Life’s razor sharp banister slices your tender skin as you slide down into reality’s deceiving pile of rock filled pillow cases
Misinterpretation, mistakes, deception, false presentation
There’s no turning back
Blood stains your freshly cleaned white linens
Painfully reaching the point of realization
No one’s there to catch you as you rapidly approach the end
Look who’s laughing now

Open the window to let sunlight in only to be disappointed by the artificial light that filters through.
One fluid motion to swift the blinds away, one fluid motion until sadness sets in.
Kid its nighttime no sun, just streetlights.
Wake up in the morning and let real light shine through your million dollar window.
Blinded by the lighted bliss of your almost fake life.

A Thought for Today

This isn't really a poem, but I think the feelings it conjures are similar.

When we have exposed the specious reasoning of the hunters' apologists and stripped their sport of its counterfeit legitimacy, the naked brutality of hunting defines itself: killing for the fun of it. -Steve Ruggeri, former hunter and activist (1949-1998).  Taken from A.Word.A.Day by Anu Garg.

Impatience

The hurt's gonna come

dyed black and crimson

flooding the eyes

choking out all honesty

It'll be swift and silent

the pacifist's scourge

lungs filled to the brim

malevolence weeps with joy

Dawn becomes dim

as winter claws the throat

ash and plague grow wild

a final jab and mockery

O yes, the hurt's gonna come

but not as soon as we deserve

Wedding Haiku (kind of)

In the violet
hour - winter lifts its veil
revealing…a blush

Fall tosses citron
like rice at a wedding
anointing its guests

Spring begins slowly
jade blades - - then tulips blush red
staining the bride’s mouth

Summer arrives in
saffron robes - ready to delight
the most chaste among us

I created this photo for a now graduated student of mine.  I used a photo of her ring superimposed over the place in Vermont where they were married.  I added one of my favorite African proverbs "A single bracelet does not jingle." to the image (not shown here).

the twilight has fallen and i am not ready

my Mother's god ate her soul

she thought she would not be forgotten

my husband sought a hateful meaning

he thought the sun would not explode

my son's fear is acute

he thought i would not leave him

their lies will dissolve with them

My morning symphony begins

"Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.”
By: Allen Ginsberg

Downward

I make coffee.

I make coffee so that people can drink it

and...be warmed by it.

They drink it

and think it

will make them forget

the pain

that perks

just below the surface

they drink to forget

but they are falsely warmed.

NB: I woke up one  morning with this poem fully written in my head.

First Post

I came across this poem in the Riverfront Times.  It was listed under the heading "Best Local Poet to Die in the Past Year" (by local it means Missouri).  I am not familiar with the poet, Donald Finkel (1929-2008), but the poem made me think, which makes it a good candidate, in my opinion, for our first post.

SHHH
Listen, shhh
alone among the trees
I've come for a heart-to-heart
with the woods
I fall on my knees
for a tete-a-tete with a geode


behind his limestone brow I sense
the clean hard corners of his thought
facet to facet, glinting dimly
postulates of amethyst and quartz


it's small talk time
I'll parley with the loam
make peace with the Indian Pipe
I'll learn to speak weedish
~Donald Finkel