Napa - 8/24/14

I woke to screams, and I soon joined

the chorus of horror.  Sat up to liquid

motion, waves of destruction -

    The sound blocked out the crashing dishes,

     dressers, books, pictures - rumblings

     of the Earth.

It stopped, and I ran to my son.

His door was blocked - adrenaline

overtook and I forced my way in.  

Half-naked, we escaped to the outside.

Dark, blind - no idea at the devastation inside.

Outside was a beautiful night. A billion stars

alight in the sky - blazing glory and brilliance  - 

inspiration and escape from the destruction at hand.

Reality still hasn't kicked in... it was a dream,

just a dream - and the rage inside

towards the heartless beasts that flooded

our streets - sensationalist compete...

rage inside towards the heartless business

owner that curses at us - we traumatized few

who are still picking up the pieces.

Shatter glass, memories of the past -

still being realized in the aftermath.

A week passed - and I'll never be the same.

I went to sleep that night innocent and naive,

and woke up to screams - horror and terror filled.

        I floated into a zone, reactionary and responsive to duty,

    duty called and we check on Their business... we took care of 

    their business.  How are we thanked?  Curse words and harassment.

     The "F" word flew freely from her lips.  Her business comes before her kids.

Her business comes before her kids?  They weren't here, 

they weren't here.  She is full of... I won't drop to her level.

Anger flows freely, and these words are relief. 

The ground may have stopped shaking, though I have not.  

A Bad Night

I've erased 4 attempted poems in the past half hour. Frustration abounds... here's my last attempt 12:01AM PST. 

To The Muse

I beseech you, oh muse!

Return to me now.

Pale flesh, red hair

Green eyes stare. 

Words lost in air.

Anonymity fades, 

and you slip away

Drifting swift,

wild with the wind,

So wild with the wind...

How can anyone hold on to you,

when you come and go

with the wind?

A quick write before bed (c:

Meteorology

Destiny does it again
two hands lock
sway
break away

The sun sets
the moon doesn't rise
all the stars hide
Tomorrow?

Bleak.

Poets of G+ (Prompt of the Week) Impromptu

 

Prides' Desolation

I remember her voice,
soft, alluring, mysterious.
She often spoke of philosophy,
her philosophy was simplistic -
"Do what you enjoy."

I forgot what I enjoyed.
The way her lips moved
every time she spoke.
She slurred words together
on a poetic journey - a movement.

I remember her poetry,
flowing smoothly - symmetric
and precise.  She sliced words
like a surgeon, perfection
was her goal - she reached it.

I forgot what I enjoyed.
Her mind was incredible,
I could get lost in her thoughts,
the depth of her imagination -
endless, perpetual... redundant.

I remember calling her redundant.
Frustration from drowning in her
creative forces that overwhelmed mine.
She was the real artist...
And I was just blind.

Silence

What If...

Oppression smothers voice.
She stares at me, cold and indifferent.
My lips vibrate with desire - disabled
vocal cords, mind blank with fear.
She walks away, and I'm left wondering.

Memories from childhood

My Brother (from another mother)

He was a beacon of light and hope.  Inspiration dripped off him.
Life interferes with greatness.

He stood tall, creating lyrical music with ease.
Genius with rhyme schemes, a genius indeed.

With a heart of purity that always spoke truth.
He was the gentle giant of my youth.

Life interferes with greatness, a genius indeed.
His life was taken, at least in theory.

A bullet through the forearm.  He lived.
The light was snuffed out, along with truth.

Voices raged inside his head, he believed
everyone wanted him dead.

The last day I saw him homeless, prophesying the end.
A new beacon of dark and death.
_________________________________________________________________________________


I've been there, on the verge of homelessness,
and I've seen my friends fade into the background -
                Black and white is just grey.

A dull grey - violence was everyday.
We're all the same, we are the same.
                 Black and white is just grey.

Individualism is non-existent.  It's a pack mentality,
society ostracizes those who are different.
                 Black and white is just grey

It is no different on the street.  Burnt skin, stupidity -
all just to fit in.  Bullets had names and dates.
                  It's always a drought, it never rains.

No colors - no light of day.  Just grey.
Is it any wonder so many people are not saved?
                  It's always a drought, it never rains.

Broken records - original?  yeah, right!
There's nothing new under the sun.
                  It's the same drought - it never rains.

The Woman Series # 5

I was challenged, and this is my response so far...   :)

Desire

Her name is Red,
pale white skin, green eyes,
she is my demise.
I stand hypnotized,
weak with desire,
heart's passion is fire.

She is putty in my hands,
I mold her to me,
arms criss-crossing,
legs interlocking,
lips ever so slightly touch,
electric currents spark,
nerves pulsate.

She is my demise,
pale white skin, green eyes
Her name is Red.
She stands hypnotized,
weak with desire,
I'll never tire.

She is putty in my hand,
obeys my every command.
Power overflows -

  she
    makes
 soft
      sounds
             rise
           into
                crescendo

Red gasps, then her body falls
limp.  She dreams about a lucent
liquid love flooding around her,
she closes her eyes and floats
gently through the night.

I sit quietly beside her,
contemplating the dawn.

White Streaked Skies

A woman spoke of chemtrails,
I listened as she pointed up high,
and followed her finger to the sky,
a revelation - a New World Order.
"The Government is up to something,"
she said.  Cirrus clouds spread -
wispy strands of white merged
with blue. Skeptical, I rose my hand
and asked, "Why?" 
"Mind control," she answered.  

I walked away in contemplation,
wondering whatever happened
to Power to the People?
I see a lot of focus on "I"
Including myself.

What stops us from changing?.
Is it new shoes, a new phone, 
or a new car that stops us?

White streaked skies stop us
from seeing the stars,
and if we do not see the stars -
how will we reach for them?