Deaf can see symphony sounds with eager eyes
Imagining the noise as brown, flight of butterfly
Feeling the music from the car radio in time
Nodding with it in silver synch
To the rhythm deaf not blind
Walking on the beach as tan sand suckles feet
Toes making bowls of mud
while waves dance on repeat
And the cascading sun rays
All golden what is their sound
Perhaps they sound like a soft smile falling down
The drumming of an infants heart
As he jumps in arms and hands
Holding sweet child like holding a star
From a distant heaven or far land
The sound of tears of joy
Splashing in festive face
Happiness that fill a void
Gifts of God’s love and grace
Can you hear my satin soul
Rejoice on the deaf choir
Hands dance a ballet of gold
Sign language lifted higher
I am differently abled to hear
Sights hearing people may miss
Sounds of excitement I hold dear
As a deaf person I feel bliss
I woke up in the morning as the sun was starting to rise
I stared at the vibrant colors as a tear formed in my eye
I thought I would never view the world the same as I once did
But something about your death revealed the secrets it hid
So perfect and peaceful; a scene you would have loved
But then I realized you have the best view from above
I see you in the world as I travel through
I think back to the crazy times and the marshmallow hay bales you swore were true
Old memories of stories and inside jokes are fresh on the surface of my mind
I still remember that road-kill song we would sing to pass time
The smell of the hemlock reminds me of you
Riding with the windows down just after the morning dew
The honey suckles and the fresh cut grass has a stronger smell than ever before
Smells that I love, but you loved more
It’s as if the world is reminding me that you’re still here
I thought I saw the beauty before, but now it’s so clear
You have become the beauty I now see
Beauty that I know will never cease
Fluent in passions tongue
suckles like loved lost found
six drips hit tongue fast
heart races eyes look past
She's here again bare torn and happy
She smiles when my lips past gently
Warming hearts beats of joy
feeling impulse turn slowly toy
slide into my mind
pull back slow
find out why
You let me
own
Your heart
flutters
home alone
As my last leaves bid farewell
and crumble under winter's foot,
or await the soggy slosh of spring ~
I shiver, and raise my naked limbs
up toward where young boys climbed
toward Heaven...
So long ago, that now, they wither too.
The sweet sap of my youth
no longer runs,
The osmosis of my roots,
no longer suckles Mother Earth.
An arborist's blades, like the Reaper's scythe
will sever life's ties,
but, weep not at my ends for
now I climb to Heaven's breast
and a sapling grows from whence I came...
The barren ground bleached by the sacred sun
scantily clothed children and dogs run
Trees scarred by scavenged limbs
Burned in pyres as sunlight dims
Low water levels recorded on painted rocks
Boats cannot reach out of water docks
I have seen he planet of the damned
The hardened earth refuses tent stakes
another hill make your Achilles ache
The ground crackles then suckles in the rain
lack of jobs, beer in hand men complain
Barking dogs and muffled screams of passion
children cry in starvation fashion
music lifted by campfire plumes
Angry voices friendship consumes
I have walked the planet of the damned
Where people's lives reduced to what they own
Homeless families are not alone
friendship the ultimate mark
the ability to see light through the dark
I have lived on the planet of the damned
And life goes on without being crammed
Denying us a reply
Does many faults imply:
That you do wrong routes ply
And don’t knowledge supply…
Is it about bundles
He lazily trundles:
Appointments he had missed
But remorselessly hissed?
Was it that he had fought
And more Bloodletting sought
Or the way he chuckles
While watching Who Suckles?
Starve me you do response
And self in chair ensconce;
On words playing for puns…
Like Gone Simon Templar
You could things make simpler:
Why did you, at last, part
With Albert Bonaparte?
Sleepless, she struggles to breathe in and out
Her nose blocked; a cough once in a while
The mucus in her nostrils and bronchi, who will rout?
A prayer on my lips; what praise report will I file
Jehovah Rapha, take this cup of suffering away
I cannot sit and listen to her as she suckles
I praise your name; even in this you hold sway
On our knees we will fight this with bare knuckles
She is awake talking to the sofa in baby talk
It is half past four in the morning, cold
Our redeemer lives; with Him we walk
Happy again; proud to be part of His fold
With baby’s permission, I wish to lie down
Will sleep escape us with the coming dawn?
I celebrate the gift of another day, without a frown
As my sleepy, happy head stifles a yawn
Eyeball god in mouth
Ostara?...Dio?...Luna? ...
Is light as hunger for colors?
Eros the god of eyes and the hidden feelings
shameful man with erect cock -- sighing sex
in his heart -- a crack, deep and wide!
Black Hole!
Punk rock for a Black Hole!
Rainbow and jubilee exploded in flood!
Like a ***** universe all of our pornographic desires
moments of starving stars and **** stars!
An eyeless god living in a glass tube with hearts
like hot flashes in heat-blasted rooms!
Pulsing pimples -- swirling while a midnight sky
brings forth a cacophony of cosmic screams!
More impassioned raw-animal! More barking!
more vibrations -- more imminence!
