Short Press Down Poems

I press the word
to find what juice
is inside

No idea can hide
as I press down
firmly

Sucking the sentence
for its worth....

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Press down on the pen
  the pen shatters
    ink splatters

That poem in your head
  deserves to be read
    restraint matters...

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steel mill smoke stack
anvil and hammer
my will for sure
sprinkle the cotton
hot steam on my face
press down hard
don't beak the board
chore of the sixties...

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I felt the weight on the covers press down
            under nothing but darkness
  with nothing but something beside me
         the air was not all mine, I alone
   still nothing but something disturbing


...

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There's a push in my pen 
   a coax in my keyboard
A prod 'cross my fingers
   a poke 'top my brain

Each sentence hides muscles
   nudging stanzas to bustle 
One poem's done, here comes the next
   press down on the keys, produce the text...

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A sign on the gate read,
“No Democrats Allowed” – 
Here no more debate, an
arrow pointing to an 
elevator, “Democrats
Please Press Down” – not
one retrievable soul could
Peter find in the Democrat
Lost And Found: all votes
having been Forensically 
Counted, Heaven's Golden
Rule, a thunderous voice they
heard cry out, “God Ain't No
Doting Fool!” –...

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It has been a long time since
I have been away from you
and tonight, I miss your soft-glowing
presence, and the serenading shadows 
conducting the silky symphony of
your peeling clothes. I miss
your reassuring steps, as you
approach the bed, and the gentle sagging
of the mattress as you press down
to bend over to kiss my cheek
as I fall into a blissful sleep....

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My faucets run cold, what IS this about?
My hot-water-heater-tank pilot light's out!
Press down that red button and click 'til I pout
Then spew out a string (my religion in doubt)

My stove-top still lights, I can still take a bath!
Boil three piping pots full (I HOPE that will pass)
Teeter and totter like I'm walkin' through glass----
The stopper ain't stoppin', you STUPID dumb-ass!!...

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I will thank you
For your voice.
It adds a weight to the hem of the veil
That will press down
The curtain of secrecy.

Your words, your octave, your spacing
Will appear before my closed lids,
As an artist painting a self portrait;
Of a man I have never seen
Or touched or tasted.

Each word, each stroke,
Each layer, each contradiction,
Will transform the
Ghosts of imagination
And define your reality.

I pray for this one word:Hello....

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Top of the family tree
Looking down on young life
The future what is there?
A chance or more chances
To become more~improve
The deceased press down hard  

Train up the children
Teach the youth what's right
Show them correct way
Point them to the light
Through hands of love guide

The very top
Now there's freedom
No! Now first comes
Obligation

Tenderness
Gentleness
Listening

Ever
Love~Guide 

Now!

Finis'...

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When the poems sound ordinary,
change your pattern of life.
Live more than write awhile.
Go out and run a mile.
Get yourself a new wife.
Visit an observatory.

Sit and zone awhile.
Witness something vile.

Fall deep in love.
Be reaped by love.

Break a woman's heart.
Get your heart broken.
Just press down the lead to start,
the only saving token.

Write, live with vigor
and unatched hunger
of madman intensity.
Lyrical festivity
may well be conjured....

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Alarmed finally, after the Jersey bull
Placed its head against my belly 
Started to press down the way I might
Try to push away some dread
Like the one that was heaving through 
My chest, resembling acid reflux I guess

My fiancé saved me from the bull
Kicking him none too gently in the nose
As he pulled me away from his terse form
And toward his own more affectionate hug

Gratefully, I fell into his embrace
And sighed a hint of relief through
Clenched, panicked lips of dismay...

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