Soul Soot Poetry

i know you long to be the gentle seduction,

the sunny disposition

those purple painted passages

of spring

but you’re too violent to be a violet November

too much death and night

in your blood

enchanted energy

oh so tempting

you are the fall

your words

standing naked in Eden

daring to look down without shame

at who they truly are

skin and scale

you are the apple

poison in your blood

a bored and jealous

love

a serpent-heart held

between legs

the curiosity

the longing

the pseudo bravery stupidity

the humility and the savery

you are the whole damned story

~A.M. Troester, November (Soul Soot Poetry)

inside

there is love and war

how long until the good soldiers fall

how long until all my teeth fall out

summon great winds and ocean

a tsunami to wash away

the ceaseless, senseless battles

humility and silence remain

i remember to pray

that the best words aren’t mine

inside

there is starfall and bloodfire

dreams gripping hope

like mothers protecting children

hurry up with the living

hurry up with the dying

there’s no safety in the unknowing

~A.M. Troester, Inside (Soul Soot Poetry)

her love is for the birds

lost messengers

missing magnetite

searching true north

in the dead of night

the wild canaries

a shock of yellow madness

in dirty skies, dim dreams

of home and stratus

mockingbirds who sing

when they should sleep

who do not listen

when they speak

her love is for the birds

red-winged ancestor migrants

cornucopia feathered pheasants

a rainbow mud mess

father field dressed

robin mothers

blue jay brothers

her reflection

in the seared dark

iridescence

of crows

her love is for the birds

mary’s geese calling soft and harsh

in rush hour traffic

reminding her she was made

for more than static

his love is for the trees

red sugar maples

who bleed leaves

for his feet

red oak on the hill

shares his blood

and his will

in its bones and its root

a legacy to be born

the promise of white oak

in the death of an acorn

her love is for the birds

the birds are for the trees

the birds with the leaves are leaving

but your love is waiting

~A.M. Troester, For the Birds (Soul Soot Poetry)

you

a library

of my favorite books

your body

my church

touching you

my favorite prayer

you

a scared smell of

soap and sex and incense

you

the stars raining bright in a dark sky

giving the anxious ocean a nightlight

of wonder and beauty

your voice

a warm blanket

calming and keeping me safe

your eyes

the great knowers

truth tellers

our keepers

their resin melting on each

memory of us,

turning them to amber

in adoration or in dismissal,

in inspiration or in deprivation,

in reverence or in curse,

in front of all the lost and founds

i cry out, I Love You

in you, i believe again

you give me God

our love, one flesh

apart

let no man,

not even you or me,

tear us

~A.M. Troester, Giving God (A Muse’s Aspirations)

armored in honesty

scared of everything

lay the blame on me

we don’t dare

let the truth lie

let the day die

we don’t stare

at each other

we don’t want to know

the answers only eyes give

passing uncomfortable confessions

ask another question

we’re both losing

a game of truth and sorry

~A.M. Troester, A Game of Truth and Sorry (An Echo’s Reflections)

a heart for a soul

who said free trade was fair

no need to control

let it pass

let me go

the world takes care

on its own

the most

loving answer to that prayer

was always no

Laissez faire et laissez passer,

le monde va de lui même

~A.M. Troester, A Heart for A Soul (An Echo’s Reflections)

i was born on

the day of the dead

children

i died right away

spat out life

like God

holding

tepid love

in His mouth

and so it started

all this living dying

over and over

swallowed by the sun

evaporated

turned to salt and sand

a great beach pulled back

into a dry ocean

an everlasting

erosion

but each year

on the day of my birth

I rise

to take back all that was stolen

all the wronging

all the longings

all the dying

to personify

daydreams drowning

love inside me lying

at the feet

bleeding

when the day is gone

all is forgiven

and a better version

of me is left breathing

if we live many lifetimes in one life

we die many times

do not fear this living death my darling

it is how you begin again

swallow the sorrow,

the soul soot

let it become ink

and bleed

~A.M. Troester, Lady of the Dead (Soul Soot Poetry)