Best Uncollected Poems

Pieced together thin slices
like a slivered moon
mosaic
cobbled snapshots of splendor and pain

Fractured glints of crashed boundaries
uncollected past dues
mingled souls’ shredded fabric
a patchwork insane

shimmered moonglow does knock on
your window each night
poke your nose through the fog
and unlock the safety chain...

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I never always truly sometimes
Wish I could be just like you
Better than not just good enough
One of the rare unlucky few

To be calm cool and uncollected
To be at the bottom of the perceptual top
Bopping to the sound of a dyslexic drummer
Whetting appetites I just cannot...

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One day my body had stopped
I did not know I had dropped
With little notice this story is true
That the mind can actually take a detour
What happens is that relativity becomes skewed
Shaken by an energy unknown
Either to protect your mind from working hard
Or just dissociate with...

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I collect eyes. Burnt ones.
Of the last summer.
Arms chopped off. 
By a tide of sand.
Reflections of uncollected water. 
You, hunter of flowers…
Oh, wharves! 
Oh, sea goings! 
Winds in the sails of the white ships.
High wings.
The swelter of August swallowed you.

But today it’s September and the...

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Wild, uncollected bouquets
Nature's artful, abundant glee
Beauteous grass-grown golden rays
Wild, uncollected bouquets
In perfumed, iris-purple haze
A kiss of green in white daisies
Wild, uncollected bouquets
Nature's artful, abundant glee.

4/28/19...

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A notice appeared in the paper recently with the names and faces of eight men who have a combined wealth of $426 billion. According to Oxfam International, in 2015 this would have equaled the amount of wealth held by half the world’s population, the poorest...

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Things happen. Life unravels
The earth spins, perpetuating processes
And as we recount our travels
Our hearers marvel
Stories of prophets' heads on silver platters 
Representations of old things
And we should be somehow flattered
By images of our saggy bottoms and flaked skin
All the expected supreme annoyances
In bags of leftover...

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I
The beggar outside the supermarket
You swore was picked up later
In a flashy car
Sat there in the sun for 8 hours
While you pissed & moaned
All the way home
To your bookless
Mausoleum 
With a chlorinated pool
Where one day you will 
Face down float
When your sour & blackened
Heart
Is divorced...

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I collect eyes. Burnt ones.
Of the last summer.
Arms chopped off. 
By a tide of sand.
Reflections of uncollected water. 
You, hunter of flowers…
Oh, wharves! 
Oh, sea goings! 
Winds in the sails of the white ships.
High wings.
The swelter of August swallowed you.

But today it’s September and the...

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Often I wonder,
What compels me to write,
For whatever I put down,
Has only a slight chance of being read,
And then a slimmer chance of being remembered,
Until now I could not come up with a suitable reason,
But alas, i have discovered the truth as only I can...

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All rights are left.
Love be gone.
With wars, how do we live each day
To carry on?
With LAWS?

Remember what's wrong.
Is this the SONG we lift our
Voice to sing?
Hollering  after the  STING of 
Careless ways
bled  HALF OF HUMANITY.
WE  EACH FIND OUR FATES.

How they fall...

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In asci we stand like
spores in a floating pain
in trepidation of something
evil.

It was a lily pond.
The water brings a dead city
on lotus leaves. I will
become crazy for small deviations.

The body bags are full of
remains. You know everything
before hand, from alphabet
to full script.

In my own way...

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My day-brain opens its hamster cage;
mind finds its eyes. 
I am still downloading.  
I have a whole fictional life to remember,
otherwise,
 I might see myself as an unwritten poem.

Open-mouthed I wait, uncollected, 
for the drool of being....

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My Harvest Was at The Cross
Written: by Tom Wright
10-11-2016

I hear ministers expound on seed planting 
And the harvest that I’m ever guaranteed
I’m perplexed by those who’s incessant ranting
Preach doctrines whose intent is to mislead

I never plant seed for a return expected
And God isn’t bound to...

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The morning sun filters through dust-laden windows of the district education office like an unwelcome truth trying to penetrate wilful ignorance. Shelves buckle under the weight of untouched research journals like abandoned promises, their spines uncracked like vows never fulfilled, their wisdom sealed away like...

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