Kingsley Station

Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

[Camachee]

forget
forfeit
the moments
and mantras
of suggestions
hidden
in the forbidden
shadows of shame

we're not that
sad story
of promise
and compromise
having overcome
the defaults
of dysfunction

[Camachee]

how to adjust
address
caress
a multiculturalism
of assimilation
defined
by the reciprocal
asymmetry
of political advice
irreligious vice
and a lack
of voice
for a confused
plurality
over burdened
by the arrogance
of celebrity

[Kay Syrah]

Stitched comfort,
and warm bodies
finding no fault
in the seams that bind
each of us one to the other
a laugh in the dawn of delight
a tear in its last covering
in the cold sheeted empty night
just holding the caress to memory
the pattern of quilted kindness.

[Soaring Feather]

The quilted kindness holds
the memories of our dreams
wants and desires
I wrapped myself
around the seams
and stretched far out
for your last visage
discovered you were
a mirage of happiness
alive in me.

[Kay Syrah]

Miraged moments
patterns of relief
in desert scenery
palmed quarters
and offered solace
real, is the coin
of this realm.

[Camachee]

she
thought
poetry

[Kay Syrah]

Rather than
fix your tan
and reflexively
borrow a little
henna for a statement
I'd rather draw you
out from the undetermined
market place of flesh
and tease you away
from decorations
and see your spirit
as you see it yourself
without editorial comment
from the board.

[Kay Syrah]

Rumpus rules
relegating
exuberant existances
to a ring of restraint
just let me bounce
against the ropes
and rebound
refreshing the round
without caressing
a canvas that doesn't
count.

[January24th]

nature-wraith
pale from winter's
wandering
in closed corridors
secure from
early budding spores
secluded and sniffling
awaiting the freedom
of a well-borne breeze
and warm insuations
from the Yucatan
yucca-tan-shades
of summer
whisper in the
faint hope of
spring

[January24th]

LOL! We both sound like we have cabin fever!!

[Kay Syrah]

string beans and biscuits
oh Lord give me grease.
sometimes soul food
isn't about the lardless
healthy contingincies
of continued existance,
I want my my beans with
fat back and bread
in heavy butter,
cause there's nothing
quite as weighty as
as a correct but
unlubricated existance.

[Kay Syrah]

secluded and sniffling

allergies render
rednosed dears
reclusive, elusive
cabin fever relieved
by cute stewards
celebrate cross
pollination

[January24th]

I never knew
the you
that would find me.
I never knew the
me that would
love you
so.

[Camachee]

we are
the cymbal
in your
parade
brass
brash
and clashing
with your
curbside
admirer

[Soaring Feather]

I am the cymbal
in the silent crowd
banging, clanging loud
my brassy sounds
are ear spitting rings
and I drip with diamonds
and sparkling things
Oh the noise I make
it's enough to hold a wake
But you there on the curb
showing your love of me
you raise me up
and I beam and ring
with joy you bring
and I silence the cymbals
listen for the whisper of
your passing near me
touching me every so lightly
in my heart there is a glow
from the soft song you sing....

bentfeather

[Neuromancer]

BLENDED

Open architecture

hues the heart

[Kay Syrah]

Your selflessness
is the dew upon
the morning web
A pattern for
the coalescing
moisture and
a lesson
in the design
of generosity.
Your lover
finds himself upon
your elegant lines
without demand
and all who see your
remarkable manifest
spirit settle upon
the shape of what
we should be.

[Camachee]

still
she dreamed
silohuettes

[Soaring Feather]

silhouettes
she dreamed
still

[Camachee]

cats piss
on antiques
and sniff
the improvement