Show Us Your Conflict

46 souls in queue
46 salted pleas off chapped levees
'neath the hearth of deadened tongue
heavy
45 and 1
striving still to breathe

I see  
through fallen lashes  
of December frost.  
It's all black now.  
 
Coffee beans  
of stars cured by cinnamon flake  
soaked through olive oil in a candlelit jar.  
 
The ember from silver ladel  
tipped to my cup.  
 
I feel fur of white wolf  
curled full on the sky.  
 
Giddy now.  
 
The soltice drinks the pools that lapped my tongue.  
Those hummingbirds in the checker bark  
coil in frailty  
in so neither had the wing for Honduras.  
 
I touch the same  
on my featherless shoulder blades knotted in bowlines sprung on panfish dropped from school.  
 
Deterred from nomads  
in gypsy floral lace  
and dreary-eyed nymphs by Mississippi ferry disappeared  
in the showlight  
that crinkles in bows across the aquarelle  
when I saw she dipped her waist in the planets  
as I wrote by the red curtain.  
 
Wiping my fallen lids from the dew rattled from the vapors there,  
I see  
 
it's all black now  
 
after all.

On the wall across the street
a slogan drew her attention
encircled by a well-designed graffiti  
depicting cleverly a certain connectivity
of all the arts
 
“Arts of the world unite
and let us all fit in!”
 
She frowned and sighed disapprovingly.
Reached in her purse, out came her lipstick.
First did her lips – burning red – and crossed the street.
There, under the slogan, hand and lipstick drew letters:
 
“Free the words from escorting guards…”
 
Hand and lipstick suspended for a moment
A satisfied smile led them to the task’s completion:
 
“A Word Says More Than A Thousand Pictures!”
 
Lipstick back in purse, turned her back to the wall
back she crossed to the other side
as a couple of curious eyes zoomed in the Word...

 


don't ask if I like it
don’t act like I’m hot
don't look at me

with those dead-baby eyes

don't moan
through hissing
nostrils and those
caulked lips

(///)

like
movie sex

you might get
a nip slip, maybe

make out, scene
fades black, then

no one
climaxes

no one sleeps
when it ends

bydk 11/30/18

 

there are warm welcomes when I get home
there are peaceful greetings on arrival

with
thank you’s
signs of appreciation
serenity
tranquility
with,out
tension
rage
awkwardness
all,though
sumtimes
hate equals
confusion
contaminated and clogged brains
sometimes rain
mostly pain
a lot of complaints with
undressed hugs
under dry ceilings
naked positive facial expressions
yet not
alwaysknot
blessings
but blessed to adapt to this unfairness

there is a happy
or comfortable impression
with
dry shoulders near, luckily there’s a beer
no deep conversations
with acquainted expressions
mad thoughts
depressing thoughts
anxious with anxiety
disappointed at myself while
mad at the world
in love with the thought of
love, comfortand compassion
music on all the time
but interruptions think it’s a crime

solarrays patiently waiting
to melt my skull
sunbeams ready
to drink my fluids sweat and water
brightness ready to shut myeyesmind and time
drained from work
with sore backhandsandlegs
while feeling the headache
while attempting to stay strong
to not feel like I am being
swallowed by multiple corruptions

there is too much money while living
my plate full of food while starving
acid burns the stomach
 
pores pouring
instead of storing
demons roaring
instead
of my body snoring
no souls exploring
or
gaining experience
while constantly ignoring

there are warm welcomes when I get home
there are peaceful greetings on arrival

poetry is never boring

bydk 11/09/18

12/20/2018

Dear Frank, I want to be frank with you,
I want to be open and honest with what I’m about to say,
Because even though I said goodbye some time ago,
I’m blue because today it ended this way.  

I know you had your demons, they’re hard to let go,
But you fought hard and fell and got up and fell again,
And though you didn’t always make the best choices,
After so many long talks, I know there was good in you.  

I know we laughed, we cried and you tried,
But I always loved hearing you talk to your grandchildren,
You were such a loving man when you were there,
Just like I remember when I was ten.  

Dad, I’m sorry I’m mad, I feel sad but mostly bad,
I should’ve called, I should’ve picked up the phone,
Because every time we hung up you said “I love you son, love you son”,
Knowing how you were so alone.  

But I’d like to think of you in better times,  
All the shenanigans and pranks you used to play,
All the stories uncles and aunts told me about you,
That’s the Frank I’ll remember till my dying day.

I like imagine that somewhere up there the futbol gods,
Are giving semi old pros like you a chance to realize their dream,
That you’ve put on those cleats for old time sake and when you play,
The cheers of a hundred sound like forty thousand scream.  

I’d like to picture we’re back on the black sand in ‘74,
Hearing the words you said in the photo I wished you’d repeat,
Because somewhere in the memories of me and you,
We are young again with the crashing waves at our feet.
Rest in Peace.