Fly Swat:

a poetry book

By Kelly Cecil

love is missing from the TV shows

in my family we said I love you more than once a day
anti-art
trying to block the air waves
suffocate the audience with betrayal

the human heart does exist

and must resist
upon this wish I must insist
you resist
these men will choose for you the easiest enemy to hate

at the end of the day

you, yourself
are all of these things
so judge now
for yourself
what judgment brings
and remember that this flower is vibrating
and so are these bees
and you are not separate from any of these

from an unintelligible seed

to a coherent seedling
from a seedling
to an articulate vegetable
and then to a song
a poem
a fruit
a flower
significant, ripe and potent

moanin, wailin and

caterwallerin

how do I make it go away?

but, but it helps to ease the pain
O Lord O Lady
show me who to listen to
you always do
water flows in
and water flows out three ways

Be an artist Kelly.
yes maam
a world in a raindrop
hello spider
go eat you some flies homie

spell
peace
an end to senselessness
beautiful spider
like a flower of electricity
like an electric flower
on the tips of tongues
left drying in cathode blue
plasma hearth and home
distracted adventure
vicarious virtual bi-location
a lending and borrowing slave
a trade for slavery
a trade for slaves
a trade for a slave

write on paper
like blotter paper
like a newspaper or a concert poster
a little sign with some white wire says
for president
of an empire of make believe

I prefer the stillness of thee

I dig the way you breathe
I feel your taste
and everything
Come on back home with me
Im all on my knees
and things
your kingdoms of suited queens
all is left for dreams of love
that is so true

the voice is quicker than the pen

and more potent than the screen
just at that moment you look away
the sun
still shining

Wanna be a fairy tale believer

believe Im gonna find her

may our hearts beat with Strength

may we cut a hole in the wall?
the artist with her compost toilet
the propagandist with her media money machines

I sing
from the south land
mud that Im made of

you become laughing monsters

to the enslaved
and the world goes on
that continuation of our classic madness
if I am harming any thing it is for natures sake
if I am harming any one it is being forcefully extracted from me
if I am harming any body
its me
it becomes real
life, death, faith
how grateful are we?
we who can dream outside of sleep
and walk around with reasonably healthy faces
with bruised hearts beneath
O the lies that have been told
and the lies that have been believed in
I believe in a time
where you believed in me
but here I am now
away from thee
fearful and disgusted
spending my hours stopping the bleeding
if the truth is something then its something worth reading

1:11 AM

the conductor in music

the general in war
remember when it was a living thing
prophets, visions and magical dreams like love
but the choir is singing about war
the battle hymns are radiating from the people
in the little towns and from the skyscraper steeples
the poets go mad
and their tears turn to blood
and the bluebirds..

1:11 PM

to almost have a dream and

then not to have it at all
my pen wants to express the prose with the abstract
and the abstract words in prose
peaceful rest
humble nest
of tears and tobacco leaves

a burn on my hand from a thrift store toaster oven

in the shape of the sign of Virgo
moonlight could you just not go?
Sun and you together?
Keep yourself round?

Ive just been lost in this place

thrown off by your wicked ways
responsibility of the state
bound by law
every color
all colors
rhymes and music
and maybe it was all meant for commercial advertising

a lost voice and art

a language in the dark of light
some left words that come
I feel like
sometimes like
the last few drops of the big bottle of life

theres clouds everywhere

but shes up there

I wasnt afraid to be born

I cant say that I remember it well
I dont like suffering
if I was president Id repeal pain
abolish life feeds on life
end sexual violence
and remove desire
silly
silly little boy
have you no ambition?

poetry is born from the flames of failed

conversation

my kitty are love

the warm reply of sanity
in the cold beautiful dark morning
trip hop low voume
subtle soul
a mothers love put into a man
more than a mother can understand
head, heart
husband and wife
leaning ever toward the greater feeling inside
spaceless, timeless
true love
may the word never be worn out like some old tire
something more like fire
gentle present
with humble gratitude

love and like a fire that burns up

like a breath that has breathed
midst and in the midst of madness
middle of everything
lineage of the ones who
placed names on everything
be ye or be ye not?

liquids
room temperature
combustible flora
female shaped mustard bottle
rushing AC and a cricket does her cricketing
timeless, endless, ageless duress
a pool of unfortunate beauty

everyone expresses their soul

sometimes its inside the lines
sometimes it is not
sometimes it is by choice
sometimes not
sometimes its face value
sometimes just a glance
inside is always what we long for
warm and inside

END
copyright 2016