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Birdlike the soul findsFrown of frustration from him;
she savaged the self crafted.
A drop of sweat almost hit the ground,
but the feathery arm was quite a surprise.
Perched, it was no struggle to take off,
and I met you while making loops in the air.

Highly placed,
transfixed by the refinement of brick, wood.
Then, gliding between buildings,
the power of the draft,
the grandeur of building.
Our day ended atop a telephone pole,
seeing the bright orange and rosy pink fade away.

We don't have a song.
All we have is a natural strength
from an unnatural happening.
You almost left your burden in tears
before you were on that skyscraper,
searching.
DisappointmentOver before it started -
my long sigh a gentle, slow exhale.
That knowledge fit perfectly into the world,
notching into place.

You couldn't escape your old habits.
No helmets or seat belts,
only the comfort of Jim Beam.
Smoking around a gas tank,
even thinking the image itself
cheats its star.
Caution cast out:
proof of you is your
arm wrestling Hercules.

There is nothing to say.
But, like code, there are solutions.
Find an elegant line that fits -
risk in order to know -
and we can begin the process
the picture
of friendship.
EyesLike a mosquito,
her eyes spoke hunger, leaving
only freezing blood.
We see the sky where it is skylessNot the crystal with the bluish tint,
nor the dark wisps rising from cigars.
Another realm entirely. There,
day ends in royal purple, fiery orange.
Gray walls hold those colors for an instant.
Air places dew drops upon grass,
as if to say the world begins afresh.
Birds fly together, each supporting the other.

Now the sound of change striking the sidewalk,
the smell of dirty pigeons collected.
Noting the white of the closed blinds of hospital rooms.
TemporarySterile light, greasy diner.
Chatter at the other table -
two encouraging each other.
No work, no desire to learn,
yet he deserves a girlfriend.
(Not his female listener,
of course.)

One almost feels sorry
when she recounts the significance
of every game of house
played in preschool.

Love eludes my friend and I.
Our table has never graced
a double date. Rather,
fried shrimp, coffee, steak.
One day, he'll eat healthier.
I'll be happy for him,
strangely missing this place.
ExileDexterous turn of phrase -
silver moonlight, summer's lake,
illuminating nothing.
TeachingStuck.

Birds fan themselves;
in heat they witness
my slow foundation -
so slow nothing builds.

For me, no road.
Even rodents quickly
scurry upon the ground,
finding nourishment,
strength.

Soil. With grubs,
manure, the dead -
not my only refuge,
but my only.

A hoped-for flowering,
a temporary beauty.
Beneath the heat -
before the cold -
a sign things might
be better.
EstrangedLife's strangeness is not "Why are we here?"
Nor gripping a stone on the beach,
dull and glazed with watery texture,
wondering how what is solid
is so slippery.
The absolutely absurd also
escapes analysis;
we know it to be life.

Our difficulty is in the trying.
A sign of love exchanged by two -
nervous, afraid, seeking affirmation -
and only hearing the sound of silence,
the pale, fluorescent library light
vaguely recalling the moon.
Children vs. NinjasSwords had dispatched Legolas,
ninja stars tore zombie pirate flesh.
There wasn't much left on set.
Jack Sparrow only escaped fiery ruin
by becoming a hostage.

The children at the mall were aghast.
Some even left the Disney Store.
A few chose to mourn privately -
back to home to watch "iCarly."

A tearful elite armed for war.
At Wal-Mart, rifles and ammo.
"No need for armor piercing,"
Depp's biggest fan screamed.
"They're ninjas.
They don't have armor."

All went well
until the ninja with the body armor.

The secret hideaway at the docks,
marked "SECRET HIDEAWAY,"
guarded by an intern atop a billboard.
Shot loudly,
dropped e
Love in Texas1. Today a stray cat approached a friend and me while we were talking. It rubbed against both of our pant legs and was tremendously affectionate. It had a wound near its head that looked like another animal attacked it.

I'm calling animal control tomorrow, but I'm going to miss that cat. I really don't like the thought of it being put down: I just hope they can find someone who will take it. I'd take it if I weren't deathly allergic. The little cat hair it left triggered my asthma almost immediately.

2. Friendship is probably not seen as valuable in a goal-oriented, materialistic age. There are things to be accomplished! You go to school to
The Death of Anton StadlerHatred didn't harden -
it flowed to every extremity,
every externality.
To see was to see you,
betrayer of all you begot,
an arrogant sadist who said
he healed just to push in needles.
We didn't feel ridiculous. Our poverty,
our disgrace, was inexplicable.
We felt what we heard -
that we must have deserved punishment,
that we chose like stupid animals,
that our gratification broke down trust,
somehow.
Less than human, our bitterness
was the only way out.
Everything was your fault -
to say otherwise was to deny the world,
to call it cruel and perverse,
to break ourselves again.
And there was your corpse,
yellowed eyes, pal
FlameWhite candle, alight
as a daffodil always -
what prayer now answered?
Daily NewsLike a high kite -
almost above the wind.
Lie"Imagination and fiction make up more than three quarters of our real life."
- Simone Weil

"Lie!"
The shout tore
through walls, bricks flying
out the back of the house.
Some struck cars, smashing windows,
denting steel.
Others killed passer-by.
Pools of blood in the streets.

