Paint brushes-magenta~deliquesce
into tarnished umber &
nuzzle the ditch close to
the highway's shoulder
lilies-copper orange~fade
trade places with green
leaves of poplar and birch trees
fuzzy fox tails brush
the crimson stained highway
the Mystic has been here
infusing
trembling gold and bronze
Black pools of ravens peck
at the blood trail
that leads to
the decapitated deer
coyotes zig~zag
criss~cross
wanting to feast
i push over the limit
yesterday the stag still
had his crown.
copyright: Dianne Tchir Sept.25,2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
THE CURSE
i fit tight jeans
with my 49 year old body
that feels 25
kindles sexual desires
mocks youthful flirtation
seduced by music & your
piercing eyes that
cut the chains of
limitations & boundaries
get me out of me
i am coming to you
i drink liquid gold, flaming red
molten copper through
my third eye
i lick the cold thin ice-
ing off the pond
your lips sear memories
steal my energy
your hands~arms pull me
close into your vortex
remind me now- the fall
of my life
your voice is brittle like glass
i go from bed to bed
not quite sure where to lay my head
you have become the bears you hunted
i lay in silence
arms flail, fists pound
with your roar~my tears flood
moans into fitful sleep
you are lost forever
still i yearn your viceral
your thoughtful mind~you
you are silent now
as you hold my hand
i hear the shrill grate of your sorrow
we are not immortal, invincible or immune
one in six will be cursed with dementia ruin
Copyright: Dianne Tchir September 12,2010
with my 49 year old body
that feels 25
kindles sexual desires
mocks youthful flirtation
seduced by music & your
piercing eyes that
cut the chains of
limitations & boundaries
get me out of me
i am coming to you
i drink liquid gold, flaming red
molten copper through
my third eye
i lick the cold thin ice-
ing off the pond
your lips sear memories
steal my energy
your hands~arms pull me
close into your vortex
remind me now- the fall
of my life
your voice is brittle like glass
i go from bed to bed
not quite sure where to lay my head
you have become the bears you hunted
i lay in silence
arms flail, fists pound
with your roar~my tears flood
moans into fitful sleep
you are lost forever
still i yearn your viceral
your thoughtful mind~you
you are silent now
as you hold my hand
i hear the shrill grate of your sorrow
we are not immortal, invincible or immune
one in six will be cursed with dementia ruin
Copyright: Dianne Tchir September 12,2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
THE DIG
Landscapes are what we have
the finds of physical human existence
the irony of fear, the loss of paradise
the cycles of pain and sorrow
intense sexual passions
dehumanization is
the lowest common denominator
of our world
Sacred images crumble
memory layers flake
optically present but
spiritually alien
separate histories
land of the dead~ watchers
of humanity's fragments
copyright: Dianne Tchir 9-11-2010
the finds of physical human existence
the irony of fear, the loss of paradise
the cycles of pain and sorrow
intense sexual passions
dehumanization is
the lowest common denominator
of our world
Sacred images crumble
memory layers flake
optically present but
spiritually alien
separate histories
land of the dead~ watchers
of humanity's fragments
copyright: Dianne Tchir 9-11-2010
~WAR IN/OUTSIDE WORLDS
The choice between two evils
no faces~desperate anxiety
no faces~dangerous power
formulae: efficiency & effectiveness
precision & paralysis
The threads of this worship
are the fabric of human genocide
copyright: Dianne Tchir September 11, 2010
no faces~desperate anxiety
no faces~dangerous power
formulae: efficiency & effectiveness
precision & paralysis
The threads of this worship
are the fabric of human genocide
copyright: Dianne Tchir September 11, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
THE AGED ARE MANY
Children innocent of
wayward life
seek golden stairways
to rest the winter
of life
Cold rock & lifeless
porcelain forbid
aging bodies dignity
The crowded strairway
casts shadows of
bleak baby boomers
boxed DESOLATE
Copyright: Dianne Tchir Sept.5, 2010
wayward life
seek golden stairways
to rest the winter
of life
Cold rock & lifeless
porcelain forbid
aging bodies dignity
The crowded strairway
casts shadows of
bleak baby boomers
boxed DESOLATE
Copyright: Dianne Tchir Sept.5, 2010
IN SEARCH OF STRENGTH
we dwell within a fat man's block
built upon a human garbage dump
mortar echoes a screaming FREE-WAY
that promises a transformed wilderness
a winding vacuum of starved time
fills with feverish strangers
the spirit of a loping deer
extinguished by the profit
i chance the timothy fields
once ours, now raped
i lay facing the earth
suffocated by malignant time
a river meanders below the flat
poisoning~swallowing banks of earth
carving an abyss, filling with refuse
determing rights for patent death
the search for strength begins
in the abyss infested with human destruction
shadows get lost to the universe
showering the long painful climb
copyright: Dianne Tchir September 5, 2010
built upon a human garbage dump
mortar echoes a screaming FREE-WAY
that promises a transformed wilderness
a winding vacuum of starved time
fills with feverish strangers
the spirit of a loping deer
extinguished by the profit
i chance the timothy fields
once ours, now raped
i lay facing the earth
suffocated by malignant time
a river meanders below the flat
poisoning~swallowing banks of earth
carving an abyss, filling with refuse
determing rights for patent death
the search for strength begins
in the abyss infested with human destruction
shadows get lost to the universe
showering the long painful climb
copyright: Dianne Tchir September 5, 2010
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