Hold On To Life

featured in the poetry forum January 22, 2024  :: 0 comments

Hold on little baby hold on for life held up by the mom on the back of the bike looking around at the ever-changing world seasonal evolution(s) profound in the child’s eye one she said hold on as long as you can and soon this kid’s driving the bike now free on his own with his phone strapped to the side of his helmet one day you’ll have to push your bike along when it fails you indefinitely and someone might help you for a bit of change in return then they have a baby of their own even if they don’t you learn how to ride before you walk through observation and fear reservations about the dangers of life and other people we have words to express such longings pictures photographs installing furniture inside the houses of our minds so far true but resigned to people other people who do the same thing as us so we can fuss and run for office inside the wheel of anticipated dreams articulated no more imprinted on the story of our lives little baby child hold on to your mom your dad your sense of Youth foretold in your future behold the idealized dreams of your parents what they want for you as you grow up maybe helping other Souls when in times of trouble and resistance when their bikes break down I’ve seen children wandering on the side of the road selling things for money a commodifiable youth vexed inside their role drifting towards some future reliant on the past a residual parody of life speaking in tongues in scriptures written down formulations of human existence family life taking care of each other forever until never ever comes only ideas and attitude you must trust in exchange for formality discs thrown at arm’s length hoping for the mark of the Beast a number a relief God is nothing but your head revolving around in circles dead as it all is living changing with no end in sight your tongue suspends belief we’ll tell you a lot of things but it is left up to you to decide how formal you will be in the delivery of this world this time you have one more chance so wave goodbye.

editors note:

Just like riding a bike. Hold on! – mh clay

Movies

featured in the poetry forum September 9, 2023  :: 0 comments

I moved town and went to the movies sat in my car as the road ran for miles I moved town went to the movies in the show where children they fought and cried and killed each other in the end we all died I sat in my car at the end was a road that went for miles in the show the children in the end we all died so we moved we all died we moved and killed each other they fought and cried before that I sat in my car and the movie turned I went into the movie to another town but the same people we were all grown up up up and away as they say in the movies up and away we all died so we moved they fought and cried and killed each other on the road went from miles in the show where children all of them went up and away when I was young I wanted to be an actor but not anymore I’ve grown Newtown just like a move town and move town just like I moved town and there they were all around me in the town they had moved towns too when all of us had moved the town died I moved town just like I moved town the town died they had all moved well no one moved in again because we did not have any kids no can no more can no more children we moved homes and when all of us had moved the town died I moved town just like I moved town and there we were all around me only this life as we moved we built a new life now living in a city new living in this city there are more of us but plenty of us but plenty of room we moved towns no can we died and no one moved in only kids no kin we did not take up space like we did before when all of us had moved the town died but there was more room we did not take up any space like we did before we grew up and then moved in moved town as well I moved town just like I moved town and there they were all around they had moved town as well no one ever moves town in again because we did not have any kids no can only this life but all of us had moved we built a new life now living in the city in the end we all died so we moved and went to the movies I sat in my car the road was wet it went for miles in the show where children all of them but there was no kin who died no one moved away as they say when I was young I wanted to be an actor but not anymore I wanted to be an actor and that was the score I moved town and went to the movies and moved town just like I moved town I told you they were all around they had moved towns too as well in again because we all died had a way of our own kids no kin only this life as we moved we built a new life now living in a city there were more of us but plenty of room we did not take up any space like we did before we grew up and then moved all of them all of us they forgot and cried they fought and cried and killed each other in the end in the end we all died so we moved.

editors note:

Read aloud, you’ll see how, we all move, we all move town. – mh clay

Green On The River

featured in the poetry forum May 20, 2023  :: 0 comments

I’m green on the River not so green on the River I have seen its end I’m green on the River I have not seen the beginning I am green on the River every morning I watch it move an old man fishing in the River the last two mornings never again so green on the River if you venture away from the River you get lost maybe This is why people don’t go back don’t go too far I am green on the River I have not seen the beginning I’ve not seen it send I dream I’m like those fishermen I know I am not like those fishing I know I am like this fishing in green on the River every morning I watch an old man fishing on the River the last two mornings never again I know I am this old man I know I am these fishermen I have left the other ones behind in hindsight looking behind me now I’m green on the River everything is green on the River everything I have never had lead me down this River up this River down this River down the alleys of my mind up this River down this River down the alleys of my mind everything I have I have lost I remember you and what I used to be I remember you who I used to be now I know someone else now I remember you who I used to be the man I see every day every day I see the man I’ve seen the beginning I’ve seen no end every morning I watch the old man I used to be every morning I remember you what I used to be now I know someone else the man I see every day is a blessing is a curse is a blessing is all of these things in a blessing is none is the curse is none I have been all these things through but I know better I know better these things I do not believe.

editors note:

