Poetry

There’s no presentation in my poetry

There’s poetry

without the presentation element.

It’s not required.

It isn’t a prerequisite.

Culture #1

“homecoming”

i come home

every morning

at 2

 

“farming”

isn’t a profession

i want to start

i get my food

from the shelves of walmart

 

“books”

i don’t read

like my dad

google has me

covered

 

“stories”

mom doesn’t tell

she knows none

i’m given an ipad

to find some

 

“relationships”

non-committal

 

“parents”

still here

preaching on

standing tall

 

 

Summer comes when night hurts

There was once a boy who told a story of a king

when the heat wasn’t so strong and light so deep

I couldn’t trust him

amidst pain and suffering that plagued the seasons.

 

When the hens chased the pigs

and the moon was swarmed by bees,

the ocean breathed fire from within.

It was burning everywhere;

suffocating smoke made people hurt the night.

 

Hours of night made to suffer,

clouds of smoke rising up the grey sky.

Dull, innocently warm,

it was summer again.

You

When will there be water in my arms

when will there be water in my spirit

when will there be blueness

what is it that causes it.

What is the lifespan of the sea

when will my feet be wet.

How do oceans end before my thoughts begin

why is it so hard to hold on to a wave

when will there be water in my arms.

What is it that water needs to survive

what is it that makes it complete.

Why is the grass graced with dew

and nature whiter from the snow.

When will there be water in my heart

and blue conquer.

What makes people talk so cool-ly

what makes children swim

where do they go

who do they meet.

When will there be water in my arms

When will I see it flow.