Words Much Like Poetry

“Dusk, is just an illusion, because the sun is either above the horizon or below it. And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are; there cannot be one without the other, yet they cannot exist at the same time. How would it feel, I remember wondering to be always together, yet forever apart?” ~ Unknown

the struggling light flickers atop a water candle a windy spell blows and threatens to put it out the flame almost leaps off but grabs onto the icy wick burning at the watery fuel the flame dreams of the water and the water holds its silence, unyielding ceding no ground betraying no emotion but the flame burns still on the water candle consuming the icy wick the water seeks the company of the flame the words exchanged of half passion half mystery betraying no emotion a perfect perplexity of state a perfect refusal of pairing yet the flame burns atop a water candle the flame aches denied for long no chance handed him no hint of future unity the flame burns upon an icy wick dreaming of the comfort of watery embrace the water plays games of wiles leading the flame's yellow heart to abeyance leading it to passion's end a place of hopelessness and pointless visions the water candle lets the flame burn upon an icy wick it has stood for long waiting for a sign of hope the struggling...

by Jerome Hambrick I could have used your company last night Could have talked or had a tongue and kitty fight And no, I'm not all right Until you come over and fix my plight Had a most stressing day And was looking towards some one on one word play Your presence is enough for me I drink you in and perspire glee I remove you from your pedestal And return you back... your love gently bruised No matter the path I find beneath my feet I sense you just over my shoulder hovering, lovingly I enclosed you in our love knowing your fear of small places That defenseless look... could almost taste it And I know it's sick but seeing you that way turns me on But understand my illness will do you no harm My nature rages to overwhelm and break right through But I would turn tide on myself before it turned on you Because you loved me and you knew I wasn't right And for that I'd kiss your feet or risk my life You see the world needs more people like you... That c...

by Derek Clark Piotr Siedlecki Flamed Heart I bring what I love Stop, reverse that! Love I What Bring I Loving I , me, the essence of all that has been created while embracing the world through eyes that gained empathy, and guided tutelage from a deaf mother Love I What Bring I , 150% of these six senses since she lacked one. Endless valued lesson in, "do unto others, as you would do unto yourself." Though it may not be reciprocated, Karma keeps record of efforts I Bring Love I What Bring I : great or small, fat and thin, female and male, adult or child, gay, straight, bi-sexual, bi-curious, or tri-sexual too right winged, left winged, even the independent Love I What Bring I , this multifaceted craft of dance and song as a Pied Piper stirring emotions in the audience, tugging heart strings aroused their infectious applause Love I What Bring I , and this palate laps the succulent flavors of varied nationalities, textured complexions, their cultured hab...

by Daniel Njoroge Caspar David Friedrich Wanderer above the Sea of Fog   1818   Destiny unveils its face, And to the man shall it softly whisper Upon which path he will prevail on. Then and only then, Will the man see What he was cut to be. Yet to a foolish man, His eyes rest bolted, For busy is he chasing After the wind, that he sees not the time rise, Nor does he give ear To the gentle whisper That destiny should wind. Then upon the setting Of time and the parting Of destiny to a foreign Land, does the man weep And teeth nails in fear. He is but only a man who gathers not water While intermittent brooks Snakes through his land, And only when they dry, Does he move and cry About until the setting Of his days upon the earth. It is best this man was Never born, for a man With no destiny is as The wind he was chasing- And forever more shall he Wheeze upon the earth with no purpose, Awaiting His wings to molt off And free him.

Carvens Lissaint, who I saw perform live on the La Casita stage at Lincoln Center yesterday for their tenth anniversary. It's hard to describe the power and passion he imbued into the reading...