This might be 2 poems, written at the same time??? Thoughts?

Originally penned/published:  Sept 8, 2011

Just found this today, in my inbox. Totally forgot I wrote it and sent it to myself. That inbox… quite full right now, it needs organization. I need to sift.
So this might be 2 poems: 1. A Whisper, 2. Resuscitate.

Or it could stay one, with a better transition. Or I could write a 3rd to follow. Or do both: a third and improve transitions.

Thoughts??? (that’s all these really are anyway, right? Thoughts on paper.  :)

Thanks in advance, all who pay attention. Even those who read and don’t comment. I appreciate you too.  <3



A Whisper


I heard a woman screaming in the middle of the night.

Did you hear it?


Did you hear her insides curl and twist

Letting out an attack on her being from within


These screams,

vocal manifestations of the most intense pain,

pain, intentional,

And of disbelief.


They hurt us,

Our ears,

If we listen.


They hurt our hearts if we feel them.

If we let their pain inside

We can feel it

Absorb it.


People rarely do,

They are so closed,

Like a block of steel sat on a desk with no bigger purpose than to just be there.


Being is cool.

Our beings are cool,

But their utility is underused if we don’t engage them.


These beings.

Coming forth in the middle of the night.

Gathering light and wisdom, words wrapped around ideas

Like cloth on skin.


These ideas could be naked in the sunlight.

These beings could be naked in the sunlight.


I heard a woman screaming in the middle of the night.

Did you hear it?


Was it you?



You’ve gotta get out of these dry climates, people

You’ve got to get out

Dry climates do not yield enough food for subsistence

You will always be attacking each other for your survival

The fittest may win

But they are only fit in body.

These dry climates yield forth super-beings

Excess in physique.


But the opposite of excess is recess

To re-cess, to fall backward.

These excessive physical beings

They recess in their opposites:

Emotional, intellectual, spiritual.

Their inner beings on recess,

Out to play in fields

Reckless abandon of self and society.


These recesses are play in a field of work,

Fields stretched far and wide but not tilled.

The un-tillable, dry earth

Sucked naked from within, without

There is no fruit here.

No offerings from within brought to the fore

It’s just desert.


It will dry you out people.

You must move.

If you seek to live,

You must move.