Counting Lovers

Cheese occurs at night,
Counting lovers, Gerald

Jason,
Daniel,

Some guy at the Holiday Inn,

Leonard,
Han,

Rolf,
Keshavjii,

Simon,

Like that, they
Say a healthy lifetime has ten to twenty,

Lovers.

Photo – Self

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on May 21, 2017 at 18:15  Leave a Comment  
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Dying is the first race

20170110_1541431

Never mind Lawyers,
Children with no mouths,

Never mind Inspiration,
Write Now.

 

 

Photo – ♦Personal♦

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on January 29, 2017 at 18:15  Leave a Comment  
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Tea-time in the sun with friends

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Imagine all those who have to swallow pills;
One a day,

Everyday for every illness,
-and sometimes just

For age, they don’t

Taste good in,
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday packets-

Bitter pharmaceuticals to make you better,

Those that do it with smiles,
Yellow,

And creaking bones and gorgeous flannel;

Respect their furrowed brows and dimpled cheeks, their
Trick of light, their

Twilight years,
Respect your elders now.

Photo – Shitsugane

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on December 13, 2016 at 11:50  Leave a Comment  
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Refugee

 

Gay, homosexual, inter-racial, relationships

Smelly in the corner,
On a black,

Leather sofa,

We speak he and I with oiled bodies, we
Recline at will,

With silver-lined laptops,
With morning beer in,

Plastic cups, ice-cream
Tins, we

Touch minds gently across thrusting porn-stars,
He and I, and we

We will make it happen,
Perhaps,

Emigrate,

Fiddle with love beyond borders, have
Sex in public,

Don’t laugh,

Book an hotel room in an Islamic country,
Without scrutiny,

Hold hands in an African one, do
Battle in Mississippi.

(more…)

Published in: on November 28, 2016 at 11:47  Leave a Comment  
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Death in a foreign land

Betty

 

Charge woman,
Through life, take it all away
Charge, man,

Pretty poet, write it down,
When was the last time you looked at a lover,
In the sand,

Swam with sting rays,
Over African boys asleep with pink men,

Charge woman, stagger drunk,
Through the pavements,
Outside home,
Under the lights by the stoop,

Bring it home, the suitcase in the corner full of,
Yellow memories,

And typewriters.

 

 

Published in: on March 22, 2016 at 07:34  Leave a Comment  
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Loosing our minds

 

Righteousness, Relationship, Time, Alzheimers

I am right.

You may say that I am not, but
I have,

Demanded love and,

You,
Are wrong.

Black and blue and red hummingbird, I
Know what I am saying, you

Left the kids again,
And we argue,

Tall as bamboo we,
Kill each other,

Taking long hours to,
Identify precisely who left the faucet running,

Forgetting the long, yellow grass of home –
I am right,

You never listen, and that’s the problem
Left,

It says so on the map.

Fold your wings.
Concede.

Allow the dull,
Green mother

Her time at the till

 

Picture       ♦Space Shuttle Challenger Crew♦

-short evocative poetry-

We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and “slipped the surly bonds of earth” to “touch the face of God.” – Space shuttle challenger-

 

Published in: on January 21, 2016 at 09:02  Leave a Comment  
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Street-walker

God and Folly

It is raining outside.

I am reminded that,
Rain has rhythm.

Rhythm has heart-beat,
A beat, a

Rat-a-tat-tat,

Every city has its gangsters, its’
Street corners, its

Unbelievers, every

Heart has its beat, and
Every beating heart, its’

God,

Where folly is a pink bear,
An African American,

A bionic car round the bend,
Sunlight at last,

Caught,
In the hair,
Of the joggers,

In the difference it makes to,

Walk with a friend,
For a mile or a minute,

Healing,
Not everywhere is fear.

♦photo♦ Laurieanichols Scenes from New York in January

-short evocative poetry-

 

 

Published in: on January 5, 2016 at 05:48  Leave a Comment  
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We don’t dance anymore

older-black-couple-discussing-

 

We don’t dance anymore,
And it happened so quickly.

We sold our souls on the galactic market,
For peanuts.

The Earth recovered though, its
Nature.

We sold everything to be together,
We did, and

Life happened.

This far down the line, we’re all that’s left and
You still are,

The most beautiful thing about me.

♦Photo:  Mary Pendergreene

-evocative short poetry-

 

Published in: on November 4, 2015 at 08:24  Leave a Comment  
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Neon Light

On skin,
Artificial light reflects differently,
Than it does off of glasses raised in toast,
And no matter how loud you are, you cannot escape the sound of your own voice.
Even when traveling faster than the speed of sound.
As the case may be.

Neon moves over skin like skin has a retort and,
Plastic is just plastic.
Bombastic.

The notion that we are the biggest, fastest race in the Universe,
Will be overtaken by events,
Or Love,
As the case may be.

We will live alongside silver sided computers that keep their,
Personalities, even,
As we conjure them by,
Voice Activated Command,

As the case may be.

Tortoises rummaging around,
In Autumnal leaves,
Will be judged the same way.

I don’t mind, do you?

-short, evocative poetry-

Published in: on September 10, 2015 at 11:41  Leave a Comment  
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Cli·ché

chris_remi_3_kevin_truong_the_Gay_men_project

We garden together, He and I,
Uprooting rocks, chiseling Fuchsia,

We,
Argue a lot, and;

Framing roses in golden, morning light or,
Flaming red sunsets,

Helps cool raging fires.

Birds join us when we are not too loud,
Sipping iridescent water from clay pots,

Serenading nectar onto rhamphothecae;

We squash fat slugs accidentally,
And bitterness.

pictureKevin Truong @TheGayMenProject

-evocative short poetry-

Published in: on August 27, 2015 at 22:18  Comments (3)  
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My first lie

1376701webstockpro1

I spoke French for thirteen years
I say to him
And he smiles.

More cheese.

Soft night yields to love,
Rap is the only hard night sound,
The White man is out of his depth,
Even in French.

He leans forward and whispers in my ear but,
The first lie was mine.

We’ll count them later,
In the fullness of time.

 -evocative short poetry-

Published in: on June 21, 2015 at 21:59  Comments (1)  
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Whoosh

words move, torture, humour, war games, effectiveness, interrogator

 

On the African savannah,
The mission brief had been simple.
Go in and find a Warthog,
By sunset.

The Americans had nuked the place,
Then claimed there had been none,
To begin with.

The Israelis against strong,
Local advice,

Had sent in Mossad,
Undercover.

Why go in looking like food?

They lost good men to lions,
But eventually got their warthog.

The Africans, however,
Had not reported by nightfall,

So at daybreak a search party was launched.

They found three sweaty soldiers,
Whipping a giraffe,
Spread-eagled securely to an Acacia tree,

Whilst the Sergeant-at-arms
-taking notes-
Yelled –
“Confess you’re a Warthog, confess!”

See – nigger, whore, bitch!

photo – webstockpro.com

evocative short poetry – words move

Published in: on June 21, 2015 at 16:28  Leave a Comment  
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