More sinewy limbs on show -- I'm looking at --
lifeless grey body but voracious pink face!
It licks and whimpers, suckles and sucks!
Shall I become a statue again? -- glazed face with eyes
sheers-white in precession of Venus?
Hey! Taint! Milk it!
:: 11.12. 2020 ::
The twigs of March drip, and dangle ~ late in the day
birdsong returns. New veins leach in the leaf
there are florets of sap-sweet offerings.
From oracle rings earth worms rise up from a mud,
then wade-in to wet nurse the soil.
For the young, this is a time for naked toes
and muddy faces. For the younger, the land suckles
with its bare hands. The old watch the seep,
hear the suck of a million open mouths
beneath the leak of muddling mists.
New birthed lambs bleat to be fed,
be strengthened against returning lions.
March is kind only for a spell, for who can tell?
There are rumors of dragons in coming winds.
For now, young shoots struggle forth
there is a quickening reach, a tufted greening.
Dens and drays are fat with new birthed cubs
that play and mew in Marches bustle
uplifted now in a mucky coddle.
Razzle dazzle us with honey suckle flowers sweet sweet summer
and bring us butterflies of spring, on your shiny golden hummer
Let the golden sun kiss the earth and let the wild birds fly along
the beach, as we sandal up and walk the shore with happy song
Dizzle drazzel the ruby roses as they come to grow alongside you
let us feel the warm breeze on our skin and help us blush anew
Beneath the heaven, let there be light and a tad of cerulean blue
I know you know the ways of health so please, sunray us a few ?
Frizzle frizzle goes the pavement as we geer up for the heat
give us plush green grass for we are eager to plant our feet
we need playgrounds we need parks , an even open view
we need children's laughter, pretty flowers of every hue
Razzle dazzle us with honey suckles and wild wild roses too
we need a world full of people who are healthy, once anew .
Their forms have leaked into my mind;
women who have become
interchangeable body parts
in a chemical reaction I have with myself.
A female once undressed with a smile
seeps through closed lids,
another woman, once passed on a street
lived for years as a reoccurring fantasy;
she suckles an incubus,
born from a proliferant lust.
It returns to me now;
speaks as an imago and apprehension.
"Don’t worry father,
my crippled condition
can't be seen
behind your open eyes".
Thanksgiving Day
There’s something about Thanksgiving Day
That makes living worthwhile
With thankfulness for home and family.
While the children are outside playing,
The adults are bustling and fussing around,
Preparing and cooking food in the kitchen,
Which suckles the palate and warms my heart
And makes me happy to witness.
With the gobbler in the oven
And pumpkin pies chilling,
The aroma is delicious.
“Stay out of the way!” they say.
There are moments in life
When it’s best to become invisible,
And so I join the others in the living room
Who are chatting away and watching television.
To hear the sound of the table setting
As we sit and wait, anticipating, and then,
Heard over the chatter and TV, “Dinner’s ready!”
There’s something about so grand a meal
Of turkey and all of its trimmings shared with family
That makes me grateful and sleepy after eating.
And as I doze off, I contemplate the future:
“Without God in our lives, where would we be?”
the consecrate rose
sits on the bureau
its petals ebonized
now delicate
like life
the tempo of night
strums through whispers
of gentle wind
beneath the tones
of a lullaby
as shadows rock
back and forth
on roseate walls
while obtuse thoughts
peek in and out of mind
like the indigent moon
shrouded by clouds
she suckles on thoughts
as she kisses the infant
the press of hard glass
kissing back through the edges
of her delirium
she tries to mediate
in her sleepless mind
between lifeless beats
faded in egregious moments
that fate pillaged from hope
and the pleas of unanswered prayers
as they fell like rituals
night after night
awakening to cockcrow
her tears bleed
against crimson flesh
as she rocks
hands empty
alone
August 16, 2019
Silence suckles sin
at dewy-eyed mother's breast.
Shame shatters love's hopes.
A Doe and Her Fawn
On wobbly legs, the fawn staggers behind the doe,
Who pauses to let the newborn catch up.
The fawn appears to be just a few hours old,
As revealed by its arduous locomotion
And the white, freckled spots on its back
Melded into its butterscotch-coloured fur coat.
The fawn’s softly adoring, oversized eyes
Plead for nourishment,
And the whitetail deer doe (patient, as mothers go)
Licks her offspring, bonding and cleaning,
As it instinctively nudges her teats with its nose
To stimulate her mammary glands.
The fawn suckles the mother’s milk,
Which provides it with the nutrients to grow.
The doe stares at me without fear
And lets the fawn satiate its hunger.
Its little head bobbing and its tail flagging
As its craving is abated and its appetite satisfied;
It is contented and ready to continue its journey
In the ways of nature and survival.
The doe slowly moves on as the fawn struggles
(Those steps must seem an eternity to complete,
Requiring a great magnitude of expendable energy),
Which the doe senses, and so she lies down,
And the fawn, from on its four legs, plops down
Beside her for a much-needed rest.
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