A winding road runs true
They say
cruel and terrible things about
the people that I love
but I’m not strange:
I’m me.
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Conflagration
Baby,
I’m burning up.
Look what you’ve done to me –
reduced to no more than a beast
in rut
commanded by intense feelings
screaming at me to thrust,
to satisfy
that heat.
Feathertips
Your hands
gently tracing
my face, my neck, my arms
before encircling my waist and
my heart.
Hovering over the phone
Waiting,
with bated breath,
to find out if you will
return my attention, feelings,
or call.
The sky is falling!
Prophets
and doomsayers
herald the end of days
or, perhaps, just another false
future.
Cheers
Party:
plenty of food,
games involving liquor,
and sharing stories with old friends
and new.
Rocket’s red glare
Nation,
born of fire,
remembers its birthday
with a shining festival of
fire.
Black
The pot
shouted and railed
about its uniqueness
and the kettle replied “But we’re
the same.”
Cinquain
July
the style choice
is a cascading one
that is known by the lovely name:
Cinquain.
Epic
There’s too many crooks, gangsters, and tools
all too ready to pull the trigger and play the fool
too lost in their own petty indignation
that they’re poisoning the next generation
they don’t even see we’re at the end of our rope
‘cause they’re too busy throwing away our hope.
Now we’ve each got a story to tell
of walkin’ through this godforsaken hell
so say it loud and say it proud
tell it to your friends and tell it to the crowd
stand up, raise your voice, and be counted
‘cause we ain’t the valley, we’re the mountain.
A (wise) man of two faces 