24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Urbanization of civilization
Propagation of technologies
Enriching in the core structure in a civil society
Working in the dimensionality
Enriching life in post modernity
Frigid night so desolate
Making things in its isolate
Enriching much complexities
Direction of new social norms
Determinants of ideals lingers
Workable feasible arising
Truly it is a sign of this civilization
An evening fog manifesting
© Roy Mark Azanza Corrales 06082017 4:21 PM PST
If i were to knowingly die in the next five minutes
I would give thanks to my creator for allowing me
to spend my last minutes doing what I love
and I just happened to have some chocolate on hand
to nibble as I write
the love of my life is laying close to me
and just a few short hours ago asked me to be his wife
I think to myself as the seconds tick away
that this was a perfect way to end an imperfect life
He is the one who can see my truth both motivating and exhilarating with a presence designed to consume.
He is as gentle as my deepest state of meditation and as strong as this Sunday morning coffee I’m making just to get through.
He is the image of God in the land where many souls have been taken.
I breath him in daily so all of my doubts can become vacant.
He is merely a man who’s love was made just for me in this destitute land of the forsaken.
Guard Dogs
When Papaw Kidd died, he left
two dogs behind. They sat
on his porch, staring at trees,
waiting for family to come
and clean out his closet stuffed
with overalls and white shirts
and dirty boots. One German
Shepherd, one Cocker Spaniel,
both light brown and dusty
porcelain. Mommy fought
cousins to keep the dogs
for me, to hold, to guard.
8/6/17 1:05am
Give It Up
Electric bubble gum popping
The wires all open ended
Gasoline and sparks
The trains don’t run here
It’s too flammable
Uninhabitable
A Chernobyl wasteland of what used to be “pride.”
Sludgy and thick
Battery acid crackling of ulcers
What you could’ve said
should’ve said
Spilling over
Melting through your plastic suit
The radioactive quarantine of what’s been kept inside.
Clear out the rot to make space
Cut away the decay
And ease the toxicity.
Sitting in the train car, I chose the SkyView cabin as we cruised through Glacier National Park. I wondered about the engineering behind the trestle bridges cleaving through this wondrous beauty. Clouds misted around the top of the window, blocking my view. My son, two years old at the time, stood at the window, pointing to bald eagles, moose, and elk who munched lazily on the mountainside. I wondered about the Chinese who laid most of the rails through Montana. Those men who woke every morning with coffee, looking at the same glaciers as me so many years later. Men who struggled to communicate, who families didn’t find out until months later if they fell from the mountain or were crushed under railroad ties. Amtrak continued to cut through the countryside, no memorials. Just the same path cut by man’s hands from the mountains to the plains.
The melodies of tune
their jingle in time
has something to say
in the silent creases of my soul.
The vastness of blue
blurred to the horizon
unites the melodies of my heart
and the music to my ears
There is something in them
that keeps me till the end
Copyright © Snigdha
I assume she’d tired of her nest.
Maybe she just felt like the patio was best.
Less stress.
She is very protective of the place.
Not sure why she would need so much space.
Just not commonplace.
She runs everyone out of her patio room.
Other hummingbirds come by she’ll suddenly zoom.
Don’t go out to relax, even humans meet her doom.
jj2017
I would fall asleep
Inside your chest cavity.
And when you woke,
We’d be some weird half-mutant.
And when you woke,
Well,
You wouldn’t, after all.