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
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
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
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”
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
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
Services will soon... KKKomence
Poor but proud, strong and unbowed
Forty revolutions…wrong side track conclusions
Low wage job…she never sobbed
‘Til she hit a bump…hard, unyielding lump
Planned Parenthood had been abolished
Cancer spelled a life demolished
Her existence reduced…to infinitesimal speck
A Pink Ribbon cinched tightly
Ever so “Rightly”…’round her cold, expendable
Neck
Forty revolutions…wrong side track conclusions
Low wage job…she never sobbed
‘Til she hit a bump…hard, unyielding lump
Planned Parenthood had been abolished
Cancer spelled a life demolished
Her existence reduced…to infinitesimal speck
A Pink Ribbon cinched tightly
Ever so “Rightly”…’round her cold, expendable
Neck
24 Hours - Traveling at the Speed of Light
The Weeping Willow wept…the Wisteria so crept
And the moon and the sun exchanged fleeting glances
One half the world flexed its arms, the other half just slept
The scorpion in desert sun performed its daily dances
Oceans did both rise and fall; when was time they failed?
An old man shining shoes would soon shine shoes no more
From distant port comes the report of a ship that sailed
The empty stand now removed from alley by the store
A woodpecker with broken nose filed a claim today
Mrs. Barker took a bath then died of heart attack
Barren Sudan saw young woman caught up in the fray
Young man, thin and wan, filled his lungs with crack
Once pristine river now wears scum for overcoat
A boy of fourteen learns he’ll never walk again
High in Afghan mountains walks a fearless, agile goat
Scaredy cat, ferocious dog become the best of friends
The carousel of life, forever moving hands of clock
Each event recorded upon time’s ceaseless page
Shadow of a bird in flight or winter wander walk
Life and death illuminate our most unstable stage
War and Peace, Peace and War, eternal locked in battle
Ways of contentment falling prey to acts of guile
The path amaranthine yet we trail as doomed cattle
To oft’ forgetting the power of a smile
The Weeping Willow wept…the Wisteria so crept
Tears from the forlorn tree fed the clinging vine
The vine intertwined with tree and up its branches leapt
One comforts the other in unison they rhyme
And the moon and the sun exchanged fleeting glances
One half the world flexed its arms, the other half just slept
The scorpion in desert sun performed its daily dances
Oceans did both rise and fall; when was time they failed?
An old man shining shoes would soon shine shoes no more
From distant port comes the report of a ship that sailed
The empty stand now removed from alley by the store
A woodpecker with broken nose filed a claim today
Mrs. Barker took a bath then died of heart attack
Barren Sudan saw young woman caught up in the fray
Young man, thin and wan, filled his lungs with crack
Once pristine river now wears scum for overcoat
A boy of fourteen learns he’ll never walk again
High in Afghan mountains walks a fearless, agile goat
Scaredy cat, ferocious dog become the best of friends
The carousel of life, forever moving hands of clock
Each event recorded upon time’s ceaseless page
Shadow of a bird in flight or winter wander walk
Life and death illuminate our most unstable stage
War and Peace, Peace and War, eternal locked in battle
Ways of contentment falling prey to acts of guile
The path amaranthine yet we trail as doomed cattle
To oft’ forgetting the power of a smile
The Weeping Willow wept…the Wisteria so crept
Tears from the forlorn tree fed the clinging vine
The vine intertwined with tree and up its branches leapt
One comforts the other in unison they rhyme
The Devil in the Details
“Borrowed time”…I’m living on Borrowed time
Shall not something borrowed be repaid or returned?
What are the current “contractual arrangements” for my “loan?”
Who…exactly…made the decision to grant me “credit?”
Was “pain and anguish” stipulated in the small print?
And if so, how much of these miseries must be extracted before
“Paid in Full” is stamped on this enigmatic and soul ripping document?
