revolution

so let's talk
revolution

a caged rifle sings, drum roll
drum roll please

there is a market
for a bomber, a listing for a son
a gunner, missile launcher - (someone, phone in lunch)
"the timing could not be better"
quotes an imposter's tongue, "a war
should be developed; a director needed
call one in, and peace
(on earth?) who sees it" - three sheets
blowing in the wind , gone

Atlanta
its been melted, Lenin's
bloodline Red's, the middle
eastern conflict lost
again in reels archived underground - "who can 
free this bird, who's got
the guts to spread?  i need a revolution
i need fire worked, bullets fed" 

 Lennon said it best
imagine

you'd better free your mind instead

"bullshit!! - some crazy
shot him - dead"


bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Posted for One Stop Poetry - Free Verse with Steven

do not come too soon September

do not come too soon September
with long shadows covering the day, do not
send word of a November, far keep
it for another's season

my bones care not to fall, the subtle
differences in temperament, a degree
of want for June to stay in full
its moon, do not cause
this heart remember - soon,

so very soon

April had me lost in thoughts of love, of loving, of haste
looking on to the fullness of a May, unaware
a seasons passing, uncertain of who
would pull at my youth filled door, with no sentiments
of time as passage to a wind, and a

knowing that a wind I hold as autumn
wants my supple hand, no, no
give to me June, at latest an
August stilled

September can wait awhile longer, November's
chill - come not, come not too soon
at all

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

posted for Free Verse lesson - One Stop Poetry and One Shot Wednesday...

Still Life

Magpie Tales #33

You took the a Acqua de Pama
bottle from my dresser
placed it on the newly inherited
Queen Anne vanity
in the corner of the bedroom...just so,

along with freshly cut
and fully stemmed apricot roses
to reflect the shades of morning
sunlight filtering through the
lace curtains, and going

to your designated chest
of drawers - pulled the silken scarf
that was your mothers
and rested it ever so gently between
scent and full bloom.  Always you

the artist by nature; perfection
worn like a royal, with eye skilled
at absorbing and mirroring to canvas, still life.
Still life, it was to became the crown
you donned for your court.   I lied

on the bed and took in
the genius of your process, watching as you
released but a touch of fragrance
from the petite well creating a palette of mood
and as the room filled with colour you began

sketching.   Sipping the morning I
felt life stir within me, encapsulating my
fantasy and flesh to the point of
wanting more than sips of sunlight  - so
lifting myself off the mattress, I

moved hurried towards the hall - you kindly
asked where I would be heading; and
could not reply, as I remembered so clearly
you did not sketch nudes, no
your mother never did approve
of it...

bkmackenzie
2010

The Librarian

That madam librarian you were looking for
just left the building –

I refuse
to categorize my men by
the dewy decimal system, that
would mean having to sort and shelve-

I prefer instead
to cherish a good read
then donate the hardback
to charity –

bkmackenize
copyrighted 2008

Posted for the Poetry Pantry's second chance poems at Poet's United.