Sunday, October 25, 2009


You can smell the heat here
like dog food factory
evaporated acid rain,
it rises from our skin,
our bodies dissipating
into a drug that will save us

we build buildings
from marble--
shopping malls,
constructing coliseums,
citadels to consumerism
we beat the raw earth
with the jackhammer,
the steel-toed boot
and the Italian leather shoes
so we can make
bastions of discrimination
where the homeless made their homes;
we have replaced
the grey wolf
with one
in an Armani suit
who carries a briefcase
and eats poor children
for dinner,

we deny this reality
as we give away table scraps,
putting a bandaid
on a wound
that will not heal
because we won't stop sucking the blood
and we're thirsty
for transfusions,
feeding a disease
that will always want more
until we quiet
the hunger in our bones
and feed the spirit

Monday, August 3, 2009


There's a tattoo
on your forehead
that says
Jesus saves
but will he save me?
I am the devil
in my blue dress
and leather shoes,
my skin a map
of woodstock,
the 80's
and following the Grateful Dead
all the way through,
my feet callused
from marching for peace,
my face
tells you stories
of peace pipes,
acid trips,
a night in jail
for disobeying a society
that cannot hold me;
you cannot tie down
someone made of the wind;
I travel
from city to city
and communal living,
I am the messenger
for the earth's wisdom,
a shaman
to heal humanity;
I wish to heal your soul
yet you despise me
because there's dirt on my skin
from decades
of being
what you refuse to become.
And your Jesus will not
save me;
for I am a heathen
in your eyes,
your religion
the purity drug
for which I am
the antidote;
I am not a wall you can bend
with your beliefs;
nor am I
something you can mold
like untamed wire;
accept me
and my soul;
I have been
forever society's canvass,
the artwork of the streets,
the exhalation
of tortured youth.

Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster

Sunday, July 26, 2009


takes in a breath,
being your refuge,
you develop your
as a street corner,
a sidewalk,
a piece of tomorrow
we always savor...
you ask for salvation,
for love, joy,
the air is your soul
and the river your home;
we find ourselves
fighting with rubberbands,
pain in an instant...
I try
and draw your face
with a ballpoint pen
and words
from the bottom of my shoe...
this is my place, too.

Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster

Tuesday, July 14, 2009


There are no sins
to wash from my flesh;
I am not
the body lying next to you;
I am not
the mind you fill
with ideas;
I am not
an empty jar
for you to fill
with your paint;
you cannot progress
until you liberate me;
shall forever be held back
by the slowness of my steps
until you walk with me.
My hands are strong
from creating the world;
my feet are tough
from marching
for your liberation;
my mind wise
from demanding peace.
I am strong enough
to trust
with the future;
do not
take away my liberties
or you will fall;
for I am
your foundation.


There's smoke on the horizon,
dust from the road
flies up
like crippled wind,
caught in the moment,
like dirt under your nails
we are angry
for reasons we can't define,
letting leaves fall
like broken promises,
we try and love each other,
but you don't want
to be in the wind
and I cannot
pick up stones;
I try to sing you
like a song
but there are drum notes
on the page;
you're just leftover karma,
an unfinished symphony
to create anxiety,
to torment me
and twist my mind
like a wet rag,
wringing out
all the air,
the water,
the life,
I'm so fucking confused,
I'm through with the crystal ball,
done with the rage,
fucking tired
of your accusations;

I care
and that's why I'm angry;
because I care
and you don't.

Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster

Friday, July 10, 2009

Poetry in motion: photos of the Santa Fe Arts District

This is perhaps one of the most colorful communities I have been to. Its full of life, art, crime-- the arts district on Santa Fe in Denver, Colorado, is truly remarkable. It contains a delicate balance between the preservation of the Chicano culture and the appreciation of art. Not far from here is a large area of section-8 housing, community projects such as organic gardens and even a free build-it-yourself bike shop.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


We're too ignorant
any more
to be trusted with secrets;
nature has broken us
because we will not bend,
and here we are
reigned in
by the spirit,
by false dreams,
of our purpose;
we chase fairy tales,
exchanging reality
for lies on paper,
the human condition,
our antithesis
to our history,
escaping karma
like a bad middle name,
tossing morality away
with the truth;
we place our ear to the ground
to find a heartbeat,
to find our lost treasure,
but its all buried
under skyscrapers,
dynasties of failure;
we want to understand
but we can't;
for we have forgotten our feet
and now stand in space,
without purpose.

Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster