Concentration Potential poison seeping through my pores I can’t see anymore blinded broken striving for peace in a world where peace is shattered into pieces. Because the war is not yet over and the poison is flushing through my eyes blinding me and binding hatred because I decided to wear a star on my chest; prideful. Fumigation Dancing diamonds or at least that's what he used to call me “his diamond” “baby girl” But I didn't shine bright, I was compressed coal Black and grey with tinted emotions composed of red burnt out flames, fumigating Scorching to be loved In other words, “desperate” sometimes “damaged” infested with poor communication skills with a touch of lack of loyalty. The Beggar. Because I come to you for change And I come to you to release: begging But I can't release without change And I lie to protect what you know Though you know It all I keep trying to get you to open doors I won't take my hands off of: controlling So I ask for healing: pleading To find it in a place of where I want to be Building homes on troubled sands and rough waters But you salvage ruble and microscopic treasures: all mighty So I ask for peace, again And peace comes with healing And healing comes with change And change, I found in a place On holy ground Soiled spirits, and faith in you: the church The Garden of EnvyWalking hands intertwined down lilac fields goes Red and Blue wondering why together they don’t make the beauty around them. Purple flowers dripping honeydew pursing bees lips, sweet kisses full of nectar. Red: Drinking sugar syrup. Blue: Slurping flourishing flowers. In hopes to morph, making love, mending colors; sinning. In lilac fields of purple-grey gazing in awe: Red and Blue boast, harboring bitter envy and selfishness. Jealous of the kiss of the bees, begging to be purple. 20 Something That’s my main problem
I try to turn nothing into something. I need to learn that time does not mean love and love does not mean commitment. We are at the kind of phase where it’s a bit of nothing but a whole lot of everything the time in your life when you are making stable ground, But I guess it's not the time in your life where true love is found. Because 20 is filled with sex and 21 is filled with drinks, but no matter the number of drinks can make me forget what you think Of me. Your “its complicated” kinda girl The girl you don’t know, if you should put your heart out Or give it a rest. But I find no fun in wasting my time I don’t want “lets see what I can get in the meantime”. I want something more even if its a little nothing For someone to give me their time, their love, and some form of commitment But at this age the idea of all that, seems so distant. So I guess I’ll stop trying to turn nothing into something. for this is just a phase waiting to run its course, I get it now, in your 20’s a relationship is not something you can force.
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Robert Ronnow's most recent poetry collections are New & Selected Poems: 1975-2005 (Barnwood Press, 2007) and Communicating the Bird (Broken Publications, 2012). Visit his web site at www.ronnowpoetry.com. America the seeing-eye dogPolicy or personal questions? In the poem Two White Wines a child adopted from Cambodia is a thing of beauty, and so she is as she showed herself to be yesterday. Lovely. However the poet implies market, i.e. economic, forces brought her to America when, as her parents know, it was war, the sad Vietnam War or the War with America as I think the Vietnamese remember it. Honor and bravery equal courage. Reed Whittemore’s poem about a photo of Viet Cong prisoners, stoic, defiant under an American officer’s boot expresses admiration for the enemy. Then and now a dangerous sentiment. Your fellow citizens, denizens of convenience stores, even your family, may come to see you as the enemy. Once ostracized, the other, not belonging to the loved ones, you’re not long for this world of dew. Tits and ass Ken says, describes America’s culture, not its poets or jazz. What’s worth fighting for? Your land, your right to be stupid on your land. Now there is one large land, one people and many. The vote is a crude, monosyllabic grunt, no way to express the subtle degrees of experience our long lives represent. Thus, it is good, when the family gathers, to talk, each person speak of what has been forgotten, forgiven and forgone. Trading or taking every family must be tithed or taxed. Every man who finds his meaning in war will be pained into wisdom and gentleness. Who comes home comes home to a future that bypassed the fighting, or did it? The oil must be sold, even Saddam or Osama cannot withhold it. You can drink your quota of water and still your heart can ache. Empire or democracy of nations? We can choose to be the reigning kings between the last empire and the next or we can implement a vision of collective deliberation. America the seeing-eye dog, not America the junkyard dog. Going question by question toward predictable, transparent governance. Example: How can a people become a nation without resorting to violence or incurring violent reaction? Geese in WinterFull of courage, winter, geese fly north. The car almost wouldn’t start. Drive along the Mohawk flood plain. Cattails, grasses, no doubt ash and elm. Restful tans and browns. Flat, low, but still city. Arrive at the interview. Corner of State and Clinton luminous blue corporate logo between empty store fronts. That they might not offer me the job and they might, make me equally sad. Fly in formation, life for pay. Young, my boast had been distances and heights traveled. Now any road serves well as the long narrow road to the north. The cold, quiet solitude of that road would serve well too. The story of Sally, the story of John. It takes an advanced, healthy economy to produce science and technology but aborigines may track animals and draw symbols in the sand, give each cloud and bird and tree a personal secret name. And explain according to a logic for which we need equations how geese in winter flow north today. Jack’s Commitments |
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