EMBODIED CONTRASTS-:-
demand
shadowed
shaped
whispered
portents
in a SENSE OF PLACE
towering
threatening
unrestrained
complicated
awareness
from TIME TO TIME
confirmed
pressure
overcomes
creative
identity
How can I be both banished and captured?
I try to restore what was fractured.
I embody lightning!
These shocks to my body are a little frightening.
I feel myself flicker.
Like the laughter in these halls, and shouts that seem to bicker.
In the line, I am in the middle.
With each day, I feel my mind whittle.
My breath is crawling, won’t someone restore me?
They hold onto my breath, the air here is not free.
She says “He treats me so well!”
I say “I can hardly tell!”
She says “No one understands him
but me!”
I say “Sista, I hear you, but why are
you on the floor with bloody knee. . .caps?”
The rhymes and the reasons given by women
Allow them to mistakenly drink the vermin
Embodied in the shape and size of a hue-man
Designed by the creator to love and protect them.
Now everyone please, don’t get me wrong.
All men are not like this.
There are some that will give you joy.
And bring to you pure bliss!
It can be tricky, sometimes.
The love you want and the love you yearn for
Can be the very thing you’re sacrificed and
maliciously burned for.
The winding and binding mysteries of love
Can give you a glimpse of heaven above.
But if you’re not careful and don’t choose well
The choices you make can take you straight
to hell!
Every day is a challenge, a toss-up if you will,
To examine the faces of the men you meet
But in reality it’s simple, just remember one thing
Everything that's pretty, ain’t sweet!
Across the chest of river like night
Still Blows moaning wind, turbulent waves-
Still her face floats in the memory-mirror
As if-
A shadow floating
In the crystal-clear water of the pond at Krishnapur
Flying kite hovers with flying wings
Or like-
Reflected image in the window glass.
Rowing in the splendid moon light
The full moon stays awake
Exquisite cloud wanders around the moon
For its happiness of immaculate beauty.
Embodied
By David J Walker
As if I were a Ford or Chevy
Or an Old’s 88
Classified by year and make and
Model, registered and taxed and
Licensed with the local government
A product of an assembly line from the
American Big 3 proudly adorned with
Airplane like fins and flashy chrome bumpers
Popular in my generation
Parts interchangeable with the few
That are still truly original but more likely
Remanufactured to my specific
Specifications
Some admire the stressed and aged look
That comes naturally with the milage
Others like us restored down to the
Last detail
Keeping us in a garage, taking us
Out on sunny weekends, showing us off
At nostalgia shows playing the music we
Can sing to.
I used to name my cars as if they had a soul
I remember them now as I pass a junkyards
And wrecking yard where they disassembled,
Used parts sold and the rest smashed into a
Coffin like metallic wafer, the sent off to the
Recycler.
As an artist,
you go where art takes you
As a writer
—you become the words
(Dreamsleep: April, 2020)
A gray stormy sky matched my mood;
its violent, tempestuous
streaks of discontinuous light
fired across a charged atmosphere
soon answered by thunderous claps.
My mood is not unlike the storm:
It is emotionally charged,
unrestrained and prone to tantrums
that spark an electricity
too powerful to be controlled;
and like the tempest where wind blows
and precipitation follows
so too does my angry blowups
injure causing a flood of tears.
Electrodes electrify in currents so sporadic,
Never leading to objectives but moving with purpose,
Electrolytes breaks down to iron that stays erratic.
And the purpose still erodes to being worthless.
The body is an ecosystem in itself,
Brainwaves fluctuating in perfect unison,
And my life's aura seems to cause stability to melt.
While your beings duplicates seems to do you in.
Parts of the brain one can only emphasize for empathy,
And the bodies vivid power of remembrance fades,
All parasites have an opposite but life has no remedy.
And the windows to souls shuts and always jades.
Resemblance requires the minds recall of images,
And in my chest Ive filled a hole,
In dream land i quickly loose sympathy and other appendages.
And i sleep so life doesn't steal my soul.
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