Hands Unified Poem by John Ackerman

Hands Unified



Hands Unified

This morning my clock gasps
next to my darkened temple, like
the apple of a revolver that turns
under the trigger finding the bullet

try to find the Nigga;
the moon white, immobile, shows tears,
and is an ye that aims...And I sense how
the great Mystery is locked up in a hostile
and ovoid idea, in a vermilionbullet

Ah, hand that limits, that threatens
behind every door, and that breathes
in every door, and that breathes
in every clock, yield and transfer

Over the grey spider of your frame
another gret hand of light sustains
a bullet in a heart's blue shape

Hands Unified
Thursday, December 13, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: belief,love
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with loving brevity. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural and social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension:


Poetry can convey the timeless hidden attributes of true beauty. As A beacon of light to a hurting world in need of true lasting love. It is evident that what we do for today will become evident throughout eternity. We need only take a deep look inside for we have no reason to hide. My passion in life is to convey true lasting hope to the mass populace. With a cause to love are neighbor & show compassion. To those in dire search for true artistic freedom. True freedom that many take advantage of. We need to shine the light of poetic thought to everyone we encounter to meet.
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