Thursday, April 16, 2015

Noetry

Noema was phenomenal.
Dasein was everyman.
She was undeniable.
He was unassailable.
And so began their dance.
He was more sentimental.
She was more transcendental.
And they both spoke from their groove.
There was a certain presence in the rhythm.
Like a gift the universe would give them.
If they lived down to themselves.
If they merged, even for a moment, with the tune.
Her first impression of him was that he was a beast.
His of her was that she was a beauty.
She didn't see him coming or how he came.
She couldn't foresee where they might go together.
He was aware of how he was perceived.
He still wanted to know her better.
Both were transformed by the chemical romance.
She loved music.
So he took classes.
Her look was classic.
He wore glasses.
She could see herself in them.
There were patterns.
There were puzzles.
There was comfort.
There were snuggles.
There was pain.
There was rain.
There was relief.
There were rainbows.
There were months.
There were seasons.
There were choices.
There were reasons.
No alibis.
No need to believe them.
There was love.
There was freedom.
There was life.
There was death.
To see them was to be them.
And to know yourself.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Wondering At Sunset

When poets fly in flocks 
do they fly in formation?
Then after generations 
become a kind of nation.
Would there be bigotry 
for those without acculturation?
Even for the minor poets? 

Could it be sublimated 
or would they battle?
Would there be a grunge scene 
Like in the 90's in Seattle?
Could you trace its roots 
to human gods, 
And their games of thrones?
Would there be rigid rules? 
Would intellectuals be chiseled, 
or would they be stoned?
Could they emulate Bukowski? 
John Malkovich his head?
Would they prophesy, 
write prayers like Rumi, 
for their daily bread?

Could they write for readers, 
dreamers, believers?
Would they make it most accessible?
Could they become irrepressible?
So jaded and cynical you could show no love.

If you were enthusiastic 
would they treat you like a groupie, 
or a money mark?
If I wanted to swim with those fishes 
would I have to become a shark?
Would they put up velvet ropes, 
choosing only two of each kind, 
A lot like Noah's ark?
Or would we celebrate each other 
like Shakespeare in the park?

Would we just do it like Nike?
Or carefully choose 
what colonizes our psyche?
Would we stay sensitive 
even with our pens?
If we crash and break a wing, 
have the nerve to fly again?

Gain competence and confidence, 
felicity and freedom. 
Get so good we preach.
Would we learn multi- perspectivity 
from all that we teach?
Religiously and scientifically 
become one family.
Exploring all there is, 
was or could be,
With a universal kind of love.

Could we build a safer world, 
full of vibrant colors, 
that embraces my son Deven?
Realizing my Utopian dreams, 
my idea of heaven.
Would my dreaming hypnotize?
It's better than holding hands in hell,
even while unrealized.

Theron Kennedy © 2015


Friday, April 3, 2015

Finding Felicity





Some people would kill
For their right to own an AK47
I would die to myself
For Accurate Knowledge 24/7

When Felicity speaks
I want to penetrate her metaphors
Be the storm she seeks
An intensity she's been wanting more

Than cultural similes
And social conditioning
That won't set her free
To bring

To experience her own virgin birth
What harm could ever come
From awakening love everywhere on earth
Let me beat that drum

If she will let me inside hermeneutics
I do not intend to make her mine
I've already been through it
I just want to know her mind

Her naked soul, her heart
Maybe introduce her to them
Consent and consensus are an art
She speaks of seraphim and cherubim

With her primal urges
If I need her it starts to taunt me
I want her to feel that surge
Of owning herself and in that state to want me


Theron Kennedy ©  2015