The Poetry Marathon

Skipping on the milky way with my red and orange shoes

My new red and orange shoes, shinning in the bright sunshine,

still smell of shop and credit card transaction.

bought them for a cousin’s wedding.

But I like them, red and orange,

glad I am not a bridesmaid.

I will be able to coordinate the shoes and wear them to my heart’s content.

Red and orange, a dress, a hat, a handbag

and what to do with my hair.

Those shoes are the stuff dreams are made off,

they make memories for a life time.

The perfect match,

I couldn’t really afford them.

But I wear them all the time now,

They are so me,

they fit,

We are the ideal match.

I run and I skip,

I am proud and happy with my red and orange shoes.

I wear clothes to highlight them and put them to their own advantage.

Red and orange,

shoes and one day I will have to discard them,

cant think of that moment now,

Too difficult,

Will I wear them for my cousin’s wedding

No id rather skip on the milky way wearing them.

Unrepeatable

There are some things in this life

You can’t find twice

A bookstore like this

Where you can sit for hours

Watching life stroll by

And have books forced into your hands

That will change your life

This only happens once in a lifetime

Red

The color of power
And that of danger
The color of love
And that of passion
The color of courage
And energy, and that of strength
The color of excitement
And that of motivation
The color of life and blood and emotion
A strong color with the best of luck
Is the color which is Red

On the dock

The water is cool and calm
gently rolling out the colors
sunshine and clouds
turn on the night.

Warmth is slipping away
into the sky
away from here
like a fire dying down.

The cool blue daycolor has been
pushed out
overruled by brilliance,
red and yellow.

Green is creeping in closer
Violet’s dancing on the horizon
and I feel warmer now
invigorated.

Purple, Persimmon and other Shades

Pewter
Ebony
Red
Indigo
White
Imperial
Navy
Khaki
Lavender
Ecru

Short Pants

I don’t remember my exact age, maybe  three, four,

but I do remember that I was still in short pants.

I was on the dirt road, in front of our house

Playing like I was a soldier.

I vaguely knew the boy,

probably a friend of my brothers I surmised.

He took my hand and led me toward

a nearby house, inside to a bedroom.

I remember the room well. The bedspread

was white with tiny pink and yellow flowers.

And the wallpaper was hanging down in one corner,

Like an elephants ear.

Suddenly, he was on the bed with me,

his hand up my pants leg, touching me.

Alarm springs up in my mind.

I struggle against his damp,

sour-smelly body as he fondles me.

There is shouting.

It is my brother.

He picks me up, leaves the house,

and takes me home.

Green Eyed Monster – Hour Ten

Green eyed monster

Nobody wants her

Not once the damage is done –

She sees a red heart and wants to paint it black

She sees affection and wants to give it back

Untouched.

 

Colors of the Night

• Colors swirling in the night
  Dark blue, yellow, cream
  I stare in fascination
  At this artistic scene.
  The dark sky churns in restless motion
  The wind agitates the air.
  I close my eyes and see the echo
  Feel the breeze flow through my hair.
  In my minds eye, the reflection of
  The colors swirling in the night.
  I see the stars, reach out my hand
  To this pleasure I hold tight.

FIRE VISION

The Russian arms are bought with gold smuggled through Spain, over the Pyrenees mountains.

Our comrades are of the utmost importance. Heil Hitler.

We know that common jealousies are of secondary importance to fear. We know that capitalist schemes feast on fascist supplies. We know that the front line of vanguard revolutionary defense is for ourselves as much as for them…

7 months later goldman meets rocker at anarchist gatherings

It was then I saw the treacherous critics playing their parts leaving me searching for a place to bury actual facts. Leaving me looking to protect us all from condemnation at the hands of disastrous collaboration.

Can you say you ALWAYS remain truthful to your ideas?

Can you say you PROMISE to understand our indignation perfectly?

Can you say you WILLINGLY breach your principles?

The human struggle is on fire. The last war was for the purpose of ending war. Historical anarchist movements seek to liberate women. Emancipate our pussies. Cultural and political concerns are inseparable.

… those were naïve days when there was still hope. like babes in woods we were dreaming of all the work we could accomplish. it was all so long ago …

I have a hunch that the comrades will support the war. But, I will not be deceived by this. I will not be blinded alongside the masses as their useless slogans strengthen imperialism. I am inclined to believe I stand alone in my protest. I reiterate more than ever my opposition.

Hour 7

You could never fill this void.
I’ve consumed enough lovers to realize
That some people will never be made whole.