Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Poetry Tuesday: "Entry"

*All Pictures acquired from Google.com
The words go spinning through my head
Centrifugal force pushes them out my fingertips
Dancing onto the page where they stick
Like mice on flypaper, like alphabet stickers
Haven't I said enough?
But my mind cries out the more
Haven't I written reams of things?
One dozen followers stand by as the syllables waste unseen
The waste of my mind, wasting
My time and the space in my skull
Concentration limited—


Computers make it so easy
To never look another person in the eye.
All you would have to do is watch their hands
A screen, a scalp; a console, a cowlick;
A whole generation of heads bowed
Not to pray but to prey,
Swaying in worship of the worth-ship
Am I enough to draw your eyes?
No mean sketch of the ball, the organic  ellipsis; I mean
To pull them out of their digital distraction,
To focus the energy on mutual attraction,
To make words with the mouth and get a reaction,
Instead of treating what you hear as a personal infraction—

 


The world is so much bigger than what you can 
hold in the palm of your hand,
See it, see them, see me,
See life in all it's intricacies
The infinity of a human face
More angel than animal, a distinct race
A race with the capacity to recognize other races
Not color-blind, but equal,
Unique colors and build, but all human;
Celebrated for the contents of the heart,
The inside of a man has no race or color,


Heart and mind makes the man,
And these don't come in different shades;
It is for man to name the creatures, 

and not merely for their different features,
Lion, zebra, gerbil, cat;
No other animal lays claim to that—

 


The words buzz, beeing, in flight, alive;
Keeper of ideas, my mind their hive
Each thought in a cell,
Not chained but resting
Awaiting the time
When a thread needs testing
Thinner than sight,
Stronger than might—
The web of inspiration spans
Impossible distances, yet plans
Have their fill and reach the edges


Of the cloth, as woven tapestries
Of tales spread over warp and woof,
And threads of plot weave in and out;
The color and weight of words
Selected for their value and purpose;
What it's meant to represent,
Not just a thread, existing to hang,
But a part of an interconnected web,


Meshing, crossing, folding, holding,
Drawing you in, wrapping you close,
Like the embrace of a friend,
Like a smile, returning to the sender;
And so my words, spun out of my fingers,
Return to my heart.