belladonna and little laughing jim
are you taking chances in the rain
do you explain to the mirror
a soul is why bones glow with Life
and that you respond to destruction with Love
give me a chance to plant seeds
the future bleeds with hope
desperation falls away, tumbled
and prattle-d footsteps
fill forests, after the rain
for how does one presume
to be or not to be
for whom the bell tolls ...
poets are now the snipers
and foot soldiers
for the bringers of light
they are rhymes tied up
there is no protest
politics is dead end streets
you have all been co-opted
as tool-y implements of the slow death
soul, the last singer
volleys, bullets & short poems
where are the folk singers
April asks w/diamond eyes
& forsythia yellow tongues
red gongs
fades to black
and how eye admired the Richard Pryor hair treatments
running down the street my mane ablaze with onlookers scurrying away
as if I carried the pus from plagues, well let me tell you again
and again I eat poison, sin for you religious types
and I have never been so gorged in all of my lives
they never ask at the end of the movie
what questions the hero's soul was confounded by
what quest the hero was to endure
in order to recover the chaos
of a beating heart
when in Love
all they want is more Life
and the happy ending
a way to salve
their own handy suffering
in a disposable time frame
something pocket sized
and easily memento-ized
though on occasion
a voice will rise
and ask me from left field
are you okay Edward
and all I ever do is laugh
and share that I enjoy
connecting with you through
old Ma Bell and British phone booths
and that I sometimes softly rub
newly yellow dandelions
onto my chin
and call myself another
poem king of right now
EJR ©
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