HOLEY SOULS

A holey soul hungry to be

plugged with Prada, pizza,

pastors, playrooms and parts

of other people's bodies.

Hungry eyes constantly
search the faces and
packages of passing people
looking to fill the hole in
the soul.

Praying to holey rollers -
pompous preachers spreading
holey words - temporarily filling
you up with empty promises
and passing fancies.

Pain deep seated,
pain deep seeded,
an empty place, needy,
greedy, never pleased -
just can't get no satisfaction.

Ho-ley
Holey
Wholly
Holy
__________________________

Aaron

MORE MISS MAYA

TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves it's high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
__________________

By the one and only, angel walking among us.....Ms. Maya Angelou. The way this woman speaks of my life is downright scary and a blessing all at once.

MAYA, BABY!!!!!

One of my favorite authors ever is the great Maya Angelou. She has a way about her that is regal yet down-to-earth; down home yet worldly; scholarly yet hilarious; stately yet a vixen at heart. Not only is she an accomplished writer/poet, but she has also been an actress, a dancer and a singer travelling and entertaining people all around the world. But her greatest gift to me is her brilliance with organizing words to elicit thought and emotion. She touches me in a way that few other authors do. She is a true American treasure and a living legend. I found this video which literally brought tears to my eyes:


David Alan Grier did a hilarious spoof of Maya from SNL several years back - check it out:


And in honor of Maya and autumn:

LATE OCTOBER by Maya Angelou

Carefully
the leaves of autumn
sprinkle down the tinny
sound of little dyings
and skies sated
of ruddy sunsets
of roseate dawns
roil ceaselessly in
cobweb greys and turn
to black
for comfort.

Only lovers
see the fall
a signal end to endings
a gruffish gesture alerting
those who will not be alarmed
that we begin to stop
in order simply
to begin
again.