Inertia Foiled

         I could speak ugly

like a suicide weapon

inflating misery into

a ballooned and final action,

irrevocable.

         I could cry like I was begging –

one leg broken, both legs

unusable, cry in my rejection,

plead pity like a half-crushed

ant.

        I could hide in my comfortable spot,

refusing to move or to attempt a peering-out,

beyond

my visible understanding.

         I could stop and stop forever

but I can’t because

love is stirring, waking

ready to come down the stairs

and share a language, a trust

that overpowers my sluggish mind-flow,

tells me

         I could just receive

and dedicate my purpose

alone

to this sensation.

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

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Published in “Setu” April 2024

https://www.setumag.com/2024/03/Lit-Art-Culture-Journal.html

https://www.setumag.com/2024/03/poetry-allison-grayhurst.html

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Published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” March 2024

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/03/maelstrom.html

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Published in “Winamop” March 2024

http://winamop.com/ag2400.htm

http://winamop.com/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Cut the Reins

(Romulus over Numa)

         Before equality

was a loophole-word

that meant each-to-their-own,

there were possibilities, retaliation,

convictions that gnawed crazed in the gut,

not tended to as complex calculations.

         Blood was required for those who walked

bare-footed, in chains. Smiles were overlooked

because every movement forward could be attacked

and the attackers were ruthless,

were the upper-cast-surveyors, pursing their lips

for future indulgences and the grand cutting-down.

         Before there was war then there was religion,

rituals to replace the war with locked-in-duty

and unchallengeable hierarchy.

The philosopher king was a king

of masterful manipulation.

With him, peace reigned

as long as the chairs started with

were the chairs stayed with,

each accepting their given seat no matter

its disconnection from dignity or its captivity.

         Better the clarity of servitude than

to decorate the death of freedom

with a bribe, false expectation

and regulated civility.

         Better the sibling-slayer, bared-tooth ruler

over the priest. Better the glutton

owning his transgressions

over the secret-eater, pretending

compassion with charity, and devotion

with upholding traditions,

basing wisdom on semantics, burying alive

the disobedient sex-alive misfits in a room

with a soft bed, a cup of water and an obedience to shame,

         strong enough that they go quietly, underground,

         accepted enough that the perpetrators feel justified,

         fully at ease, appeased from guilt

         by a sanctified brutality.

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

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First published in “Winamop” March 2024

http://winamop.com/ag2400.htm

http://winamop.com/

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.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

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Maelstrom

In preference

instilling

the conditions

of terror

            Fly like a hen

across the field and back

to the barn

            Could there be another dream

worthy of oiling or is there just

inactivity everywhere causing

grid-lock, prolonging depression and time spent

under the rafters watching the game?

            I am somewhere identical to where I was before,

yet labouring under its own Academy – learning

the tricks, discerning the only essential tea

adequate to brew.

There is the other side to this

and I will get there

without therapy or disintegration.

I will get there, intact, not a garment

soiled or torn.

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

.

.

Published in “Setu” April 2024

https://www.setumag.com/2024/03/Lit-Art-Culture-Journal.html

https://www.setumag.com/2024/03/poetry-allison-grayhurst.html

.

.

Published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” March 2024

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/03/maelstrom.html

.

.

Published in “Winamop” March 2024

http://winamop.com/ag2400.htm

http://winamop.com/

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.