Foreword

This is
a death threat for no one,
a suicidal promise to someone,
a reaper's ransom note.


This is
slow dancing to the last dance,
waking up to
new millenniums and apocalypse,
falling asleep to the soothing sounds
of Armageddon and Revelations.


This is
Americana dreams wrapped in a mock-masonic scene,
visions implanted by demons,
veterans day and 4th of July themes,
playing superman and dead presidents-
the only heroes worth honoring were often fallen.


This is
the mind bottled up inside, caged behind the skull,
a madman's funeral procession, a joker's last hand-
angels die young and hellions a little sooner.


This is
the poetry that courses through my veins,
emitting a stench so poignant
it could make you vomit-
secrets of a genius that you'll love,
want and crave me for,
and I will never accept myself
because of this curse-
that has been birthed
from generation to generation
of women bearing daughters to plant the seed in,
to carry the burden of breast-feeding humanity-
you want beauty,
you want nurturing,
walk, crawl or stumble to the threshold of my world
and I will adopt you as my own,
I will sew morals and light inside of you,
just so you can grow and leave me
as all children making their way
in this world must do.


This is
putting too much value in time,
placing too much dependence on stability,
walking the fine-line for a victory lap
down a one-way in a narrow mind.
and I don't know you
and I don't have to like you-
because ignorance is bliss!


This is
because you say so
and I think not-
so we argue about choice and reason,
logic and sense all too common-
we conclude that we have nothing further to discuss
and there is not enough purpose left to live
and there is even less to die.


This is
holding onto a dream
afraid to wake,
because what I need
I posses in surrealness-
and when I wake there is never enough to go around,
no matter how thin I am willing to stretch myself-
so just throw down
and we'll get this war over,
before it breaks out
and we are faced with wide-spread epidemic
instead of confined disease.


This is
all the pictures
and all the movies etched in memory,
vividly,
so I can revisit the lost parts of me,
so I can reclaim what has been stolen,
so I can buy back what was borrowed.


This is
misunderstood teenage angst
arriving 2 years too late,
a quarter life break-down-
rising up to rattle the weep-season
and make life worth breathing again.


This is
seeing you every morning
and counting your strands of hair every night-
getting lost in the sound of thunder,
the song of storm
rising from your chest,
the hymns you whispered from a death bed
I was kneeling in prayer next to-
the last will and testaments,
final words and wishes,
eulogies and obits-
all dressed in sabbath day best,
memorial service laid to rest-
god I miss you.


This is
soft lips offering a first kiss,
pink bellies and rosy fingertips,
hips and thighs better in brail,
petal surprise of tongue that reveals-
a moment non-toxic,
you staring at me,
finding the void in me
filling the space
with relation-
I understand your pain,
so take me now
because I need the escape.


This is
now
and every moment inthecenter that I will love you,
and
this is
tomorrow
and every lifetime I will live
wandering the miles of your continent,
never growing hungry or cold,
taking shelter beneath your shadow-
I will give up my cup
so you can drink from the fountain of enlightenment,
and I will lay down my life-
you can bury me,
harness my life-force to fertilize the ground,
so you can plant the world you long to see grow-
spread my ashes
across your garden of roses
to make it bloom
until everything you see is beautiful-
but everything
in the perception of your eyes is beautiful.


This is
change
and
never again
and what's left
remains
because simplistic normalcy
will out-live bold and trendy.


This is
a lover's-letter to a soul mate,
a prayer for a kindred-spirit,
a post-card from a friend.

by Amberlee Carter

Comments (6)

Amberlee This is one of the best poems I've read in this site. You are an amazing poet.. HBH
I could feel your emotion. Very good poem.
Good? This is so good it glued me to my seat, made me snap at interruptions from my cockatoo ('Edna wants seed, please') and I must admit that I unashamedly say that I love a person who is capable of such poetry. I think you are in a class, perhaps not all by yourself, but at least at times you rise above, far above good poetry and reach heights that the rest of us can only dream about. Not meaning to put anyone down, least of all myself (: -) , but this poem smells so pleasant, tastes so yummie and looks so azure blue, with pink rosettes, and embroidered with a fair amount of ebony, that I can only add your work is stunning. H
GO GIRL ! YOU'RE GOOD. So far I have only read 2 of your works, but I am going back to read more because I am so impressed. HOWEVER I am hoping to read something light and funny. It always helps to have a little humour thrown in for the lighthearted and the person who can't get into the heavier stuff. (Just a comment.)
fantastic work, Amberlee. i like this alot.
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