made well…

made well

hovering
like
a hummingbird
thirsting
for nectar
you press near
to those
you deem
famous
taking endless
selfies
with them
what i wonder
is
what’s missing
in
your life
what do you believe
can be healed
by
touching the hem
of
their existence

 

 

perfectly preserved…

how graceful
she thought
were
her movements
and
words
in the crowd
certain
that no one
noticed
the inconsistencies
of
her flesh
and
soul
with what
she
perceived
them
to be
although
the mirror
only
in certain light
seemed
to suggest
that
some minor changes
had occurred
but
such changes
must be
viewed
as mere
adaptations
to
the world
not
the result
of
a decaying body
and
soul
she was
as
well
preserved
as
a living lie

impressionist…

impressionist

a lifetime
traveling the world
being someone else
someone
famous
singing
their songs
copying
their voice
never really being
seen
as
self
just
someone else
like
all those
who
never sing
their own songs
with
their own
voice
just
a lifetime
fulfilling
the expectations
and
dreams
of
others

con artist…

con artist

it
was gold
but
he told you
it wasn’t
and you
like
every time before
believed in others
more than
yourself
so you
thought
it was worthless
like
the life
you’ve lived
and so you
gave up
on
both

hawk chronicles #13…

copyright cwmartin 2011

jagged edges
of expectation
line the shores
of reason
when
you stare
at me
i am
a predefined
vista
one constructed
from old news reels
adventure photos
and
television commercials
capturing none of
who
or
what
i am
you
see a predator
a bird of prey
to be glorified
or hated
depending upon
which child’s fantasy
you can recall
or
which nightmare
brought a cold sweat
before dawn
but
i say to you
you do not
see
me
nor
do you see
yourself