She was prone to moonwrath;
She was coming to goldenness;
It was an outblown image of potential -
Forever was smiling and playing with her hair.
Catullus was laughing bitterly,
And butterflies opened like hearts,
The slaves all walked to the sea, now dark,
But she…she was prone to moonwrath,
Unleashed upon tides, economies, minds,
With a necklace of conquests
Adorning her like a Yuletide wreath

“This is where I bleed through for you,”
I say, (in the unlikely rain, incessant)
Where Phoenix’ wings molt without
Sol touching & the songs all playing
And where I have no more of time, and
“Who are you?” I ask on this night of
Desert rain, of she, prone to moonwrath
And dire changes; But she leers, vanishes,
As this desert rain pours its tears down
Upon the silent cars and lives,
Tears poured back into the void of this land,
“Black teacher, lend me a hand!”
Joy will push through me,
Buzzing and weeping, wavering swiftly,
I an otherworldly being…
                          …can they even see me?

l'usurper de l'Amour, poems, poetry Hide

I

She sees a road & the dog death comes;
Love at school and some have tried.
A rare breed and the atom bomb.
A blue tree and the night is long.
Or not, the divided ice-cream bed -
Summers un-forgotten; a rocket to the stars.
Plebes in the grid. Before the empires bled.
Us, and the walls, and where we go.
She sees herself in the Great Divide.
Atom bomb and a sense of pride.

Rush, summer streams, cars that smile;
Stuffed closets full; history, hate.
World’s forests and highways of death.
Sounds numbing the purple towns’ regrets.
Zephyrs of wasted time. A crumpled vow.
Perpetuity’s vibration becoming Now.
Insanity. Mortal looks, breathtaking tapestry.
Unfettered commerce, animal wails.
Love “back there”, “in here”, future swarms.
He’d die for anyone, but would not say:
“A sickle for your wrinkled eyes.”

II

Blood of the holy virgin; nape of her untouched neck;
Slaves, holidays, revolts, marketplaces.
The gentle stream of her stare; meaning bleeding out, too.
“That empire never ended”; those days I walked with you.
A golden irony orbiting my heart as the talking screen
Walks me through history; As a tapestry of passions squawks
through my radar in the hideous night; and again, on these
Spectral trails, where a jackrabbit’s heart has more true
Industry than this entire nation – I speak to the departed
and perfect my soliloquy. A ranger of deathless flights
of seeming, and this nation which I’ve too long romanced,
I fix my soul’s eyes now upon a future spent abroad,
recalling warily a time when I, under a heavy spell,
Loved her beating heart.

poem, poetry, spiritual Hide

chaos, love, poetry Hide

I say to no one in general nor directly, I love myself; then a thought occurred, “Am I boasting?”
So, I asked another, “Hey, Am I boasting when I proclaimed “I love myself?”
He looked at me as to sized me up and ask me, “what you think?”
I answered, “that why I asking you. Am I boasting was my immediate thought after the statement?” He look around the cafe we was in and excuse himself, then joined a table with an attracive female sitting alone with no other words then “excuse me,” while pointing at her.
I was sure at that time for certainty that that question shouldn’t be asked again. I then given a quick thought about the statement and then felt a little happiness physically swelling within me.
I then loudly said in that public place, “I love myself!”
After that it didn’t matter what others nor I would conceived of the statement. The statement was one of those nice feeling emotion, which is a life of one’s own.

friendship, Justice, Peace, poem, poems, poetry, poetry Buddhism identity physics, prayer, religion, submissions Hide

That old concern as defintive verb.
Hasnt lost any luster in any era by an occur.
Power politics within pérsonalized compromises.
An empty courage in the realistic eyes.
A signalized threat as our natural sorceries
Most religious are spurn for this nature’s inconvience.
Yet some does realized their own vanity under this mortality’s summarized.
With all gains are valueless to everyone’s priceless life with you live, you die.

Written by George Eddie Burks Of St. Micheal’s Church Post 201, Chicago, Illinois.

death, Divorce Robbery, Justice, Marriage ends in Divorce, pain, Peace, poem, poems, poetry, poetry Buddhism identity physics, Politics, religion, submissions, War Hide

Untitled (so far.) by Geo E. Burks

Was that her I was thinking of.
Why should not I think of her?
She cared for that role,
The one in her life I was.
But she couldnt had me,
And I was contented as that.
Not as my pride nor my failure.
I loved her as my preference.

She did tried though.
To make me her more,
To make more of me.
I was already all that,
All that that had need.
From known pride and failures.
Remaking our preferences.

Yet, she wanted more of me,
The more she can entrusted as me,
Which isn’t not from me,
And all that because I was not had,
By a wanton desire mistaken as a need.
For I knew my pride and my failures,
By preferences that are known as I.

I did need to be that role for her,
Her friend, her lover and her strength.
The one who cared by caring.
The one who love by sheltering.
The one she can call reliant and loyal,
But she or I can’t had this,
Nor remake any of this.
These are my pride and my failures,
All done as my preferences.

This is why I was thinking of her.
Looking at that cage’s latchless door,
I made for us as our togetherness.
To make all that as what I had her for.
Knowing pride can easily marred this,
And either of us can easily fail this.
Fail that that was not meant to be had,
yet built by our preferences for our betterment.
A betterment for both of us as one’s loves.

