SURGEONS OR BUTCHERS


Surgeons and Butchers
surgeons or butchers by vagabond ©

surgeons or butchers

pacifism
it sounds good
in theory
but inside
is a cancer that
that needs surgery
an operation that will
free us both
and if they won’t
lie down
and stay still
for us to carefully
remove the growth
then we’ll
cut them open
standing up
and they can die
with it
either way
some blood
must be shed
and
we can be surgeons
or we can be butchers
but this thing
between us
must be settled

-vagabond ©

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted in this space… Share what you like… both on line and off…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1Ot

THE FRONTLINE HAS US SURROUNDED


the frontline
the frontline has us surrounded by vagabond ©

the frontline has us surrounded

satellites and cameras
have replaced faith with fear
the evidence of this has been recorded
as constant reminder of the failure
god forgive us for not doing more
the frontline has us surrounded
if only we could forget
long enough to imagine
if only the satellite and camera looked away
long enough for us to improvise

-vagabond ©

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted in this space here… Share what you like… both on line and off…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1Of

STILL TOGETHER


still togethter
still together by vagabond ©

still together
(an old school nyc love story)

lamstons the five and dime
in the subway at rockefeller center
where we met
went out of business

the criterion movie theater
in times square
where we went
on our first date
became a toys r us but is vacant now

the crumbling pier on christopher st
where we kissed for the first time
among the trannies
and homeless gay youth
is all fixed up now

little rickie’s on 1st ave and 3rd st
selling things no one needed
but everyone wanted
with the black and white photo booth
is gone

nell’s on 14th st
where we did
our midweek clubbing
closed down
and never reopened

domsey’s the thrift shop warehouse
where i bought back the leather jacket
i painted for you
that was stolen from save the robot’s
moved to a storefront

cbgb the church of punk rock
where ricanstruction played
couldn’t afford
to renew the lease

everything rough
and jagged
and strange and wonderful
and sad and broken
but working
is gone

but you and i are still together
living proof new york
real estate agents want to forget
you and i remain defiant

still together
living proof
of a new york no one
believes in
not anymore
anyway

-vagabond ©
Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted here in this space… Share what you like… both on line and off…
Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1NX

TEAR GAS DANCERS


Tear Gas.jpg
tear gas dancers by vagabond ©

tear gas dancers
(for ferguson and baltimore and blm)

are you still
firing tear gas
to try and stop us?
we have no more tears
for you
we dance in the smoke
that you can’t hide in any longer
we’re shadows
advancing in the tear gas
making our sorrow visceral
to give our worth weight
we dance over your tear gas canister
unable to choke
like the spirits of vengeance
we are required
to be
because you refuse
to let go of this premise
of superiority
we dance in the smoke
as we come for you
to clear the air
to come
to an understanding
to come
face to face
so you can mourn the loss
of your hate
as we whisper the names
of those you shot down
on the street
for being

-vagabond ©

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted in this space here… Share what you like… both on line and off…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1Nv

NO REFUGE


NO REFUGE
no refuge by vagabond ©

no refuge

the lies
piled up like dead bodies
the optimism
bled and
drained from us
at every turn
even acquiescence
yields no reward
for the massive

and rebellion
is still seen
as a means of calling
the kind of attention to yourself
that everyone will tell you
is slow suicide
but is actually state homicide
when they put you
down by law

as if living were forever
and there was some safety
to be found
somewhere
everything a lie
all of it
as if the lies eventually
become truth
if repeated ad nauseum
and there’s no refuge
anywhere
not in acquiescence
or rebellion
and if there’s no refuge
then what do we have to lose
but the illusion?

-vagabond ©

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted here in this space… Share what you like… both on line and off…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1Nc

FILM UNMAKING


film unmaking

film unmaking

an image
or a concept
catches my minds eye
a story forms around it
the idea takes root
screaming
from within me
to be made
i think about
calling the crew
the usual suspects
jeff, omar, sam, joe
to make it
and then the ground
grows soft
from beneath me
and the practicality of things
mentions something about money
and begins to take everything apart
and it all starts to sink
the idea
still screaming inside me
to be made
like a spoiled child
full of privilege
and demanding more life
driving me mad
with frustration
so i take it to the killing room
in my mind
and strangle it
until it’s dead
leave it on the killing floor
with the rest of the ideas
i strangled before it
and then i mourn
in a quiet rage

-vagabond ©

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted here in this space… Share what you like both off line and on…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1MW

HOW YOU LIVE


HOW YOU LIVE
how you live by vagabond © (for mumia)

how you live
(for mumia)
“the state would rather give me an uzi than a microphone”
– mumia abu-jamal

it was decided somewhere
that i was something to fear
my existence
makes them uncomfortable
they didn’t like
what i had to say
they pictured me
killing a cop
and framed it
to hang above
an electric chair
on death row
thinking they could
muzzle me like a dog
with fear of death

but i live my life
behind the walls
behind the locks
behind the doors
behind the guards
23 solitary hours a day
with an hour outside
also alone
it seems my voice
instills fear in them still
with all that power
they still fear
a man in a cell
with a voice

in court
i forced them
to take down
the framed picture of me
hanging over the electric chair
and that scared them
even more
so they conspired hep c for me
and refuse to treat me
putting the picture
over my prison hospital bed
thinking
there’s more than one way
to kill a man
they fail to realize
that it’s not
how you die
but how you live

-vagabond ©

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month posted here in this space… Today being the birthday of celebrated author and journalist US held political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal i decided today’s art and poem would be for him… Share what you like… both online and off…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1MD

less than ideal art and ideas for a less than ideal world…

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