Certainly can’t without yellow and blue. – mh clay

Still Here

featured in the poetry forum January 21, 2023  :: 0 comments

To the young man in the wheelchair a boy left on the side of the highway selling tickets something dropped off in the sun and left to fend for himself for someone else probably his family on the side of the road as it starts to rain everyone races by on their motorbikes without even noticing him maybe some except for one boy about the same age who stops his bike and runs back throws a poncho over this kid buys a ticket and continues on his way with his own business there are many kinds of kids younger than this boy doing the same thing selling tickets asking for money crouched on the side of busy intersections with their heads pulled down inside their laps pushed one hand out accepting alms the locals tell me to never give the kids money cuz if they don’t make enough or not as much as the day before they will get beaten or worse I don’t know people in desperate situations do desperate things even at the expense of other human beings living things and some go out of their way even when in their own predicament of thought and recovery and Life! may I be content with what I have! may I not always feel the need to satiate my good sense my big mouth my words falling off my tongue sometimes my misjudgments blessed and my eyes never healed so I may see it all and that I never forget there are those who could use a hand with alms a line we’re human beings for Christ’s sake and some of us are not at home but we’re still here.

editors note:

One of these corners could be yours. – mh clay

On The Walk Out

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

I hear nothing other than motors propelling out past the island chortling under water black deep receding tide night train on Lady’s eye walk down past the spit crustaceans crackling trained feeling see the big light shine look up moon the stars hold on brine home Bobbing up in the morning now I know about night past the jagged rocks the murky line outside time come and get me I hear no stars to achieve here we’re not in warm water anymore comes a call in the background been out at sea since May for months molten river rocks oysters cut in pain small delight I see back home come walking out to me a sound behind the shells stay here bound by stars the outline kindly installed create monitoring sky map the Cape no run no spray the motor is humming it rains this morning comes in stands this rap staying with me a plant tree in the wind straight up backbone no windows start laying apply sculpt back the need to go to bed come in don’t go.

editors note:

How to manage your monotony. – mh clay

Never He Any

featured in the poetry forum June 25, 2022  :: 0 comments

Never he any never be any rest aligned star crazily meandering through the universe hurling sparks throughout the cosmos down on this Earth he never had any such as traveled far away and back it was a dream he was the Future Past never had he any from beginning to end like the burning string on both sides watching it burn matching light folding telling a story an adventure starts from the beginning but never ends never happened to me we us never me many never he any such are fools lost in the mind a clouded thought in fruition above my head I can see it be sunny weather wind pushes through swiping all reality away it was a dream a dream is never he any somewhat pursed on the pursuit of so called happiness a number a relief a testament to the unhappy lives you’ve lived dream?

editors note:

Maybe never, if ever. (We welcome Ken Edward to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Vung Tau

featured in the poetry forum March 19, 2022  :: 0 comments

Christ rises above me arms outstretched almost as if he is flying fast into his birth sure of nothing other than the horizon that rises below him he has not moved for almost seven years seven years I’ve seen him weathered by the sun and strong winds and rain pray for rain to wash him off to bring him change when I’m not looking maybe after seven years he turns his head and watches me swim all the way down to Pineapple Beach over the rocks around the fancy hotels inside the inlets and peninsulas in fingers that stretch out from shore watches me swim around the bend facing now West when I look around on my back he’s changed into the man that once stood over the cliff are you surprised that he never lets you catch him that you never will because here he really never did exist he’s an idea set in stone to watch over a world some have created in his alter image willfully undeniably maybe defiantly is something else that may be tattered by wind by the sun by memory nevertheless when I see him while floating on my back like a turtle like a dead fish within the analysis of place rather still in replication in his arms unfolded wide I do the same as when I was a boy my mother watching me from shore assured I would not leave but afraid I would swim too far out of her reach never to come back into the same world again.

editors note:

Self as savior to stay afloat. – mh clay

THROWING NUMBERS

featured in the poetry forum November 11, 2021  :: 0 comments

I throw my number down and someone picks it up palms facing down picks it up from the ground with two hands stares at me from across the street walks back across smiling hands it to me with two hands held together palms facing up says hello number thrown down a piece of paper four hands of relief of persistence across the street we acknowledge each other I see the broken street I see the leaf fall down the River and then wonder how it is that we all meet she comes across and says hello good day two hands facing up palms to the Sky we look each other in the eye let it go let it go easy for me to do not say easy for me to let it go not say gestures not words acknowledgement recognition lucky number or inevitable circumstance I’m a man standing across the road on the same line as Ho Chi Minh the lady looks at me and wonders why I don’t take the money back she found it on the street the leaf floats down the River across the sunny Highland no hassle without asking when the woman will be back we don’t say Amen we say well fine.

editors note:

Encounter well said, though not easy, amen. – mh clay