Sunday, October 18, 2015

Pidgeon in a cage

Pidgeon in a cage
Pidgeon in a cage
consumptive
underfed
and de-conditioned
with internal rage

too weak to express
grieving a powerless feeling
far away from the river
it's to fly along and deliver

at the mercy
of an un-empathetic half wit
a half asleep
and resentful owner
incapable
un-insightful
of the optimal feed to provide

and it'll never change
and all the pidgeon can do
is stockpile away
and hang on day
by day


weary eyed
hanging on
waiting
unto late
waiting for
the satin clad
to open up the gate

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Walking away

there's no time to
distribute
less energy than time
the gas pedal has just enough
left for this 
sacred rhyme
and with that must be selfish
and with that must be tame
I cannot frolic, relentlessly
or burnt out'll be
this teeny candle 
flame

For a split second
there's guilt
there's worry
but I must shoo 
the mental pest
'til it scurries
away

There is
but precious
few days
to do what I 
must
the most ...

I want to walk away
completely 
away, away from reciprocal speech
even with my own kind
while I'm so sick
it's a breech 
of the energy exertions
which I must keep at bay

So I don't have time
I have to say goodbye
social with akin was once good
but now it's mostly wry 
it doesn't mean I don't care
it's just 
I need
to do
what I love
before I die 

So I have to walk away
holding the candle
with the tiny, burning flame
I have to cup it in my hands
so no wind from neighbouring lands
blows it out today

holding it now
walking away

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Shack

icicle crystals
cut like a thistle
on my skin when I sat down
500 miles
away from town
yes, and just like they sang
there's not a shirt on my back
not a penny to my name
and now i understand
the lack
and now
the tears fall
on
in vain
they do fall
on
my pain
they do fall
with the emptiness
as I crawl
into this shack ...

with my
shivering skin
blue from the rain
it hits and slides
can't even grip
this cane
can't even grip
the pain
in my
exhaustion
and I'm to blame
yes the one to blame is
me

i have only myself
to blame
when i took the hard way and
wasted away
so far away
from the dawn of day
from the home i loved
like she said while waiting
for the train
as she wore her bolshevik glove
like this, i ran away to the barracks
for what purpose
and for who
i didn't think i was worthy to do
what lives deepest ...
i had to fight and prove

because i didn't know
if i was true enough
kamikaze piloting
to show i was tough
and now is it too late
'cause i'm torn up in rage
but too weak to express
in this cage
that is my body
so few noticed
when i waved
in the lobby
forsaken, heartbroken
i don't know how i'll fare
i don't feel hope
in this cold, desolate air
shivering in the shack
not even near the train track
even clothing i lack
as i fade away
so black
is the night
so bleak
in this shack  ...




Friday, September 18, 2015

Lying seeds

broken glass
of a soaking jar
never got that far
not quite up to par
beckoned by
the wrong seed
to soak
to breed
'twas the wrong order, see
the wrong angle
to heed
like the watch ticking
in the drawer unsorted
in the dishevelled
subordinate
corner
it be
and atop there was
the jar
of seeds
failing to sprout
with the desperate pixie
welling up in a pout
for not soaking
the right seeds
fruition doth
leave
and nutrition
won't
be
out the door
with the breeze
then the rageful
angry screams
shatter the jar
with the seeds
and the pixie
fell to her knees
with the tears
of the tease
of those damn
lying seeds!

- R.W.G

www.girloutside.org

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Sweet as cherry pie

by and by
sweet as cherry pie
as it curdles in the soul
as it rolls 
tenaciously 
sly ...

on your tongue
so tart
better than kitschy art 
better than saying goodbye
so you stay 
warm and dry
with the cherry pie 
which you know
will be wry ...

though it's wrought
while it rots
deeper and deeper
inside

while the silky, fluffy clouds
dress suspension of time
with a layer of
sublime
reaching
reaching
for the rhyme
and the meaning
in the wind chimes 
that whisper
with the plight
that whisper in
the morning -
in the morning of the night ...

and as the clock ticks well beyond
midnight
there's the tartness on your plate
but alas it's like fish bait
for the discordance
of late, 
unto late
unto late
until its' too late

and the fog that fails to lift
in the dauntingly, naively
hopeful abyss
you know something is amiss
throw the plate 
throw the fork
in this
for it really isn't bliss
no it really isn't bliss ...

no, not cherry pie
full of cheap whey
full of dye
that ladens over
for in which
under you lie

but it must be where you lay
get up and
get away 
reach with inner foundation
for a different kind 
of day
for a different kind
of way







Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Drawn In The Tiles 2

(this is the sequel to Drawn In The Tiles, a poem I wrote about North Korea, from Heart of a Womanchild

The tiles
underneath
are broken
with truth
so long unspoken
trapped beneath
a hidden
sheath

is the pain of real
human beings
living in multi
starvation

forgotten they are
as it seems
though so desperate
for liberation

but with no end in sight
and in dismal isolation ...

That is
until a brave few
speak out
of the real agonies ..
of an unspeakable drought
the living the horrors of many

duct tapes' over their mouths
like a frozen ill at ease
smile of desperate
appease
for if not one will
be seized

imagine living
in constant dread
to show human feelings
obvious to be had
when one's being abused
and ordered to be glad
amongst not only sad
but stark raving mad ...

there is nothing more oppressive
there is nothing more sickening
there is nothing more vile
than the truth
drawn in the tiles

Suspended in the lane

Edge of pain
in
uncertain rain
pounding on the windows
in the devoid
in disdain
disappointment
and bewilderment
confusion
of conclusion
suspended
in the lane
in between
the park
and pain

-N.M. Rose Guedes

Saturday, September 12, 2015

No More Categories !

Have you ever considered that
more than one answer may be true
like
Yes and No
and
Don't and Do ...

