There have been many things going around the internet pertaining to the
tragic events of last Tuesday. So I thought I would share with you a few of
my own thoughts that I penned on the night of Tuesday September 11. Plus,
for fun and feedback, I included a few other poems that I have been working
on this semester. I, of course, have to throw out the disclaimer that these
are all first drafts.
Simon
|
BUT WHAT OF OURS
September 11, 2001
Do you hear them?
They cry out for us
Broken
Alone
Frightened
Desperate for Salvation
Do not forget
They are you and I
Do you feel them?
They are scars
A cross upon our heart
Callous from remarks from the Polis
Discussion of oppression and redemption
For our selfish and heedless ways
Though we should not judge
The judgement passed on those who died
Is equally unholy
Their souls are clean now
But what of ours?
Yesterday we changed
Today we mourn
Tomorrow we seek vengeance
Heal us God
Of scars rigid and black from hate
Guide a wounded heart
To Love
|
COMPOSTITION OF LIFE #1
to be born is to crave
Pleasure
to meet death is to crave
Joy
all in between
i try my
hardest to distinguish
the two
|
UNTITLED LOVE
i bring love
honey
thatıs what I bring to this table
sweet honey
crusting at my lip
with expression
salty honey
pushing through my pores
with envy
sweet briny love
This I know to be mortal!
|
A DECONSTRUCTION OF INSPIRATION
|
| | If I can not | hold | it | with my | hand |
| If I can not | savor | it | with my | tongue |
| If I can not | view | it | with my | eyes |
| If I can not | sniff | it | with my | nose |
| If I can not | hear | it | with my | ears |
| If I can not | |
| If I can | |
| If I | |
| If | |
| I | |
| Desolate in my self | |
| I | |
| Am one with | |
| it | |
| If I must | |
| I must | |
| must | |
| I | |
|
A SLIGHT PERCEPTION OF FAITH
Arched pews glide motionless
As soldiers in cadence
It seemed a hall of streaming white linen
A faint thread of red
Hymns and praises completed the room
A curious plume of smoke
Unyielding in its search to breathe
Hands
Folded delicately in lap
Feet
A pendulum taunting hard knotted wood
I sway
Both your way and mine
Brother and sister
God and his children
A smile has met me here
I still know it today
Mom and Dad beside us
Bookends that shored our tedium
Each eyelid a fleshy bag of wet sand
A swallow pecking for morning worms
Head dipping forward and snapping back
I ride through crops of scripture
And leaves of sermon
To find fruition only in sleep
As heads bow I discover solace
Acquiesce to dreams
Of canopies in a mighty gale
I wake yesterday and tomorrow
For today I slumber
Confident in my messenger of joy
|
WICK & WAX
a candle my beginnigs, begin my end
you feast on bones, life consumed by
your light
your fulfillment of unconscious intentions
your ease of deliberate movement
your freedom
illuminates my home, sets fire to my heart
|