Soap Box Blues

featured in the poetry forum August 25, 2013  :: 0 comments

Standing atop a soap box,
xxxOn the corner of Lemmon Ave,
Preaching Hemingway and Asimov.

Explaining the science of War,
xxxTo lost soldiers running a course
Of hypocrisy across their impressionable Children,

I’m standing up to violence,
xxxArmed with the weapons of Love.
Leaving enemies dumbfounded
xxxxxxxxxIn the glory of a faithful man’s god.

Hugging the poor for closure,
The wars in the streets
xxxxxxxxxAren’t caused by the white man,
But perpetuated by the fear of the false power
xxxxxxxxxBehind the white man,
But white men like black men
Just want a chance at a little foreign foreplay,
And I’d fuck both from my soap box,
xxxxxxxxxAll four because were all merely
xxxxxxxxxFloating particles held together
xxxxxxxxxxxxBy Mr. Higgs’ Boson,
xxxxxxxxxxxxSo remain calm,
xxxxxxxxxxxxLife will go on,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxPreaching from a soap box.

editors note:

Preacher’s prerogative, wicked war and black/white tensions, all boiled down to atom angst. – mh

Goals for dreams

May 11, 2013  :: 0 comments

I like to keep everything I read
xxxOr write.
Someday I’ll leave behind a filing cabinet
xTwo stories tall.
And there I’ll house my hall of records,
xxAnd keep tucked away
xxxMy soul
xxxxTo take.

Ten years of war and counting

featured in the poetry forum May 11, 2013  :: 0 comments

Words can’t be put together,
Not here, not now,
And how are the dead to act?
How is anyone to understand the horror
That has become the mundane?
The everyday.
Our children grow up,
Believing the justice of violence,
Who see death everywhere
And glorified.
The ultimate goal,
An honorable death.

editors note:

Honor is for the living; the dead don’t need it. Teach your children… – mh

Untimely suicide

featured in the poetry forum October 10, 2012  :: 0 comments

Growing alone in dark corners
xxxWhere the monsters always seem to find you.
You scream out, but no one’s there
xxxxxxAnd in the end, you find out.
xxxxxxxxxNo one ever was.

Solutions appear unreasonable to others,
xxxBut for you it seemed the only escape.
It’s complicated to function in this society.
xxxxxxWhen the truly mad
xxxxxxxxxRun the madhouses.

A perfectly tightened noose
xxxxxxIn a closed closet waiting for
xxxxxxxxxYour death.
People sullen and unhappy about the outcome
xxxxxxxxxOf your existence.
A beautiful young girl spread out in a casket.
xxxxxxWaiting for her prince who never showed up
xxxxxxxxxTo save her from herself.

editors note:

Sad when, with no succouring saviour, tendency, taken to conclusion, tells no good time. – mh

Religious Beliefs

featured in the poetry forum June 26, 2012  :: 0 comments

I’m at work fixing a game
xxxFor a lady customer,
When an older Mexican woman walks up to me and says:
xxx“Oh, hey, you the one with the
xxxxxxCurly hair?”
xxxxxxMy hair now pulled back in a bun,
xxx“Yeah that’s me”
xxxxxx“Oh, hey, how are you? Me and my daughter use to come
xxxxxxxxxHere all the time, but we no come in ah, year and a
xxxxxxxxxxxxHalf”
xxxxxx“Oh yeah”
xxx“Yeah, ah my daughter have the hair just like you”
xxxxxx“Oh your daughter has curly hair”
xxx“Oh yeah that’s why we remember you, but
xxxxxxOkay, I let you get back, it was nice to see you,
xxxxxxxxxGod bless you”

And I look to the women I’m helping,
xxx“Do you think she knows I’m an atheist?”
xxxxxxA slight joke,
xxxxxxxxx“You don’t believe in God?”
xxxxxxxxxxxxShe asks, stunned.

Let me make this clear,
xxxA huge resounding yes,
xxxxxxFollowed by an immensely,
xxxxxxxxxContradicting no,
Reason persuades me not to believe,
xxxBut instinct tells me to keep a cross,
xxxxxxBound to me at all times,

I believe in my God,
Not your God,
xxxAnd what does that mean? My God? Whose is he?
xxxxxxNot a God who prefers his people
xxxxxxTo be divided in to different religions,
xxxxxxLike Christians, Mormons, Muslims, or gymnasts,
xxxxxxWho hate each other’s guts,
xxxxxxTo the point of rising wars,

My God is a God,
Who lives in the air,
And breathes through the trees,
Who swims in the oceans,
And sleeps in the cities,
Who blows through the fields,
And dreams the color of lilies,
My God is a natural God,
xxxxxxNot a God built like a man,
xxxxxxWho picks sides during Wars,
xxxxxxAnd allow thousands to kill in his name,

My God is a vegetarian,
Who drives a Hybrid car,

My God is the Bones in the Earth,
The coral of the sea,
And the minerals of the soil,

My God is a living God,
Who can be found all around us,
Except for the stone and glass façade,
Of the structures labeled ‘his house’

My God is a God,
xxxxxxYour God strives to be,
My God hates this Poem,
xxxxxxAnd all the songs sung about him,
xxxxxxxxxHe doesn’t enjoy the fame,
All he asks for is a little peace,
And cooperation during these delicate moments.

editors note:

I think I’ll convert to gymnastism and grow out my hair. Believe it! – mh

Coming to terms

featured in the poetry forum March 20, 2012  :: 0 comments

Making peace with the terms of oneself,
Understanding the confusion that
Boils inside you like soup,
Delicious, but unsatisfying.
Believing your self to be the hero
Of your own cowardly story,
Understanding your enemies are
Merely projections of yourself
Onto them.
Knowing death is always lurking
Around the corner.
Trusting life and vigor
Over murder and suicide.

editors note:

I’ll take a bubbling bowl of “life and vigor” over a tepid tureen of “murder and suicide” any day. – mh

Ghosts in the theater

featured in the poetry forum October 11, 2011  :: 0 comments

There is a whisper in the auditorium,

Fair voices of ancient beings
Long ravaged by the decay of time.

And they’re singing.

Singing sad songs of living and being
And being without living,

Strong horrors of the human psyche,
Studded with fear and crippling anxiety.
Dreams without the harbor of hope,
And the foundation of imagination.

Sonnets of faint recitals echoing of the walls
From a forgotten time.

editors note:

All the movies shown in the dark, filling the voices of these ghosts with much more to sing. When the projector shuts off, the stories keep going. Scary! – mh

Ring of fire

featured in the poetry forum May 4, 2011  :: 0 comments

All fires of the world circle in around me,
And I dance
Like the flicker of the thorny flame,
Enveloped–
By the fiery shadow
From which it came.

The fires of the world…surround me,
But I am not harmed,
Only kissed by its…cinnamon touch,
And left warm and crisp,
Like clothes fresh out of the laundry.

editors note:

Yes, that’s the fire that burns to purify, burns to kill infection, burns to make light, not ashes. – mh