This week, I recite "Cats" and "Trading Of Hands." 9/25-27/13

Cats
February 5, 2008

Bartlett's decreed our godhead, and we know it.

We are much more than scanters and fleeters.

Our regality swerves around

our very being.

We're sleek as pupils that slit.

Notice our physique's design, and if you can believe

it, the glow inside our minds. Kudos.

The poise of our positions are inbred promises

produced by fate, punched to be activated to act

as a sort of mechanism rightly designed to

demand our place.

We are served our food.

We aren't sent for the saucer.

Myth claims us to be sly and clever thieves.

We are told to avoid the

elderly and babies.

Well, then, don't have milk on your breath while you sleep,

and try not to breathe so heavily.

That makes our theft more intense and not so discreet.

© 2008 Jarrod C. Lacy

******


Trading of Hands
February 11, 2008

I am the new stuff, you are the old stuff.

The push and the pull.

Winter that is relegated from spring,

Never to touch sides again.

We will unbound our twine the moment

I'm born unto shades of naivete, and

you are sprawled across knowledge to rest.

Memory will be your only possession -

Mine as my days progress.

Aching, in human form, amasses wrinkles

and grey features so honored if

dishonorable shifts wouldn't be so dismissive.

I honor you, old school. Will others honor me?

Together, continuums to sprint for sprees,

but never for eternity.

© 2008 Jarrod C. Lacy


　

　

This week, I read, "Torn From the Dark." 9/17-18/13

Torn From the Dark

(For James Byrd Jr. (1949-1998)

and Matthew Shepard (1976-1998)

October 15-17, 1998

There and everywhere, indifference is the spoiled

child pouting and weeping in the welkin.

We hope for a season - any season - of rain

to cleanse and comfort this planet-eater,

But the cauldron of stubbornness, loathing,

pride and betrayal all billow to stew than simmer.

We are deadwood to it, and with that, appalled

by reality's now. Chafe to repair this disregard.

Strangers as well as founders, we know the stream

of equality flows in favored paths and portions.

We bare it, the complacency, only for the striving

of hoping and knowing pacification will follow.

Feet are not rooted to the ground.

We will walk whenever, we will be wherever.

It is a long, turbulent trail, but know that contending

powers even the little shrew determined to make his way.

While on this odyssey, know that the

light - any light - is favorable,

But those who have been torn from the dark

had been shrouded ingenuously by an assailant's craft.

For those who are still here and fighting:

Revelation will revile the opposer. Stay quiet.

Be wary but not afraid of those Repairman.

who offer a fixing or a fix before a smile.

The chance to drive oneself away is a compensation

for the savage enclave.

We march onward. We are might. We are brave.

We will be weak, we will be depraved;

Our voices burn in sparks; as for being torn from the dark.

Life or not, a warmness and greatness awaits.

© 1998 Jarrod C. Lacy