Poetry On The Cutting Edge

 

　

not like a painting you can take it all at once

kind of a temporal experience to live in as its happening

if I spent an hour or two writing that would suffice

enjoy writing the way I do but I'm o.k. if it doesn't please other people

theres a much bigger audience for poetry

today there's so many magazines presses that much more people share

just when I thought there was no more room in my head

　

　

everything is effected by my new attitude I wouldn't be preachy

let things be as they are as a book case slide back

at once a fragrance over runs & the great rush is on

its fine in summer to visit the seashore

nearby are the public toilets

philisophical as prude of sort

in the Atumn I will put up jelly and preserves

within a crowded theatre the man has to be flushed out so that others can take a crack at him

enjoy your philosophy of life

angels you know who you are

come back when youv'e age further

Standing on edge
making the decision
about life,
Or maybe, surely
it is death,
Wind lifts my up arms,
my spirit, my hopes,
As they fall down
So suddenly, so heavily
As the pricks of fear,
Moving up my spine
Explode in my mind,
Soon I realize
The tunnel of death,
Tumbling down, down,
No hope of flying,
No hope of catching on
With last breaths,

It is the end, no turning back
Leaning slightly forward,
My lungs are clenched
Into my chest, my heart,
Halting its next beat,
Is held by my clammy hands,
My parched mouth
Struggles for air, choking
Fighting to live.
My eyes, blinded by fear,
See only what is to come.
It is clear now,
Before my sightless sense,
My trembling feet slide from under me,
I land, on safe, hugging ground.
I know now what I really feel.
I know now why I must keep on going.