Apr 24, 2011

State of the Poem


He's looking for a cartoon cause
Something trite he can be against
An enemy with vivid color
Handsomely ugly and deliciously evil

Daily episodes must carry a consistent story
With unending twists and feigned surprise
For us to wonder if the hero will ever survive
Each chapter ending with the worst left unanswered

In order to strike the public's eye
There must be a villainous blackard
Somewhere to grab headlines followed
By news of the hero saving the day

More important, it has to be an easy task
To vanquish a foe he can crush underfoot
Loud and whiney without actual cost
Real issues need not apply

Weekly though, the story takes on color
And a life of its own, telling us of the hero
Magnanimous in his reign and patriarchal
In his counsel with a promise of more to come

Then back to swordplay with fools disarmed
By the strong line of jaw and withering look
We see what he's against but will he ever
Take a stand, or at least say that he believes in us

Apr 17, 2011

State of the Poem


In the landscape
Of my dreams
Chained to the rock
Of my faith
The ocean crashes
At my feet
Waves that embody
All my fears
Threaten to engulf
My sanity

Across the sea
Of bodies
Heedless of
Their grasp
Sails a lonely
Lovely vision
Like a promise
Of salvation
Come to see me
At my prison

Caged by fear
Of my limits
Shackled by chains
Of my regret
I cry defiance
At the thought
Of inaction
Suppressing my art
Without a chance
To be read

A sinuous rope
Floats over the sea
Like a snake
From my reader
Seeking connection
To the thoughts
Surging through
My fragmented lines
Painting portraits of
My self-possession

But I am
My own jailor
Holding the keys
To the chains
With which I
Bind my mind
To the glue
Of despair
Holding back my
Pen of creation

Apr 10, 2011

State of the Poem

A Dark, Feathered Dream

Fear preys upon one's mind like ravens upon a corpse.
They split their tongues on minor points and bleed their heartless truth.
The road kill of our best efforts is but an appetizer
For them to pick at, rip apart and feed their gluttony.

Sunlight is not enough to send these scavengers away.
They strut and boast of their right to destroy our last true hopes.
These inner critics split our infinite wisdom like so much kindling to
Feed the burning fire of self loathing and despair.

Rain will not chase these purificators from their worst efforts.
They sweep the floor of our collapse for morsels of our failures.
Lying, gasping, praying; for a miracle to survive,
We would sell our sanity to let the light pervade our thoughts.

Blighted hopes reign upon the throne of mindless repetition.
Our addiction to spewing forth our words bubbles forth to their delight.
We fight to quote our own macabre dance to win the cup of acceptance.
Saving our outer selves no matter how tenuous our grip on reality.

But darkness needs the light to make itself better known,
If naught but for the way to see the feeding of the flock.
A gasp, awake, the pencil there, a scribble in the night, then
Back to dreaming of the fears that run through a restless mind.

Apr 3, 2011

State of the Poem

Only Words

They're only words
Slung by candidates
Rooting for the dirt
That will prove a route
Over their own frailty.

Only words to lead
Faithful sheep away
From some other
Well meaning fools
With promises unfilled.

Words to pull wool over
Eyes blind to desire
Needing to want
Slave driven payment
For the illusion of status.

Words of fear and fences
Neighbor our limits
Define our tolerance
Paving our way through
A place we cannot reach

Only words can save us
Reach through the hurt
Sooth the pain of life
Heal breaches in our soul
Delivered by language.