Joe Fraccalvieri

That she makes no attempt at poetry
would be better to say of the spoken word
she has thrown forth
as having the affect
...

There once was a bird who didn't know he could fly
He didn't even know who he was… there were no others nearby
But then one day, as he looked up at the sky
He saw birds, like himself… There… Way up high
...

Do we not keep time with faithful clocks…
Moor our ships, by the shore, beside dry wooden docks?
When we sleep, do we dream below the same yellow stars
Are we here, on a planet, between Venus and Mars?
...

Why do I even bother to pray...
When, after all… You already know
What I'm getting ready to say
...

There are things which can‘t be measured
By scales or rules… By schools of fools…
Instruments, tools, or time--
The extent of hope, the weight of despair,
...

It takes but a single shaft of candlelight,
for darkness to be defied...
A simple sound, though very slight, and silence is denied
The softest touch from the one you love
...

When the music disappears...
When the melody melts to the sound of colored wind chimes
and settles itself within nostrils of the wind...
Living in breezes that flow like blood
...

I've no reason to question the dark
Nor does my mind ponder upon light
My brain does not stand back
and question the existence of such things
...

The lives we share are like clothes we wear,
in shades of black and brown--
blue and green... colors in between...
That certain grin of a circus clown
...

Freedom to laugh, in the face of fear
when you'd rather do that than pray

Freedom to cry or to shed just a tear
...

the mind
processing thought
possessing flight
proceeding forth with the speed of light
...

The world was consumed by Satan-- the Liar
Men's faith was entombed… Christ's body, exhumed
The Church and its Pope, placed on a pyre
I witnessed a land that was filled with disease
...

There's nothing to keep… Nothing to own
Even the things that we reap,
are not ours to be sown
...

New shovel--
Feel its weight
Stab the earth
Splattered mud-- its blood
...

That's what they said--
in whispers, they spoke-- soft, and low

Hearing their voices inside my head
...

He might have died during that first day
Maybe it was he who was the first casualty,
killed on the battlefield--
by the very shot heard 'round the world…
...

I face an uphill battle--
each time I go to war
I hear the sabers' rattle…
I fear the cannon's roar
...

And when the day is over… they will come home… and say
Look-- the wind was here
Do you not see how the things upon this table have been moved
...

On silver wings you'll see him sail
with eagle's claw and falcon's tail

On atomic rockets he will stride
...

There in the background-- among familiar faces
where they take you-- bewildered, blind, and bound
Never sharing with you the faintest clue
Never leaving behind any traces...
...