Poetry
• Whores live under my skin - Hillary
Kaye
• Where do they get the nerve? -
C.V. Beck
• I have become doll like -
Hillary Kaye
Whores live under my
skin.
Madmen and liars in the nape of my
neck.
Wizened old ladies in the creases of my
arms.
Gamblers in between my
toes.
Philosophers under my finger
nails.
Jokes on the tip of my
nose.
My constant complaint,
overpopulation.
Hillary
Kaye
*************
Where
do they
get the
nerve?
by C.V.
Beck
You can't do
this
and you can't do
that...
You can't do
this
and you can't do
that...
You can't do
this
and you can't do
that...
but WE
CAN...!
And your rent, no matter
how
much it is,- it isn't
enough
for us not to treat
you
like a dog - or the
"N"-word
(non-person) because it's
just
not enough, so we can "dis" you
all
day
long...
And it doesn't matter
that,-
without all y'all's
rent,
we couldn't pay our
mortgage
for you to live
there.
*************
I
have become doll like
frail and
old
pieces of me are beginning to fall
off
chip
away.
They have not made the glue that will
hold this together.
It forms shapes of its
own these broken off pieces
making use of
itself.
My eyes are not right and I can not
see the things that are in front of me
so I
sweep them up. Later I won't be able to find them, and the hope of ever being
whole will not be realized.
I dance anyway
looking for angels in unlikely places, still I find what is there and make use
of the memory of rainbows.
Stillness and
quiet make me know that I am lonely and that there is no way to fill
it.
I cry out to something that is not there,
yet I am loved.
What brings me to the edge
and what carries me away I do not know.
There
is a chariot I ride in my dreams airy and light. I dance, God knows, I try to
dance.
Hillary
Kaye
Posted: Wed - October 1, 2003 at 06:55 PM