Tag: metal

Healing Is Still

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When the streets bleed
With vibrating violence
We know that only scares the guilty
Hanging like
The victims they laid
Aside in their greed;
Healing shall still be far away.

When grass grows
Over crumbled ruins
Abandoned and exposed,
Rebels of a forgotten war
Who plundered all its worth
Relaxing in their misdeeds
Shall fever in the night
And visions reminding them
Healing shall still be far away.

When flags tear at their seams
Weakened in the wind
Salt licking at the sides
Of metal catastrophes
Blowing weeds that take control
Shall struggle upon the ground
Understanding their due;
Healing shall still be far away.

When the last engine
Seizes from strain
Deep in jungle rain, overgrown
And wildcats become predator
Most feared and most bestowed
Vines and trees, all wide and tall
Laying over all regrown
Healing shall still be far away

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Weight of the World (day 3043)

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How do you manage the weight of the world
When the weight of the world is too much?
When the birds are all sent to the sky, flying
By the dinosaur bones floating through the air?
How do the trees that lived for ten thousand years
Live for thirty years rotting in a house?
How does a landscape dug up, bulldozed around,
Erected with skyscrapers of metal and glass
Placed on the land held sacred for generations
Now become meaningless and void?
Perhaps it’s become a subject of cultural appropriation
Us humans and that of the Gods,
Powerful mother Gaia and her wiles and subtlety
And a grandiose sense of reality.

Grace (day 3037)

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Cash was at the bottom of the barrel
Wading through a misty mess
Growling at the moon.
Sunk my teeth into what became
Two giant hands, leathery skin,
Forcing me to hold onto
A metal bar that froze my grip
That I had only just begun
To listen to, inside voice
As bubbles floated
In infinite grace.

No More Trees, Money’s For Me (day 2064)

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It’s ok that we cut down these trees for warmth
Let’s not get upset about our mountain
Turned crater, shipped to the moon,
Our water is a good memory, a clean memory
A clean memory for my dry lips
Afraid of this purple water
Maybe my dinosaur bones will take me home
To a land full of ten year old trees
Where water flushes the land clean
No more dirty top soil: eroded,
Home where the magical golden clouds
Hover just above the skyline, stinking
And water is just slightly brown
Mycelia? No, my bill fold needs more dinosaur bones
To sink into these fresh water lakes
Chopsticks, chopsticks, chopsticks trees
Get these poles off to the mill
Down that road of rubber and oil
More dinosaur bones and I’m ready to kill
Floating at 70 miles an hour
In plastic rocket ships, towing plastic bricks
And you there, strange looking person
How many toes do you have? You’re not one of us
Your skin is funny and your smell’s different
Let me see your papers that say many things
I don’t believe you can grow your beans here
See, my dead trees and stretched metal rings
Say: ‘NO TRESPASSING’
Get out, leave us alone
You’re filling us with lies
Unless you’ve got tits, beers, football, and guns
Money’s for me, and less of you.

Students Desk (day 1687)

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Memories have begun to leave holes
I dare not fill,
I dare not plug for fear
Night’s sky should wash
Over my visage with a mirage
I could not grasp,
Though searching I should be.
And yet I sit amidst
This abandonned students desk,
My knees hitting a cold metal bar
That reminds me
I am only here a short while.

Lost Connections (day 1246)

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I start finding lost connections
About gurgling waves
Lapping around poles and
Sheet metal, breaking
The X – Y plane
With flashes of memories
That thunder through my hull.
I recognize a lost connection
As rusting red leaves mixed with
Rubber ducky yellows
Spin their way along the Y-axis,
Dancing nimbly with warm arms
Of X and Z stitches.
Lost connections break my conscience
With each dead 3 pronged plugin,
With each false hope of recharge.
But each diagonal floats on by,
Twisting like an unbroken chain of genes
Through my alert moments
Realizing it’s not the destination,
It’s the journey in the end.

Goodmorning, Mother Nature (day 745)

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Your delicate drops
That drip about my window
Waking my slumber
Shaking my cobwebs
Keep rhythm for me

My heart finds
Its speed again
While curious crawls
Across steaming
Bits of wooden jungle

Sun beckons
Warming exposed skin
Like uncurling leaves
Surviving off stray beams

Feathered fellows
Sing one another
Delightful passages
Freshly reciting
For days full of life

And you say to me
Goodmorning