Keg

[uncle-keg]

ars gratia artis/ars poetica poem

Art for the sake of art-

requires vulnerability,

but I don't know if I'm able

for a part of me

to be left out on the table.

Not carefully carved

like thanksgiving turkey,

more like last night's discared dinner

not saved or cleared, out of lethargy,

and beginning to stink.

I wouldn't dare to take a bite

or try to reheat it;

attempting to give it new life.

That'd only accentuate the stench,

resurrecting the past,

and making me wretch.

Though in doing so, it may finally pass.

[uncle-keg]

Fall’s Farewell

From the hospital window

on a bleak autumn mourning,

I watch the last leaves fall–

like my hope for our future.

[uncle-keg]

Left Unread

For every Helmet for my Pillow–

How many memoirs go unpublished?

Their poems left unrecited.

The words long written down

never to be bound by our cultural consciousness;

left to rot–       in their pockets,

slowly washed away with crimson blood

or blown to shreds from falling rockets.

Their silent echoes hushed by the battlefield;

the shadows of their memories

never illuminated nor revealed.

The writings of the dead;

their remains forever left unread.

[uncle-keg]

Untitled Love Poem

Pulling you closer to me, as we melt away in each other's arms; where I could spend– all day.

You make me feel so at rest with your hands caressing my chest...

Looking up into those eyes of rich dark chocolate, puts me in a trance– making me love being alive.

My smile in their reflection never seemed so radiant, credited all to your affection.