my stuff unedited

[fawnie]

i'm just diggin up the stuff i've written before it gets too burried on the threads.

i'd appreciate anyone readng to go post something to bury my name on the boards as quickly as possible!

ty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
high enough ..
when swinging a child
you hear giggles,
see the wind
on their face,
feel the joy
in their heart.

i want to giggle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
write passion felt here
straight from the hip
then friends with opinions,
your mouths please zip.
poetry chit chat
is the thread for you,
critiques and edits
and "that was nice" too.
new poem reviews
where reviewers reside..
anyone else,
you better just hide.
then thank you
and pleasantries
are for liar's new thread,
i've forgotten the name,
so just search here instead.
this isn't me ranting,
i'm just having fun
straight from the hip
like the draw of a gun
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
in trenches
caverns deep
where blood runs thick
clogging hearts

soiled recalls
tattered trinkets of yesterday
course through veins
made of iron
no feel of flesh
just cold dead steel
pumping exsistence
not life

love reaching in
liquifies steel
melting iron
warming trenches
thinning blood

love reaching out
bleeding robots
drowning exsitence
turning metal to flesh
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
where was your whistle
mr conducter,
that brisk december morn?
when sounds of crushing metal
collided with defeaning screams,
halting the children's laughter,
cutting short life,
shattering dreams.

where was the stop sign
to tell of your warning,
when whistles don't blow
and brakes only halt
the young life of a boy
who's crime was his living.

where was the god
you say live's in heaven
preparing a house for tragedies
weight.
the size of a child,
yes, only a child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
turn the page
sometimes i look at you
with pride,
bright eyes,
vivacious smile,
mischevious wonder
woven in lips, innocent
with youthful fascinations.

no more a child, but far
from wisdom of womanhood
the seeds of time have yet to sprout.
you're just a girl, lost
somewhere in the middle.

you speak with confidence,
sounds of trust
and friendship,
a loyalty
that sings of things
this mum's done right.

with pen in hand
you tell me of a story,
born of a soul
beyond her years,
combinations of philosophy
and mythical magic,
a depth passed on from
whom i need not wonder.

thoughts of roads
i've traveled on
bearing sins of earlier times,
thank god a load
you'll never carry.

if i never touched
another soul,
within the pages
of your life
i wrote a book.
i left my mark.
my life i lived
and not in vain.

as you now hold
a pen in hand,
to write a story all your own
i hope you find,
and soon discover,
your life sweet girl
is filled with purpose,
to find its truth,
just turn the page
...and write!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

we sit and wait
sometimes for hours
for evening transformations,
brilliantly perfected
to dazzle even the smallest of eyes.
celebration of a nations independence

why must the brilliant shooting stars
be overpowered by thunderous bangs,
leaving babies to cry,
and children running for cover.

maybe just reminders,
the price of freedom
rest now in graves across this nation.

with heavy heart
i think about the children
across the oceans
who run for cover
as we dazzle other nations
with our fireworks
brilliant bombs,
where thunderous booms
are the last thing some children
ever hear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kiss the sky
you pull another sunset
from your drawer
each night you choose
what luscious hue
to paint the evening bright

with reds you dazzle,
lips that color night with charm.
words that captivate
all those who wish to kiss
the beauty of your essence.

the sky arrays her vastness,
in the depth of lovely soul
where those who see your paintings,
with hunger they delight,
return most every night
to see the wonders you create

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tonight i stepped outside
underneath
the speckled sky

first time since we arrived,
without my coat,
without a chill,
minnesota sure is sweet.

cold nose, warm heart
indeed.

cherished
friends
throughout the years
some stay
some gone forever

it been real fine
to reminisce
talk about the
old times.
but i sure do
hate this weather.

gypsy blood
runs through my veins
this place i don't call home.
florida bids me
come.

enough of this
enough of that
this chapters
nearly through

optimism
spreads her wings
for flight
and fancy free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sensual tongue
speak to me a thousand words
of your poetic passion

lick them to me
one by one
bathing wanton flesh
with lovely meter
perfect rhyme.

succulent words
that draw climatic endings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
medicine
from her pen,
as angst flows,
regurgitating vile,
swallowed through
imprisoned time,
poisen,
that pained a
soul
left it doubled over
with illness.

recovery's process
one rejuvenating word
at a time
til once again,
head held high.
you walk on...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
renaming constellations
i stood beneath
the midnight
twinkles,
like i do
most every night

it always
looks the same.

as the big dipper
watered me,
another cup of peace,

i saw a falling star
just north of
infinity's horizon

it made me wonder
if its bottom star
was falling,
if we'd be calling,
the big dipper
a big
hole in the bucket.

and...

would it still
shower me
with peace?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i glance a minute in wonder
passing by them
weakened souls,
but wonder who they are
if there's kin that even notice their absence.
sleeping tonight on cardboard seily
dreaming of faraway ghosts
buried long ago in vietnam fields
and jungle trenches,
or in closets filled with
cob-webs and skeletons
of childhood traumas,
that break open swollen brain
and bleed reality to death

it's easy to see the far horizon
the rise of morning sky
colors that warm chilled bones
inspire veins to flow another day
of sunshine.

looking past the ragged forms
the cardboard boxes,
the mental illness that disturbs
the morning glory
inspiration moves in wonder

if but for education,
iron mind,
strong spirited, rise above
soul
there lay i.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


a wheelchairs ballad
~~~~~

loneliness turns her wheels,
envious of heels that walk around discomfort,
dodging eyes that desperately search
for warmth,
human contact.

rubber soles,
welded hand grips
turning in circles, too low
to the ground
for society's comfort.

the load she carries,
a shriveled carcass
of intellect,
strong-spirited,
driven, determination
her backbone in a world
overlooking her existence.

with every rotation, reminders
of what she once owned,
a stroll in the park,
a dance after sunset,
climbing great mountains, before atrophy
strips her.

secret vows,
(take back what was lost
run with great fervor,
leaving behind hushed whispers)

accusers proclaim her denial
"such a shame,
what a waste
accepting her fate
would bring swifter ending."

cheating death's angel,
stepping through pain,
inching her way
towards the run of a lifetime.

beating the lies
with well rehearsed lines,
defeating the turning
of rubber wheels,
she kicks off her heels,
runs with great reverence.

yesterday, crossing the street
to greet lonely eyes,
offering hope
with a comforting smile.

remembering,
reaching out with a hand,
plucking pain with her touch,
grateful for days
not at all missed.

with life she's been given,
passing to strangers,
curing the curses
of yesterday's sorrow.
~~~~~

 

[The Mutt]

Oh, no! Another Hyper!

She feels the sizzle coming through the wires,
she strokes the keys with tingling fingertips
and grabs the pulsing throb of microchips,
her face aglow with light from cathode fires.

She has the turning world beneath her hand,
she hears the piercing whine as rotors turn,
and smells the ozone stink as motors burn,
and rides a coursing current made of sand.

A world of knowledge there at her command,
a web of information there to learn,
but drawn by want, surrendering her trust,

she searches for the banished and the banned.
She enters in and lets her conscience churn,
and gives her soul completely to her lust.

Her tongue is stung by copper-tinged desires,
She bytes into the core and chews her lips,
past sense into the sensual she slips,
and types and types and types 'til she expires.

And then the morning comes, as morning must,
and turns electric dreams to cyber-dust.



Come hide under my covers, lil fawn.