You Are Not – A poet’s revenge against the Cliché –

“My life as well as my writing are guided by creed in lieu of clichés” ― Carl Henegan

 

progguy1

 

You’re not like every cliché
repeated often till meaning dies

You’re like brilliant truth, 
revealing my weakness for your body

You’re not like a rose whose fragrance and beauty
are but an honorable mention

You’re like the smell of a thousand pines 
calling and seducing me to lay in your arms

You’re not like an angel whose wings
carried you to me from afar

You’re like mischievous devils 
whose temptations take me from reality to fantasy

You’re not like a song,
sung endlessly while children clap their hands

You’re like the sound of waves, 
crashing your sexuality over my beaches

You’re not like a gentle swan,
perfect beauty so many times compared

You’re like violent lightning, 
striking the lies of men and melting my soul to yours

You’re not like the ordinary,
the common seen on every poet’s page

You’re like the grandeur of space, 
possessing the beginning and ending of my life

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

02142012 

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My Name Is Not Pain –

“If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you’ve made, if they don’t realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.”

― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free 

Someone

When as a child with innocent ears

I heard my name with violent tears

Then known as a child abused

My name whispered one being used

Older and with children of mine

My name was called all the time

Years went by and then I left home

My name became as one unknown

Later in life the blooming occurred

A name of mine was an addiction slur

An old man now an ancient in days

My name is what I make it say

In a bold unwavering voice I pray

My name will never again be pain

*

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

02152013

The Sound of Silence

 “When truth is replaced by silence,the silence is a lie.” – Yevgeny Yevtushenko

alexcorleone

I wish my tongue would stop moving. Just get stuck to the roof of my mouth, and never say anything again. After so many things being said that are ignored, mocked, or cause problems by simple statements. Problems not started or imagined by me, but by those paranoid and insecure souls around me. I just want silence. I’m tired of saying my peace trying to help people. Advice, wasted breaths. They don’t want it, I’m tired of giving it. So tired of talking, energy given that ‘s never returned. The words that burn to be said, let them smolder and die in my stomach. I won’t speak them, never reveal them. So many words, clutter in this world, a messy and disease ridden clutter. I close my mouth, did it really matter anyway? But, surely at some point in our history, words have helped shaped the course of lives and nations. What makes me think I can change my world by ideas expressed in words? What if just one person, lost in the anonymity of the internet, reading my words in some dark cave of seclusion, could resist an evil impulse, come to realize they are not alone, or find that they share a common experience? This is why I speak, it’s not the well that need a doctor, my words cannot help those who aren’t sick. I only want to help one, that crazy one that hopes someone understands.

Different

“…if something happens to show that you are wrong, then it is feeble not to change your mind, Elizabeth. Only the strongest people have the pluck to change their minds…” – Enid Blyton, The Naughtiest Girl in the School

 

trashkat

Different, as lake to rain, that’s how I grow

Different, as rock to sand, that’s how I know

No way to mend the different things

One old one new

Nothing’s gonna change, ’till you change what you do.

Different, as smiles to tears, that’s a truth

Different, as move to stay, that’s a root

You can be a different thing

One tried, one true

Nothing’s gonna change, ’till you change what you do.

Different, as road to rut, that’s how I stand

Different, as belong to reject, that’s how I land

Thinking of doing the different things

Once seen, I do

Nothing’s gonna change, ’till you change what you do.

02062011

Shadow – Lessons from a dark friend

“Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?” – Henry David Thoreau  

tihku

It is an image unlike any living visage, stretching further, a distortion that discerns reality. This is the shadow. The position of light influences the distortion of it, happening without my conscious decision. My only control is where I place myself in reference to the light. What is the light that I stand in? Where will this light strike me? This determines the length and breadth of my darkened friend. If run from that light I find darkness with every step. When I face the light, my path lit with comforting revelation. it’s discouraging at first, to see my faults and missteps in the glaring brightness, but it’s comforting to find that at least I am dealing with reality. This reality is always harsh, but it provides facts that help me to face change.

It’s a difficult and unnerving venture into light’s reality. There are benefits though. I can see farther down my path to the repercussions of my actions. This brings hope. Hope allows me to take bolder steps into the light. It is not for me to know my faults and shrink back in fear, but to grapple my choices, both those that are made in the past and those being made at the moment, discerning them and learning. 

Learning can happen without having to experience the actions contemplated. Watching my fellow companions walk in the light, or walking away, brings an illustration to my lessons. In either case, light is important. When walking away, the light shows the way back. When walking into it, it shows the way to stay in it. Come my shadow, let me watch you carefully, letting your blackened representation be a guide to the truth and bringing assurance of my direction. 

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Shadow – Lessons from a dark friend

“Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?” – Henry David Thoreau  

tihku

It is an image unlike any living visage, stretching further, a distortion that discerns reality. This is the shadow. The position of light influences the distortion of it, happening without my conscious decision. My only control is where I place myself in reference to the light. What is the light that I stand in? Where will this light strike me? This determines the length and breadth of my darkened friend. If run from that light I find darkness with every step. When I face the light, my path lit with comforting revelation. it’s discouraging at first, to see my faults and missteps in the glaring brightness, but it’s comforting to find that at least I am dealing with reality. This reality is always harsh, but it provides facts that help me to face change.

It’s a difficult and unnerving venture into light’s reality. There are benefits though. I can see farther down my path to the repercussions of my actions. This brings hope. Hope allows me to take bolder steps into the light. It is not for me to know my faults and shrink back in fear, but to grapple my choices, both those that are made in the past and those being made at the moment, discerning them and learning. 

Learning can happen without having to experience the actions contemplated. Watching my fellow companions walk in the light, or walking away, brings an illustration to my lessons. In either case, light is important. When walking away, the light shows the way back. When walking into it, it shows the way to stay in it. Come my shadow, let me watch you carefully, letting your blackened representation be a guide to the truth and bringing assurance of my direction. 

Also published in Broowaha Magazine