' poetry'
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Tuesdays are busy with
little time to pack adequate meals
I found myself eating a vending machine muffin
Double chocolate chip.
I ate on a bench in my university’s gym.
I am not a beautiful writer.
My words do not always flow right;
Sound right;
Feel right.
I know what I think, but putting words on a page--
That is something I do not always know how to do.
Look how beautiful she is.
Look at her dress, how it shines in the light.
Look at her nails, painted just right.
Look at her hair full of diamonds and gold.
Flowers leading me to the unseen room
Smell of the perfume hits me from afar
Dull lights flowing with a slow sound
As the pool within an angel awaits me with a soft skin
Moving on the bed slowly like a snake
Does he look at me with glowing eyes?
As my finger rushes the surface of his skin
He transforms my scattered thoughts into meaning
I gasp for air, but all the motions are beyond me
I choke, I try to speak...
Don’t think too much
About forbidden touch
Or legal abuse of such
Little creatures like dairy cows and fabric workers.
Don’t feel too much.
The homeless man with his crutch
Standing in line,
Waiting to buy a cup of Love,
A bull, an elephant and a rhino collide,
Brah,brah,brah! Within stomach’s wall.
