Give me a quite room with a pen and book
Let me tie my shoes and reminisce about old school,
Underneath these massive rocks of my mountainous youth
Let me unleash the hidden truth.
What will come after modified food?
Let me meet the man behind the essence of this rule,
In those mountains serving as mirrors
To see those wonderful creatures living outside our loop.
We cry not for those who had to choose.
Give me the higher purpose in these lanes
To reveal those hidden names.
What about the edited books?
With thousands of words omitted
Dozens of pages missing, facts that were never quoted
And the summary of twisted words
From those distorted hearts and souls.
We are divided by neighborhoods and classified like stooks.
Centuries of homicides, genocides
And piles of dead bodies lying by the valley side,
Out of all animals we are on top of the food pyramid
We decide who live or die as our extinction approaches quick.
Few fear the words they remember when they are pissed.
Categories:
stooks, character, environment,
Form: Bio
Snapshot Dating
The right place
The right time
Again the day begins with
Faint sunshine
Over the sleepy villagers
Gathered in cities like stooks of corn
Stacked against the rainy form of
Another stormy morning
The black & white snapshot
Might tell a better story of
Grandfather sitting silently
On hay
Perfectly posed
in a quiet repose
He’s said nothing since his funeral
That Saturday
In town
The young boys gathered round
The Model T with the flat tire
It’s easier than replacing horseshoes
Said the young liar among them
Lighting a smoke they went about
The work before them
Greasing their fingernails in the
Futures of Oil Barons
The someday of overcoming fears
Has come and gone
The guides have taken the supplies
And gone their way
There is still plenty for the taking
As is love for the making of
The generations yet to come
Categories:
stooks, allegory, love,
Form: Rhyme
rumanative &
ancient
in gathering skies
of thunder&beating rain
groves&glades
with enormous boles
grasping at roots
&twisting sinews
clotted thatch corn stooks
sprinkled
&showered with a
thousand eyes
motley clothing fine meshes &
dappled skies&
mountains of light
enriching the actual present
pure&quaint
a crinkled Goth
pitting his English visions
with riches&fruitfulness
of urgent realities
in
prodigal
profusion
Categories:
stooks, art,
Form: Ekphrasis