You must…..without delay….go read the beautiful things coming out of Christopher’s Head…
He is a very dear friend of mine that I have known for too long to remember. I have been completely entranced by his writing – so go on, jump down the rabbit hole -
Sing softly, Loud Mouth Lucy!
No one loves fingernails on a blackboard
Boys
and girls
Dressed in tablecloth kilts and
White button downs singing
Singing sweet hymns of childhood dreams
Their little angel voices float
Through the air ducts and the aged ears
of the educator
He shuffles me to the back of the crowd
Hides me behind tall Benny
His head absorbs my hopeful song
But I sing anyway
For Benny to hear my resistance
I am headed where these are not
I’ll be loud and make
history
They will be loud and make
babies
That mad man – six feet tall
Gangly arms waving
Picking
the pretty blonds to sing bad solos
Using his education
To gain favor from
the insignificant
an inflated pride
creeps boldly
consistently
_________________________________
intimidation
who are you
your words steer straight
_________________________________
strangled by pleasing
silenced fear
smothering words
_________________________________
like complacent dogs
changing word games
lazy mutt
_________________________________
sparingly loved by
with distance
incomparable
_________________________________
devastated soul
deflated
presumption nigh
_________________________________
both lifted and dropped
i hear you
i know you
_________________________________
unintentional
fearing the best
fearing the fear
_________________________________
my breathing juxtaposed
opinions
sears like ice
_________________________________
irresistably
drawn to kill
fearlessly stab
_________________________________
recount yesterday
relive now
then smother next
_________________________________
returning to right
to before
never enough
The smocked painter sheds her shackles
And dons the wings of the familiar brush
She paints a poem of freedom
With feet made famous by another
Forgiven yet still paying the price
of mistakes the faulty brush made
On a borrowed canvas
To be as free as the singer is to vamp
Yet frozen in the confines of meter
Refusing to sell out to the barbaric public
Yet needing to buy milk and eggs tonight
It’s an awkward life
Knowing the truth of how things work
out to make us cookie cutter citizens
Wanting to be painters
The day will come to embrace your seed
To look into the face of what you
could have become
A chance to nurture and create art
That transcends the reach of your hands
Farther, higher, more succesful they will go
If you do your job well and without fear
of falling again
Your blood will run and pump and flow
To the drum of persistance
Wisdom gives birth to a specific lifestyle – it’s so easy to pick it out in a crowded street. Wisdom’s child has a certain color and smell about her. It’s a long way to sensory eutopia, but a short step away from failure…
Music
Transient Communication
Inspiring, Breathing, Expressing
Harmonious Passion – Dissonant Lover
Restricting, Forbidding, Condeming
Creativity Confined
War
