Tag poems about life
The woman that wife’s will never invite
The one with the mouth, opinions, and brains
Who’ll never be asked round to their house again
The cause of divorce one way or another
Who’s always accused of being a lover
Causing a rift at parties or work
The half-tears eavesdrop down the cornice
Half filled gin,
And on the rocks, half resolved Calcutta, John Coltrane
The colossally bare tree against the smeared blues
Stands erect
I know I never stop to pray;
never know just what to say
and really don’t deserve a second look
I frankly couldn’t blame you if you turned your ears away
But while you know of all my doubt,
I ask you please to hear me out;
give me the time of day
You see, there’s been an accident, as if you didn’t know
My little girl is almost dead;
she’s in a coma and they’ve said
they’ll tie a tag around her toe
They brought her in by chopper just after half past nine
They chalked her out upon the tar,
gave her lots of CPR
to try and keep her hanging on the line
The vicar’s been; he held my hand and quietly had a word
He told me that I must be strong,
to talk to you, admit I’m wrong
and hope my voice is heard
He placed a cross upon her brow and whispered in her ear
He spoke in Latin, shut his eyes,
talked of how a body dies,
uttered words I didn’t want to hear
She’s lying there with tubes plugged into heart and chest and head
Golden hair surrounds her face,
her favourite doll stands by in case
she stays alive instead
For trains that never arrived
Drank shots in cellar bars
On Tuesday nights
With in-betweeners
Who still believe in lady luck
I’ve walked along promenades
Been battered by the wind and the rain
Taken shelter in late night cafés
Drank coffee so strong
It made me shudder
I’ve read the beat poets so many times
But I never tire of the words
Of Ginsberg and Kerouak
I’ve watched black and white movies
Made long before I was a twinkle
In somebody’s eye
When I look in the mirror, I hate what I see.
I’ve gotten so used to seeing the overweight me.
I start a new diet and it ends up on a shelf,
Like I’m trying to prevent seeing my skinnier self.
I need to get it under control, or I could die
So why is it I lack the motivation to even try?
I see all the problems, and what I’m doing wrong
So why is it I can’t change the song?
Let me be the one to tell you that your health is no joke.
In the last ten years I had a marriage end in divorce.
Keeping my family together at any cost wasn’t something I could force.
In the last ten years I found a new love more than a few times at that.
I learned once again relationships can quickly go flat.
In the last ten years I lost my mother way too early.
Plump and fluorescent skin
And eyes with bottomless wells of life
Scan this world without regret
Supple hearts that swell
With charcoal-filtered love
Strike strong against virgin chests
Ernest ears that hear only
Poetry and peace, perk to
The direction of their mother’s whisper
We lack prudence, & bend on
Imitation.
Sour we are, we no longer water the roots to our fruitful aspirations.
How are we all stuck in this condiment of indignation.
I’m scared for my generation.
When walking down my own street I catch a bullet for my pigmentation.
And we scream black lives matter creating a tumultuous pattern
Like we’re not the ones doing the eliminating.
Women sleeping with men to fill spaces that have long been vacant.
Men sleeping with women whom they find better naked.
The redundancy order
Of a tireless occupation
We desire a quick fix
More than the desire to make it.
With The Strings That Are The Nerves… And The Veins… From His Own Arms…
How Wondrous The Sounds… Of The Agonies Made… By The Slicing And Dicing…
Down With The Lambs… Up With The Larks…
Run To The Beds, Children… Before It Gets Dark…
Ode to a meadowlark
Ah, rising sun, kiss morning’s dew
Chill breath of night away thou chase
A sprite from trees there yonder flew
But why flies he away in haste?
As I through meadows lonely pace
Crimson orb, paint sky with red
On fields, again, new day doth break
Yet from love’s loss my heart has bled
And Sorrow, joy of life does take
As o’er these fields my way I make
And I have suffered now so long
Visual Art