Questions without answers…unremittingly etched upon the tormented psyche
Only behind the solace of closed eyes do I catch glimpse of answer
Like the numberless that lay in blackened sepulchers
Or whose singed ashes repose in dust collecting urns
Antediluvian bones or the still decaying flesh beneath earthen roofs
Perchance Faust has “arranged” for a chorus of Dante’s “descendants”
To play the screeching, ill-harmonious violin and dance maddingly
Yet, flickering eyelids reveal a kinetoscope of tranquil images
And I awake…scenes of death…exposed, revealing…God forgive me
Appealing
Shall not something borrowed be repaid or returned?
What are the current “contractual arrangements” for my “loan?”
Who…exactly…made the decision to grant me “credit?”
Was “pain and anguish” stipulated in the small print?
And if so, how much of these miseries must be extracted before
“Paid in Full” is stamped on this enigmatic and soul ripping document?
Questions without answers…unremittingly etched upon the tormented psyche
Only behind the solace of closed eyes do I catch glimpse of answer
Like the numberless that lay in blackened sepulchers
Or whose singed ashes repose in dust collecting urns
Antediluvian bones or the still decaying flesh beneath earthen roofs
Perchance Faust has “arranged” for a chorus of Dante’s “descendants”
To play the screeching, ill-harmonious violin and dance maddingly
Yet, flickering eyelids reveal a kinetoscope of tranquil images
And I awake…scenes of death…exposed, revealing…God forgive me
Appealing
Trip to the Woodshed
God watches, morose and angered from afar
Illuminated by the glow of first gestating star
So given all they needed to survive, the tools
The evolving process, from which they might thrive
Now Glass and steel, once caves and thatches
“Jesus Christ!…excuse me son
I should have known…never let kids play with matches
Illuminated by the glow of first gestating star
So given all they needed to survive, the tools
The evolving process, from which they might thrive
Now Glass and steel, once caves and thatches
“Jesus Christ!…excuse me son
I should have known…never let kids play with matches
Letters Spell "'Friend" ... Ending with "e-n-d"
The “Get well soon” and “hope you feel betters’”
Welcome lifebuoys in waters of despair
Reassuring smiles…concern marked letters
All implying tomorrow…hopes you’ll be there
In times of malaise, good wishes islands
A drowning soul seeks sand, consoling
Whether urban bound or remote highland
The gift of uplift… a soul’s extolling
Yet, when nightfall knocks as it daily does
And clock’s ceaseless voyage surges in brain
Thoughts of the future oft’ turn to “I was”
And ship of fair tidings crashes in vain
I prepare farewells, I shall not postpone
For last battle fought…is one fought alone
Welcome lifebuoys in waters of despair
Reassuring smiles…concern marked letters
All implying tomorrow…hopes you’ll be there
In times of malaise, good wishes islands
A drowning soul seeks sand, consoling
Whether urban bound or remote highland
The gift of uplift… a soul’s extolling
Yet, when nightfall knocks as it daily does
And clock’s ceaseless voyage surges in brain
Thoughts of the future oft’ turn to “I was”
And ship of fair tidings crashes in vain
I prepare farewells, I shall not postpone
For last battle fought…is one fought alone
Photo-finish
An old daguerreotype photo
New York City…circa 1853
Bowling Green…the “first” patch of grass…
Skyscrapers still incubating
Children, apparitional in appearance, running after a dog
Man and woman in foreground pose in yesterday’s finery
I “hear” the dog barking,
The children laughing,
The Man saying
“Hold still…Agnes”…
My fingers caress tree branches devoid of leaves
A winter sun reflects off nearby windows…
I “feel” its scant warmth
Long demolished building…
Now catches my eye…obsolete, extinct
Tenebrous face peers out from bedimmed glass…
Fingers upon surface
Our fingers “touch” and the photo fades away…
Sanguine ink stains my hands
Agnes is dead…
The dog runs in history’s hinterlands…
“children”…no longer
