Still breathing
Living still
From oceans deep
an immortal spill
The waters testing
in the fullness of time
What’s in your heart?
Who’s on your mind?
Having received
the Love Memorandum
from Planet Freedom
Regarding that love
that doesn’t change
in the wildest of weather
and through all that’s strange
Of love forged
in the fires of forever
Love that gives meaning
and substance
to this existence
A love that never fails
like the latter rains
of a summer harvest
Hi, my name is Cara
and I am a poemoholic
It’s only been 24 hours
since my last sonnet
And it’s been 13 days since
the last time I’ve used the words …
Poets Anonymous
I just don’t care
who you follow
the stuff that you say
and what you think
that you know
In the deepest despair
from way down below
through haunted streets
I’ve driven that manic
and heavy traffic
to a place where
even the light retreats
And I’ve known
the sweetest caress
of a gentle whisper
that roared like a tempest
through my very soul
That driving heat
radiating off Wall Street,
an insatiable power lust
where total control is a must.
But it isn’t just the money, honey
that wets your appetite
with pretty maids all in a row.
Like the lines of blow that flow
up your nose
from way down below.
In the lounge room of my childhood
there’s this little box made of wood,
and when I open it’s varnished lid
up pops a proudly painted stork.
A cigarette wedged in his beak
with the promise of something good.
“Care for a Peter Stuyvesant?
They’re tailor made for the Jet-Set!
You’ve been on a plane,
and you’re a big boy now,
all of nine, so try one of mine.
You’ll find the taste most pleasant.
Ignition … prepare for take-off.
Never mind the cough.
You’ll soon be feeling fine.”
Profiteering
from a global pandemic
Mr. Reciprocal Philanthropic
the effluent magnate
of a fire ring climate
and all things plastic
that float upon the sea
… to whom do you compare?
There’s a hungry black hole
31 million light years away
in the centrifugal centre
of the Whirlpool Galaxy
Matter and energy
being recycled
to who knows where?
Can you measure
a bird of flight
by the weight
of a single feather?
Can you look
into the face of a child
and not see
the deepest treasure?
Yellow, black,
brown, or white …
love divine
is at the heart
of the matter
Where hatred
is a raging river
there’s a purpose
for the yet to be
hero of great valour
who sees beyond
the muddied surface
More precious
than gold or silver
that wide eyed innocence
The loving potential
of the truly essential
… Imaginessence
“I’m a hog for you, baby.
Can’t get enough of your love.
When I go to sleep at night
That’s what I’m dreaming of.
One little piggie went to London.
One little piggie went to Hong Kong.
This little piggie’s
Comin’ over to your house
Wee wee wee be makin’ whoopee
Cookin’ that cracklin’
Makin’ sweet lovin’ bacon
All night long.
One little piggie ate pizza.
One little piggie ate potato chips.
This little piggie’s
Comin’ over your house, mamma.
Gonna level with your sweet lips.”
~ Clifton Chenier
(Genetically Modified 😎)
Artwork courtesy of Multiple Michael
https://multiplemichael.wordpress.com/2020/03/12/the-secret-ingredient/
Like links in a chain
I was strung out
somewhere between
those merry little elves
reaching for the light
and the servants of pain
dwelling in the dark
Having spent
a lifetime bent
circling the extreme
of an astral plain
within a fevered brain
headed down the drain
The ecstasy
and the insanity
Yet the message was sent
Called by name . . .
“Be wholly sane!
And man …
don’t forget to repent!
You’ll never be the same.”
