Thursday,
May 28, 1981 10:45 a.m.
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
WebWords
I'm sitting, motionless
Embodying the auras of nostalgic amalgams
Readying my soul for the blastoff
Listening
A concertina in the schoolyard
Ever-so-innocent childvoices
sending their jubilance heavenward
and into my window
I can't explain (like and old rock
song)
the emotions which poured out of my heart
but never got past my tongue
I can't remember why I make love
only to find my heart beating faster
I can't conceptualize
words
dogma
television ramblings
erhard seminars training
Godthinkers with bloody hatchets
reality
peer pressure and the lack of it
It is the last hour of yesterday.
Inspiration-
The inspiration bug crawls into my existence
weaving a web of perception
Clouding this with that
I yearn to copulate with this breeding
insect and I hope she isn't the kind
that kills her mate
Fill me with your poison
And give me a goddamned piece of paper
and a pen
All the bottled up emotions which
betray
themselves to my hand have to lash out
at the poisoned inspiration.
Words
All that's left after two years of hoping
What can we hope for now
Here it comes
Sacrifice ourselves in an orgy of
passion
Wreak havoc at out inabilities
say the same words over again
read the same stories
and look for recognition of oneself
in another one's eyes.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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