THE PURPOSE OF THE FIGHT

featured in the poetry forum January 13, 2023  :: 0 comments

I never knew what I was fighting for,
what I was concerned and anxious
about, I knew I had to be at war with
something or somebody, and realized
it was with you and your cruel sense
of humanity and the brutal
carelessness of your abusive choking
treatment of this planet and any
other planets that we reach, we’ll
fuck those up too, with chemicals
and garbage and a global culture
that divides and thrives, continuously
waging hatred and destruction
upon itself and we watch on,
with numb eyes,
never believing,
never accepting
and always feeling that life could,
should be better by now, but we
carry on like a sightless being
in the reflections of a hope
we all can see.

editors note:

We can see it! Keep swinging! – mh clay

A BLACK DOG

featured in the poetry forum June 17, 2022  :: 0 comments

He had a big black dog
and he named him Satan,
he loved that dog.
He painted the walls black,
doors and window frames
black, carpets black:
he listened to heavy metal
music at horrendous
volumes, through giant
black speakers,
he dyed his hair black,
painted his fingernails
black:
his eyes were day sky
blue
but
all his clothing was
black,
shoes, black,
crockery, cutlery,
furniture, fixtures,
black: bed linen,
black:
not long after Satan
died, he rode the
train into the city and
when the train began
it’s return journey,
he jumped onto the
tracks in front of it:
he told me once that
his name was Paul
and I believed him.

editors note:

Which came first; the dog or the black? (Must have been the black, believe it.) – mh clay

HEAVENLY TALK

featured in the poetry forum October 7, 2021  :: 0 comments

I got close, real close
to Heaven
and was asked
what the fuck I was
doing wandering in
this sacred
territory:
‘Just taking a look’
I said
‘What for? this is
not your home! Just
because you think
you hold the key
doesn’t mean you
can get through
the door! are you
looking for a
fight?’
Heaven asked:
‘Haven’t we been
doing that for
centuries already?’
I said:
‘I guess so’
said Heaven
as we sat down
for a breather.

editors note:

Just a peek don’t mean you seek. – mh clay

HOT-MEAL POEM

featured in the poetry forum April 22, 2021  :: 0 comments

I had remained silent
during the interview, so
they put me in a cell:
a couple of hours later
the custody officer made
his rounds: he was a
father to a friend of
mine and he asked me
how I was and if I was
hungry: he got me a
hot-meal and coffee:
a few hours later, I
was questioned again
and my tongue
remained numb so
they kicked my ass out
of that cold police
station into the warmth
of a summer’s
morning, just waking
up and thirsty for the
plunge into this
life of ours and to
this day, I give thanks
to that custody officer,
that was my first
hot-meal I’d had
in days.

editors note:

A feast for the fifth and a warm morning, too. – mh clay

ONLY WHEN

featured in the poetry forum June 2, 2020  :: 0 comments

It’s only when it’s taken away that
you realize the beauty, the wonder
of freedom,
to walk freely,
without fear
amongst brothers and sisters,
it’s only when it is no
longer there, the love, compassion,
the humanity,
the common sense
of intelligence,
it’s only when you find these
things taken for granted
taken away, that you begin
to know what a fucking
hellish time we can create
for one another:
there’s not much else to care
for in this brief life
except for love and it’s
continuation.

editors note:

Hellish we can be, indeed. So, let’s not be. – mh clay

THE SUNDAY LUNCH

featured in the poetry forum January 12, 2020  :: 0 comments

I very rarely socialize these days,
people no longer bother to invite
me to social gatherings
but today we visited some
long-time friends for lunch:
afterward we got very stoned
on his powerful grass and
we spoke as only friends can
and I admire his strong and
traditional conventionality,
it drives him onwards, he is
sacrificing himself daily
and he hates it and longs
for old age and retirement,
peacefulness,
when all responsibility
has been spent,
I know how he feels,
so do you in some way,
like waiting in line
on an escalator
waiting for the hand
to hit the red button.

editors note:

Some in front, some behind; we sacrifice, we stand in line… – mh clay

THE SINKING

featured in the poetry forum May 19, 2019  :: 0 comments

I have drowned in
your presence,
sunk way below
where you can
see me,
illuminating
flares and the
choirs of ghosts
wrap around me
like newspaper
headlines of
tragedy
but I know I’ll
surface in your
eyes when they
leak tears and
the sun gives up
for the moon.

editors note:

Cry makes clean. Bask and breathe. – mh clay

PLEASE, GIVE ME THE LAST LINE FIRST

featured in the poetry forum August 26, 2018  :: 0 comments

‘We are looking for
exciting, daring and
uncompromising
works of poetry,
words that sting,
dark and humorous,
words that loiter
like a street-thief
in the reader’s head
long after reading
and what we’re also
looking for is a
$5.00 reading fee.’

editors note:

Ouch. It’s bad enough the price you pay from pen to page. Insult. Outrage. – mh clay

UNSPOILED

featured in the poetry forum April 11, 2018  :: 0 comments

Let me catch you,
alive,
with imagination,
with blood and
dreams in your
breath, with a fierce
heat in your words
and a baby
tenderness in your
voice,
let me see you in
harmony with the
time you spin like
a child’s toy across
the roads of your
beautiful journey
amongst the tragedy
of everyday living,
let me,
just one time,
be with you
for a moment is all
is needed to taste an
unspoiled love.

editors note:

Does “just one time” keep it fresh; how can we not go back for more? – mh clay

GATE CRASHING

featured in the poetry forum August 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

As I was never invited to
parties, I opted to gate-
crash them:
one occasion I was
talking and moving in
close to a brunette when
this guy eases himself in
between the brunette
and me:
I tell him to back the fuck-
away, which he does:
‘Do you know who that is?’
the girl asks me, I shake my
head:
‘It’s his house, it’s his party
and he’s a friend of mine’
he returns with 2 side-kicks:
‘I’d like you to leave now’
he politely asks:
‘You want to come with me?’
I ask the woman:
she takes my hand and we
walk away and for three
years we loved and fucked
each other until it meant
nothing.

editors note:

When doing leads meaning, sometimes meaning is lost (or never found). – mh clay