June 9, 2012

The Memory Package

All wrapped up in a pretty package, that’s what these memories are
That’s the way they would like to be viewed
But, memories are here, they are there, they are everywhere

They come in, and turn themselves around
Damning the fear
We face them

Do we need them? 
What do you offer?
 A censored answer

They are yours, they are mine, they are ours

The bow is tied, on the memory package

June 2, 2012

What Is Left?

Poetry writing is like a thorn 
you want to pull it out 
when it jabs into your skin

What is left is a hole
relief for a while 
until a numbness enters

Filling that void 
poison soaked vacuum  
deadness sets in 

"Nothing left to write about" 
does the mind run from the truth 
or does it run toward another thorn?  

Words are gone, you've said it all along 
so many times, in so many ways 
when you ask yourself, again 

"What is left"?  
And the answer becomes