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Talking To My Heart

My heart has made a journey, within my body
as well as a journey filled with love

I soothe my heart with pleasant memories
with the words of love spoken to me

Over many years, many voices in many places
some are beautiful, some are really not

I have sat in gutter with addicts, giving them truth
dined with the wealthy, slightly out of place

My heart does overtime, in my body, and also
with my loved ones, and the needy

I talk to my heart because I know it well
I ask it to take rest, and also do more

Published in KnowThelf,Heal Thyself

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My poem, Silken Ribbons, got an award…

I always pretend to hear whispers of our world,
yet my mind always drifts towards that open void,
reflecting on kisses that undress the ache of my scars,

unfurling sorrows as if silken ribbons.
These will never wither,
but will be absorbed by you
when low moments come to mock.

And as time settles into evening,
your shadow will hang itself from my core.
And with sighs quivering between my lips –
my spirit will wrap itself around warmth of your body.
And when you stroke your fingers through my hair –
you will feel each aching breath of me.

Published in The Lark Written 2005

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Silken Ribbons

I always pretend to hear whispers of our world,
yet my mind always drifts towards that open void,
reflecting on kisses that undress the ache of my scars,

unfurling sorrows as if silken ribbons.
These will never wither,
but will be absorbed by you
when low moments come to mock.

And as time settles into evening,
your shadow will hang itself from my core.
And with sighs quivering between my lips –
my spirit will wrap itself around warmth of your body.
And when you stroke your fingers through my hair –
you will feel each aching breath of me.

Published in The Lark Written 2005

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Love’s Condition

by Frank Mundo

Love’s Condition (2015) 
for Nancy

Do us both a favor:

forget our old and tired traditions.

Please don’t love me

without conditions.

Challenge me.

Always

Expect more from me and of me

always

or don’t assume I’ll be kind

or always make the right decisions.

Please don’t ask for my permission

or put either of us in that position.

Love is editing and revision,

like a poem

always

this poem

always

a first edition.

It only holds value

In mint condition.

Forget those good book phrases

and the ideal good a good world praises.

Challenge me.

Always

make me earn it

always

because doubt is an unfit benefit to give

because you’re in the presence of a fool

without exception

without worlds of knowledge

without knowledge of the world.

Life is improvisation and imagination,

like a book

always

this book

always

a signed, first edition.

Its only value 

is superstition.

By Frank Mundo

Frank is a buddy of mine who lives in the ‘burb where I lived in California, just north of L.A. He has written poetry that is so beautiful. He has books out Touched by an Anglo, Different, and others. He is so generous that he mailed them all to me here in the UK. He has encouraged my writing, and listened to some of my audio on SoundCloud. He remarked that his poetry should be read with an English accent. I love him to bits.

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Skeletal Skin

From Defenestration of Prague By Susan Howe

Skeletal kin

tilt
italic lunacy

long illness of little difference

Seventy memories
masks

singing and piping
to be

(half words)
beginning and begetting 

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Church of England

Photo by Cosmic Timetraveler on Unsplash

I’m a private person I admit, but I live in openness

No secrecy for me, no lies — my memory is not that good

Oh how you bewitched me and yet failed me all the time

You took the money I put as offerings, the meals I brought

The errands I did for those who needed help

You bewitched me and then turned your backs

Free me, free me from the doctrines of the Niceans

Erase from me the falseness of Constantine’s mould

Unbind my mind from the lies you teach

And the occult in which you play out your rules

No one could have been crueler, not even a demon from hell

No one expects betrayal and sell out from those who call ‘sister’

Is given stones when they ask for bread or trust

Shunned when visited by violence in your offices

In law we have ‘habeas corpus’ — due process, transparency

But I learn to my abhorrence, you practice the arts of darkness

Straight from the pits of hell, and until I realised the trick

I thought I was insane, crazed, and my beliefs confounded

I thought so many times to drive into the harbour, into a bus

To take so many pills I would not wake again and feel such agony

Which I thought to be visited on me by God — but he is good

My child is far too beloved that you should steal from her!

You formed a file about me which had a direct lie within

The words of those who knew nothing of the assault on my person

And the vague references made had no sense to me at all

– because there was no veracity contained therein

You branded me a nuisance, a whiner, worse still a liar

Hearsay poured out, but in the wrong context — gossip dead straight

I was bewildered by your questions because they had no relevance

To me or anything I knew, seven false allegations

Wipe my mind clean, cleanse me O God, this pain is yours

They assumed an email was from me, but no, my ex’s concern for our child

Because his account was born in my pc and thus an alias of my account

But Lord you were betrayed by your own people

I will not again enter the doors of established Christendom — it does not exist

You follow Constantine not the Lord or his teaching of love

Jesus did not come to start a religion, but to make the way to God

Open again, and to stand in the gap for us. Not ways of the dark

I will flourish, I will blossom and you have cursed yourselves

In cursing me. May God forgive you if you admit your wrong I cannot

And no one should be allowed to join your church, your dagger poised,

To stab and ignore if they should fall foul of your world of ‘Vicar is God’

Published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself

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A Prince Has Died

Today a Prince among men has died
royal in birth, a refugee, a child passed
from land to land.

He won the heart and hand of a Princess
wooed her, married, and served her well
renouncing his title to be her Prince.

Roguish, dapper, charming, and smart
he was unflinching in the task, he took no
flatter, no false position, tireless he worked
in science, youth, conservation, trees, he
gave himself, devoted to his Queen.

Now wear black, stop the clock,
a Prince is dead, our Queen in mourning.

Published in The Lark 09 04 21

I never realised what he gave up, or how he was a refugee from one year old. He was a born leader, but walked one step behind when his wife became Queen. He was her confidante, partner, advisor, and husband.

Men nor women love like this anymore.

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I Don’t Know Why

Ancient history now, but still sometimes
in my mind, I see you kissing me so deeply
such craving for touch until then I knew not
your tall, broad, body at an angle to my small one

I see it as if from the ceiling, maybe your size
made me aware much more that you are male
the hunger and need caught me by surprise
a recognition was lit in my soul to nurture you

So it was, I fed you what you were longing for
since then you’ve lied and betrayed our trist
calling you spineless was true after all, though
my pain because of it was deep. I don’t know why

I saw the truth but wanted to deny your sweetness
was encased in a troubled heart, bereaved so young
you have no idea of being loved or loving back
you numb yourself with drink but worse, enable a drunk

Published in The Lark

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Protest

Day by day

From our birth

Learn to touch

Want to smile

And we laugh

So we grow

World expands

See the sky

Why what how

Start to ask

And we trust

Won’t you shout out loud with me

Why is that, what’s it do

How do you know it’s true

We feel pain

Someone hurts

It’s unfair

We see life

Differently

No more trust

So won’t you scream out loud with me

Why is this world unfair

Why are there rich and poor

Why are some crushed when I am free

We want change

We want light

Equality

So just please shout out loud with me

Let’s revolutionize how it works

Let us all be free

No more poverty

So come and scream with me

Give us equality

We bring peace

Published in Comtemplate

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Imad

A poem of sadness

I have sought you out this day
wishing to read your sage speaking
you are no longer here, and sadness
envelopes me. Why are you gone?

Sadness shrouds me, bereft I write
but realize I can’t send it to you
oh, why did I not know you would go?
Tears spring, that we haven’t met

We’ve shared a writing space,
admired and confided, vanish seems
puzzling, bewildered, bereaved
farewell, wherever you be, fare well.

Published in The Lark