A mind filled by the heart sees a world full of beauty and compassion.
Contents
. ignorance . intensity . indignity . iniquity
Indignity
to enact baseness
to conduct unworthiness
to impatiently dominate
GIRLFRIEND
Green grass grows
and confused birds chirp
in the wee hours I'm woke
breathing in the snow dampened midnight speckled by stars
I look across the room
at my friend and see
we are the women that shine
a line of reflect radiance
turned my head in a mid slumber gaze indifferent while waking
we know we are what matters
to each another
so when those boys
toss out their cat calls
risking their lives for proximity
to my thighs
always find themselves surprised
when I or she turns around
even as we be walkin' and talkin'
taking life in stride
together we know we go
arm in arm, near and far
letting the other take turns
in keeping each others’ coasts clear.
ABSTRUSE AMORE
Insecurity dictated decisions
have others quick to forget
when leaving said, happy places
to become acquainted by said, bad spaces
where clinging hard and pushing often results in also, two, as well as in the one painfully bruised reputation.
Fear not for friends of good souls eventually do grow-
a bloom for only those
who remained through the rain tenderly, can know.
Go on fighting, thinking, nothing across the line of neatly formed words already waiting in a row
as a hammer and coral
for the often orated codes
also known as metaphor
takes great interest in the compounding pounds
of hearts webbed in lies—
These qualities must not be confused
with byway blossoms delivered via fairy tale sweet nothings eventually realising the golden splendour of everything
despite conceding—
The we are
getting along just fine
does only half but draw
what needs fully sketched out
to be known
as the defining, though dissipating lines
between aches of want and need
bleed
into the history of unfurling flow
some histories in full gear reverse forever
unfurling the beach sands
so many climbed faraway mountains
to see—
such vistas and formations
would seem auspicious
though ache
without end
without hearing those three syllables
the sounds that echo less as promises
and mirror
more as two hearts coming home:
I love you.
SIGNAL SIRENS
A calm gentleman pulled to the side by
an assumed unsympathetic power-trip driven
egotistical law enforcement kind
distinctly blocking traffic they sat
in expressionless repose
performing the authority ritual
keeping his hands visibly in fold
in his vintage, nineteen seventies, puke green
raven racing stripe, sparkle paint job
beauty of a mobile I passed while pretending
to mind my business a waft of a thought occurred to me that more often than not good wills are taken advantage of and in so dissipating without ever even having
understood the slip beneath the noses
of our happiness driven selves
‘til we can't ascertain the grounds
on which feel solid enough for humanity
to sustain growing populous pains
in instances such as these I glance upon
from time to time mainly in my rear-views
to keep clear of consumer messes that sway
hold between the lines and simply abide the law
for heaven's sake to motivate myself to stay
outside for as long as my skin can tan under winter sun
so my eyes can devour photogenic scenes
I grow flex in capacity to enjoy
the seismic power of my heart still beating
while staying my lane.
OWN THE WORLD
They speak to me
in their slurred bum speech
sitting around talking about
some game
and waiting for life
to take a turn
barely elevating toward
an impression
and yet
those called bums
often talk more substance
in light of those barstool boys’
stories of sorrows and though
they keep trying to making it up
get up some moves
are side swiped by the swift shiny suits
you know
those with the money
who have also lost all hope too
droning on in happy hour dramas
walking into tight hot elevators
blinded by the wonder of light
streaming through their views of those bums
they make hold their tongues
has always made me wonder
what walking this world offers
for the dreams high in our imaginary skies
are often like a stars waiting
dedicated by some stranger
to then be yanked down into reality
and held as the stone it always was
so those tired muscle excuses
conceal fears and feigned personas
reaching for that out there twinkle
worth more as an ideal,
than the weight of the real
that glow in the despair of hope,
looking-up
as a tip of photographic memory
traveling as far
as endless energy
in where the everywhen
delivers you.
© Mari Amman. All Rights Reserved.
Poetry, Prose &Suche VOL I.
First edition 2023, electronic distribution. Text and Images by Mari Amman.
The poems contained within this volume were drafted circa 2006-2009, in Chicago, USA, and edited during spring 2023 in Paris, France, with the enormous support of The Trélex Residency.
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