is this what you wanted (apologies to leonard)

i went walking in the midst of loud appeals
to the better drone of my nature
and promises forcefed to be made anew
in a yonder framed for the chosen few

who’d have known what the future would hold
been naïve enough to believe again
what once was a cradled, spotless bloom
now a weight of years fills the foom

trump still lives yet cohen’s dead
fascism’s risen, your god is bled
now peel back my skin and bruise me within, why don’t ya
trump still lives yet carrie’s dead
iceland’s too warm and the oceans are red
now peel back my skin and rub the salt in, hallelujah

the diamonds got all unearthed down here
the stars up there all got pretty scanty
was god just a man with a beard and a view
where did the dinosaurs all vanish to

yeah, something about this rain makes me heavy
i’ll weep from pustules ’til i grieve no more
my bottle cradled, one more nuclear bloom
now a weight of bones fills the foom

trump still lives yet marilyn’s dead
your food is porn, greed’s giving more head
now peel back my skin to the china within, why don’t ya
trump still lives yet bowie’s dead
the bees are all gone and the birds have fled
now peel back my skin and tilt the gin in, hallelujah


© All rights reserved 2018

cease fire

enamoured hearts are colorful balloons
filled with helium love
they lift people high in the air
make them float through the heavens

that’s why I feel rather skeptical
about the concept of Cupid
do you think he acts in the right way
when he shoots all the soaring hearts?


© All rights reserved 2018

GUEST POST // Ripe fruit by Candice Louisa Daquin

The body
Is a soft pomegranate
Shiny seeds spilling out
Soft offering proffers
Sell by date
Arbitrary or fated circles within circles
Once, you bled
The same crimson as a dress you wore to fireworks night
Until invisible hands
Ushered away the urge to bring
Life wriggling on flat earth
Straining you heard
A primal cry
It was you
Half covered with sweat
Shaking off
The emptiness of the day
Your belly full
Of hours


© All rights reserved 2018

Open-Source Poetry #5 (Final)

Dear Readers,

All’s well that ends well. Nope… rather, all’s well that ends on schedule. Even the best things should end in their proper time, otherwise they risk losing something of their specialness.

That’s why today we took the courage to complete our communal poem. Like two obstetrists, we cut its umbilical cord, slapped its bottom and enjoyed the first cries of this newborn poem. We even gave it a name.

Well, now it’s time to sniff a little, brush away a furtive tear, and wave goodbye our first-born. But please, don’t be too concerned. We promise to start the next round very soon. This feature’s too much fun to simply let it die!

Stay tuned!


One Man Show

What if I said sorry for saying sorry all the time?
Or should I just give you a baby porcupine?
Alas, it will be one and the same outcome
Saying sorry results with quills in your bum

From now on I will change my approach
And make the pine and quill my coach
My steel derriere, my impenetrable armour
With rocketship flair, I will rise as a charmer

No more sorry for saying sorry all the time
Only a real man’s kneeling pantomime!



© All rights reserved 2018

ladder to heaven

it’s said that with one’s beloved even huts are a heaven
beneath a bridge, in a forest, or in a palace or stable
far and wide, samson’s happy near his lovely delilah
but her sighs are so sad as she peers up at the sky

and he says, “why, lovely delilah? what ruckles your brow?”
and she says, “we are pinned to the earth like insects dying
and shall never know unearthly love”

samson, helpless, wipes the tears from delilah’s comely face
though her soul brims up and fain does make too many more
so he slays the lions, and lays their pelts at her distrait feet
then rows of their foes’ severed heads to vainly prove his love

and he says, “why, lovely delilah? is my heart not ample?”
and she says, “this rope ladder to heaven is old and it’s worn
and cut short, it ends high, so far above”

samson’s mane, his pride and joy, he takes it to blade and cuts
drops seven black braids, resonant rungs, and affixes them thus
so each is a new tone to heaven, delilah’s face is now alight
she puts her first step to, then up and up, dole melting away

and he says, “why, lovely delilah? you hie but give no hand?”
and she says, the sun is on the wane, i must wheech past vesper
and behold the gleam that pends beyond”

samson weakens, hands atremble, ropes bite his palms like snakes
he slips and scrabbles, unable to take hold and thus follow
delilah ascends, from strength to joy, as samson sadly crumples
she’s enraptured by the shimmer of a blithe evening star

and he gasps, “why, lovely delilah? i spent myself for you!”
and she says, “an empty vessel could never quench my thirst
and no earthborn could show me unearthly love”


© All rights reserved 2018