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Original

A song with no tattoos of lovers nude
who’ve left the room to pet llamas from the
zoo

Skin scents fresh rain cleansing pain down concrete
drains of streets named Main in cities on the
plain where bushes of origin take root
without refrain

Strength of wildflower’s colored stains from
sunset’s fondling hillside breasts in breezes
of original breath

Souls unplugged

Acoustic hawks ride winds ‘bove trees budding
green in coolish spring sweaters of white clouds

Lungs filled with air from mountaintops rare where
rams roam free from the scope of hunter’s glare
and drink from snow fed creeks with the occa-
sional stray bear that doesn’t care you
are there alone in the wonderland of
original expression

Alone wearing scarves of red on rivers
of ice not fearing the dead frozen in
motionless currents below

Alone thumbing your nose at the bridge that
spans the risk of originality

Alone facing fear with no mirror

Alone jumping off a cliff with nothing
bungee-like tied to your ankle

a risk

alone

a poem with no form

a song just born

Adam and Eve before the leaf and the
serpent tempting with wares not his own

An ocean shore sparkling daybreak’s roar beck-
oning the opening of your bedroom
door and inviting you to desire
more from your core passion wearing its own
fashion

alone

to be

original

an aphrodisiac

for doves

even when lost in the clichés of love

(For dVerse Tuesday Night Open Mic)
And please check out more of Kate McGill
[

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Uncategorized

Conversations

Emily states,
Afraid! Of whom am I afraid?
I respond,
The brave; their sacrificial grave.

Wordsworth asks,
Who drag, beneath our native skies?
I whisper,
A chain with links of leader’s lies.

Joyce quips,
What counsel has the hooded moon?
I cry,
To hide, to hide, our silver spoons.

William wonders,
Where art thou Muse that thou forget’st so long?
I frown,
In mine heart, in blackened cells of lovers lost.

Blake demands,
‘O Earth, O Earth, return!
I pray,
Let roses rise from ashes burned.

And finally, Poe ponders,

Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

And finally, I pen,

In darkest sleep we dream of dreams
Of living free of dreams in beams
But in the light of see and seem
A dream still sleeps within a dream.

A conversation with the dead.

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Who Knew

Dark skinned

Jewish Argentinean

Euro accent

Black Audi

Tinted windows

Blue lights

Aéroports de Montréal 

Rearview mirror

Car searched

Dogs circling

Light strobes spinning

Fingers texting

White girlfriend arrives

French words not excused

Arm waving

Finger pointing

Leave my fucking cello alone

Yes

Crisse de cave

Blue suits

Black suits

SUV’s

Helicopter

WTF

Kent arrives

Black limo

Blue jeans

Slick black suited bookends

Cool shades I need to check out

Cell phones burning

Helicopter and SUVs leave

I’m free now?

Say what?

When wasn’t I?

I’m just as dark

 

I hear you JayZ

Some shit ain’t right

 

I’m free now

Who knew …

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Hate

Hooded white

Knots twice tight

Burns Christ’s

Cross

Blackest night

 

Dead man swings

Death sting sings

Dark strings

Cough

Blood red ink

 

Hooded hate

Knotted hate

Burning hate

Blackest hate

Deadest hate

Darkest hate

Blood red hate

 

Hate

Hate

Hate

Hate

 

Still today

 

Hooded white

Knots twice tight

Blackest nights

 

 Yet

 

 A five year old poet son

Still prays for light

In Hebrew

By himself

Shakes his fist

Free from fright

 

I think that’s alright

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For George

George Harrison

 

While unfolding perverted mistakes
my inverted love
guitar diverts sleep while
gently controlling
weeps for world peace

I weep
gently
still
ten years
having learned this guitar piece
in my youth
while unfolding inverted
perverted
diverted love
for world peace

 

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Pop Art

Pop Art from Henry Clemmons on Vimeo.

Pop Art
Images of mass media
Parallels between art and life
This is tomorrow looked at the day before yesterday
Expressive feeling
Tributes created way too soon
In some cases
Way
Way too soon

Salute
James too cool Dean
Jim the door Morrison
Jimmy haze Hendrix
Biggie Smalls
River Phoenix
Bruce Lee
Marilyn hot Monroe
Elvis hips Pressley
Liz Taylor
Jackie the queen Kennedy
Duke my main man John Wayne

And the electric chair
The darkest of all art
Not my favorite fair

Thank you Andy and Mel for your eyes

_________________________________ 

For dVerse on Pop Art Prompt
Artwork by Mel Marcelo and Andy Warhol
Video produced by Henry Clemmons

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