rocket pops blue tongues
raspberry lemon salute
sweetness in my soul
bitter beer hot dog
smoke woodsy lingers in my
pony tail swooshing
the hogs growl as the
jean and leather veterans’
eyes well up with Taps
the leathery feel
of my uncle’s tired hands
while i trace his scars
a little young girl
did see the poignant pain in
his tribulations
for ever brothers
gone away heroes to the
Elysium Fields
Today’s Word of the Day is Return.
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this haiku is not
about pretty flowers or
skies of blue and love
this second one is
to notify you that i
don’t write tenderly
hate me or like me
this is who i am just know
that you’re in my heart
paint
pavement
sacred there
in the pond
on the daily traveled sidewalks
in motion forever being touched with no feeling
i see how beautiful you are comfort for the industrial spawn city child
your orange backs stop my steps from going too far without smiling in the bleakness of the day waving docile fins
your jewel backs charming treasure afterthought of the straggler in the mood of the times scientology across the street while the bed bugs do battle cry by the patisserie of my distant sullied youth
in the pavement my eyes the news of the day beguiles to think that in your face there might be happiness
around you go with the brothers in the dark pool of my mind
i walk against a tide of lukewarm panic
no Buddha’s cloak can hide
the past that
keeps me
forced
inside
it’s very late and the crickets are bedding down in the banana trees for the night and behind the brick walls yes the ones tagged with nonsense the drunkard kings are pissing i’ve been kicked out of many a slummy joint you wouldn’t be the first bouncer to pop that cherry although i give you the fact that i was a little loud when the barkeep wouldn’t take my buck for a bottle of vodka but you understand i’m petite and not of swift feet when i’ve had a few tom collins’ down my gullet ok i get it don’t call my parent’s and that is not my id card but i do resent it when you won’t admit it that i’m the best duker in the bunch and while i have rosy knuckles to prove it let’s not point out last week’s black eye but don’t worry about me by the time i’m in my forties i might have been through a few programs for exceptional drinkers but psychoanalysis has nothing to do with a girl having fun on a Saturday night and by the way can you hold my hair back i feel a wave of chili coming up
dark
to light
the passage
of long lost time
resurfaced in my
Coptic mind wrapped by the
ancient ones who now travel
through the layers of abandon
our Queens have risen to guide again
sun rays of Ra sail through the gates of gold
silenced we wade the paths of the faithful
three portals inviting to our souls
even in death there is danger
of us making the wrong choice
before we exit to
our homeland beyond
the binding ties
of judgment
swift feet
board
place my cheek upon
your palms and draw me into
your love one last time
shame nestled in my throat
as night’s soft charcoal gray skin
was wrapped with a lofty nimbostratus shroud
upon her moonlit shoulders
emitting sweet earthy odor
not sure of what i did
uncertainty about my heart
were my deeds the cause of it
like bullets from an ancient time
to kill the peace upon the paths
her tears fell down from heaven
now through the teachings of that lady night
and her dusky priestesses along with a few hard knocks
i’ve come to understand that it wasn’t me who made her cry
but that Nocturna was the mirror of my sorrows
Picture courtesy of The Poet By Day site
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Happy reading!
the book of me is in my eyes, read with courageous love
words less spoken 