Poems of Life
A local poet shares his writings based on real life.
The chickens of the ages
stuffed into stifling cages
barreling down
devil’s highway
on a path of no return…
hunting, scratching, pecking
awaiting the butcher
for the chopping
of the head.
I see your eyes
frantically flicking,
do you feel like i do
tearing up, fearing up
filled with dread.
Hey mama hen
where have you been
i need you
did they already feed you
to the maker of the bread.
Choking up
drowning on the tear inside
i can’t run
i can’t hide
for the butcher man cometh
to taketh a meal
for his ravenous bride.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2012
All rights reserved
Going Home
Floating thru the Palouse
Over field
Open ground
Rolling desert Spring infested hills
Gold, green, gray
Silos popping up
Water spraying
The gathering dust storm
Clinging to vines, leaves, roots
Trippy thunderen tornado
Life defying moonscaped scene.
Birds abound, hawk
Posing atop post in ground
Who who who are you?
Staring me down
Where have you been
My rhetorical friend?
Wink wink snort.
White clouds
Little white cloud
Spread lotus top of mound
Puff puff
No rain today signora.
Streaming towards higher hills
Filled with a thousand crucifix
Turning spinning around
Mankind impaled on blades
So sharp so sound
Until spun off
To earth
To space
Gravity pulled
Splat to ground.
Warning – go no further
You who are entering
The city of spirits
The son of man has found.
Going home, going home…
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2012
All rights reserved
The End
The atomic storm descended
From the heavens offended
Then took our breath away.
It stole the leaves
From the trees.
It tore the trees
From their roots.
The storm sucked the roots
From the soil
And left the land
Deserted, bone dry, charred.
The fire filched the fish
From the river
And severed the river
From the sea.
The sea remains
As do I
To chew the sinew,
To siphon the marrow
From our bones
To be tossed upon
The pyretic heap
Warming us this night,
Pray,
‘Til the morning keep.
This is the end my friend.
Dear Lord, deliver us from evil,
Amen.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2011
All rights reserved
Haiku, haiku!
Jumping up and down
I hate you
I am not you
you peasant
unpleasant
stepping on my
effervescence
Mind over matter
this is the matter
I am not you
I am not you!
Oh you of
Asian persuasion
we are one
we are won ton
of the universe
You speak
I do not listen
You speak
I hear
but do not listen
a screamy maniacal
magical wizard
The time for
decision has come
we are one
we are won ton
of the universe
Can you
-hear me
-see me
-be me?
-beeone
in this
soupy existence?
Living with and
without you
with and
within
nothingness
My mind is
slate blank.
You, you!
must go to heaven
go to hell
just go up there
away from me
screaming
no submission
I am not you
I will not have you
I can taste you
and it is bitter
Jumping up and down
and out of here!
Seattle
Street
Sanguine.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2012
All rights reserved
An Unfinished Work
Abraham, oh Abraham
Paradox of a man
Wherefore art thou,
Oh Abraham?
Who will lead us from our wanton ways?
Who, this day, will summon
The better angels of our nature?
Who, this day, shall set us free?
After more than one half million vessels
Having spilt their full content,
Having consecrated battle fields of green,
Having nobly advanced a new
birth of freedom,
Having secured the bonded-man’s dream…
And, yet, the gulf remains.
A chasm of racism divides
Brother against brother,
Sister against sister,
A house divided cannot stand.
More than one half million vessels slain,
As the woe due to those
By whom the offence came.
Multitudes paid the ultimate price
In purchase of the national stain…
And, yet, the gulf remains.
Through the mystic chords of memory
Abraham speaks to us the living,
Let us strive to finish the work we are in;
To bind the nations wounds
With malice towards none
With charity for all
In order to form a more perfect union.
Let us seek God’s sacred grace.
Our blood hath runneth together
Blending brothers and sisters,
In the mystic river of sorrow and hope.
Almighty God, we beseech thee,
Let us be as one.
Copyright © Ed Corrigan 2010
All Rights Reserved
Italic quotes –
Abraham Lincoln 1860’s
A little poem for our beautiful grandson, Liam
December 18th, 2011 at 1:00 pm by Ed CorriganChristmas’s To Come
Now I lay me down to sleep
A sometimes kind
A sometimes wicked
Soul for Saint Nick to keep
Under his wing
Then leave under the tree
For grandson Liam
To have a peek
To give a nod
And a wink,
Perhaps a smile
For his old grandad
Who received so much
And gave so little.
I bequeath freely
A gift of life
A gift of love
A gift of Irish angels
Watching over Liam
From heaven above.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2011
All rights reserved
Occupy Mall Movement
The good soldiers go marching on
from dusk until dawn
answering a call to war
“We want more and more and more.”
A war cry heard from
Wall Street to Main Street
and only the strong survive
a relentless debit/credit tide.
One soldier is down
on aisle number five
a Target driven broken heart.
Step over, fly forward
Onward Christian soldiers
God is on our side.
Flank left, flank right
keep up the good fight.
We must:
Consume
Subsume
Ex womb
Untomb
Exhume
a hidden treasure
the source of our pleasure.
Pepper spray those
who dare obfuscate
the discounted
American dream.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2011
All rights reserved
A fluttering storm of yellow
Leaves
Butterflies from the sky
Bursting forth the tree line
Across the black, wet road
Floating…flying…filling
The air
With apostles of the wind.
Autumn leaves defying a heavy rain
Falling divinely to vinyl road
Smearing all order and borders
Of middling yellow lines.
Adorning the blues
Of my worried mind
Strapped in listening to
A sad song
So loud
It almost bursts ear
And tongue,
A Bumble bee sadness sets in.
All could be wrong
But for the yellow leaves
Blowing
Blurring
Stirring
Joyful tears
In my soul.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2011
All rights reserved
In honor of Jack Kerouac – America’s great Beat writer/poet
October 8th, 2011 at 2:48 pm by Ed Corrigandon’t know jack
what if i were jack kerouac
would that be
wac
or wut?
i would know the perfect
word to write
every time
i needed a line
is this too much rhyme?
if i were jack kerouac
i’d be cuul all day
beat in every way
seattle blue
if i wanted to
Criss crossing
screaming
across america
stories looking for me
if i were he.
was it all in his head
those amazing things
he wrote and said
or was it shoved in
like meat to a grinder
making a massive meat burger
from not so thin air?
the traffic light just
turned red
it really messed up
my head.
jack kerouac is dead and
if i were he
who
would
be me?
cuul de sac is the nu b wac. beautiful beat…lives on…
jack uac is jazzdelicious, lost in space baby…
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2011
All rights reserved
Tears formed in my dry eyes
Hearing the names
One by one by one
Nine Eleven Eleven
All good souls
Spring to heaven
Bodies pulverized
Vaporized
Fountains of youth
Spirits in the air
Everywhere
A child lost his father
I miss you dad
They stand on the remains
Of those not walking
This earth again
Remembered
Memorialized
But not found
This most sacred ground
A mother lost her son
My heart is broken
A wife lost her husband
I love you still
Water water everywhere
Tears mist rain
They will not be
Back again
This most sacred ground
They walk on the remains
Kneel on the remains
Children run and laugh
On the remains
As children do
As children will
Until the end of time
Copyright © ed Corrigan 9/11/11
