Marc Awodey
My poetry has been selected by many print and electronic publications including; Humanitas, Writers Journal, Zuzus Petals Quarterly online, Recursive Angel, Anthem, Thoth, Ygdrasil, Lexicon, Tight, Defined Providence, Illyas Honey, The Portland Review, Midwest Poetry Review, Obscure, Southern Ocean Review, Webgeist, Glossolalia, and many others.
Marc Awodey of Burlington, has an M.F.A. from Cranbrook Academy of Art.
The Wine of History
In the next five hundred years the rosy
faces of our descendants, like an eyeless
charioteer (a useless expense and burden
to drag) will see either a cornucopia
of calm revealed as a meaty Utopian dream
or a scar barren of hopes and fears
more ugly than The Planet of the Apes.
Gardens will thrive without human tears
just as many taverns at midnight do. Wine
is a name for the mirror of life till by 2am
besotted remains pucker like lust or a scar
barren of sober hopes and fears while amber
spots and diversions shine to slice through
lies like silver knives. They will know
if our promises were kept before sleep.
Wine is a name for the mirror of life
with Delphic bouquet and clear, crispy edge
to slice through lies like a silver knife.
The wine of history is an unhinged gate
we barrel through it like winged wheel chairs
with spiked axles dulled by neither fashion
nor school. Is tomorrow starched virginally
white to call forth truth and settle strife?
Will it sing in bright Rubaiyat dulled
by neither fashion nor school? In poetic
wisdom wine blesses boughs and mirrors
are a cornucopia of calm by which rich
civilizations are drawn to call forth
truth and settle strife. Thunderbird washes
waterfront priests who spill thier guts into
parking lots. Will our rosy faced descendants
be twisted and blotched under amber light,
or afterthoughts someplace inconceivably cold,
poisoned in the next five hundred years?
Anubis
Anubis silently plies a charmed trade
by conducting spirits into shade
as Nut whispers in his jackal ear
a chain of swift dark coos and melodious
accolades.
By conducting spirits into shade
Anubis sees each soul as one in the same;
a chain of swift dark coos and melodious
accolades
regardless of wealth, rank, or name
Anubis sees each soul as one in the same.
Respectfully guiding them, the passed
regardless of wealth, rank, or name
they who have shed last shred of human
remains.
Respectfully guiding them, the passed
as Nut whispers into his jackal ear,
they who have shed last shred of human
remains
Anubis silently plies a charmed trade.
America on a Plate
Evil genii starved with greed
launched in oak sparred carracks
and barks
to break bright nations into debris
and melt copper bottoms to mix
into bronze
to harvest fields with tools of war
they plowed the oceans coughing
disease
coaxing to follow, possessing to lead;
bright nations into cruddy debris.
They planted flags and kissed the beach
at the edge of Atlantics ancient froth.
They colonized like army ants
coaxing to follow, possessing to lead.
As slaves filled cups of English rum
there rose a beautiful behemoth,
of a shot in tea heard round the world
at the edge of Atlantics ancient
froth.
At Philadelphia great questions
were raised;
shall we clear a righteous path?
Will Europeans point fingers and say
ah! there rose a beautiful behemoth?
Shall we boil New France? New England?
New Spain
into a soup of bloody broth?
And again they asked as nations
dropped
shall we clear a righteous path?
Today of coarse, our combines feed
the world
and harvest fields with tools of war.
I too have tasted buffalo tenderloin
served au jus in bloody broth
but I keep my wits and bide my time,
as evil genii starve with greed.
By
Marc Awodey