In a corner of the house
a spider wrapped in webs
found flesh and ate heartily.
We duly note the human liar
walked calmly out the gaping hole
with his property intact.
Frustration with dA"Thanks for the watch,"
then nothing else.
Polite, meaningless words.
Of course we know
not every stroke can be stared at,
not every noun can be analyzed.

Not every one can be friends.

I remember giving treats
to an old, deaf, ailing dog.
I remember bearing its smell
in order to pet it.
A cat saw this. The cat would
jump in front of me,
trying to get my leg to rub
against its fur.

Animals may not know to be grateful,
but they don't take for granted
what is good.
Browse More Like This

More from *akarra

If you want a new beginning...If you want a new beginning, consider investing in a mechanized suit of armor

Streets shattered as giant robots
strode in the city's center to duel.
They aimed pulse guns,
hit everything but each other.
That was the day I knew I had to move.

A limb of steel and wire
fell and smashed the garage.
Salvaged my old journal,
plans for a new design.

Papers flying out of skyscrapers
reminded of drawings you sent.
I stopped by your house;
in your absence left a letter.

Finally, about to evacuate,
an eyelaser wrecked the highway.
Border of concrete and fire for miles.
Sorry, right now I'm trapped in my fears.

One day I'll sneak into a
For My MotherMarigolds tried to eat his leg,
lilies wrapped around his arm.
Gardening almost collapsed into chaos.
He stepped away from the marigolds,
watered the lilies.
Consoled the piranha plant
with the googly, tearful eyes.
Even got a wheelbarrow
to collect from the money tree.

In kindergarten they get bigger quickly -
toys still lie scattered.
Caretakers make us wonder
when they can be shown care.
A sun with a smiley face
always lets happy plants and resting gardeners
cast playful shadows.
On a Quote from Anais Nin    You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living.
   –Anaïs Nin

The collapse of conventionality can be more than fatal. Our death – heck, even just our failure – brings down others. I can't emphasize enough how correct characterizing the world as "delicate" is. The unjust, awful things that happen to us on account of institutions partly occur because they feel threatened by the smallest of problems and we don't wish to cause more trouble for others.

Maybe we can say man is the conventional animal. Is he the one who can make his bed and lie in it? Not quite: the delicacy of the worl

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×

Justice

:iconakarra:

For my students – not everything I've learned. Just most of it.

Maybe there's some realm
where you're tougher than everyone
and all recognize, scatter.

More than likely people plot.
The many cut down the one -
a red sun falls and reigns.

"Wrong us, shall we not revenge?"
Over the wails of the sick and dying,
the silence of the imprisoned,

I hear you. I think about her.
How her portly cat rolled,
how she flooded her garden,

how she sacrificed for even the deserving.
I know the final test is not what you do,
but who you are. Why that last moment matters.

276

22 38 6
:iconakarra:

Justiceby *akarra

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I don't always write well. In fact, I write pretty badly.

I'll let you judge the importance of what I say. Tread carefully.

On Plato's Minos
©2012-2013 *akarra
Category: Literature / Poetry / Sociopolitical / Free Verse

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May 23, 2012
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:iconichigoneko1997:
~IchigoNeko1997 May 30, 2012
This can be taken in so many different ways :) It flows beautifully and you have such skill! Can't wait to see more :D
Reply
:iconpinkchickenink:
~PinkChickenInk May 26, 2012  Student
You did justice on Justice. no wait......
Reply
:iconakarra:
Mood: Joy *akarra May 26, 2012  Student Writer
Haha. Thank you so much for the compliment and all the support you give. I really do think there's a lot going on in this poem, and I'm happy for that.

"Birdlike" is still my personal favorite though. Just hope it gets the girl...
Reply
:iconhonor2serve:
~Honor2Serve May 25, 2012  Professional Digital Artist
I do like this :)
Reply
:iconakarra:
Mood: Love *akarra May 25, 2012  Student Writer
I was just about to ask how you were doing. Thank you so much for reading, but how was your day, how are you?
Reply
:iconhonor2serve:
~Honor2Serve May 26, 2012  Professional Digital Artist
Sorry it took so long to get to it :oops:

I'm doing pretty good :) Still job hunting, but had a busy work week at my part time job. Balanced out nicely :nod:

How about you? Hows the publication going?
Reply
:iconakarra:
Mood: Joy *akarra May 26, 2012  Student Writer
Been lazy with dissertation stuff. Am reading Plato's "Theaetetus," which is one of those "maybe this will get done in 50 years" projects. Writing a lot on haiku privately. I must have 2 or 3 commentaries unpublished right now, and a few more I won't post anytime soon.
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:iconhonor2serve:
~Honor2Serve May 26, 2012  Professional Digital Artist
Sounds like a lot of fun, actually :) At least it's something you like.
Reply
:iconpikalatias46:
Mood: Wow! ~pikalatias46 May 24, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
I really liked this!!!!!! It's one of those pieces that could be taken many different ways. But you always amaze me with your writing skills!!!! :love:
Reply
:iconakarra:
Mood: Joy *akarra May 24, 2012  Student Writer
It's been a while - how are you doing?

Thank you so much for the support! I think "Birdlike" is my best poem in recent days, but I like this one too.
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