Best Tattering Poems

I spend each wakeful night in search of evasive sleep.
    An unwelcomed vigil denies me peaceful rest.
I've need to bury his haunting specter somewhere deep;
    entombing forever my perpetual uninvited guest.

Close my weary eyes, appears the vision of his...

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If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages, 
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could grasp stars and not burn,
 I dig my face into the dirt and find eternity.

i gazed into the jackals eyes...

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no more small talk to say in numbers walking the trail
and these are added up and equal now us on the mountain marsh exploring
in the mind's eye glittering 
like water oozing quicksilvers under this yellow sun
like my breath in time's undulating tides beckoning thankyou
and so...

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Monotheists are wrong to aspire toward evangelical control
of fear and anger actions and reactions
in absence of HolySpirit's loving mindfulness
of peace and passion and pleasure,
preforming our transformational intent
as discerned through daily practices 
stretching unconditionally warm compassion.

We devolve toward runaway monotheistic unease  
to become so satiated...

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imagined by others,
s/he is approached as the
perfect candidate,
s/he is that last 
perfect
puzzle
piece,
which will make the whole
monstrosity,
complete &
not a shred of talent matters,
not a shred of ambition is
needed,
not a shred of ideals, not a
shred of intelligence, not a
shred of anything but the 
will to obey for...

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=Pulpit and the Pews=


When she bends
She needed you most.
You reposed
And labelled her-
Flagrant eloquent noise.

Now perceives wide-awake
There and then mews- 
Nothing to say.

Who’s fooling who? 
On whose folly
In this case?
Thorny woes
Or woes tangle?

Oil and canvas
… Instrumental madness;
Can grab Peter
To play Paul.

Viva, 'tis okay, 
She has no...

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Black wings are beating a sharp tattoo,
A-tattering on your skull.
A raven is perched on all of you
There is:  a bone-white hull.

The love of your youth, she floats in mist.
Your triumphs and brave defeats
And manhood expire.  No dreams exist.
Just bones, where the black wing...

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Let them tell the old lie no more
For we who went out desolate
Desolate returned to the empty shore
Laden with wounds that shall not heal
Deep mental scars tattering us more
Who left our fragments on distant fields
That these old apartheid ways may endure.
Nothing in dying is sweet
Not...

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Peace was beyond me the other night,
violence tested me with painful plight,
moseying tricks to loiter and fall,
the notions of proper etiquette's crawl,

See, violence only acts as fare,
to dis-armor peace's proportions of care,
until lowering defenses in hope attain,
the witted injustice's chance to obtain,

submission, reaction, to increase...

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Self-loathing and beating
A dark passage placed
Beneath the old ways
Where darkness dwells
Sadness runs rampant
And depression reigns
I visit this lonesome place
At times when I’m down
It pays to remember
This area of torment
When days I did bleed
And suffer profusely
I’m glad to be out of it
Living a better life
Bettering myself...

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THE TREE COULDN'T FLY

This lonely desolate tree wanted to fly
The southern wind told this strange tree
Go up high with the branches and try
Catch the sun, free you would be.

The tree didn’t move up an inch
Couldn’t snap the shackled roots
The sun glided away out of its...

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A silver plane is writing I...LOVE...YOU
Upon that paper called the sky,
And someone down below---I'm sure it's true---
Feels lightly winged and high.

This missile in my hand writes just the same
Upon this cloud called paper sheet,
Solidifying my ardent flame
So snow-bound you may feel love's heat.

The plane flies...

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I.

The rhythm of war is the ancient roll
Of the tattering, martial drum,
The slick of the boots—and the perfect salutes—
The drummer boy’s dum-da-dum.

II.

The lyrics of war are the usual ones
Politicians can spout with aplomb:
“God bids us begin—and this war we can win
--He blesses our cause and...

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The angry sea tosses,
waves on a jetty of stone,
at the edge of the great square.
Under a dark and torn sky,
the wind screams and moves,
lifting the waves of the sea,
going thro doors and between pillars,
tattering the banders of men.
The fallen shadows,
lint stones,
columns,
city.
The people are gone,
a city...

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Rickety rackety rattletrap Ralph
Swiftly splattered and splashed his way south
Tattering and transferring two trucks in a tunnel
Undermining Uncle Uric’s ferocious fire funnel
Slickly sideswiping sleuth’s semi-good solution
Taking turns twisting a tornado, causing serious pollution....

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