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THE PRUDENT COGNOSCENTE
Strolling through the
Barrel-lined aisles
With her ladened cart,
The prudent cognoscente
Pauses periodically to
Admire alimentary delicacies
In open display.
She sneers at the Spanish oranges,
Which are bruised and overripe;
And cringes at the inferior broccoli --
So yellow and dry.
But her eyes alight with
Discovery and glee as
She tosses aside the lid
Of the last garbage can
And silences the nonsensical
Cravings of her refined palate
With the simple charm of
Garden greens and aged brie.
BREATHLESS
In the guises of feminism and masculinity,
We paced and stalked definition
With the cunning of a mother lion:
‘Round and ‘round, closer and closer,
Until our precarious showdown brought us
Face-to-face with insecurity and dream.
As the war-drum heartbeats of a
Million Amazons prepared to vanquish
My masculinity at its first indiscretion,
I loaded my tongue with silver arrows
And mercilessly catapulted the words
‘I love you’ against your brazen shield.
And simultaneously we fell – breathless.
ANNO HUMANAE SALUTIS
How deceptively do glittering lights
In the new city of canyons
Conceal the corset of desperation
Embodying man’s faith.
A society of barren undines in
An Elysium of our own fabrication,
We flee the curse of Nostradamus
Through indulgence and invention.
Is it not written that
In the year of man’s redemption,
What were once vices
Will then be customs?
There is no escape from Time or prophecy
Except in the play of the mind.
And yet in denial of death
Lay forfeiture of Salvation.
THE DEVIL
Beware.
The dark one
Lurks not in
The shadows,
And not amongst
Your friends
Or enemies.
Beware, for
His evil lies
Within you,
And eagerly
Awaits release
By descendents
Of Pandora.
Beware of
The road to
Inertia and ruin,
So carelessly
Littered with
Temptation and
Obsession.
Beware.
The self-centered
And worshippers
Of false splendor
Can expect
Little more than
Disappointment.
Yes. Beware
Of darkness ..
And beware
Of mirrors ..
But most of all
Beware
Of the devil
That you are.
ANOTHER AMERICA
Few Americans know that
The face of Miss Liberty
Is actually that of a
Frenchman's bigot mother.
Like the masses of immigrants who
Yearly forsake old world for new,
We too see majesty of choice
Through all-too-childish eyes:
"Rustler, hustler, bankerman, anchorman,
cop, fag, redneck, punk;
baglady, bastardbaby, stockbroker, chimneystoker,
doctor, lawyer, plumber, drunk."
Yes, we're all watching you,
America .. with Mom's apple pie
On the kitchen table and the
Girl next door at our side.
One nation, trusting in God
Down to our last hard-earned dollar.
"Careful not to step on the crack ...
broken backs are hard to mend!"
But the sons of Genet are most
Grateful for the vigilant
Two-in-a-thousand who
Cross the seas frequently
And dream of another
America.
GREEN
Apples, pears, olives,
Celery, asparagus,
Broccoli, avocados,
Forest trees, emeralds,
Heart chakra, sexy eyes,
Garden snakes, scout uniforms,
Environmental politics,
Army jackets, money,
Greed, jealously --
Green.
RHYTHM AND TEARS
The rhythmic atonalities
Of steely, staccato tears
Pelt graying pigmentation
Almost senseless.
But the romance of flesh
Frozen emotionless by
Half-dried ablutions is
The poetry of endings
Muting into beginnings.
WHITE ROSES
White roses lay neatly placed
Upon the hardened snow --
Just centimeters from where
The still-absent tombstone
Will one day proudly loom
Over wayward leaves, single
Blades of grass and stalwart
Perennials in rainbow shades.
The first tear drools, then
Streams down my wind-burned
Cheeks and others quickly
Follow suit in search of
The meaning of life and death,
As well as other unanswered
Mysteries prompted by your
Almost coincidental passing.
Friends urge me to go on
With my life and speak of
The treasure of memories and
Shared experiences that have
Made me the unique human
Expression that I have become,
And which will further shape
The lives of others I touch.
But I believe in the worms
Which industriously toil at
Converting your precious bones
And ashes to fertile soil which
Will nourish the flowers my
Successors will one day plant
When I, quite coincidentally,
Find the answers you now covet.
All works copyright Adam Donaldson Powell, 2005
(Book cover image: "Ground Zero", painting by Adam Donaldson Powell)
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