Are merely the babblings
Of teenagers
************
In front of the mirror
With little meaning or substance
)(
And as such
Are
Mere mockery
Of human existence
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
You apologize as if you feel remorse.
You lie!
It's all about the sale.
I was merely your customer and the bed was your product.
Anything for a sale, anything to convince me you had what I wanted.
But you were the one that wanted what I had.
You apologize because you miss me.
Well baby, keep em comin cause I'm not buyin.
A lonely salesman is all you'll ever be.
Apologizing for your selfish words and charming lies.
Pity party honoring you, tragic life thats only yours.
Salesman, I'm not interested.
Your money does not impress.
Salesman, show me the door!
I don't care how sharp you dress.
Salesman, you had me fooled.
Your flashy cars and fancy toys were your favorite tool.
I don't give a **** what the world says you're worth,
because it's only a name, simply a title.
A lonely salesman is all you'll ever be, a
lonely salesman who thinks of me.
Keep dreaming baby cause I'm never coming back.
You had your way with me, stole it all in only a day.
'I love you' is what you speak, but 'I lust you' is all that leaks.
Talking large and living the same.
Hooking me was purely a mind game.
A lonely salesman is all you'll ever be, a
lonely salesman who thinks of me.
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 10:19 AM UTC
He pulls away, precariously balanced
above the raucous creek slicing through
the campground’s city-like togetherness
she protectively hovers, hands cupped
inches from his slender back, prepared to grab
honoring his need for independence
the crooked lodge pole leans
toward what little sun is bestowed
upon it by its larger brethren
a mother, a child
a tree, a stream
soft light.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
Well !
To justify the word
"Perfect"
All great artists
Have invested
Some more ink
Some more color
Some more truth
Some more sense
Some more time
Some more endorphin
Some more emotion
To detail
Their perception
Honoring the spirit
With passion to prime
Their enthusiasm
And insight to give
Eternal life endlessly
Consoling their soul
They invest
Nothing more
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 9:58 AM UTC
this is a poem about the Tulsa Race Riots
terrorism doesn't compare to self destruction.
disaster between the slaves, and their masters
we're richer, but they're smarter.
black wall street abolished, its name never in vain
although we remember, we'll never understand the pain
with our own eyes, it would leave us blind
by flash bombs, envy, discrimination
and hatred of our own kind.
gunpowder made buildings fly against the street lights
red and green, bombs still singing, ears still ringing,
we might as well be deaf.
the grass is always greener,
but our skin will never change or fade away
and to live in the past destroys our future
because just when we started to rise from the ashes
we burnt ourselves down again
from opposite sides of the city,
north and south
attract like polar opposites
wasting away green with envy
you can try to forget
because theres new paved concrete
but its still the same street
we owe to the stampede
jealously, destruction, revolution, prosperity
worn out buildings and bricks trapped us
but we're still free
under state laws
but only conditionally
the city sleeps when we do
but stays up late with disdain
days wasted and blown into the air
like concrete and fame
its a shame that
race riots black wall street and greenwood share the same name
it can't stay this way
one day, tulsa you'll change
you'll paint the streets again
faces engrained on
black walls like oil spills
treading new roads
buildings towering above
there are bodies below our feet
but that doesn't mean we're above them
and one day we'll breathe again
we'll write the names back into our history books
their sacrifice on our tongues
remembered, never in vain
like saviors honoring the pain
but never throwing it away
greenwood rising again.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
One morning in India, I learned
what I am remembering now
folding soft brown blankets,
beginning my day.
Taught by example, without any words
as brightly-colored fabric
flew deftly into perfect folds.
However simple our home, we honor it
with our care, to its walls and floors,
to ourselves, the people living within.
We honor it most of all with the words
we choose, with the silence we keep,
defining our lives in each simple moment.
Folding back winter clouds, resplendent
with color moments ago,
a prairie wind clears the sky
honoring this one and only today.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
Awakening to the infinite of every possibilities end
All the stories that ever could be told
Are accessed once again
Detached from the material
Suddenly the imagination roars
Aequo animo, stillness in the ken
Every lifetime in the nowevermore accounted
Visually, without eyes, the plots are traced
Like wind-borne dandelions in the cosmic meadow
Innumerable beauty, intricate as lace
Understanding George Lucas
And the Galaxy Far Far Away
Imagination plays it out
A second’s eon burning mind forged in sacred space
Traveler of the spirit
Unraveling the theory of strings
The Book of Life within us all
doppia elica
Split the Stream
Opening up all channels
Realities manifesting within the folds
Of Time’s hidden fore-edge paintings
Smiling at the Bold
Honoring the awareness of the peaceful seeker
Before deeper slumber takes hold
One toe before the dream door
There are no walls
There is no floor
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
"Changes"
Metamorphosis.
This is my epiphany,
To old self bid gone.
"Honoring"
The servant-hearted,
Selfless and genuine soul,
Sheer blessing to us.
"Unconditional"
The Almighty God
Loved me for all that I am,
A love so ardent.
"Levanther"
Such comforting wind
Sweeping off between my hair;
Here goes the chimes ring.
"Syllogism"
Great continuum,
Why such distance imposed
That wall between us?
"Cantor"
Oh that lone guitar,
Let me caress such old strings
And I'll sing sweet songs.
"Maktub"
The wheel of fate turns,
Made me search off the cosmos,
All leading to you.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Billy Wynne Veracruz
best baseball pitcher ever
Me Mestizo beloved by the shore a teen a wannabe Mom wannabe wife.
