sdrow:words

sdrow tsuj era sdrow eht os : so the words are just words

egap eht no sgnikram tsuj : just markings on the page
,eseht evlos yeht lliw woh: how will they solve these,
eseht: these
?erom hcum os deen taht eseht: these that need so much more?

nothing but mirrors of what is real:
still don't know?

leaving

here goes the hour
who was looking for it, was it lost?
all of a sudden it was gone, and no one knew to look

so are you, I have noticed.
look away for a moment,
and the moments add together
all of them
and quickly disappear.

kiss me, quickly, before this is gone.
before I censor you to me.

The Peddler

this is how we discuss

the war and the dying and the

children crossing borders in a desert

quietly, in a warm room, hushed voices

we sit here, holding our lattes, sipping

flinching as our tongues are singed with

chocolate and milk, cursing our misfortunes,

and feeling our soft bellies tighten with the pain.

how do we solve the problems of this world?

we decide that we are qualified for such things

we know how to satiate the screams, evidently.

dressed in corduroy and cotton, cashmere and denim

leather shoes, diamond rings, hair that is long and conditioned with

oils of the dying animals (cows and beasts, monsters and similar such creatures.)

then we tell them to believe, they do, and we cite our own God’s victory,

when it was us selling our souls.

(have we been bought?)

The peddler sells trinkets, saved souls and peace, on a golden chain, with charms.

Cows and beasts, monsters and similar such creatures.

(what was the price? did we ask?)

But he won’t stop the screams (is he responsible for the crime?) and he won’t sell us much but the leather shoes and diamond rings.

crazy words

what if one day those who have cradled the same experiences cease to be

a holder of your days anymore

remind me that

there are those who won’t destroy

thank you for

your unintentional kindnesses

art and music

are not forced to be emotionless in their call for change

they do not appeal logically, with reason and planned out rules

they appeal by revealing pieces of who we are and who we may have forgotten

we recognize ourselves in the cascades of sound and color,

we are reminded that the way the world is isn’t necessarily how it should be

appeal to them, with your colors and pianos and voices

remind me that

there are those who won’t destroy.

Where is the inspiration?

Register the

The glass of red wine, swirling (opposite and together)

The warmth flowing from you to it

The curve of the glass, cool in your hand

The biting in the back of your throat

The settling of the fog on your skin

dampening

You can’t think of

These leaving things.

Don’t remember so intently,

It shouldn’t be so intentional.

Shiver slightly

The lights distorted

In water-coated twilight

Silk and glass poems and prose

Shredding nonsense

Ebony, slip quietly

Foolish fools talk of nothing

To cover up the hidden triggers

Imaginary weapons that

Wound more than ordinary guns and knives.

You try and keep the ones that sing or scream

Under careful observation.

You don’t want to think that maybe

They have a better grasp

(It shouldn’t be so intentional.)