More WIP

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQj4zr9YdzU
I'm only posting that link for the line, "I wanna hear a poem where ideas kiss similes so deeply metaphors get jealous." His delivery leaves something wanting, but that's an awesome line.

Anyway. Here's two works in progress that I'm posting to try to make some sense of.

Untitled

warbled songs of repentance
the occupation of the ancient choir
until the can break for
mrs b's cookies             for the body
gossip about the minister's queer son       for the soul

just a dozen feet away
the choir director's wife
leads a mother/newborn yoga class while focus on the family plays on the radio
pilfered from the nursery

travel down the hall
with the hideous rusted pink runner
and cheap carpeting
in the administrative office you will find a woman
crying
because she wore jeans today
her supervisor implied she had lax morals

this is a big city church
with Concerns and Worries
and a new youth pastor every five years
keeping disenchanted youth entertained really burns you out after a while

Untitled Two

when there is nothing in my heart
that wants to let itself be written
i go for a walk
to a place with people

last saturday i went to Whyte ave and
bought a bagel
and a cup of tea
you know, oil of bergamot is a natural antidepressive

pay for said bagel and tea
hand the few coins i pilfered from
my jar of change
the woman behind the counter smiles but there's something wrong with her smile
it's not all there
it's a smile that lost something
or maybe her eyes?
yes her eyes have lost something

i stare while she is uncomfortable

sir
here's your change

she says as i realise

you saw someone die

she asks me to sit

i was twelve
how do you know?

I don't know
I just guessed

oh

i was twelve
it was a homeless man

she says, and i get the feeling this is her confession
i am the priest, and i feel i should avert my eyes or ask her questions but she just goes on

i watched some kids beat the shit out of him
i didn't get help
and i watched him die

she didn't say anything more
i handed her my tea

you know,
oil of bergamot is a natural antidepressive



That last one really needs work. It has potential though. Ah, well. Life moves on, and I have ale.