Raven Moore's Blog, page 13

Intention Flows

I don’t think I’m qualified

to talk about love

thinking it could

be this

it could be that

and then it’s never that

always the other

always the last

the last thought

the last word

the last moment

in which

it arrives

comes clear to you

right at the moment

when it matters

least

right when you’ve given up

right at the end

when love was there

all along from the

beginning

always waiting for you to do

nothing

more

but

acknowledge it

and you were thinking

that life would be how you imagined it

as if you were the creator

and no

you aren’t

you are simply

made

and you perceive

and hopefully

believe

love grows

where

intention

flows

Just a Verb

As I roll my fat ass

up the hill

surely time is standing still

looking at me

thinking

wow, you have will?

right now

hard is a noun

a thing

impenetrable

so I stop

catch my breath

while my heart is beating

out my chest

I’m due a cardiovascular

accident

but

instead

I push back

enough that

hard

becomes an adjective

’cause I’m doing it

instead of watching it

be

and I think

to stop again

but keep going

until hard becomes

a verb

just a verb

Parking Tickets

Once you have

bars on your windows

and a liquor store

on every other corner

you have more cars than space

and more space

than air

you have no place to go

that doesn’t cost

money

nowhere can you find water

for free

unless you like

mercury

in your water bill

underneath your barred door

that locks from the outside

and you have to

knock three times

for someone you never had

to

ask the name

of

until now

or maybe you still didn’t

because you just want to run upstairs

to run back downstairs

before you get

a parking ticket

and it’s good not to try to own

everything

but when you don’t own anything

doesn’t that just make you a prisoner to nothing

while the criminals

run

free

?

Constant Protest

My hand in yours is constant

protest

My lips on yours is constant

protest

My arm in your arm is constant

protest

My smile from your smile is constant

protest

My mouth on your head is constant

protest

My tears when you’re dead is constant

protest

They’re watching us

They’re wondering

They’re jealous

Because no one in love

can be mad at someone

else’s love

LOVE

IS

CONSTANT

PROTEST

Palaver

Who cares?

I care

Who cares?

I care

Who cares?

I care

Walking in the middle of things

Wondering the beginning of things

Thinking beyond your resources

Praying for the wind

Feeling very arbitrary

Saying what you think

out loud

you cry

you smile

you run

it’s all

an emotion

translated

in ten million different ways

for days

I wonder

Who cares?

I care.

Mr. Randall

Is a friend of mine

Friends before we were friends

He reminds me of how people

are

supposed to be

real people

who engage you

smile at you

with no malice

or intent

just there

to show warmth

and

kindness

in spite of position

living in the moment

laughing

when laughing is needed

which

means always

understanding that life

is

always

a bunch of spirits

wrapped up

in one universe

leaving the party every now again

to reflect on

the meaning

and come back

with some thing

some words

some feelings

some inspirations

some experiences

that are

meaningful

Mr. Randall is

all of what’s good

and also

just

my friend.

How to Start a Revolution

There’s a girl

playing

her guitar

on the street

staring blankly at me

the guitar

that is…

and I heard

a voice say

in between her

cacophonous notes

and wanna’ be happy

smiles

talent

is not

a reality

it’s an illusion

that we create

when we want to make

something

appear out of thin air

that was never there

talent is an art

that thing

that reflects beauty

but

in the actual making of it

reflects toil

time

and patience

dedication to your heart

Malcolm

Martin

Marshall

Milk

Marvel

Medgar

Mohandas

Mandela

Mamie Till

Mmmmmmmmmmmm

They sound so soothing

like bandaids over

a flaming hot pulsating wound

leaving it’s impressions on them

bandaids are perfected things

that must be replaced

and then

I respond

to the voice

who are you?

and the voice says

your heart

and the pulsating of the wound

made the guitarist’s song

sound

louder

ever more

painful

but

beautiful

in its persistence

to be beautiful

Thank Goodness for all

of those people

who know

that talent

is not real

beauty

pleasure

happiness

does not

spring

out of thin air

it’s made

Getting familiar

with discomfort

is how you start

your art

a revolution

Claude Neal

Not a rarity

Not an oddity

Not minority

Not majority

In and out

living wildly

living vainly

absorbing nothing

doing every

thing

insulting

disgusting

vile villains of mine

race

human

ending giving

doing things

thought of lynching

singing birds

linger

on shoulders

baring nothing

give me

eyes plucked out

penis chopped

off to see

a future from the past

Ted Bundy

not a rarity

culture product

ever growing

never giving

Ted Bundy

hangs with them

while hanging

them

for tea

pats on back

rarity

is kindness

death is common

ever growing

seeking

satisfaction

at another’s death

At 14

At 12

At 8

babies crying

waiting watching

joining in

He saw

Florida

lynching

here

lynching there

lynching eeeeeeeevery

where

Where’s my Emmett

Where’s my Till

Where’s my baby

standing still

waiting

screaming

maybe crying

thinking wildly

praying loudly

hanging strongly

finally gently

I could call you

never mind you

thinking if you

would you

could you

be a killer

serial type

other Bundies

millions trillions

never hiding

never lying

truth?

wherever justice be

not here

not there

damn you anywhere

DC Homeless

Those people in DC are just like me

They’re hungry

They’re ready

To smile

Always able to talk to a stranger

Kind to a fault

Deserving better

Always feeling poorer

Never understanding

that life

is

what you do

after the world tries to

take you

down

in a spiral

of dysentery

filtering out that

bad stuff

was never good stuff

just a festering wound

that struck after

striking again and again

and never healed

DC people are like me

They’re hungry

They’re eating but

never satisfied

and that ain’t bad

because

in the end

the will to survive

is what makes you

stronger than anyone

there is no end

everything recycles itself and heals

the rain will come

the sun will shine

again

and when…

Caught

I missed the drop

That first drop

The last drop

before the storm

I kept expecting you would come

to my rescue

to save me

from myself

but then you came

and I was disappointed

because then

I would have to quit

Even though I wanted to

But I didn’t expect

it would happen

I would lose myself

in my backwards hope

Never really believing

it would come true

although I never gave up

but in little ways

I waited a little too long

did that a little too late

eased up when I should have

rushed you

failure

rushed you

to quit

But that wasn’t it

It was the first drop

Showing you what failure

really looked like

And you missed it

Now you’re caught

in the rain

and

drowning