Long Deathbeds Poems

In the mirror, I see my face melt away in shame
And, yet I still hunt for game…feeling this shame without a well-thought-out 
name

I hunt you down to catch some inspiration
I’m not looking for fame…I want...

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In the mirror, I see my face melt away in shame
And, yet I still hunt for game…feeling this shame without a well-thought-out name
I hunt you down to catch some inspiration
I’m not looking for fame…I want...

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The ladder is cold steel and past its days, dulled to a natural grey
Yet its rungs still stand strong, stretched over the battered frame
See over time, a ravished age, the world has grasped the ladders...

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The sand is stained red
with our bygone blood,
the blood that brought us from Ararat to the Alti,
a tribe trekking intrepidly through the Eurasian terrain,
caravans of Caucasians clad with Celtic tartan twills
plaids upon the pale horse...

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I have prayed,and prayed hard, for the deaths of 2 people. Lest you think me a criminal, an explanation: one was my mother-in-law, a frail 89 yr. old who had a bad fall. Her organs...

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The others are left to roam on their own…
Everlasting sorrow spills out from the carcasses…
Love has already spoiled…hate is the main event in the picture…
Laurel…Save yourself from death or hell...below...…before it’s too late!

The others are...

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Co-empathic passions
like hearts with flowers,
mothers with soft sunny spring shower days,

Develop interdependent webs
of both/and intimacy,
like bodies with loving minds
wrapped around loving partners
and cooperative vocational co-owners,

Regenerating love life
lived win/win optimally well,
like an organic ecofeminist farmer
dancing nutritional...

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For thus  I am  entangled in a web of despair!
        A widow's orb of woven thread.
'Tis a stalker's venom that keeps me there.
   ...

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So just a man human frail..Now confronted and  really
Aware of a veil..' No real power no real plan, yet the thought
Of what has been happening? Over a fifty year span.? I
Not from a truly...

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Friends tell each other how they feel 
with relative ease and frequency,

Siblings wait for a more convenient time,
—like their deathbeds.
Anonymous 

After the storm raged,
There was nothing left to salvage.
The once sturdy oak tree had fallen,
Its...

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You are all vehement and gutsy
Putting across even the wrong forcefully 
With vulgarity drawing a bow or curtsy
From a righteous man smeared shamefully 

You care not for truth but to win
Teasing an argument to tear...

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As an old man reflecting on his very long past does he only reflect the good,
My friends I stand guilty, my reflections are of only good in my shoal of time,
Dare I peer into mists...

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As an old man reflecting on his very long past does he only reflect the good,
My friends I stand guilty, my reflections are of only good in my shoal of time,
Dare I peer into mists...

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At sunrise the heron soars effortlessly upon the breeze
waves roll in crashing upon the rocks and beaches
rising tides reach high upon the sands then fade away
the sun breaks through my window and kisses my cheek....

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A nation dies
when its ideas become slogans
nothing is deeply planted
or cultivated
just notions to be scattered around
as exposed hayseeds
that fly directionless.

When a state is oppressed
the collective impulse
is to oppress another country.
Wars are never fought
over an ideal.
In...

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Tears drop from Mother Earth’s eyes
At the unspeakable horrors
Released by humankind.

Born from Her womb,
These children of Earth murder
Among themselves to the very last.

Mercy flees the scene
As dark knights of Adam charge forth
Into the red mist...

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In clouds of spring fresh whispy dreams prevail
They tell of joy as hope in hearts arise
With youthful frolic's yearning wishing wells
In fairytales seen through poetic eyes

In clouds of summer passion's featherbeds
We lay in love to...

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Little Men


They speak
Before thinking
They speak 
After drinking
They speak
When silence would make them wiser
They speak
The words of little men

Sadly they know not the land of the meek
Inheritance shall never be theirs to keep

They obtained a few...

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On my deathbed,
will someone know me?
Like nobody else,
someone who chose me.

Will I have another half,
holding my hand?
From now until then,
will it hurt more,
or will it hurt less?

Will I hide from thunder,
or take a chance and...

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Faded away—
and all that is left
is the shape of it—
 
the memory. 

Brown leaves lightly disturbed
in their cold deathbeds by 
your black paws—
ears lifted—slanted forward.
Your eager stride 
out of the black shroud
and to your mournful...

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Gray wings
at the edge of a threadbare blue.
A feathering that attenuates
and denatures.

Beneath somber clouds
stone angels watch
green granite deathbeds
crumble
in darkening dens.

October slips
through our eyes leaving no footsteps.
We are unaware of its coming
until we close those eyes...

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