hungry

the sun
does not discriminate
between sharp

or round, between

sizing long or sorrow, deliberate
eyes can core
heart to stone,
tears  to rain..

yet solemn the sun blesses
warmth
of skin, blessed touch of
nourishment, yellows, orange

reds

ripen fruits know
their village, know a heaven
hungry for
life  - in the face

of an un-discriminate
god



bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012

posted for Magpietales and d'Verse

solitary

i have read
the world - it drowns
around me

time capsules pull
at thought, words welcome
equal
warlords and window shopped wino's

"solitary" is my
motto, life (it) is for succulents
blooming late

i never drink
alone...

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012


magpietales 

two wings align

beneath classified
surrenders -
two wings align

with syllables
dividing in and of all that un-fruitful - non beauty
supplying the dullest
blue-gray - my

leather
moves towards all of my lacking - and
letters are blackened
spilling fact  - in symbolic
display

i become the dream
and the liar
joined in vowels and god's holy choir
i am word
set to fire - two wings

align - give way -

there be those
who defend me - and those
who condemn me
but few that
befriend me - in black
from blue
gray - as all seems need
of reflection - caught in eternal hell's
and resurrections  - i pull
from collections of worlds
thrown away, of world

thrown
away

can? a fall be
remembered - a contraction
united - can? god's choir
hear voices - when syllables divide

there are few
who defend me-all that
condemn me, no one
as a friend - me as (wings) to
align

beneath  portal -  protocol is forgotten
prostrate, performed
my body is rotting  - my body has
rotten - and my writing
born -  cut with all
bleeding self defended - all self
gutting, self seeding of life
apprehended - with

contrasts divided. paused and denied -
un-united -
with friend
or god's angel  -  two

wings align

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012

Open Link night - d'Verse

i am born - (Logan Emerson)

i am born
of this place
the sky opens between
blue

laughs my breath
at tides low; a bay sweeps in
my soul, cradles me
to silent song

seabird, winged bird
hears of my hearts beat, nests
me as her own and
i am born

moss to green world, fern
to wood mocks,
mocking
shadowed suns, barked trees
bleed red as i am
called forth from the rock, from the sand
knowing well of
my dreams
who will know of my hands  - here

fog blankets me
warm, now warmer to sweat sweet rain
and (I) am

born

here - of this place...

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012

written for my grandson Logan Emerson born April 18th, 2012 
on the north coast of California on the edge of the Pacific
cradled among the redwoods....