Three Poems

A Circle of walled courtesies;
Paper weight compliments,
Gullible pleasantries—
A faithful tide of cumbersome traditions
Conserve in weave archaic beliefs.

The gushed elements worsen every year,
Spit accompanies the flat rambled veneer.
They repeat throughout the day,
Until the remarks lose their wit,

And you’re wet in stuffy squeals of poetry,
Cushioned at the door by meaningless banter
As the chanters at the end,
Seam the line in earful blather.

And the tradition merely a stunt,
An outweighed, unfathomable deed,
It herds spitters equally,
And fluffs their hypocrisy.
And when the feathers retreat,
Motley-faced men and She-devils,
Appear in White and Black and sipping tea.

White and a few lines of dust
Sketch what memories left
Crawling, long distilled,
Made life like a skip,
Swift over smooth sea,
In this, my silk cocoon peace;
Awaiting my soup soul
To take form, proof the skin,
Strike the bone, ring
Faith in promised wings
That tickle my tears,
Brush into the soul;
Ancestral hairs onto still lakes,
A cleanse to melt my stingy ways,
Old and proud on cuts- Oh Faith!
Smite the shell, spread the praise
Across my newly eager veins;
The dawn of fresh fate awaits!