Have you ever thought someone can be
both good and bad
and happy and sad
and sane and mad
and a lot
and a tad ...

Or do you have to shove them in
a place
to put them in
a fixed-in space ..

well you cannot
do that to me
I will not be
what you say
I be

I will not be
either good or bad
or right or wrong
or happy or sad

I will be multi-faceted
me
Begone!
No more
Categories!

I will be whole
I will be Free
I will be natural
human
me

Rosie @ www.girloutside.org 


Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Tree Bark

Tree bark
don't bark up
the wrong tree

isn't that what you are made of?
as I say ...
Tee hee hee hee!

'cause you don't make any sense
I thought you a little dense
'til I realized it was simple
like a warm September breeze

quit the tease
of your childish summer swing
it's autumn now
so let us bring

all the spiced apples
and cold, damp rain
better start gearing up for
all the cold, damp pain
and the shivering unto
rheumatism
let the bone broth steep
despite the schism
of the pattern
of the seam
of the radar
of the gleam

and if you wanna blow off steam ,,,
don't go barking up this tree
settle down and come to be
with the water, of the tea

of the bark that is
the tree.

Raven waves

Black night
raven waves
then turns her back -
back into the shadowed cave
a longer fallow
on the wave
of gating down
on me
until my grave
and maybe you'll miss me then
but you don't understand
and it drums my heart of scars
if i let it this notion in

Pain aside
there are other ways
i don't even need
the deepest love
that i crave
if I can be brave
and believe
when raven waves
i don't need to chase
i have spirit
to embrace

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Make a sweater

Tick tick tick
bite bite bite
tock tock tock
might might might
lift your head up
fever on your skin
tears are dried up
like whispers on
the bin
reach reach reach
for an answer
in the bleak
of the night
camp out
so bleak
10,000 feet
it's a climb that is so steep
half of all folk
will fall, and sleep
forever more
and especially if
they're half naked
at 5o below
too frozen to even sneeze
now you're landing on your knees
so put your hands together
and with the palms of
stormy weather
grab a spear
and make a sweater

Friday, July 24, 2015

On my own dime

The stars know
the patterns glow
the roots must grow
after the rain

the seeds have been lain
upon the fields
that were barren plains
that once did yield

one at the gate
almost too late
was a pass handed over
though unplanned, it was fate

Yet still navigated
through the pendulous chill
and the compass was negated
by the inquisition still

when fighting for survival
is seen as but a crime
not entitled to revival
I'm on my own dime











The trouble of we

I'm finding it disturbing
all the chronically ill
I'm seeing things, unnerving
they bring with them a chill

when I see all these people
with hospital bags
of saline
running through their veins

I think; what in Gods' name
is causing such a thing ...

and there's many more pining
out in the rain
and there's many begging doctors
to acknowledge their pain ...

it's a dangerous game
in this archaic system
objectivity is scarce
and with this bears a victim

unbiased research
is afar and a tease
and will only draw nearer
when millions scream:
"Please!!!"

and they'll scream
and they'll scream
and how many will fall
before the greedy redeem
and respond to the calls

as of today
if you're seriously ill
mainstream science is behind
and you'll often be in danger, still

unless you buy you're way out
to safety via new machines
that are most accessible
to the kings and the queens

so they mortgage their houses
and get into debt
or they perish in numbers
and the dirty truth is swept

the very nature of
this environmental disease
I feel it holds the key
of what is really

if this truth was set free
it would expose
reality
and the state
of the earth
and in so
the trouble
of We

-N.M. Rose Guedes






Thursday, June 25, 2015

Sit Back Down

Rainbow Zebracorn
running from the lions of
time after time
'til you give up

you don’t fit in anywhere
so then, you don’t get a share
you won’t get your outerwear
when weather is rough

smack down the rat
with poison cheese
put out the trap
and say "by all means"

Jackie, you won’t get a stalk
with un-patented beans

oh but, sit back down
please don't not wear a frown
or we’ll document
and flag
the "scene" ...

-N.M. Rose Guedes

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Spades

Ace of spaces
be the raids
anti-heaven sent
so kneel for Lent

All of it is being done
but is there no clemency from
those who know the cause at the core
those who know the covered sun

And so that's how it feels
with a wall against your heels
and your shoulders are pinned back
stomachs' on the drying rack ...

Calling on angels
through the tunnel of fears
dark and all unknowing still
have mercy, melt these frozen tears

Oh, consideration not
some seem to have, for rabies-bitten
and the lion that's a kitten
oh so shivering and afraid

The dark and dauntless spades
are chasing Alice down a maze
and she just wants to wake up
and so not be afraid ...

-N.M. Rose Guedes






Saturday, March 7, 2015

Just Sing

Through nausea
Through heart skipping
this gravida
is fragile
Sing

Carry to term
this soul creation
don't lose
don' bleed
protect
and plead
and chant
this last chance
deep
incantation ..

Soul elation
slay damnation


The breeze is humming
the clock is ticking
the soldiers are drumming ..
so breathe
and sing

Through fainted-ness
Through withered-ness
through burning skin
Through cell attack

Just sing
just sing
though strength you lack
it's your last chance
call guides, and dance

While you're still standing
Let them lift you
you've waited too long
in the standing
cue

And now
so bow
you've paid your dues
find the encrusted
Ruby shoes ..

Were you a fool
will fate be cruel
or is there one last chance to bring
destiny to the ring

Yes, please
Just sing

N.M. Rose Guedes



Thursday, January 29, 2015

ditch

dont' wanna hear me bitch?
then to quell this screaming itch
let me transform into bubbles
and sing in a fever pitch

when you say it isn't rich
and you say it is a switch
then turn off the light
and say it right
and don't look at
the ditch

-N.M. Rose Guedes