Gnarled Lust
Gnarled Lust
is a blackened tree
feasting on a murdered landscape;
having been watered by poisoned fertilizers
sprouted gray leaves
displaying a history of
driving Love's Bent;
but, more importantly, also a history of voracious greed, death, blood and atrocities,
its spread now reaches the dead vampire desire for immortality
by sucking red blood from prone victims
who crave
love, sex and death in swain's sucklings
fired of the desire to cheat death and live forever,
even at the cost of dead hand affections
and dark broodings
outside the light-
an ultimate narcissistic
confection
consumed
of poisoned drops;
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Gluttony and I
I have Gluttony's appetite!
my calories intoxicate.
Food plumps my mental wit;
eating slight dulls merriment.
Fill my tankard now!
Let Gluttony abound!
Heave comestibles round my plate!
Obscure my seat mates stick-thin bags of bones.
I vowed at 35 to then forsake
the premature death self-denial brings.
At death, in a coffin large, perhaps,
no one will shame or condemn me
simply because I ate my fill
and bedded down with Gluttony.
No one will say at my Wake
'My he looks beautifully thin'
rather I fully expect
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Rainbows' End
They found him at the end of his Rainbow;
face down.
Tracking from the beginning
there were swatches of childhood dreaming,
motivating battles and struggles in the seams and creases,
failures and successes revealed in tea leaves;
sometimes smiles, sometimes grief;
but always the Rainbow Ride and Dream.
As he drew closer to it's end
the more he began to count coins in his pot of gold
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Lake of Frozen Tears
To Love No More
is a dreary trek,
a trudge across
frozen ice above
a Lake of Frozen Tears
shed
over Love Lost.
I see the Pillar of Lost Esteem
brimming with weepings;
a Wall of Broken Hearts
each telling their story
in the cacophony;
an Ocean of Salted Wounds
tossed onto the Shores of Unrequited Love.
To Love No More
is to begin
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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And Let Me See Your Circumstances
She said
'How will I know that I love him'
and she said 'you'll know at the time.'
'What time will that be
and why does Time have to be
the decider of my love needs? '
'When your body is ready
and the time is right-
and the person is right-
you will know
and you will be ready for love.'
'So' she said 'love is circumstance? '
'In some ways.'
'But if circumstance is what is required
what about me? she said.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Tub of Potatoes
My grandmother used to say
don't marry for money
but stay open-minded.
She could squeeze a nickel
and make the buffalo feel light-headed;
she could make a dollar out of 15 cent.
Now she was a big woman;
ruled the family roost
with a simple look
and an iron skillet.
Many times I heard that skillet
go thunk!
Another suitor educated.
Another boyfriend righted.
She always took us kids aside
and whispered things like
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Embraced
My eyes devoured her
took her hungrily;
she watched;
watching me wanting her
in that instant where
time dances slowly,
where breathing
rises like an ocean wave
and then comes
crashing
upon the Soul's Shore;
jets of emotional eddies
swirling.
Her chest fills with air;
her breasts
reach out, expanding
toward me
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Hard Scrabble Bubble Gum
Her face was hard
and it had marks on it
and she was smoking her cigarette
when I walked in
to use the John;
she yelled out at me
''You, going up to the casinos
'are ya? '
I said 'Yes
have to use the john.'
'You probably rich,
buy me a drink why don't ya? '
I said 'sure, when I come back'
I came back to stand up
cowboy style
along side her
at the bar
and she started talking to me
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Help
I am conflicted about asking for
or receiving
help;
In one definition help implies
a weakness
I do not want to be mine,
do not want to acknowledge,
indeed instinctively feel
that such help accepted
hinders my own development
and in the end I am weakened.
for that reason.
To jump life's hurdles
requires strong legs
but if I am lifted over each
my legs will be weak
in the end.
and failure sure
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Soul Store
On the door was a sign
which read 'Soul Store.'
Trepidatious, I entered to sit
on the Life Bench
with hundreds of others who
sought to return, purchase,
buy or exchange
Souls they had been issued.
One said 'Mine is defective
I cannot love.'
Another said 'there was mistake
in the delivery address;
a mix up at birth
my sister got the best Soul
and I was left with this.'
She raised her hand
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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