Open mic Show and Tell at Rake art Gallery.
I know that I am not at a point yet in my blogging where I am being read by a great number of people (or any people at all) but I want to spread the word about open mic night at Rake. We have a sort of show and tell/poetry reading open forum where people can come to read pieces or show of a work of art. It is great fun and there are some great poets. My fave was the guy last time (no I can't remember his name) who read a poem he had written about a Japanese flying turtle monster.

And, just for the hell of it, I think I will post a little poem of my own today.

The bones of the prophets
They hang from a tree
They lie in the sand
They wait
They wait

The bones of the prophets
What do they say?
Can we understand when
They speak
They speak

Your words would be so beautiful
If they were not stained with blood
Those words that come from heaven
And rise up from the mud

The bones of the prophets
Mean nothing
Without the tongues of the prophets

The bones of the prophets
Say what they want
Not what you want them to say

The bones of the prophets
They recede with time
They age
They die
They may never have been

The words of the prophets
The bones of their vision
That we have
That we hear
That we feel
That we can see

The bones of the prophets
We cannot touch
They do not speak
But let us listen
Let us listen