The One Percent

They are hidden, the mythical they,
in the details of business from day to day
helping, harming, nudging, farming
ceaselessly upset by the peaceful, disarming...

Theories are useful, some men would say,
in the managing of money and planning of play
buying, selling, directing, impelling
forever content to grow fat and start smelling...

Too much excess, has spilled from our dish
and bled out our coffers for the cause of the rich
living, surviving, scheming, conniving
intent on construction by poor men depriving

Let one man stand tall, atop millions of bodies,
impressing himself with constructing lotteries
grabbing, leeching, killing, preaching
with apt disregard for his actions impeaching

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poem by Poet Dragon
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Poetry and Prayer

When hopelessness or passion's throes ignites us,
lost emotion casts confusion everywhere.
When hatred of our flesh's prison grates us,
how much easier is forgetting that we care?
Where we turn to in the furnace glare is telling,
whether up or in is more than circumstance.
Where we run to seeking comfort is our heart's truth
just a cry for absolution's withered chance.
Do we run the risk of giving up the certain
for subjective hells of sanity and science?
Do we easily forget how fast we're broken,
that we've never been a race for self reliance?
Is salvation such a dangerous conclusion
can we not believe the father or the wraith?
Is creation just a fallable illusion
isn't lack of proof a tete a tete with faith?
It's funny where the arguments can take us,
hither tither, yonder yore, or anywhere.
It's funny how, when sanity starts slipping,
we're occupied with poetry and prayer.

poem by Poet Dragon
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You make me smile

I love your expressions
the way they hesitate to change
as if judging whether to or not

You're angry with all your attitude
Annoyed with the roll of your eyes
Offended with a quirk of your lips
Seductive with your shoulders
and happy with your whole face

You're beautiful,
I love the way you smile and laugh
even when you're put down or thrown away

You get my jokes, or know very well
when to laugh at them

You're always finding some reason
to be happy, to have fun, to smile
and spontaneously interject in conversation

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poem by Poet Dragon
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My Happy Nothing

Is it the liquid jealousy coursing through me?
Is it the rage?
Is it the thoughts of heinous crime beget upon the humbled mass...
of my soul.

What makes me cry so thoroughly. So tenderly?
wanting more.
Never satisfied and always loving the portable thoughts
of my loneliness.

Is there poetry left in me? Or is it the mechanical burn?
Is there emptiness left?
Does my heart hold back the rage of self and incrimination?
Happenstance undeniable.

It is gone, the glue that holds me together.
It has passed beyond, to the sorrow of my shadow and my soul
where nothing cares and nothing wears at me.
My happy nothing.

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poem by Poet Dragon
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Comes Death (A song)

'Out the window lies the future,
where we can see, but never reach her.' - P.N.

All the world is hopeless,
All the sights been seen
all the land is bought up
all the dreams been dreamed

The end comes to everything
to every time - to every place
comes death on wings of fire
cones death on wings of dark

All the years are fruitless
all the work's been done
all the curses lifted
all the prizes won

The end comes to everything
to every dream - to all that's green

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poem by Poet Dragon
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That Night

In the darkness we gather,
scorning the moonlight and the streets.
Carrying our burden,
we make our way to the high school,
behind the houses.
Then duck one by one into the wash
like shadows spilling
up the sandy, tree lined waterway...
walking and laughing.
Nearly two miles later we climb out
crawling through bamboo
Staring at the shadow of the house
reading the warning
that says, 'This house is not for sale! '
Backpacks are opened,
their contents are dispersed with glee.
Taking two rolls each,
we begin to decorate in liberal white.
Soft tendancies unwind.
We wrap them around the chimney,

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poem by Poet Dragon
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Facing a Blank: Part 3

Here I am facing a blank page once again,
searching the white for borders and meaning.
Where my inspiration has dried up like a river
in the dryest summer, in this famine filled place
where meaning dares not tread for fear of death.
Up at five thirty, looking out at the morning
the touch of cold air is only that, a touch
morning twilight glimmers over clouds,
but they bring no hope for change or growth
This life was given for what reason?
to seek out sustenance in this place
Green profusion is everywhere, yet all is dead
the goal is there, but it is uncouth and evil
Why search for such goals, except to fit in
when there are riches beyond the desert?
Every day we gather together in comradeship
and it is like a shallow oasis, there and gone.
Holding together for a deeper pool; love maybe
or for the wine that we consume just to smile.
And each night in hope I look to her face,

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poem by Poet Dragon
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Green Clouds # 3

Hello green things piled like puffs of prancing joy
heaped upon my palate, my brainpan going wild
The butterflies flick their wings and dance on...
then sinking to the earth like poisoned hope

The milk and honey are like starlight kisses
flaking from my eyes until I spin and skew
watching the flesh spread across the sky
blazing into a galaxy of spiraled numbers

Fuzzy blares like raindrops beating me to death
at once I am peaceful and at war with nothing
There is a grateful aching in my breast
wanting freedom like a spark or spatter of rain

Simpler times lay ahead and across my path
remnants of a crumbled empire of silver lining
where the clouds gathered and their beauty tore free
until the sky shouts thunder as the ground hisses back.

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poem by Poet Dragon
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Working Metaphore

Work is like an island in an ocean of time
Landing on this shore felt like paradise
But the island is small and quickly grows boring
I am standing in the water, looking out as I work

Time passes in portions of half an hour
Wave upon wave of life slipping down the tide-line
I am deciding whether to let go and wash away with it
Or hold on and climb the beach again

How many islands are in this ocean?
I gaze out and see a few just waiting for me
Can I swim to them, will they take me?
In the water between them, is there love lurking?

Changes are on the horizon, as a tsunami
Rolling towards this island invisibly, towards me
None of the islands will survive it, I fear
Or maybe only I will be washed away into oblivion

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poem by Poet Dragon
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Praecaveo Lectoris (Reader, Beware)

We watch the fireflies flicker
dim and dangerous in the darkness
and dream of stars above so bright
that they outshine the moon

We laugh at water rushing in around us
as we sink, sink, sink
and drown eventually
in our fears and even our hope

We shape the heavens in our dreams,
wondering at the impossibilities
and glitter at the clouds,
and dance for the stars and sing for the lost

We look at one another,
laughing, grinning, joking, enjoying...open our eyes
and gasp at the mirror before us
throwing back nightmares and fear

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poem by Poet Dragon
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