Last sound from diminishing photo reminds
“‘t is 'your' image…we see
Not ours”
New York City…circa 1853
Bowling Green…the “first” patch of grass…
Skyscrapers still incubating
Children, apparitional in appearance, running after a dog
Man and woman in foreground pose in yesterday’s finery
I “hear” the dog barking,
The children laughing,
The Man saying
“Hold still…Agnes”…
My fingers caress tree branches devoid of leaves
A winter sun reflects off nearby windows…
I “feel” its scant warmth
Long demolished building…
Now catches my eye…obsolete, extinct
Tenebrous face peers out from bedimmed glass…
Fingers upon surface
Our fingers “touch” and the photo fades away…
Sanguine ink stains my hands
Agnes is dead…
The dog runs in history’s hinterlands…
“children”…no longer
Last sound from diminishing photo reminds
“‘t is 'your' image…we see
Not ours”
Waning Words
The pink hued rose crumples ‘midst winters chill
Incandescent sun daily drops from sight
Motivation compels, yet, I lose will
Upon near horizon, looms long, long night
Spider’s summer’s web, glorious when done
Its last filaments, float in autumn’s wind
The lush green lawn, turned brown from lack of sun
All things in nature, flourish then rescind
Fore’er changing cosmos, I shan’t complain
Earth a repository, for the dead
Must drive away fears, to each life comes rain
Exalt each breath; keep that thought in mine head
Mine hair, skin, mine being…fated, shading
Once youth I now seek truth…FADING, fading…
Incandescent sun daily drops from sight
Motivation compels, yet, I lose will
Upon near horizon, looms long, long night
Spider’s summer’s web, glorious when done
Its last filaments, float in autumn’s wind
The lush green lawn, turned brown from lack of sun
All things in nature, flourish then rescind
Fore’er changing cosmos, I shan’t complain
Earth a repository, for the dead
Must drive away fears, to each life comes rain
Exalt each breath; keep that thought in mine head
Mine hair, skin, mine being…fated, shading
Once youth I now seek truth…FADING, fading…
Affirmative Faction
100 grapes upon vine
1 became Chablis, leaving 99
100 apples suspended from tree
1 chosen cider, 99 behind her
100 melons floating flooded ground
1 was saved, 99 left to drown
100 salmon spawning frigid river
1 got coat, 99 left to shiver
100 Americans in monetary jail
99 got life, 1 got bail
1 became Chablis, leaving 99
100 apples suspended from tree
1 chosen cider, 99 behind her
100 melons floating flooded ground
1 was saved, 99 left to drown
100 salmon spawning frigid river
1 got coat, 99 left to shiver
100 Americans in monetary jail
99 got life, 1 got bail
Bi-Ped Cul-Prints
Celestial Detective Agency…Time: 2125 A.D.
Interplanetary survey…Location: Earth
Fragmentary Translated Investigation
“The entire planet a wasteland
Marine life…non-existent
Vegetation…dead or dying
All animal and insect life…annihilated
Atmosphere…highly toxic…do you read?”
“Affirmative…any clues as to nature of destruction?”
“Negative…however Detective Zojak is currently checking
Fingerprints”
Interplanetary survey…Location: Earth
Fragmentary Translated Investigation
“The entire planet a wasteland
Marine life…non-existent
Vegetation…dead or dying
All animal and insect life…annihilated
Atmosphere…highly toxic…do you read?”
“Affirmative…any clues as to nature of destruction?”
“Negative…however Detective Zojak is currently checking
Fingerprints”
Wilde Child
One key…obscuring fabric
Cold D.C. …musty attic
Aged picture…Gilded frame
Long concealed…debauched shame
Threadbare suit…translucent skin
Carnal mouth…drooling sin
Wispy hair…Lurid eyes
Sanguine lips…shaped by lies
Yellowed nails…rotting teeth
Yet still it smiles…Soulless thief
“Uncle Sam”…What can one say?
You’ve been revealed…Mr. Gray
Cold D.C. …musty attic
Aged picture…Gilded frame
Long concealed…debauched shame
Threadbare suit…translucent skin
Carnal mouth…drooling sin
Wispy hair…Lurid eyes
Sanguine lips…shaped by lies
Yellowed nails…rotting teeth
Yet still it smiles…Soulless thief
“Uncle Sam”…What can one say?
