Scribblings

I don't want to clutter up the forums with awful poems by putting all these up but if you'll have fun reading them, please enjoy! These are from the start of my exchange in September 2007.


A gradual dismemberment

First, the legs
When I can no longer walk to home
Or board a bus
Across wide seas –
The arms go with my family
My friends; useless here
Hugs lack strength.
Like me, they are ghosts
Memories
Their feeling fades away.
My head
Has spun from sloped shoulders
The mouth can’t talk
The brain won’t think
A fuzzy haze
Blots out the eyes
The ears hear jibberish.
No use;
They’re gone.
All that they’ve left is
An empty husk
Some skin, veins, bones
Some parched old dreams
Unwanted presence
Blown down by the wind.


English as une lingua dos

They mangle all the nounses
And mispel all the verbs
Use grams when it says ounces
Or forget some the words.
Tense had caused confusion
The passive is pass by
There’s no “cut” but “contusion”
They learned from CSI.
In short – to use a moral –
Conditions would less dead
If you left “fiore” less floral,
And taught sign language instead.


Cieco

I saw that in the darkest nights
The clouds still held their form
And grey-limned colored starless skies
Like lightning in the storm

I saw that in the deepest place
The walls reached toward the sun
And there was nothing deeper still
Just steps to be undone

I saw that in the saddest soul
There remained yet a poem
And that all hope is never gone
If it can still find home.


David

I see a triumph that I pity in your eyes;
You think you’ve beaten me?
Yes, I lie in shatters on the floor;
I have only been set free

The hammer that cracks my bones to dust
The chisel that splits my skin
The hands that tear me to a naked crust
For your dreams to live in

I see the triumph that illuminates your face
You prop me up on a stone
Yes, my voice is silenced in closed lips
I will never let you hear me groan.


The New-Age Teenager

We are the new age teenager
We’re looking for a change
We don’t like how you’ve done the world
We’d like to rearrange

There’s too much pain and broken things
Which no one wants to fix
Democracy has sprung out leaks
The ozone’s on the spritz

And duct tape’s just not doing it.
You can’t use the trash bin
To clean up all the pieces when
The sky is falling in.

The dust bunnies have hit the fan!
The landlord’s at the door
The walls are holes of disrepair
And it’s about to pour

We know that you were waiting
For the cleaners to arrive
It seems for now the service’s down
Hammer to save your lives!

This world is old and far too full
Each cousin wants a bed
They spend all their time fighting
While stepping over the dead

We can’t clean up the mess alone.
If we’re to hold the sky
We need someone to stand below
And teach us how to fly.

We are the new age teenager
We’ll inherit this earth
We ask of you only your wings
We’ll give your stars new birth.



Indian Giver

Old man white, why you come aroun’ here?
Why you laugh at our jokes, why you drink our beer
Why you look at us like you’ve got nothin’ to hide
Like we’re just wood with naught inside?
Why you want our clothes, why you tell our tales
Why you listen all voice of us but our wails
Why you tell your children about our past
‘Till we’re dead while livin’, and gone at last?
Old man white, why you see our face
Why you think that says all about our race –
Our stolen hearts, our faded years
Man white, can’t you see we’re still trailin’ our tears?


A Small Farewell

How do you pack yourself
Into a bag for a year?
What do you put inside:
Your dreams, your beliefs, your fears?
And when you zip it up
With neatly folded trust,
How do you know – when you return –
More will remain than dust?
I have only been set free.


And, a riddle:

I am so small
That when I grow
I take your breath away
I'm often benched
Or bitten;
Exploding me is okay

Used hard
Or hardly used at all
Ten minutes or a day
I might taste good
But don't eat me!
Who am I here portrayed?