Friday, September 30, 2011

heavy metal



wearing beads around
your neck without a crucifix, is like
wearing a holster without a iron
no one believes in you, believes you have
anything of contextual content, but


there is something (not
warm) in metal, cold
against the skin if not insulted
unforgable and uncaring - it leaves the world around
us with a sense of
half-ways , like the man

i passed lying half on the sidewalk, half
in the street - half alive
or half dead (a proverbial sampling) - it is a tsunami zone
but warnings are unheeded
so i drive on - half thinking

i can write him
a few words, rhyme him a verse
he will never hear
as his shoreline recedes and my thoughts
return to heavy metal
reflecting soul-y on the piece
i cradle in my hand

not knowing to what?
i should attach it...


bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Driving through Eureka CA on hwy 101 - this man burned an image in my brain.
Posted for d'Verse Friday at the Bar

8 comments:

  1. wow nice verse...the wearing of the cross does not makea believer either just another consumer...cool capture of the man...there are so many these days...our verse does bring them into light and maybe in that we can generate a bit of hope for them...

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  2. i like that you saw him...it needs eyes to see these people and point others into their direction...

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  3. Hard edges here. It's true that sometimes it takes grit of sacrifice showing the painful in life to scratch a reader into awareness. No one ignores a woman with a cross and a gun! Well done. G.

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  4. wow bkm.... this poem tells an amazing story for that picture... love both.

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  5. Only way to travel,carry both
    one in your holster, the other
    in your heart. Just like words.
    wearing beads...does
    not make it true does it?

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  6. Wow. You gave him life by writing about him.
    As for the empty beads--no worries, yours are loaded with context, imagery, symbolism and talent.
    Thank you.

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  7. Love this one, bkm, especially the final lines. Through your words, he burned himself in my brain too.

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  8. Burned images start in our brain....then they burn to the page, and our heart....this is a powerful image you have captured for us here Bkm....you are an amazing poet! :-)

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