Creation's Love Child
 
Think of this mountain range
as a love child, born
from the passion unleashed
by two tectonic plates as one
dives, uncontrollably,
            into the other.
 
Think of the earthquake
as a female orgasm,
rising from deep within:
a momentary release
after so many years of stress,
of longing, striving,
on each such occasion,
to achieve a peak
higher than any that has
            been reached before.
 
Think of the volcano
as a male orgasm,
exploding, spewing its flow
across the waiting flesh
            of the earth.
 
No one planned
for these mountains to be born here.
It was a random happenstance
of a planet’s uncontrolled lust—
the drive, simply, to do what
a rocky planet
            with a  molten core
                        needs to do,
 
And then think again of love:
of God’s love
            if you believe in any god;
of my love whether
            you believe in god
            or do not.
________________________________________________


The “Angry Bull Steakhouse”
 
I spy it by the roadside as I drive through Ohio, headed East.
 
At last, I tell myself, a restaurant
with an honest name.
I have never quite understood
“Chirping Chicken”
    or “Laughing Pig.”
 
You can, I guess, fool all of the animals
   some of the time.
And you can even fool some of the animals
   all of the time.
But you cannot fool all of the animals
    all of the time.
 
The bull is angry now;
a good first step.
 
________________________________________________


Discards (USA)
 
In my lifetime I have thrown
away more than most people
alive today will ever own.
And thus, I am told,
we live in the greatest nation
this world has ever known.


________________________________________________

City Life

When the water puddles
on the concrete, filling up
your sewers, you turn an umbrella
to the sky in self defense, discuss
endlessly―with anyone who
is willing to listen―how bad
              the weather is
                            today.

When the water soaks into the earth,
filling up streams and lakes,
the Lakota mother, living
on her sacred land, turns her face
to the sky, smiles at the rain
which brings water―the source
of all life―blessing her,
             her children,
                         all of their relations.

I cannot say that this difference
answers each and every one
of the questions you
have been asking yourself
about what is wrong with your life.

But it might be someplace
for you to begin your search.


________________________________________________

Copyright ©2016 by Steve Bloom. All rights, including electronic, reserved by the author. Visit: www.stevebloompoetry.net.

Steve Bloom is a life-long social activist  who lives in Brooklyn, NY, and works as a decorative painter and faux finisher. His work has been published on line by roguescholars.com, Flutter, arthouseproductions.org, poetsagainstthewar.org, and elsewhere. He was a featured poet of the week from September 1-8, 2008, on the Poetry Super Highway website. Poems have appeared in print in Caprice, The Poet’s Pen, Medicinal Purposes, Struggle, Soul Fountain, Against the Current, Fourthwrite, plus other literary and political journals. Performance venues include the Saturn Series, Bar 13, Phoenix reading and ABC NORIO in New York City, plus the Traveling Poets Reading Series, Bakersfield, CA and Robin’s Bookstore in Philadelphia, PA. Steve read for Eco-Poetry at the Left Forum in New York City, 2014. More of Steve's poems can be found at: www.stevebloompoetry.net.