poem | THE CIRCUS . . . . . . . . . AND THE ZOO

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Posts tagged ‘poem’

EVERYONE IS DYING (and I thought it was just me)

People are dying.

Kids are dying from suicides, tired of their mundane existence in front of their gaming screens alone.

People are dying because they are not going in to get their tests or see their doctors about symptoms that may be leading to heart attacks, strokes or cancers not diagnosed early enough that will now certainly kill.

Intestinal ailments, other diseases, other health issues.

Mental health issues.

Parents are dying from lack of resources since they can’t work.

Our society is dying from misinformation, conflicting information, censored information, ignored information, information overload, media fear overload.

Our brains are dying.

Our relationships are dying.

Our ambitions are dying.

Our creativity is dying.

Our artistry is dying.

Our poetry is dying.

This is a poem.

=================

Art by William Blake

Category:

MUSINGS, PHILOSOPHY, PHOTOS, POETRY, POLITICS, SOCIETY

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COSMIC SONG

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There’s always music playing in the air everywhere

Everything you hear

Listen closely

Music in the air

Sometimes it’s the snare and drone of the machine

Sometimes it’s the song of the wind

Or of the air

Or of a machine somewhere

Music always in the air

You have to stop and hear

Music in the air

Music everywhere

No matter where you are

You can hear it

Because music is in the air

Everywhere

Listen

Category:

MUSINGS, PHILOSOPHY, PHOTOS, POETRY

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CITY TALK

bangkok-bldgs-and-ribbons

In this turbulent city

the shrill alarm of the sun

awakens me

to kiss a new morning sky.

A thick brown cloud of smog

tickles me

to open my dreary eyes

and smell the rising dawn.

Roaring motorcars

and boisterous buses

sing a brutal song

to my distressed ears.

Grueling heavy metal

in a crescendo

of muddled thrash.

Soon faces in the traffic

snarl viciously at me

with all the shortcomings

of the previous

disenchanted evening.

Tall looming skyscrapers

stare brooding at me

dark shaded windows

laughing.

Traffic lights

are yelling at me

in enigmatic code

only gods can understand.

At the close of night

the roads are deathly silent

and I

have yet

to say a word.

Category:

MUSINGS, PHILOSOPHY, PHOTOS, POETRY, POLITICS, SOCIETY

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:like ON THE EDGE OF PO VER CITY

……………………

…………………..

on the tattered street by the sidewalks of diversity

lies bare and broken the remnants of a civilization’s dream

discarded and no longer significant to the progress of the modern era.

the streets of silence howl with night, they feel the brittle fingers of the bite

………………………..of the lost entrails of the fading sun

they feel that comet on the run

like no longer dying

……………….but no longer fun.

…………….

……………………..The bright illuminated headlights of the planets sun

………………………………………….shines above the city like a darkened plum

…………………….the skins of the city dirty come

………………….for a breadth of pleasure to fill their sum

……………….but the dreams of the mortals are not soon over run

………….for they savored bitter, sweetness of the silent one.

……………..

…………………..broken and shattered you can hear them plea

……………….salvage the remnants or they’ll never see.

…………………..

……………………..and back on the street the wheels still roar

…………….as the fire of the sky above does burn

………………………..so the wheel of the killer still does turn

…………..as the remnant on the street feels the rubber pound

……so the motor and the earth felt the burning ground.

………………….

………………………….bells ring souls sing

……..and the remnant and the sky didn’t hear a sound

…………………..they were happy for the silence

……………………………………in a dream

……………………………………….they found.

………….

…………….

————————————————
fj llorente – Texas Max King – circa 1996

Category:

MUSINGS, PHILOSOPHY, POETRY, SOCIETY

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RIVETS AND BUNS (A War Story of Love)

Her soft hands
warmly knead my flour
a precious cargo
booming to land another flawless mission.

To Paris on her smell.

He doesn’t feel the final rivet snap
blooming foreskin
shielding the butt tip of his cockpit
as it rips apart
on his final approach
to her runway.

He smells the Paris of her hands baking.

Category:

POETRY

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DEEP MINES

Mines I slave for nights and days

the dark depths conceal

hard hammered walls

of bones and dirt.

One hollow cavity I follow

pounding loud and soundly

a suckled pulse

for a dire gem of pleasure

and a mass mother lode.

In the core shaft of pursuit

the bright gilded veins

gleam ruptured passion

from every mind’s eye

my find you are mine

dear lover.

_______________________________

Written August 25, 1999
Revised November 2, 2015

Category:

MUSINGS, PHILOSOPHY, POETRY

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:OBSERVATIONS ON A NOVEMBER DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN

It’s almost time for me to head back home
but today I feel a darkness creeping
across the globe dark forces seeping
they find the holes when I am sleeping
or when I am not fighting them and keeping
them on the defensive.
They are greedy green mean machines.
Real powers and real forces. There are those that
don’t believe me. They don’t see them every day.
So they give them holidays, so they can do what they may, and take away, more of what you pay and pay. They do not understand that only they can stop them. But they must fight them every day. Without a holiday. Believe what I say.
Drugs you don’t need.
Healing plants you can’t have.
Poisons in your food to make you pay.
Wars and weapons to pay and pay in lives.
Watching and listening, taking away your dignity,
your humanity, your joy.
Tricks to fool you, pay you to work,
then take your money away.
You never own anything. They own you.
You can stop them.
You must stop them.
Stop the banks from stealing.
Stop the companies from cheating.
Stop the people from lying.
Stop the government from killing.
Love.
Love is not religion.
Love is not a competition.
Love is not waiting for the reward.
Love is Nature.