Within his theme songs
In beautiful mystic Vera-cruz.
From the Shaks restaurant my cashiering job
Pitcher asked to walk by the ocean hand in hand.
Baseball players eyes glared so sea-sky blue.
Tallest Knight touching hands.
Handsome king of hearts
"Sweet Caroline song blasted
on pitchers radio cassette player and
" The great Pretender,*
The hours long.
Smooth all passion
seed withheld and me fire firefly flew away..
~~~
Kings like you ought to have many wives
and many babies
Your kind are the crown jewels of fatherhood and motherhood best super human seeds divine
Your legacy rules Earth.
~~~
I found my own reign, great treasures my king heart of gold like mine, called me beauty himself Beast.
Loved to be a one woman man for a one man woman like me his rddbba-Ginny.
We fell in love at first sight
my true love my
handsome American.
Such elite chose me to change Earth he was the bridge and me his worldbringer portal to heaven his star seed.
My once upon a time my twin soul, twin flame King of hearts, became my imaginary best friend my owl of wisdom my everything.
Our theme songs were Spill your heart to me, and what a wonderful world by Armstrong L.
We were also beauty and the Beast.
The memory of my knight my king lover, my true love
my companion,
keeps me safe and sound.
~~~~
By: Mr. and Mrs. Andrews.
Honoring Karijinbba
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 8:35 AM UTC
I try to write when I am tired
but tiny spiders descend around my desk.
Newly-hatched eight limbed-things
parasail
the silk lids over my eyes.
If only I could ride out the exhale and
go at once adrift, self-rappel
I would climb the silk suspension line
swing from thought to thought
thread the eye of the needle
pull-ey up the beanstalk.
but instead I'm left to watch these aerial yoginis
swim on a draft from the ceiling.
These spinsters with their poetic acrobatics
for whom rhythm is spun on silent trapeze--
make a play-swing
out of gravity.
The tiny spiders that descend around my desk
make me--an oaf.
a self-honoring monument
for climbing, a botched landmark to ---human ingenuity
me, a moving pedestal for dancing
me, a knotted up windsock
hunched over a heated screen,
trying to blow down metaphor, alliteration
from these tiny kites that ascend the earth.
Tiny spider, tiny spider
let down your silk tresses
draw up my mind
swing the high rafters
I want to hang upside down--
make a play-swing
out of gravity.
Yet when I pulled on the thread
to net the silken-mouthed beast,
words did not come down
like mana from heaven.
Rather, my tongue grew heavy with cotton
metaphor, alliteration,
the fabric of suspended poetry
unraveled.
Lucid improvisation fell like Icarus
to quips.
because thinking to write
and writing to think is like
pulling dead hair
from spaghetti.
Meanwhile, tiny spiders descend around my desk
parasail
and make a play-swing out of gravity.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
Provide,
Never wish to divide
The family,
They always want to see us live happily,
These are great people,
Who deserve so much respect,
In the bible,
Its only the commandment concerning them which contains a promise,so inspect
Yourself,are you honoring them as they deserve to be honoured?
Having them is a blessing,
Love them.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Never from streets
So I don’t know what it’s like
To fight for every bite
To **** for my steals
To sell dope for hope
Naw I’m not tryin to be mockery
I’m just starting to realize that democracy
Is just plain Hypocrisy
See I’ve never been a fan of the man
White, Black, any of them
I’m so caught up being an individual
That I’ve become delusional
How can one day we’re all about supportin’ each other
And then the next
We’re all vexed
in each other’s faces
Throwing out words about different races and old time cases
Can’t we just erase this?
Times are changing
But what about our foundation
Under the words of our Nation
And all things by His creation
Have we forgotten about that?
I feel like I can’t connect to my neighbor
So honoring them doesn’t fit my favor
To my left to the right
By day by night
I feel like I don’t know ****
About this:
The Election
Personifying my Perfection
Finding a Connection
To myself to us
Can Obama STOP the drama?
Can they end all this trauma?
Of young girls being ***** out of their virginity
All these little boys out here actin’ all hard
Because they forgot about unity
Wishes
Broken dishes
Fame
Not getting’ paid
600 Billion Dollars?
All to support the white collar
Shit…they must be mad ballers
Sittin all high livin fly
Not even worrying about how they gon get by
Half of ‘em don’t even have to try
I want to reach out and hold my brother
Let me be his cover
Thru the brush fires, quakes, shakes, and floods
Not one blood
Our bloods
Coming together in a place of Brotherhood
Shaking every other’s hand
Construct a band
Of Solidity
Of Strength
Of Loyalty
And With this
We cannot foil
And the black oil
Bleeding into our conscious streams
Will find a way to cease
If we increase
Our bond
I just want to be United
And be in different States
I just want to be One Nation, under God, Indivisible
Having the Liberty
To give and have Justice
For all.
God Bless.…I guess…
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Fourteen years ago on this Hallowed Eve
you joined ancestors and fellow poets,
traveling through time, and into God's light.
Always one to find meaning in your days,
perhaps you chose your last one too,
even after months of summoning
all the bravery within you.
Honoring both saints and magical living
especially in our childhood,
even a velvet mermaid's tail
embroidered with shining sequins
manifested in your deft and giving hands.
You are always with us now, Ma/Patt
even as you are always missed.
Today, your long auburn hair that never turned white
tumbles over a deep blue satin costume,
embroidered with silvery stars.
Your generous, enduring smile
is so at home, beloved Ma,
in the Heavenly company
of God's own angels.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC