Reality Ring
'With this ring
I do thee wed'
the preacher said;
and all I could think of
was how beautiful
the pictures would be
and the stories I would have
for my guy friends.
and those
future memories;
and did not hear
clearly
the call for the ring,
I was not present
in that moment
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Labor Love
Love labors
often in the pit of sorrows;
an ax sometimes
pounds away
digging deeper down
into sorrows depths
to the sub-strata
of Bitter Regrets.
Love sometimes labors
planting Honey Trees
watching them grow
to form
garden-greens
and water-falls.
Laboring Love
brings the baby child
whose smiles
washes away
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Unfettered Bound
George's face on the dollar bill
has that wry smile
his hair tarnishing white
the eyes lidded;
the lips thin and slight.
He rests in the cradle green bill;
lucre in Prosperity's Night.
I lay upon the bed in dream
wondering
how I might squeeze from that dollar bill
meaning
to banish meaninglessness.
But clutch it I do
in numbers round
expectant that Joy magically
will arrive;
unfettered;
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Rosy-Thorned
An impostor sun rises
on separate pillows
between
the two lying in state
untouching.
Dawn stands up only to hesitate
in that morning light which darkens
immediately on a loveless bed.
The pillow mint is rock hard;
Wilted Roses have bled.
He speaks:
'You know
I have been
faking it.'
She says 'me too'.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Other I
The shadow lit
is The Other fixed;
the Other outlined and defined
in our mind's soupy silhouette
mixed.
Other acts and reacts
runs away;
runs to and from me,
Other either way
is by us transfixed;
distance, close or far
loved or feared
Other exists
for all of us;
this Other friend,
that Other idea
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Satiated
I bring the night
because that is where our lightning lives
our rough, sweaty reckonings
bodies and hearts writhing
minds shut down
Thinking's Abandonment;
silent senses
engulfed
inside the bodies realm
where
Experience Craves
its own ends
screamings in our night
fulfillments
surging in our pantings
in that drivenness
that urgent
release
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Crushing Pestle
I take my habits outside
and crush them in the pestle
because they constrain my life
even as I yearn to move beyond them.
I set aflame all my cultural presuppositions
because they prevent me from seeing.
I take each and every thought which in the past
seemed evident
and like Einstein
ask why do I accept these ideas as true?
I am in pursuit of my own genius
and its antecedents.
But my pestle strategy
is seen by all as rebellious
and I am crushed low soon
by church and state.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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So What?
I am weak
forever seeking
satisfaction
in my Perfection's Cloth
unyielding
I forever seek
what ever Gods
I may conceive
Love, God, Money,
Status, or Position
but these are
only fleeting
and do not sate.
So what I ask is
Ultimate
and Satisfying?
Only this my friend:
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Look At Me
Look at me
Look at my mouth,
the little up-curve at the ends;
Look at my hair
the way I flip it when I talk;
Look at what I wear
some of it is for you.
Notice how I smell.
Notice how I look,
and how I breathe
when you are near;
come close to me;
lean in when we talk.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Breaking Dawn
In the hush I hear you;
faint footsteps along the corridor:
refrigerator opening
in the dead of night.
In the hush
I hear milk pour
and I wait;
my face to the wall;
my mind there too.
Double Doubts
and Triple Hurts
align the staircase
and I hear them
treading up.
Where were you?
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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