Jungle Out There – Kyp Harness

 

 

Dried Heroism

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Dried Heroism

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The void comes and contains me.

Who picks the last straw

fated to carry the dynamite?

On shore, near a fern tree

I saw an umbrella break

and a worm exposed to the wind’s wet fury.

 

How I long for more than a nickel’s worth

of comfort in my shoes,

for a spoonful of light in my mouth,

to kiss its translucency and praise midnight

gone.

 

Shame is not my therapy, but fading

fragile as sanity often is,

wanting a sign from God but finding

cars recklessly racing over speed bumps, rain water

flooding in mid-winter and an empty stomach.

 

How to dance on this floor of dread, learn

to feed my horses washed seaweed

when all the grass is dead

 

How to see my future as more

than a tiny creature scurrying helplessly

in the folds of an infant’s hand  

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© 1991 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

 

First published in “Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine” November 2018

https://vitabrevisliterature.com/poems/dried-heroism-a-poem-by-allison-grayhurst/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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The Sea Monster – Kyp Harness

 

 

***~~~~~THE SEA MONSTER~~~~~****

The days are so frightening
My dreams are full of lightning
I just got back from fighting
In the war

My very kind companions
Left me shell-shocked and abandoned
When all that love and understanding
Went out the door

Come on mama, save me
Come tell me I’m not crazy
When I say I’m seein’ sights that amaze
I’ve never seen before

As we stood with hopes subsidin’
And we looked to the horizon
The ol’ sea monster was risin’
From the ocean floor

We started out believin’
That the deal was square and even
Before charity and reason
Went by the side

In the battle clash of visions
Hollow greed and cheap ambition
Left each one in the prison
Of their mind

Come on mama hold me
I remember what you told me
All about the people blind and lonely
Livin’ in a diamond mine

As our hearts were torn with pity
We looked to the town and to the city
And saw the ol’ sea monster swiftly
Risin’ from the other side

There were strategies and ruses
False concern and bad excuses
There were banners, flags and nooses
Flyin’ in the wind

We were distracted and sedated
All our sins were elevated
And all that could have saved us
Was trampled in the sand

Come on mama, love me
With your love so far above me
Come flirt and turtledove me
To the end

As we try to find the sacred
And the courage to stay naked
As the ol’ sea monster comes shakin’,
Steppin’ to the shore again

 

© 2018 Kyp Harness

Years Before His Resurrection

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Years Before His Resurrection

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   On the sidelines

in a tale as lasting as fairy tales

he recounted the details

of his Russian heritage,

several centuries past.

            Through an open window

he stretched his neck and laughed

at all the sidewalk walkers

walking beneath him.

            With tortured eyes and soft, cold skin,

he spent his time playing piano in candle light, sometimes

counting his collection of exotic butterflies.

            He longed for death or for some substance

in the wind. He caught the night between

his eyelashes, reading Nostradamus outload.

            Behind closed curtains he nourished the cavity within

by reciting the prayers of obscure saints, offering appeasement

to his guilt that no hope could overcome. He was not

            a typical man, not proud, not tender,

but full of churning lava, full like a storm cloud

before the storm, like the belly

of a soon-to-be mother, full and focused

like a predator sensing

the frightened heart of its prey.

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© 1990 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

Published in “Chicago Record” November 2018

https://magazine-record.blogspot.com/2018/11/years-before-his-resurrection-on.html

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Something New

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Something New

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I hold my love before you

in the silver eye of winter.

I nudge myself from a restless year,

dancing upon the crust of a breaking wave.

I feel the taste of Japanese ginger enter my mouth.

My head is full of phantoms. My fingerprints

are held hovering inches from fire.

Starships and everglades are overturned.

Thumbs are caught in car doors.

The blunt scythe of Death carves, shredding

history’s figures of ruthless pride.

Ideas of beauty change from century to century

but not ambition, not the way

the ego demands to be heard,

regardless of brutality or waste.

I open the empty pantry. I write down names

on the pieces of a shattered lamp post.

In the silver eye of winter,

I hold my love before you.

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©1990 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

Published in “Chicago Record” November 2018

https://magazine-record.blogspot.com/2018/11/years-before-his-resurrection-on.html

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Talking To Myself – Kyp Harness – “A Toronto version of a Lucinda Williams or a Nick Cave…he’s a stone genius.” – CBC

http://nodepression.com/article/song-premiere-kyp-harness-talking-myself

https://kypharness.net/

I Dreamt Again

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I Dreamt Again

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I dreamt again

of the past encroaching

like a wet towel, tight

around my clothed body.

I dreamt I felt alone, doomed to dance

on a suspended scaffold’s floor.

 

Among the bitter people I walked,

near their self-pity and inconsolable isolation.

I tried to separate myself, split the heavy air

with my fingers. I tried

to wave their fear into the mouth

of everlasting light.

But love was bitten at the stem,

and the hideous thirst within

grew again like a snake its second, tougher skin.

 

I dreamt I wandered half-made buildings,

where squatters lived, sheltered

in the dank concrete ruins.

I travelled through without shoes, dreaming

of sand-soft ground.

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© 1991 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

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Published in “Synchronized Chaos” November 2018 (under the title “Dream”)

https://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-november-2018-the-things-we-carry/

http://synchchaos.com/15244-2/

 

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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