Please Whisper ... Lenore

January fifteenth, old man winter’s biting breath
 Stinging, stinging and then…the ringing
Ringing ‘cross my conscious breadth
  Yammering, clamoring…for my death
Poe’s long lost lover…now back for more
Undesired, uninvited…mortiferous Lenore

February tenth, Hell’s bells will not yield
  Pealing, pealing, sheer madness dealing
Dealing torment; no defense to wield
  No bulwark, rampart…guardian shield
On twilight’s long fingertips…reanimated lore
 “Together forever”…spoke a smiling Lenore

March twentieth, “What is this hexing?”
  Whining, whining, ‘t is relief I’m pining
Pining always; each hour most vexing
 The sun has gone black, I brood perplexing
At midnight’s hour…I pace well worn floor
 Her song inharmonious…fiendish Lenore

April nineteenth, and the bells still yet toll
Squealing, squealing, no hints of healing
Healing to me - mute, yet spoke on distant knoll
Or in the tattered chambers of my melancholy soul
I vainly search for key that unlocks my prison door
 And upon each opening stands…unpitying Lenore

May thirtieth, the anguish embedded
Dinging, dinging, her gross, unhinged singing
Singing, nay howling it goes on abetted
A tune she knows well, it is never forget’d
Prayers and entreaties, to the heavens galore
Intercepted and shredded…calculating Lenore

June seventeenth, “the band marches on”
Wailing, wailing, with my sanity sailing
Sailing to sunset, calm waters e’er gone?
Will flute rendered on high greet every new dawn?
I’m locked in the clutches of a pain-giving whore
A sobriquet penned with the poison...Lenore
 
July eighth, finds my mind torn to tatters
Roaring, roaring, Oh God! My soul needs restoring
Restoring my interest in trivial matters
The windy flight of a bee as the flower petals scatter
Yet each moment I fantasize ‘bout squaring the score
My mistress embraces…God Damn You, Lenore!

August third, metaphorically, “the end of my rope”
“Eeeeeeee, Eeeeeee,” my sole destiny?
This anguish unique with unspeakable scope
Do mine eyes deceive ‘t is the mast of ship hope?
To Poe, unmet friend, whose tales I adore
Nevermore, nevermore…please take back…your Lenore

A Date ... With Destiny

A quasi-urchin making up in requests

What she lacked in a tug-of-war reality

A forever fleeting Cabbage Patch Kid

The string perdurably, charmingly pulled

“Gimme!” spelled on brown eyes of want

Atomic energy…with dusky blond hair

Now, a beautiful young woman, forging

Life’s uncertain and tumultuous waters

A devoted mother and loving wife

The “Patch String” slightly frayed from use

Yet, a few thousand yesterdays ago

A little rag-a-muffin with endless suggestions

Proceeded to “assist” a pair of old friends

To move old furniture in an old truck

A task arduous and stiflingly mundane

Still, this day would be proven different

For the “doll” in the center seat, knew not

The concept of boredom, adventure was her game

Horses passed in fields were “so pretty”

And lumbering cows excitedly “so big”

The truck’s static prone radio was overwhelmed

For youth now danced to tunes of windshield whimsy

“Can we stop and get a Slurpee Daddy…can we!?”

“I gotta go pee Daddy…and ‘they’ have ice cream cones!”

Resistance was futile…dolls always know what strings to pull

Lips smacked and a smallish tongue swirled

The mouth now occupied, in tune with droning wheels

Sleepy time loomed on the horizon as did our destination

But do a doll’s eyes truly rest?

For just as the Sandman approached…

A carpet of grass! Monkey bars illumed by sinking sun!

Drooping eyelids now sparkled, untied shoes fidgeted madly

“Can we Daddy?  Can we stop at the park?  Please Daddy!?”

But Daddy and “Uncle” were tired;

Wizened eyes met ‘cross a mop top

“No Baby Girl…not this time…we’ve had a long day…

You got your ice cream…it’s late…and time to go home.”