Divorce Robbery, friendship, Marriage ends in Divorce, pain, Peace, poem, poems, poetry, poetry Buddhism identity physics, Politics, prayer, religion, submissions Hide

(To Those Of The American Music Association Who Are Always There Thoughout My Life With What I Really Need. Please, Allow This Poise From My Pure Essential Life’s As Being Convey Why I Had Always Appreciating What You Do.)

Thank You For Letting Us Know We Aren’t Alone Feeling.

Purity By Geo. E. Burks

You, songbirds’ sweet touch wells life anew.

In my mind, you can redefine love’s steadiness, too.

Find anymore love forms in my kudo?

To do me better with that form again as true.

Tears I hid well, You shame me there, too.

As my culture’s most high, and there I praise you.

Don’t let me, let this fail, for what I do!
For the failures will always have me alone to show as dues.

This I can placed when my balance is made anew.

Our heart’s strong commonarities impressed as art by you.

Thank You, for never allowing the thesis we be as a neglect for dues.

As a world under one sun, our skys resounds by the harvest of our common felt lieus.

Always true as of our natural capacity for refining what we crude.

For these refineries we grew to be the reforms our uniqueness as infinitive new!!

Consistently since we first noticed of you songbirds’ justifying and maturing my living life moods.

With your airborne felt flights of everlasting passages thru and above my estate’s refuges.

You are very much of my earth’s evolving sustances arising reinforcing my humanly soul true.

With signals liberating the whole spirit from points within that are uninformed subdued.

To reproof us as an always and again as we love and this is why I will evermore always love you.

Thank you for the sheltering and nurturing of our distinct hearts’ life-giving cultural rooted muses

Your love and honor does enriches my country’s symbolic blues!!

With with evermore XOX(S) THANK YOU!!!

From A Fan Who Happily Dwelling In Your Snafus Named George.

friendship, Kids, Peace, poem, poems, poetry, poetry Buddhism identity physics, prayer, religion Hide

If these verses be not great,
Let them be better
Than all I have written before
And all that anyone else is writing.

Give me the strength to change
All that cannot be mine
Into my greatest inspiration,
Let me find victory in my defeat,
Words to cover up reality’s bad patches
With all the language allows to glitter.

Keep me drunk enough
To always have sentences to spout,
But sober enough to hold a pen,
Keeping inspiration in place.

If I die before I am great,
Let my death awake
The critics from dogmatic slumbers, and
The readers behind their cozy books,
Let it arrive unannounced,
To improve my standing with both,
And open the gates to the pantheon.

alcohol, death, poetry, prayer, religion Hide

As you shake your head,
He jumps across a stretcher
In a bombed out home,
Violence, Violence,
Everything is violence
Cries the teacher.

Armies come and go and wander in between
Finding cities to sack
Women to rape
Children to enslave
Blood to spill again and again
When does it end you ask?

He laughs,
Violence, Violence,
Everything is Violence!

You were brought into this world with violence,
With violence you were formed,
With violence you were expelled,
With violence you were made to breathe
With violence you were behaved,
Prevented from committing more violence.

Look at the line of people,
They march and seem
To be peaceful,
But they march to hold the reins
To whip and pull
Leading men where they want.

They spill no blood now,
But will one day,
As dreams are worth nothing
Without violence.
Violence by itself is a nightmare,
Violence with a dream is progress.

Your whole world is built on a web of violence,
With violence against mother earth you are fed,
With violence against the poor you are housed,
With violence against the brown you have land,
With violence against children you are not questioned,
It just is, but is it just?

Hah! He continues to laugh,
Winding down a staircase,
A light in his hand burning off the night,
Violence, Violence
Everything is violence!

Justice, Peace, poetry, Politics, Violence, War Hide

I.
The sun still
counts
minutes

With shadows grazing
the bridge
of your nose

Your irises
rest in
the shade
of two o’clock

A lone bird
demands attention
at the tip of
a solar flare.

Ringlets tousle
in a head pivot
Suddenly it is six

The white ring
on your itching wrist
darkens

There is no
marker
of his indiscretion
upon your body
of indiscretion

.

II.
…a turquoise shoe
dangles from your pinky toe
scarred
by the journey
of rough education
it dangles
dangerously
above the ocean
with expectation

the moon goes black
comes back
yo-yos
and returns
as a cat eye

the shoe waits for a nudge
for a final thought
that douses
love letters
with lighter fluid

You contemplate the heel
nearly snapped
in the taxi door

The black smudge
of his clumsiness
when he couldn’t hear
the music
He could never
hear
the music
never listened
.

to your body

The rum he spilled
on your anxious leg
ran down and inside
the sole
At the Christmas
party where you bit
your nails
pretending
he was better

He alternated
adoring and forgetting
flattering and upsetting
dancing with
and trampling you.

Inciting you to speak
to show
that
you were smart
Interrupting you
so they wouldn’t
know how smart

He ripped your dress
passed out
never hearing your
dream time breath

The shoe falls
Sun swords pierce waves
the splintered pier
shimmies
shoe won’t sink.

The passive man
Sits numbing himself with whiskey
Bleary eyes reflect greyhounds running in circles.
He asks the bartender to turn the volume up.
He wonders where you went,
Why you always seem angry,
And what time it is.

Christopher James, poetry Hide