In Defense of Love

There is a hole in my life,
on this happy Valentine's Day.

Not the loss, the regret, of love.
Not the vanishing caresses,
or tender glance.

No, a hole in time itself.
The loss of existence,
of a moment that will never come back.

A scoop of flesh
out of the body of I am.

A gaping void,
glaring empty,
a pock-mark on my chest,
since you are gone.

The space is silent,
as the echo lingers on.

A memory locked away,
hidden for all time
from the joys of
what might have been.

Love, oh sweet love,
you are my punishment.

And what if she were asked,
"Do you love him?"

And if she were to say "Yes,"
what then of it?

The courts,
the jails,
they do not know of love,
but you do.

Each and every one of you do.

In your hearts,
in your breasts,
you understand.

Even the judge and jailor,
they too,
somewhere deep inside of them,
they too kindle the fire for love.

"Love?" says your public defender.
"How old are you? Grow up.
Do you want to go home tonight?"

Yet, you know your defense is true,
will see you through,
the slow drip of time.

Where counting hours
is done by shades of light
and the broken illusions
of fitful, stuttering sleep.

You pace the cells
of your heart
for any indication
that they will set you free.

The jingling of keys
excites sweet emotions.

Love, love, love,
kiss my lips
and set me free.

Slide open your doors.
Clanging, rolling,
metal, steal.
Open up your cages.

Uncuff Cupid's wrist
and believe.

Love, yes love,
will set you free.

I Love my Country, but Not so Much my Government

My Country is a Beautiful Idea
an Image from Long Past in my Forgotten Childhood Memories
a Love I Long to Seduce
a Hope for a Better Life
a Promise of a Better World
a Dream that I Reach Out to Caress
to Breath in and Hold
with a Gentle Sigh.

My Government is Shit.

My Country is a Flower in Bloom
like a Woman in June
her Petals Open Slowly
exposing a Soft Shoulder
or a Line of Delicate Flesh
that Makes my Heart Beat Hard in my Chest
a Passionate Schoolboy
ready to Come in his Pants.

I Love my Country

My Government is Shit.

My Country is a Brother
to the End
that Stands By me
when I Need a Friend.
My Country is the Better Life
the Open Prairie
the Bird in Flight
the Outstretched Hand
the Crash of the Tide
the Wind in my Hair
the Sweat on my Brow
and the Taste of her Lips.

My Government is Shit.

Hi all,

Please turn out for this great event celebrating the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Here you can also see the first public exhibt of my recently completed painting, Because They Were Happy and Free, along with my new poetry book, of the same name, which includes full color details from the painting.

Look forward to seeing you all there,

Mark

What Would Martin Luther King Do?

Coming from the left,
I get a lot of grief these days
for not giving the guy
a chance.
One, two years they say,
they always say,
but not today,
no change
today.
When I see that the policies
have not changed,
that the police
are using
experimental weapons
against
Americans
right here at home …

Do not forget:
St. Paul,
or Denver,
or Pittsburgh,
…
or Greensburg,
or New Orleans.

Do not forget:
That what is happening
right here at home,
today
are the same extended
policies
of the Bush Doctrine
today,
under this administration.

These are policies
that the executive branch
has control over;
that the President
can change
today,
without having to go through Congress.
Yet today,
this day,
November 2nd, 2009
21,000 more troops,
American soldiers,
left their homes,
to kill or be killed,
in Afghanistan,
today.

And I still hear the President
today
say, that protestors
are just a distraction.

And I just ask myself,
“What would Martin Luther
King do?”


He’d hold the President
accountable.

Constipation on Route #2

Sitting in the driver's seat,

with one thing on my mind,

to get to my destination

before the end of time.

 

Suddenly I'm sitting there

and spot trouble up ahead.

The road is blocked, nothing's moving,

I should have stayed in bed.

 

Try to turn off, but it's too late,

my wheels are caught in glue.

Traffic's dead, my car is stuck.

There's constipation on route #2.

 

Flipping on the radio

to find out what's the matter.

I turn the dial, hoping to smile,

instead it gets me madder.

 

I hear a story on the news

that takes me by surprize.

Even though he's done nothing to earn it,

Obama's won the Noble Peace Prize.

 

Oh fuck! I say.

How can someone be rewarded

when all he does is sit on his ass

and go back on his word?

 

I sniff the air, it smells like gas,

it just might be a turd.

 

Quick I change the station,

I need to turn the page,

thunder clouds are up ahead

and my bowels are in a rage.

 

Inching forward, here we go

trudging through the mud.

There's a movement in my gut,

I just hope it's not a dud.

 

Suddenly, I hear the news

a cow has stumbled onto the road.

Cars are backed up for miles,

with no where left to go.

 

I push ahead, there is no choice,

I'm already where I'm at.

 

Stuck in traffic

down on the road,

all backed up,

ready to explode,

trouble up ahead,

with no where to go,

just sitting and waiting,

to dump this heavy load.

Eat Your Fill of Gold

Rolling through the past,
into the future.
Those who do not read history,
are bound to repeat it.
Those who do not learn from their mistakes,
are bound to suffer,
rolling into the future.

A locomotive out of control.
Armageddon comes not too soon
for the computer age.

HURRY UP - FASTER

GET TO THE END.

The end is closer than you think.
Civilizations lost, in the eye of a blink.
Dinosaur men standing on the brink,
stampeding towards extinction.

Never once did Midas
consider the consequences.

Eat your fill of gold.

Your greedy lies.

Blind your eyes.

The womb is dead.

What good is a fortune
to the stillborn,
to a lifeless head,
to America,
owned by foreign investors.
Foreclosed.
Sold to the highest bidder.
Your dreams are now
made in China.

Junk bonds.
Junk food.
Junk life.

L a n d f i l l.

That is what you are,
what you have become.

Fear has consumed you
and left you with nothing.
Fear has killed you.
Fear has.
Fear.

Afraid to live.
Afraid to die.

Eat your paper gold.

EAT - EAT - EAT

your worthless fill.

CONSUME
EAT
SHIT
DIE

BUY NOW BUY

EAT
CONSUME
DIE

SHIT

Is that all?
Is that the best you've got?

A pile of shit
in your greedy hand.

BUY - BUY - BUY

SHIT

BUY - SHIT - NOW

EAT

CONSUME

DIE