Straws.

Straws

By: M. MacMinn


My mind is running wild
it cannot catch it's breath
I'm torn beneath my fingers
sense-full beyond boundaries

Making stories my life
and strangers my friends
Each distant in the darkness
vanishing in the breeze

She kicks the bee's
jabbing the hive
Awaking a stir
with the creatures inside

Overrun and tormented
My hand, leading the cause
My mind, checking the bank
My eyes, clasping at straws



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Bus Notes

Bus notes

By: M. MacMinn


Sandals on the sidewalk, abandoned
left, forgotten, lost
As if the owner was snatched
kidnapped, abducted

A stranger kicks them off the street
in the grey of morning

Lost on a bus, filled with children

Floating in a steel box, surrounded
Robot voices penetrate the air, like tacks in flesh

Anonymous conversations invade my psyche

The sun is shinning and the fat are sunburned
this day is never ending

Like the poor man next to me
dying of some random disease, slowly
very slowly

Useless conversation,
we should discuss the weather next


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Sex with Coffee

Sex with Coffee

By: M. MacMinn

Drifting in a picture,
self created and shameless
Black, hot like coffee,
fires upon my lap,
screaming fuck, FUCK!

A call for attention
cries from my groin
Here's looking at you,
piece be with me
Tempting

The smack of the sea
an erotic lunch
Eat me, eat me
gargling freely

Freedom in the heart
free in the soul
Freely with lust, rolling
I'm open


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Absence

Absence

by: M. MacMinn

Absence from the page
make those words grow in longing

Where have you been?
they say
Where are you now?
let us out

Clogged, flooded, damned.


www.markmacminn.com

Paper Planes

Paper Planes

By: M. MacMinn

tossing paper planes into the sun
his work burned away while he watched it fly on

though he was careful with each and every crease
he aimed for destruction and smiled at defeat

still clutching himself when alone
while your watching he's smiling
while your watching he's grown



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Pushed

Pushed

By: M. MacMinn


Everywhere I want to be is here.
Every life I'd like to live is alive.

Alive and breathing, bursting.

Echos of myself, from another voice.

The years long, the time tires.

Breathing until there is no more breath.
The air gone, the moment pushed.


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Dear Friend

Dear Friend

By: M. MacMinn

Dear friend,
Let me write you a letter,
and yes, no strings attached
Be careful not to misplace
your emotions on the emptiness of the past

I suggest you let this pass

Don't be foolish with your feelings
Don't be foolish with your heart
Don't build me into a mountain
just to watch me fall apart



www.markmacminn.com