Falling Leaves
We're Boomer Canadians | worlds apart || Home
lessons
bruised and sore
from you
between my legs
waiting for the next time
when you will penetrate my flesh
and teach me the lessons
that I have learned
till now
the lessons
that leave me lame
the lessons
that burn my flesh
and leave me wanting you.
snake
fear
eaten up
swallowed by a snake
and
fighting from the inside
to get out.
struck by the venom
paralyzed and
eaten up
inhaled
sucked in
by the snake,
the python of fear.
sliding into the pit
the inner lining
of the beast…
waking up in darkness
stillness
no room to breathe or move
the noose tightens.
the fight begins.
struggling from the inside
to get out
pounding the leather walls
digestion
about to commence.
the snake
is pleased to
consume its quarry.
the quarry
undead
and battling
the python
from the inside
out.
something lost
we lost something
tonight…
i'm not sure what it was
but I can feel it.
something
between us…
a trust perhaps,
a belief in the honesty
and sacredness of the other... a being true.
it happened quickly
and I felt it
move from my body
just as swiftly and surely
as the
deer runs
to quench its thirst.
we lost something
and I feel the loss.
The game
confused and hurt
and angry
with you
for wanting her
and
pretending
you didn't want her
when it was obvious
you did.
please don't lie to me
about lust
because i understand it.
i wanted someone tonight
but
i played the game
and pretended I didn't.
you should have played the game
because
now i'm hurting from watching you.
We're Boomer Canadians
we're Boomer Canadians
we're not used to this,
we're Boomer Canadians
and we believe in peace
at almost any cost.
we weren't brought up to fight
and defend our country
(except on video games),
we don't really know how to wave our flag
and sing our anthem proud
and
bold
and be patriotic,
after all … we might insult someone
or infringe upon their rights.
our parents knew the ghastly deeds
of
war and more
and spoke in muted terms of death
and lambs slain on the fields,
of mothers, fathers,
brothers, sisters,
friends,
laid alone to rest in
countries far from
home.
but us…
we're the Boomer Canadians
we're not used to this,
terror clamoring at our doorsteps
reliving the murder of thousands dressed like us
through our television sets
watching over and over and over and over
making sure it's not an evil dream or
newly released action movie.
us…Canadians
we light a candle and pray for peace
and empathize,
we pray not to be the prey
for we aren't used to this
and truly don't know
the wages of war.
worlds apart
I was thinking of you
and wanted to write,
so I sat down on the bench
still wet from the rain
and began …
the waters were calm
and the crows were calling
greetings
to all who would pay attention
on the morning airwaves,
I listened to the distant crickets
and watched
a sowbug
crawling laboriously
on his own meaningful mission,
and wondered
how
we can be on the brink
of war
when nature is at peace,
how can we be
on the brink of war
so terrifying in possibilities
when
nature is at peace?
boaters were out on the lake
my neighbour mowed his lawn
and the clouds were gently gathering
without a sound.
and then
the rain began to
fall
and I was forced to retreat indoors
as the crows halted their cries
the sowbug took shelter
and the crickets hid in silence.
this poem is for you…
the world
is still beautiful
though our countries speak of war.
