Hour10
Pay, play, pray…
What do you choose?
Mail, male or whale?
How big do you dream?
2023 Poem Eleven
Remember that time you were a Beard and and you wanted him to actually be into you? Like actually factually, really into you as more than Just Friends? Turns out you were just a closeted trans dude whose kinda sorta mostly a guy but of course you had no idea that that was the case. You only knew that he should fall for you and it would have worked because his family really liked you and you’d become related to your best friend. You wouldn’t put the pieces together for another 10 years.
It wouldn’t have worked out in the end though. Turns out he’s an elitist Theatre Gay Stuck in Community Theater.
The Englishmen would always mistake Gurasa for pizza.
The Englishmen would always mistake Gurasa for pizza.
In a train station in Sarkin pawa
Darkness strikes and covers
The roads, all the vehicles on
The road parked beside the highway
To watch the apocalypse finish.
My sister, body of English for accent
Finally opens her mouth to cravings.
In the meantime, Sarkin pawa had
Not seen power for over six months,
All the people with freezers have grown
To never need useless things, all the
Restaurants with ovens have closed to
Respect my country’s low standards.
My sister orders a pizza on her phone,
Minutes later she cannot connect to her
Internet to confirm purchase, we sit in
Despair, she sits in regrets, a sales boy
With gurasa passes our car, I purchase
Gurasa for all of us, the train station
Might never open again, my sister would
Only crave in silence, till her English
Is enough to call pizza with a new name—gurasa.
Rachnoc Haiku 22 Hour 22
Coral and weed spread,
Choking the sinner’s resolve.
Rachnoc shades the wall.
Slowed by sea’s template,
He clambers stair after stair,
Tentacles surround.
Apex light roars, shoves,
Fugitive arrived alone,
Blade quiets the ex.
Falls in light contrast,
Rock’s womb shatters spinal cord,
Spews him to the sea.
Still lurking around (Hour 22)
A house on the road,
calls my name,
whenever I stop,
it calls me again,
shows me the past,
promises me future,
calls me again,
never to let me go,
illusion I thought,
delusion I feel,
not sure what is real,
or what has been stole,
my memories are gone,
everything is unknown,
my loved ones think I am gone,
but I am lurking alone.
21 Underground
Have no doubt
You will have to go
Unless there’s something
I don’t know
As we say
All days above ground
Offer us all
Another go round
Sure it’s tough
And sometimes hard
We all have problems
With fewer cards
Piss and moan
All you want
About those folks
You’ll get to haunt
Bury Me in Georgia
Now my favorite song
Though not a country gal
I could belong
Beneath peach trees
Lay me to rest
As I sing alone
That I did my best
Silence is a wise language
Calmness, a tranquil for concentration
It’s a meditation to some souls
It’s a frustration to some souls
Where thoughts, inner feelings
Breaks out the quietness
Silence is a peace point
For healthy living of time
Of stillness, build strength
Silence remembers as
A white paper without words
of quiet knowledge,
silence stands as guiding light
if silence covers your heart
You are in your dream world
Silence is sleeping pill
Silence is the sweetest chill
Silence, a death tax
For every human’s breath
Prompt -22
Hour – 22
Poem for Hour Twenty-Two (22/24)
Heron standing
steward overseeing
beckons me near with ancient eyes
great and blue
like his name supplies
the recognizable shapes of someone long laboring over thought
I came to him with joy and the weight of questions from years past
the hope of every birder to speak with this beast
prehistoric and wise
but i did not get to ask
it was his turn to speak
“Do you know why the land chokes?
Why smokestacks billow and coral reefs die?”
Taken aback, my gaze shattered like falling glass
down his immovable spine
He stabbed into the water and came up with
Debris
And set it down at my feet
Not blaming me but
Filled with decades of sorrow
I felt obliterated
for I love the ground which supports him and the
sky which holds him aloft,
but he asked of me still
impossibly hard things
he mourned
“Why are the seas overfished?
Why is enough never enough?
Do you know why the ceaseless wheels of progress
bowl over the unfortunate?”
I stood mouth agape
Head shaking like I could erase the truth
I asked through tears
“What can be done?” but his long beak like deep nights stayed persistent in its slumber
and I had no choice but to ask
“Why does this happen?” I pleaded
and the heron turned to me
amber orbs unchanging
“Humans think they’re better.”
Hour9
How would you define love?
What do you seek? Could I be
the answer to your prayers?
Could I be the apple of your eye?