Poems
Original Poetry by Warren GastonRuination
Let’s say you woke up one morning to a world completely to your liking. You liked the news, yesterday’s, the week before, the year, and history, all centuries, and quite likely you will like tomorrow, the future, and the future’s future after that. Predictions....
Theology Without Theos
In the most exquisitely refined theologies there is no need to name a god. The category 'divinity' would be superfluous, an addition that subtracts, distracting our affinity from the innate attractive grandeur of the world. κενοθεοφωνίa– god chatter diverts, the old...
The Dead
The dead are watching. They are listening. They are distraught, knowing what we don’t know and worse, don’t want to know. These subterraneans have learned so much about life from death, the brevity, the preciousness. They miss the earth, knowing now how much of earth...
It’s All About Me
Wherever I go I’m always there, waiting for you with minutes to spare. I look in the mirror, it’s the same old face, I hope for another, but there’s never a trace. I didn’t believe it at first, it couldn’t be true, I thought for sure it was all about you. When you say...
Poets
What’s the matter with poets? Do they think they have something to say? The arrogance, expecting me to waste my time deciphering some secret code of metaphor and rhyme. Who knows what poets mean, and on top of that, who cares? Definition of a poem: a rhetorical...
Timeline
Yesterday~ the future arrived a day early. Tomorrow~ the past will arrive a day late. Today~ I am in an untimely situation.
Chimneys
chimneys in October make no secret of winter’s want of heat interiors cool to cold frigid walls frozen glass wind through window frames snow on the mansard roofs within buildings – combustion provocations of the bed couples spar and spark women blaze - men flare...
Lyon, France: l’école
Hidden by playground walls, fountains of laughter, floods of floral French, welling up, spilling out, over the cobbled streets, wails of glee from ahistorical progeny of Charlemagne, Robespierre, and Richelieu. 10/6/16
A Love Poem to Donald Trump by Donald Trump
NOTE: This poem was written in 2011, posted on PBT 9/2015 but continues to be relevant to current events. If you were me, I’d be in love with you, but since you’re not, then only I will do. It is my greatest pleasure to be the nation’s treasure. With a citizen like...