An Un Anyone?
Careful
there are Nouns here
which innocently
can
contain your life.
Were it not for 'Un'
all would be lost.
So many of our utterances
not only restrain the brain
but prevent
emphatically
new things being said.
Language is a universe
in which you cannot be understood
unless you already agree
with its assumptions and premises
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Body Box
She is the body slim
the nymph
who's shown to us everyday
smiling cover girl
wife and mother-debutante
supple woman hood
and many place themselves
beside her life-sized cut
to see if there is a body fit
and then make-up
and plastic surgery
flow from the credit cards
vision seen in vanity mirrors
yet inside
no one knows
that she wonders
if that outward glow
is enough
to assuage her inward doubts;
'Am I a person
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Born
She came in from the Crowded Night-
flecks of light and flecks of dark-
on her clothing shimmering
Around her swirled Half-Meanings,
Inconsistencies, Beauty Lights
and Pale Remembrances.
Eyes aglow
her silvery voice
sang of Love and Loneliness
Peace and War
Birthing Seeds,
things human and not
pretty and not
dead and alive.
More came to assemble before her-
a crowd of the Inspired and the Expired
the In-Betweeners
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Dead, Dying and the Dreamer
Desire offered me a Joyful Blindness
new each time from the Caldron
such that I succumbed each time
moved thereby
to cheat Death himself
accepting thereby the double
conundrum
that a too intense Desire
can kill the Dream it inspires
and sometimes too, kill the Dreamer
condemning him or her perhaps
to surfing the tides of blowback
the Damocles Pillars of Blame and Time,
seeing Fate toss dice
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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What is Hope?
Never was a larger word
than Hope;
all dreams reside there;
In the Future,
resides our desires laid bare;
our Now wants to go there
our Past wants to be washed away
or celebrate there-
inside Hope's Cathedral.
Hope is the Promised Land.
both Means
and Destination.
But, what good does Hope do
if it goes away
after
what we hope for comes true?
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Images-Perfection Ever Flames, An Endless Supply of Moths
As I am,
I'm perceived Perfection
upon my ivory pedestal
in brilliant light
crystalline.
But these are my prison walls
Uniques Glow
is Perfection's Pall
which exiles me from that outer world
of reality.
I cannot mingle there.
My existence is constrained.
As bright as my Radiant Glow,
upon approach
to your world
I would dim
and be destroyed.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Cold Drive And A Warm Night-Chapter Two
He watched her take the drink
still warm and she cupped it
with two hands, warming them up.
The hands were thin.
She was not a farm girl
and she averted her eyes when
she looked at him.
The face was small with delicate
features
yet they were strong in their own way.
He wondered how what kind of lover she would be..
He wondered too how she could have
made a wrong turn and gotten here.
There were signs that clearly stated
'no public road'. 'dead end road.'
She noticed his stare and pulled at
her comforter, pulled it up more
around her shoulders.
She looked at him as she did so
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Robin Suicide
A robin committed suicide today
dead against my living room window pane;
flying fast in chilly mid-November;
perhaps heading south.
The sound; wings blurred; a thump!
he went straight to ground.
He should have missed the house,
it's large, the window is below the roof,
he was not flying blind
or forgot to look.
Like a jet with no flaps down,
he hit the window full-throttle;
smashing pain.
I got up took a look
expecting him to fly or stir
but he didn't move below; lay quiet.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Murder is Bad and Why?
The Man spoke:
'It is in the murdering' he said
that I find the most puzzlement.
Why should I or anyone not murder
one and all. It is, I think, human's basic instinct.
'Look' he said to the priest 'is not all of history;
more a story of murderous war than peace and tranquility?
'So what is most common to human nature?
Seems clear to me, humans murder their fellows, rest up during the peace
and, as soon as possible, get back to the murdering.'
The priest:
'Murder is wrong in God's eyes and in the eyes of society and
the murderer will pay with fire and brimstone, and the death penalty.
Ending murder is the bedrock of all society, even pirates have a code
that says don't murder your fellows.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Reality's Dream
I staggered back from the blow;
Reality struck me again
this time harder
mocking me as I fell.
'You have always been so clear about
your plans and goals haven't you;
clear about what you wanted to achieve or know
how you would overcome all obstacles
but Pilgrim you had no plan B;
I always grant people like you
first place in my line
because you all are Prisoners Of Your Own Dreams and Schemes
hurtling through life 'Dreamers of the Impossible Dream'
Perfection's Confection blinds you by its own light-
wouldn't you agree? '
I gradually regained my feet and
stared into those unforgiving, taunting eyes
thinking strangely
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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