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Poems

Troubadour Greenfickle

A little grasshopper
Approaching gingerly
On a bench in a park
Inquisitive inspector
Taking notes
And carefully balanced

Cute disconcertingly,
“I bet you’re up to no good”,
One eye on a sandwich
One eye focused on the critter
“I’d join you but I’ve a meeting”
Shift shift

“I’m not just any ol’ grasshopper”
Didn’t think so
“They call me Troubadour Greenfickle”
I continued chewing
“I won’t sing you a song”
A pause, I sipped some beverage
“Perspective is everything isn’t it?”
Should I be worried?
Is it looking at me and talking?
Perhaps just talking,
“Look closer”

I focused on its alien eye,
Looked an exasperated sigh,
What a guy!
“Misgendering lie”
Would you like me to bake you a pie?
“It’s no more alien than your tie”
I bet you’d like to try
“Or your face, please don’t cry”
Are you shy?
“Not quite”

“Look closer”
“That’s right, remember what I said?”
Somewhere in my head
“Yeah, well that’s apt”
“Lemme show you somethin’ real quick”

An otherworldly scream
Was it my throat?
Too brief
World flipped
Exoskeleton and limber
Giant peering at me
Eyes steely stare
Windy breath
Predator wary
“You haven’t felt that one in a long time!”
Frozen still

Switch back,
Face aghast,
Eyes stuck open,
Jaws horror-locked,
“Thought you’d like some perspective”

A crowd had gathered in the park
Concerned yet fascinated
Legs shoot into ground
Asphalt shards and soil flying
Bench splintered
Fascination into terror
Disorientation and dread peak
Beyond threshold pain

Sense of self lost
An observer from within
Is this death or…?
New joints cracking into formation
The new crunch-eating the old

Head leaned back, eyes now alien
“Like I said, they’re not so bad”
A long monstrous wailing scream echoes
Arms shoot forward
Impaling closest of the audience
“Careful with those, they’re all legs now”

Sirens all around
A purring percussion from above
The audience gingerly approaches
Spectators or predators?
Loud bangs and thuds
Non-stop
Breaking through the new edifice
Awareness floating away
My meeting
Whatever will they think…

Categories
Poems

Beauty

Abundant
It fills our streets
Blown around by the wind
Or splashed by fast cars

Don’t blink
It’s in the brief moments
Before and during
The familiar and the strange
Greet each other
You might miss it

It’s in the gleam of knowing eyes
In the air that fills lungs
Inhaled for life
And then expelled
Back into the ether

It weaves its way
In and around
Filling spaces of
Intentions and actions
Of the moving and the still
Of the enduring
And the eroding

As equally sought after
As it is misclassified
Misattributed
And overlooked
Eternally demanded
And damned

Noticing beauty
Takes a keen mind
Sharing it
Takes love
And creating it…
That takes courage

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Poems

Notes

Quarter tonic
Sugar with sugar
Sweet tongue
Semolina Lena

Noncognizant strikes
Dodge brother, dodge
Relentless moving
Those dark eyes always worth it

What I would give
To make this right
To step out of character
Or am I in one now?

Tired of this
Fearing its endlessness
The closer I am to one
The farther I am from both

When the notes I hear
Or the words, dear
My world flips
But I’m quarter built

Flipping like it’s
Practice makes perfect
Play the notes, play
As close as I can get

Limits limit
But memories punish
Flabbergasted and expectant
What are you doing? Incredulous

I am flipping and practicing
Playing notes and replaying nostalgia
Giving love like watering the parched
Learning to strike the balance

Leave me be, demons
You turn sustenance into air
After I’ve fed my soul
I shall have my peace

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Poems

“To my friends…”

I know you, friend,
I recognize my self in you,
Your countenance a canvas of your heart,
Or a parchment with ink bright red,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me,
Respect, dignity, and solidarity our shared language,
You have my gratitude.

It is so difficult to find you,
A necessity,
If it was so easy,
Then they would find us,
With their language of conformity and violence,
Copy-cats of blind majority,
Bent on propagating and steering,
We recognize the steps of their dance,
From a mile away,
We try to steer clear,
But sometimes our shared language,
Calls on us to act.

To the scoundrels,
I know you,
I recognize my self in you,
But that was an old self,
I left it behind long ago,
A fossil,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would hurt me,
For entertainment,
Or derived righteousness,
Humanity’s parroting scoundrel.

================

Author’s note: I dedicate this poem to Sarah Hegazi (Rest in Power), a queer feminist activist from Egypt who recently passed away while seeking asylum here, in Canada, and to all who are navigating and surviving cruelness and systemic injustice.

Categories
Poems

Look Up

Look up,
See the vastness,
Of our world,
Let your eyes swim in the sky blue,
And glide along the giant cotton balls,
The depth mesmerizes,
And dizzies.

Concrete recalls our attention,
Walls go up around our thoughts,
We look down,
And our world becomes resized,
To manageable compartments,
Defying even our imagination.

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Poems

A meditation on the Present

The gates to heaven
Have always been wide open
For any to enter
There are no angels
Or saints waiting
You may walk right through
But don’t expect anything
Anyone can walk through
Only those who believe
They can make their own heaven
Are set free

There is a duality to this place
Those who walk through
The freely open doors
Expecting to be given
What was promised
Those never leave
Spending eternity in Paradise
They haunt and become haunted
The Rusty Gates are always open
But they aren’t capable
Of leaving
The hell they created for themselves