Category: Poetry

We are building
our own little place of wisdom
and let ourselves be guided
by the Old Ones along the way

Who are the Old Ones, you might ask
We just know 
that they are here
And no one has 
the right to say
they’re not

we ourselves will be, some day,
the Wise Ones
we already carry the wisdom
we need along the way

It is our task to provide the path
for the Old Ones to walk among us
It may be slow but it will see
the light of day

of our right to say

That all this time,
we ourselves were the path
alongside which
The Old Ones found their way

– by Kiki Toao –


See, they are the touchables
and we are the dust
Like pollen blazing through deserts
and blending with rocks

Ambrosia is dripping
From head down to floor
I’ve got my beak in your belly
I’m yearning for more

I’ve got this twisted sense of humor
And appetite for love that makes me
Flood nature’s dungeons
To heavens above

I’m your puppet yeah
I won’t let you down
I’m your puppet yeah
Come let it all out