Pursuit of self-awareness, never complete
under layers of self-deception
and hidden motives causing
sabotage of self – so much self –
like a rocket ship
in self-destruction mode
exploding into millions of
tiny shards while you’re
circling a planet of selves –
use three words
to describe yourself –
I’ll go first:
“fiery”
“fickle”
“fabulous”
see, not so hard?
Continue reading “Self-Discovery (a poem)”
Since I’ve been writing more poetry, I’ve been reading more poetry lately. I’ve read some newer stuff, but I’ve also been reading many of the classics, including William Blake, T.S. Eliot, and W.B. Yeats.
I recently read an anthology of 20th century American poetry that was comprehensive regarding the poets it included. One of the poets that struck me the most was John Berryman, and the anthology included poems from his much-celebrated volume called The Dream Songs.
Continue reading “Book Review: The Dream Songs by John Berryman”
I got an ego the size of a glacier
but I hope it’s meltin’
like them ones in the Artic
I used to say I was sick
in the head
but that was self-contempt
I’ve since given up –
I’m just like everyone else
a homo sapien not fully evolved
plagued by panic, all that crap –
snap, crackle, pop! I’m locked
in the house, quiet as a mouse
thinking of myself too much
what about thinking of others?
oh brother, here I go again
beating myself up
give it up!
(Photo by Elisa Clairet on Unsplash)
Note: This poem was inspired by a prompt on dVerse to do a “self-portrait.” The title of the post was, “Come and take a selfie!” Here’s a link to the dVerse post where the prompt is!
Traveling through America, in search of the Shrine
you know the one, mister, the place that encapsulates
our nation’s fears, dreams, triumphs + loathing –
some say the shrine is a shopping mall
Mother Church of Consumerism
but you know better
Continue reading “American Shrine (a poem)”
There’s unreality in this isolation –
survivalists buy ammo, preparing for what?
In ancient times, this was an act of God –
a scourge caused by our sinfulness,
we’d bow at altars and beg for forgiveness.
Today, we fear nothingness.
Continue reading “Pandemic Nothingness (a poem)”