You’ve been revealed…Mr. Gray
To Emily, Where e'er She May Be
The Bard proved hard, Poe was woe
And Wilde’s wit assailed
Upon the balladry of Wordsworth
I set forth with pen and sailed
Bloomfield inked the joys of farming
Shelly’s nature…quite disarming
Browning’s “Meeting” oh so charming!
Tragic, Magic, Toil, Fun
Yet I shall ne’er be Dicken’s son
Perchance one day to meet Dickenson
And Wilde’s wit assailed
Upon the balladry of Wordsworth
I set forth with pen and sailed
Bloomfield inked the joys of farming
Shelly’s nature…quite disarming
Browning’s “Meeting” oh so charming!
Tragic, Magic, Toil, Fun
Yet I shall ne’er be Dicken’s son
Perchance one day to meet Dickenson
Another Rendition ... of Perdition
Bare feet amidst thistle, ear on whistle
I wake each day manacled by fetters
Life’s tenderloin gone, I now chew gristle
Tormented mind composing last letters
“To soul mate and wife, the love of my life
Forgive early dark days, cause of your tears
I’m serving my penance, shrieking of fife
The shrill sound of hell I daily so hear”
“To daughters, two hearts, I wear upon sleeve
Jewels, twinkling orbs, in darkness I’m blessed
Upon my demise, I ask thee not grieve
Say, 'I love you Dad, you’ve so earned your rest'”
My dear Valerie, I endure for thee
Seek stars, sweet guitars…through your eyes I’ll see
I wake each day manacled by fetters
Life’s tenderloin gone, I now chew gristle
Tormented mind composing last letters
“To soul mate and wife, the love of my life
Forgive early dark days, cause of your tears
I’m serving my penance, shrieking of fife
The shrill sound of hell I daily so hear”
“To daughters, two hearts, I wear upon sleeve
Jewels, twinkling orbs, in darkness I’m blessed
Upon my demise, I ask thee not grieve
Say, 'I love you Dad, you’ve so earned your rest'”
My dear Valerie, I endure for thee
Seek stars, sweet guitars…through your eyes I’ll see
Trinket, Trinket ... My Little Star
She is beauty incarnate
A “charm bracelet” anthropomorphic
Her eyes soothing sapphires
Lips yielding, coral in firelight
Golden haired, torrents of champagne
Upon shoulders of pearly moonstone
Flecked in summer by sunstone’s red gold
Her garnet heart beats ever gently
In rhythm with unsullied diamond soul
And we kiss, ‘midst the tinkle-tinkle of love
A “charm bracelet” anthropomorphic
Her eyes soothing sapphires
Lips yielding, coral in firelight
Golden haired, torrents of champagne
Upon shoulders of pearly moonstone
Flecked in summer by sunstone’s red gold
Her garnet heart beats ever gently
In rhythm with unsullied diamond soul
And we kiss, ‘midst the tinkle-tinkle of love
Ain't No Cable TV
Last Stop Hotel…Detroit, Michigan
Fifteen frantic floors…one elevator
Cockroach “reality” show nightly
Cold and colder running water
Rush Limbaugh “Fathead” in every room
Cozy “Norman Bates Mother’s Bed’s”
2012 Mayan calendar in each closet
Daily 700 Club wakeup call
Bible and loaded pistol in all nightstands
“Hey, room service…cancel that parachute request”
Fifteen frantic floors…one elevator
Cockroach “reality” show nightly
Cold and colder running water
Rush Limbaugh “Fathead” in every room
Cozy “Norman Bates Mother’s Bed’s”
2012 Mayan calendar in each closet
Daily 700 Club wakeup call
Bible and loaded pistol in all nightstands
“Hey, room service…cancel that parachute request”
Tequila ... Por Favor
Sagebrush Arms…Noplace, Nevada
“I’m checkin’ out”
The tarantula reading the Wall St. Journal
Raises one unshaved leg, says,
“You owe me Seven bucks”
Six minutes later… a screaming carburetor
Five hours past…flat outta gas
Four miles back…heart attack
Three day sun…ribs are done
Two mourners deep…one’s asleep
Sagebrush Arms…Vacancy
“I’m checkin’ out”
The tarantula reading the Wall St. Journal
Raises one unshaved leg, says,
“You owe me Seven bucks”
Six minutes later… a screaming carburetor
Five hours past…flat outta gas
Four miles back…heart attack
Three day sun…ribs are done
Two mourners deep…one’s asleep
Sagebrush Arms…Vacancy
Deathbred
Weeping willow…weeps no more
Armadillo…knows the score
Owl, the bear, the beaver…lion
The meadowlark is slowly dying
The end portends for animal life
The din remaining…gross human strife
