Category: Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology

If It Bleeds, It Leads

I was 11 when my capital city crashed down.
At 15, the maniacs stormed Rocky Mountain halls.
9 days later. It was my hometown.
A pipe in the bathroom.
For a day off. For a day off!?

I was 18 when the towers burned.
The angels flew and our stomachs turned.
23 at my University. He blew up on a bench.

Every year since there’s been at least three,
Psychos out on their idiot sprees,
Ruining life’s peaceful sanctity.
The classroom halls. The shopping malls.
The movie premieres. We’re all living in fear.

Talk to each other.
Love one another.
Stop this senseless death, my brothers.
I don’t know the cause.
I don’t know the blame.
But damn, society, aren’t you ashamed?

Diagnosing our generational PTSD.
Billions of good people like you and me.
We want the same things.
Black, white, red, yellow, and brown.
We all just long to live free.

Free from the fear and perpetual wars.
Free from those in search of infamy.
Too many innocent lives walking towards
Heaven’s gate so prematurely.

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology

Witnessing The World

My eyes are scarred by indifference,
But awakened by love every day.
My feet have queued for food oft rotten,
My tattered clothes ache for mending.
What greater pain is there than ignorance?
Dear world, stop your cycles of hate!
Every soul deserves nourishment.

There are no secrets in this life.
Stories’ mad desire to be set free.
In spite of cages, we all have the keys.
We are but puzzle pieces,
Connected by our ancestors’ dreams.
A beautiful artistic masterpiece,
Is just waiting right inside.
Oh how often we deny its existence.
The beautiful duality of life.
Gratitude springs forth from opposites.

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology

I wrote this when I was a teenager.


The Fight…For Right

It can be tough.
Sometimes you feel as though you’ve had enough.
But keep in mind that it’ll get better.
Don’t give up.
‘Cos the minute you stop,
You have made your biggest flop.
If you have a talent,
Use it.
Don’t screw up.
You can make it big.
All you’ve got to do is try.
Then you can get by.
Don’t put yourself down.
If you believe the meanies,
You’ll drown.
You’re in a sea of people.
Some are mean,
Some are kind,
And some never care.
Some will defend,
Or maybe lend a hand.
Others just want your mind to bend.
In the world you must care,
‘Cos as everyone says,
“Life ain’t fair.”
Other times your opinion,
Is the best.
The best thing to give your life zest.
But you are the charm,
That keeps others from harm.
When you know what’s right,
Then only fight,
For what is right.
You can do it.
Never give up.
Don’t screw up.
Remember what’s right,
And you can win that fight.
You know what to do.
Don’t become gum,
On somebody else’s shoe.
You stand up for good,
Even if nobody else will.
You must remember the fight.
The fight.
The fight for what’s right.
Don’t hurt.
Don’t fight.
Unless it’s a fight for right.
Don’t tag along with wrong.
Become good.
In spite of all the wars and fights,
You can still see the peaceful light.
So join the fight for what is RIGHT!

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology

If you grew up in Enid, Oklahoma as I did, and have studied the town’s history, mythology, and artists, you’ll understand the cultural references in this poem that appears in Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology. This poem also appears on the spoken word album Happy Accidents recorded in Enid in March 2015. (This is a repost, as I noticed there was a broken link on the old post.)

Dining with your Skeleton

From the sweet simplicity of wooden sidewalks of yore
Words intricately woven by that judicious James
Your sweet wheat blows
Through the fields where dreamers lay.
The gentle serenade of Hedges
Waltzes with the soulful Mitchell,
carrying me beyond those rough days
Spent struggling for survival.
How I admire your modern day bards,
As they fly on pegasys wings,
Igniting my soul. I study your myths,
From George to Holden to Roye.
You build the statues of my heart,
Painting the dreams unending,
That carry me onward, a rooted rose rock.
I’ve walked your hallowed halls in exile,
With infamous grey evangelicals,
Amid the Roman columns of values,
Silhouetted in skies once inspiring
The likes of Cessna and Woodring, that Musketeer.
Placed my feet solid in red dirt
That may hold not the mummy of that rascal George,
But the Union Patriot turned messiah gopher, Corbett.
They like me never saw your Victory ships,
Nor your Carnegie. Though these days
My eyes oft admire mountains and palm trees,
The faint train whistle carries my heart,
Whispering “Remember your history.”

Oklahoma Poems Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology Poetry

The NaPoWriMo Prompt for today:

And now our (as always, optional) prompt. Today, let’s try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB

Squared

Time to break outside the box.
The weekdays all blur together.
I’m finding ways to pick the locks.
Time to break outside the box.
Life’s big plans are drawn in chalk.
Such plans drift in windy weather.
Time to break outside the box.
The weekdays all blur together.
© 2013 D.L. Lang

This poem was published as a part of Abundant Sparks. Dig it? Grab the book:

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology Poetry

The prompts were of jargon, fortune cookies, and flowers.

Main Street Café

The wide eyed owl sat atop the generator.
He absconded upwind as our eyes met.
I squandered the chance for photos.

The boy with the clove cigarettes
Was indeed a miraculous dunderhead.
The video cyclops captured his willowy frame
As it shifted in mercurial fashion
His shoes kicking dried seaweed to the gutter.

The non-pareil artillery patrolled
As I salted my cheese and truffles.
The general’s ego had launched
His rodomontade apparent.

The elusive cowbird circled
The ceiling fan, escaping twice
The broomstick attacks
Of the curly haired svelte boy
Who glanced biliously at the quahogs
Floating in their tank.

Unfortunate Cookies

You are what you are.
A boring life awaits.
You are going to die.

You were just overcharged.
The soup is poisoned.
Beware the day old sushi.

Victory

Four years ago I planted
Sprigs of rainbowed greens,
My personal victory garden.
A touch of every color
Celebrating a life renewed.
The plot is overrun today,
A sea of green gone wild
Purple flowers dot the scene
As ivy climbs the house.
Indeed the victory is keen
To rear its pretty head.
“I am alive today”, it screams
“I’m grateful I’m not dead.”
Some sprigs of growth
To remind me daily
That transforming are we both.

 
© 2013 D.L. Lang

These poems were published as a part of Abundant Sparks. Dig it? Grab the book:

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology Poetry

NaPoWriMo’s prompt today was to write a personal ad. I kept getting “PO Box 9847” by the Monkees in my head. Here was today’s effort.

Planetary Heartburn

Large single blue sphere.
3rd house down Sun Street.
Corner of Milky Way.
Bad case of indigestion.
Warring bacterium infiltration.
Seeking powerful antacid.
Send suggestions to Dr. Moon.

 
© 2013 D.L. Lang

This poem was published as a part of Abundant Sparks. Dig it? Grab the book:

Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology Poetry