Writing poetry is essentially exploratory.
It's not about healing,
but about opening up the wound.
Painting by Nik Helbig
You know, I’m a chatterbox. Tonight, I’m quiet.
The following two poems have taken away most of my words.
I’ve got two thing to say, one the Soup has got some incredible poets, and they just keep coming. The other is that one of these poems was labeled as ABC, the other was labeled as Carpe Diem. And it is a-okay by me. They’re awesome!
The gentleman who likes mangos
Down by Bliss Street where the frangipanis bask,
And the Goddess of Love has put up her tent,
Lives a gentleman with fire in his eyes and cats in his kitchen.
Oh of course I will tell you he's an angel if you ask,
And his magic lies in the making of enchantment,
Why then do dark clouds cover my silent sun?
We will sing together and dance in a fury of touch,
Like the wind does when a storm comes passed,
We will laugh and joke and taste wine in gentle sips,
And that won't matter much,
Because as you might have guessed,
Love has taken me and kissed me on the lips.
Time has curled up on her couch like a Siamese cat,
Yet he still loves mangos and a foot massage at night,
Perhaps God finally got it right,
When he touched his finger and tipped his hat,
And he walked out into the light,
Why then do dark cobwebs trap me in fright?
By the sea of blue and the grass so green,
He will lay his head on my shoulder and hum,
And all the dark clouds will drift away,
The cobwebs will vanish forever,
In the dark I will find my way,
The bells repeating in my brain will cease,
And I will be able to breathe again.
Oh gentleman of Bliss Street dance for me once more,
Before the candles in my lonely church are lit,
Come with me and sway upon the dance floor,
And I will read a poem and gently massage your soul,
And the red fire of enchantment will burn forever more.
A CURE FOR HICCUPS
By Joe Valzden
and so they spent a child's lifetime
reading small print
and getting lost
in bunglesome paraphernalia
avoiding culpable responsibility
and indemnifying culpability
toward all legal loopholes
while doctors sat on piles
of prescription pads
from the unusual side effects
of a frail supreme court janitor
wiping clean Judge Harley's
"In God We Trust"
arthritic hands trembling
for what seems a child's lifetime
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