The spider’s web in morning dew
A dolphin’s cry in ocean blue
‘T will be a very forlorn place
Save reflection of inflamed face
Armadillo…knows the score
Owl, the bear, the beaver…lion
The meadowlark is slowly dying
The end portends for animal life
The din remaining…gross human strife
The spider’s web in morning dew
A dolphin’s cry in ocean blue
‘T will be a very forlorn place
Save reflection of inflamed face
Be on Your Bard-Guard
Anon, he walked, bodkin in hand, distempered in soul
Gall consumed, as ecstasy embraced with fetid arms
Blackened apple-johns hang noose-like on blood-bolstered vista
Bale ravens, their onyx mazzards cackling phraseless
A bugbear now he, soon alit by saffron moon
‘T is man…and quell must he
‘Til time…shall chime…finis
Gall consumed, as ecstasy embraced with fetid arms
Blackened apple-johns hang noose-like on blood-bolstered vista
Bale ravens, their onyx mazzards cackling phraseless
A bugbear now he, soon alit by saffron moon
‘T is man…and quell must he
‘Til time…shall chime…finis
Cot-quean's and Honourable Men
Aroin thee, brainsickly knave who hath forsworn all decency
Fly to thine pageant of mettlesome attribute that besorts thee
Cautel the constered Carlot; Revel in thine peevish, lewd leasing
For the faitor amongst thee shall be constantly ciphered
From chuff, to prig, to pregnant rudesby
As abjects of jury now hath knowledge of thy dash
Fly to thine pageant of mettlesome attribute that besorts thee
Cautel the constered Carlot; Revel in thine peevish, lewd leasing
For the faitor amongst thee shall be constantly ciphered
From chuff, to prig, to pregnant rudesby
As abjects of jury now hath knowledge of thy dash
14 by 16 Memories Ago
‘T is just a room, hath four walls and a door
Yet spirit resides in this smallish place
Of him, I do know well, “down to the core”
Visage now ‘fore me…in mirror…my face
‘T was once home, of music, much revelry
Budding faces, smiling faces, dancing sans cares
We lived for today, shunned eternity
The “bloom of the rose” compensated fares
Out of the many, alone, I remain
To “grow up” is to “show up” on new stage
The “cobwebs” and I, share an aching pain
To reread chapter, to turn back the page
Perhaps’t is just as well, now, we can rest
Crow’s feet leave path of last departing guest
Yet spirit resides in this smallish place
Of him, I do know well, “down to the core”
Visage now ‘fore me…in mirror…my face
‘T was once home, of music, much revelry
Budding faces, smiling faces, dancing sans cares
We lived for today, shunned eternity
The “bloom of the rose” compensated fares
Out of the many, alone, I remain
To “grow up” is to “show up” on new stage
The “cobwebs” and I, share an aching pain
To reread chapter, to turn back the page
Perhaps’t is just as well, now, we can rest
Crow’s feet leave path of last departing guest
Dear Ruth
Mercy aloft upon an angel’s wing tips
Mercy requested by pain ravaged lips
Mercy supplicated on trembling knees
Mercy in form of “please, oh God, please”
Mercy so granted…Mercy denied
Tombstones oft’ testament…where Mercy has died
What is man without Mercy?...A dispassionate shell
Whose voice clamors Heaven
Whose soul will know Hell
Mercy requested by pain ravaged lips
Mercy supplicated on trembling knees
Mercy in form of “please, oh God, please”
Mercy so granted…Mercy denied
Tombstones oft’ testament…where Mercy has died
What is man without Mercy?...A dispassionate shell
Whose voice clamors Heaven
Whose soul will know Hell
Bronx Misdate
Rippled coffee courtesy of the rumbling “El Train”
The soft incandescence of the Zenith in murky twilight
“Another scorcher today”…Coney Islanders staking out “sand parcels”
Friday!...Two “short beers” at Smiley’s Place
Me and the Missus “nose to noodle” at Giuseppe’s
Orion from the fire escape…”The Inner Sanctum”
A few “breathless” feet away
The soft incandescence of the Zenith in murky twilight
“Another scorcher today”…Coney Islanders staking out “sand parcels”
Friday!...Two “short beers” at Smiley’s Place
Me and the Missus “nose to noodle” at Giuseppe’s
Orion from the fire escape…”The Inner Sanctum”
A few “breathless” feet away
Puh-leeece!