Tiny tears slid down smudged cheeks and dried ice cream

Daddy and I used a towel to make clean spots…one to a side

The park and its unused wonders

Faded into sunset and rear view mirror

And the Cabbage Patch Kid,

A close acquaintance with disappointment

Retracted her string, quiet ensued,

Years and park dancing ‘top memories pages

Perhaps one day, on tomorrow’s twilight,

She and I will venture forth

Through short grass and long recollections

to explore that playground

And a new little “monkey” will most decidedly

be accompanying us

To blaze trails through the sand…

with ice cream sticky on giggling lips

Long Live the King

The "Divine Right of Kings" is now in effect It dances in shadows with term "circumspect" Truth's been demoted to "subordinate" position Yon King so commands, 't is his volition If "lie" stokes the fire, let it be told Should "truth" become menace, may fires grow cold Opaque are the eyes of marauding empire All that is missing is the requisite...Sire

Extracation Supplication

I died, again…somewhere along the line…but nobody told me
Observable yet impalpable…here yet…there
The seasons continued their seemingly undying sojourn
My children, children no longer, tested maturating wings
And flew…creating new nests, breathing their own air
Memories fell about me as do leafs their tenuous grip on life
To scatter as old photographs upon carpets littered with remembrance
My wife sub-consciously perceived the situation
And with single minded purpose, aided by strong hands, gentle heart
Played tug-of-war with spectral entities of the past
Grasping, pulling, forever urging me “come…’t is time…come”
Pain increasingly supplants pleasure, Sorrow dances in lieu of smile
As yesterday’s paths circumnavigate my tormented brain
Still…I walk…Gideon’s trumpet and the lamentations of those such as I
Ringing…ringing, wailing solicitations to a decaying anachronism
The future looms as melanoid abyss, an all encompassing chasm
A pit…long, long awaiting my overdue arrival…and I am frightened
The hourglass is bottom heavy; dust adorns its pitiless structure
I frantically scan the pages of forgotten books, images lost to time
Brooklyn street scene…summer 1949…all eyes suddenly…on me!
No time for frenzied phone calls, no time for tear laden goodbye’s
A vortex of foretime…bygone implacable hands…escort me…home
To my darlings…flowers grow not from solid rock…nor men from fallow fields
I entreat thee…do not weep…hellish fires and the din of the dying
No longer anguish; I am at last happy…I am at last home
Please, if you please to visit me…I now live...on page 127
I love you

Pan-Rand-led

Emaciated…Disheveled
Desperate…Bedeviled
“Homeless”…the sign said
“Will work for food”
“Faceless”…better off dead
Many Americans…attitude
I gave two dollars
He mumbled, “God Bless You”
BMW behind me…”Lady” muttered
“God Damn You”
He was sick…I hoped… it wasn’t too late
As she passed… middle finger
And a “Me”…license plate

No Crow, I

Out on the streets they cast wary eye
A curious vigilance each time I pass by
The old woman who shivers waiting for bus
Upon seeing me conjures five letters…trust
Small child, a rose bud fills me with awe
She views me as iceberg never to thaw
Young man checking my items at grocery store
Uneasiness bound ‘til my back is at door
Blossoming girl with stroller quickens her pace
She saw shadow perdurably etched on my face
Elderly fellow out walking his dog
Both dog and the man aware of my fog
Waters of river fill town with pride
Yet, on my arrival recede to low tide
The grass seems to yellow where my feet walk
The birds always scatter with sonorous squawk
The corners of mouths turn down when I talk
An answer I seek, at which door shall I knock?
My wife she perceives yet cannot be unbiased
Bartenders pour forget “when all else fails, try us”
Religion posits question “why not comply thus?”
I am “now’s” anachronism, grasping for what was
Atop ocean of tears I command ripped sail raft
A miniature “crow’s nest” sets on wooden shaft
An ebon “woefarer” alights to explain my gaffe
“Oh sad traveler, ‘tis simple,
you’ve forgotten how to laugh”

Rock and a Hard Spot

Everyday…I walk a tightrope
Thin, taut…the fibers burning into my feet
Caustic coals, crimson eyed, Hades fried
Gleefully await a…slip
Banshees’ wail from below, above, within
A few more steps, that’s all I need
Tender voice, loving voice urges me forward
You can do it, you can do it, you…must…do it
Faces swirl in my tormented brain
If I go down…I let them down
If I go down…I let them down
If I go…STOP!...I’ll try, I’ll make it
If only the burning, If only the wailing
Three more steps, then two…I leap!
I made it!...I collapse…exhausted
Falling, falling into a blessed slumber
Where I effortlessly glide across
Carpets of Cashmere
Punctuated by a cacophony of silence
Whilst Banshees and Caustic coals
Await, red eyed and shrill voiced
Cheering, leering, tomorrow’s performance
On the tightrope