Her hips across the hours
Tribal- her dark glasses
As we walked in threes through Hell.
Nothing whole
Except a hand size full of food wasted.
Teeth sharpened.
Hawks improvising the sound of flight.
At this point-
Watches
And useless piles of shit.
How many people there were at this Nightmare,
When Dreams piled high with bottles
Have anywhere to go.
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – September 24, 2018
A hatred that will last a lifetime.
Still, you meant something to my hell.
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – December 21, 2017
Kids in a museum
Are volcanoes just the Earth sighing?
We bow to our delusions
So we might touch the marble statues
A universe on display
And I am in awe to see their laughter
This spectacle is prehistoric
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – September 15, 2016
You say a lot
I note my luck and keep even my voice
But you’re not listening to me
As long as I am
You’re summing me up
I’ll wait for you to take a breath
You gulp
I blush
That’s really frustrating
So, in plain English
Won’t you tell me?
Or would it be too embarrassing
© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – May 06, 2016
I knew a man named Jesus,
He kept a pebble in his shoe to remind him he was one atom human and one quantum God.
When the girl with the alabaster jar asked if he were good,
Jesus smiled, kicked free his feet and said,
“Yes, girl. For you have reminded me so.”
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – July 28, 2015
You press your eyes against me
Deep breathes
Spiraling
The open air
We move among the drums
Where children play
They know no rhythm
Still, their music grows the sweeter
The longer we listen
And linger
With pounding hearts
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – December 26, 2014
She was never any good at sitting
Restlessness came when no one did
Refusing to let her forget
The ruin in their eyes
She knew best how to walk, stumble
From bucket to can
As the wind cut by, wickedly
Unable to lift her strain
When breathing took its toll
She swallowed a penny
It went down smoother
Than her last ounce of hope
Now she sits and waits
For a quarter
As they toss glances
And tip her heavy heart
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – November 25, 2014
Tomorrow–
In her heavy stupor
Without–burning–violently–
Could finally wrap the heat
For curling into a ball
Small shudders
Full of nothing
But consciousness
Positive–
Gradually
In love–
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – October 07, 2014
The universe spoke today
It was crisp and sound
I lost it almost in the thunder
There was no death
Nor any sight of a thousand herons passing by
Only the fleeting of anticipation
And for the first time, I listened
As the ant drowned out the rain
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – September 29, 2014
It was fortunate
The way his voice floated through the cracks on the second story
How could a voice so full of feeling glide so effortlessly on air?
She knew the weight of sorrow
She had carried it through the slums
As they watched in windows with discontent
Even the rain knows misery
Who else breaks rain’s fall?
It pours
As she picks up the violin
She knew once how to play
Before she lost all sensation
In the tips of her being
His voice rises
Carrying her to the open window
She feels light
As the music from long ago
And the rain, it jolts to a beat
As it strums her blood through the streets
(Dedicated to C, and his voice, which carried me to wonderful places.)
© Copyright – All rights reserved – forpoeticjustice.wordpress.com – September 26, 2014
For Poetic Justice 