Monday Poem: “Song of youth regained”

Song of youth regained

The child within was released again tonight
By a somewhat recognizable sound.
The familiar melody paved way to
Unfettered memory free that once was bound,
Unleashed the beast
Releasing sheets of heat
And light from yonder moon.
Light and laughter grew
And sang along in tune to beats
Of unsheathed imagination,
Offering subtle indications
Of beauty untold and unearthed gold.
The child then grew.
That child is you.
Don’t send them to their room.

Monday Poem- “Jungle Man”

Jungle Man

In the jungle
One day I met a man
Who had obviously been there more than I
He informed me
That looks are deceiving
That he had woken up that morning for a walk
So I asked him
How he came to walk here
He took a wrong turn in the desert where he slept

My jungle friend
How I would love to help
But I too am stranded in this twisted wild place
My jungle friend
He helped me see myself
As I looked into his empty twisted wild face

There is no substitute for time alone in silence
No substitute for the rivers
Flowing with rhythm (controlled but free)
There is no substitute for the peace of violence
No substitute for this refining time with me

In the city
One day I met a man
Who looked rather like the man I met before
I informed him
Of my jungle dreaming
And of the ugly twisted face that I’d just saw
He asked me for a light
And he asked me for a fight
So I said that I don’t smoke
and that I’m not the fighting sort of bloke
While he looked at me with beady eyes
With greedy eyes
And needy cries
So he looked at me with beady eyes
And then he saw himself

A broken man
Unavailable for more
Incapable of war
But unstable like before
Not like the jungle man I saw
Not like the me I am before the dawn

Monday Poem: “Politics”

Politics

Caesar was loved by the masses
But stabbed in the back by his friends,
Who’d want to be a politician
And meet such a horrible end?
Caesar did what was right in his own eyes,
And that had just a small perk or two,
He knew how to defend
His ideas to all men
And how to tick off more than a few.

That’s just politics though, isn’t it?

Brutus (the coward)
Wasn’t brave, smart or proud,
Was not really anyone.
He went from being like a son
Then hardened to become
Just another hired gun.
Marc Antony was next
And quickly made a mess,
He did not have success
Before he followed in Caesars steps.

And the disc keeps turning,
Stuck on repeat.
That’s just politics though, isn’t it?

Monday poem: “Candidate for commitment”

Candidate for commitment

She’d heard a lot of tales before,
Both short and tall
She’d heard it all.
Of all the words she’d heard before
His meant more,
For what she saw:
It matched his words.