June 10th, 1985 at 6:24 pm
by Rastaban (Poetry, Riddles)
All life-long I have been lover to fire.
Nothing I like better
than my back straight to the heat,
hat off, mouth wide open,
staring up, gulping down to the full
your unintended gifts of food.
My genitals lay exposed before you,
you who must handle me freely.
Unclothed, my quivering penis
stands in life-long hard-on.
You don’t seem to notice — suddenly
down comes your hand. You pull me about
by this like a handle:
you never hesitate.
Sexless you call me
but into my lipped interior insert
your precious fluids.
The meat of your life, the bread,
these are my nourishment. Digested,
unused, I regurgitate
them up again, to the delight of your hearty appetite.
You call me strange one,
almost all head, you say.
You peer into my wide mouth,
you dentist searching for cavities
in a toothless hollow.
You inspect my very insides
till I have no secrets. You plumb me,
then you put on my hat; my mouth is closed.
Comments
June 10th, 1985 at 6:21 pm
by Rastaban (Featured Poems, Poetry, Riddles)
What kind of songbird am I, anyway?
I, who have never sat in a tree
or pecked at the bark of a pine.
I, who have never nested in forest
or flown with the wind, smelling the excitement
of a flock of birds on wing.
—Why dream? I couldn’t fly anyway.
I am a captive of man.
Man
who granted me a voice
only to deny me a song of my own.
Who bids me to sing at his pleasure
running me around
until I think I must finally run out of breath.
Until I wish I could die.
Man
he put me in a rut and left me there.
And I can’t escape.
I’m not even caged.
I must be one of Hugo’s miserables.
I am a songbird,
but there is no song in my heart.
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June 10th, 1980 at 6:23 pm
by Rastaban (Poetry, Riddles)
In evening woods I met a snake.
coiled up as if to take
out anyone by the lake.
As night grew in I met a flea
running off so franticly
that the smallness of him frightened me.
In the dark I met a sound
ten hundred yards long and bound
by silence it knocked down.
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June 10th, 1979 at 6:25 pm
by Rastaban (Poetry, Riddles)
TELL YET NONE HEAR
LEAVES YET NONE FALL
BOUND YET I KNOW NO BOUNDS
COLORFUL NO COLOR EVER SEEN
NOURISHING NO STOMACH EVER FED
HELD IN HAND — HAND NEVER TOUCHES ME
FILL YOU UP YOU CAN NEVER BE UNFILLED
SEEN YET NOT THE SEEABLE
FELT YET BEYOND FEELABLE
KNOWN YET AM ONLY KNOWABLE
SAIL AN INVISIBLE SEA
BEHIND A WIND THAT CANNOT BE BREATHED
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June 10th, 1979 at 6:24 pm
by Rastaban (Poetry, Riddles)
Obscure, once seen I am clearly seen.
Voiceless, I tell my tale from my own view.
Dead, I never live.
Living, I may not soon die.
My world wears the unknown face.
I am the answer to the question I ask.
When I wear no clothes
I hide my message beneath my dress.
When you find it hardest to see me, I stare you in the face.
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June 10th, 1979 at 6:23 pm
by Rastaban (Poetry, Riddles)
I grow, yet have no feeling,
and where I always spurt ahead, I get mowed down
and it doesn’t bother me a mite.
Usually noticed but seldom used
I hardly know my purpose.
Yet often I’m painted red;
I must wear this false face
though I have neither eyes nor nose
nor mouth nor ears to hear by.
I am just me, hard and thin.
Pure growth, without sensation. By this I expose
banalities of paint and trim.
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