Log in

No account? Create an account

Newsong's Poetry

The memoirs of a word warrior

Squeaky Shoes
The truth walks with squeaky shoes
old beyond her years, she skips
but when she trips over the words
she never falls

The truth swims with strong strokes
swifter than a sinking stone, she skims
and when she evacuates her lungs
the air always rises to join itself

The truth speaks with even cadence
quietly and with confidence, she reveals
herself to all who listen
sweetly she sings

Contempt is hard wired into me
when both sides of my dna helix got together
they were probably looking down on somebody
Honestly my tongue is filled with brutality
I sink my teeth into truth like a predator
shake until I hear the snap

There's ambition in my joints
the spaces between bones where impulse moves
along nerve fault lines
that ache with the stress of continuing
The colour strands in my iris radiate out with anger
cataracts are clouding over the lens with blinking fast judgements

But when the tiny hammer bone resounds off the membrane
and the inside of my ear resonates with cries and tears
you better believe I'd break through any wall
that kept me from helping

My stomach churns at the mention of injustice
and my pallor grows white when you talk of blood spilled
innocence attracts me with a metallic pull
and I fight for it with the burning muscle of vengeance

Good words spoken in faithfulness day after day
into the ears of friends and strangers
are lips whispering redemption

Odds are even in the end I'll be unwound, broken down,
crumbling the family leaf from dust to dust
under the sandblasted stone etched in words of remembrance
that somebody will be looking down on me to read

The Sinner
She coaxes that emotion from the depths
Guilt rides those tears to the dust
And she sinks into the ground with them

Salt water and sand together like the sea
Mixing on the leather of those road-worn sandals
Whose soles had touched the salt-water before

Her hair gets heavy with the gathered road-sands
Worn fractions of the stones that should bury her
With her God-given covering she begs her life

Droplets roll down his ankles
Leaving lines of light in their wake
Gape-mouthed silence reigns

When he speaks forgiveness
No murmured words of disapproval
Stop the weight of it all from falling away

As the grains of sand from her hair
Join the ground they came from
Guilt evaporates with her tears

Can't Stay Long

arms wide open
decisionless and wafting like a fallen feather
bereft of flying purpose
capture the sky with a blink

errors of flightpath
burgeoning airflow
airfoil fails
slight waver
fall from glory


running leap
decided and soaring into liquid space
soaked with ageless purpose
fingertips pierce the glassy mirror

surface madness
tiny bubbles rising
drowning silently
wild eyes
clawing upwards
sink beneath reason

unnatural sounds are drowned
in meadows where molten glass flows laughing
organically powdered petal-faces beam quietly
beneath bent-steel boughs
riveted with imperfect angles

each dividing line on this escape ramp
is needle-thin and fragrant
just two lanes engineered for alternating footsteps
with gnarled, mossy speedbumps at intervals
to ensure that a minimal speed is adhered to

reaching skyward the pines are waiting to be
strung in white holiday starlights,
completed by the angelic Moon at their heavenly tips
who curls down towards her Earth-daughter
adjusting her field-blanket with gentle breath
a carol of muted voice, ancient murmur
scarcely heard

Dreams are always birthed full grown
intemperate like Venus, they in their soft and wanton shapes
beckon our extravagance

our oceans conceived
and brought forth
a stunning form

Her sensual innocence intoxicating
She covers herself
to be unveiled with time

poeti icon
caught a breath
vertical emotional repetitive lines
sounding metal, slamming cage

that breath kept stirring
with abandon in this prison
flitting about in panic held while turning
from essential gas to poison

a sigh, a winged entity
lung-breathed and heart-breathed equally
blown out within this tragic expulsion

a still frame of the epicenter
flapping wings feeding the fire
that licks between firmament
and surface texture

Too Young To Sleep Long
poeti icon
the stud's a fake diamond - front, center
but if she has headlights, she has three

she's proud and white orange like mid-fire coals
then cold burn like a creamsicle and just as sweet
and she likes to lick them, lick them good

with these growing powers of perception
she sees that masculine shoulderblades slope
then she looks around
and the world goes nude
it's a goddess' glance from murky waters, incomprehensible as deity
and better the celestial unknown
than the found out

so she circles around him on her way to the drain
and he doesn't even see her

so much for young love, and when true love ages
her withered face blisters in the cold of his
cast off light

invisible as the ice in a summer's drink
she smiles bright before meltdown

Complex and Suggestive
poeti icon
complex and suggestive,
truth goes from fluid to solid
with time or conviction,
but both states are impervious
and mostly unknown

complexity focused
inside innumerable melody
uncounted and singular
unattatched, but interwoven

called within a peal of helpless laughter
healing rang out, uncontrollable
in transverse vibrations
building and destroying
becoming indivisible
unlimited, sacred

thus the intolerant and ruthless sorrow
stretches with the restless wave
unprepared, vanquished

poeti icon
the point where the sun and the horizon meets
reverberates with passion
and the water misses the shore
until they touch
it's the contact of the rock and pond
that creates the uniformity of circles
rippling outward
the sweet caress of sonic waves
against the eardrum, bliss
is the embrace of light and the eye, sweet
is the blend of spices that dances with the tongue
in closed position, breath on skin
scent winds through emotion
and the wind and trees unite in this
music of connection