Shootings, stabbings, robberies too
Official police protection?...”Sorry, can’t do”
Burglaries, auto thefts, assaults on you?
“The Marshall Plan” from downtown…”Sorry, can’t do”
I-Phones ripped from kid’s pocket
Old men punched in eyeball socket
Sound after midnight is simply “cock-it”
What the hell can the police do?
Hey!...clean up Mormon Slough!
Official police protection?...”Sorry, can’t do”
Burglaries, auto thefts, assaults on you?
“The Marshall Plan” from downtown…”Sorry, can’t do”
I-Phones ripped from kid’s pocket
Old men punched in eyeball socket
Sound after midnight is simply “cock-it”
What the hell can the police do?
Hey!...clean up Mormon Slough!
Delineations of Frustrations
The configuration of a doorway
A “foundation” for algebraic equation
Vertical boundaries delineating vehicle storage
Graceful curves of a soaring arch
Drawn on paper, on asphalt, on behaviors
Imaginary, Bordered, Furrowed…Faults
Lines…Drawn in the sand
I’m in one now…the unbroken queue
No need to “cut in”…I’ll hold your spot for you
A “foundation” for algebraic equation
Vertical boundaries delineating vehicle storage
Graceful curves of a soaring arch
Drawn on paper, on asphalt, on behaviors
Imaginary, Bordered, Furrowed…Faults
Lines…Drawn in the sand
I’m in one now…the unbroken queue
No need to “cut in”…I’ll hold your spot for you
Remain ... Remains
Thirty years absence from house upon hill
Dead oak tree opens arms to embrace me
Eventide sun gives no respite from chill
Brass knocker in hand?, ‘t is soon I shall be
Low moaning, sad groaning I stand immersed
Broken shutters are eyelids crimson red
Defaced door self opens…a place now cursed!
The walls now skeletal, a house now dead
I mount creaking staircase…come to black hall
The scene of my crime, those many years past
Specter looms smiling amidst ebon pall
A beckoning finger…I stand aghast
If ever one needed…help of a friend
Please come along…I must murder…again
Dead oak tree opens arms to embrace me
Eventide sun gives no respite from chill
Brass knocker in hand?, ‘t is soon I shall be
Low moaning, sad groaning I stand immersed
Broken shutters are eyelids crimson red
Defaced door self opens…a place now cursed!
The walls now skeletal, a house now dead
I mount creaking staircase…come to black hall
The scene of my crime, those many years past
Specter looms smiling amidst ebon pall
A beckoning finger…I stand aghast
If ever one needed…help of a friend
Please come along…I must murder…again
Hell-a-Globe-In
A big shot… a hot shot
From the first day he had a slingshot
But the upshot was he overshot
Hooked on gunshot…then mug shot
Met Delilah, her of straight shot
With eyes of bloodshot…died from pot shot
And Mom was overwrought…clutching snapshot
A forget-me-not…’midst taped off parking lot
From the first day he had a slingshot
But the upshot was he overshot
Hooked on gunshot…then mug shot
Met Delilah, her of straight shot
With eyes of bloodshot…died from pot shot
And Mom was overwrought…clutching snapshot
A forget-me-not…’midst taped off parking lot
1-800-Humanity
The roar of the crowd…Punic Wars
Mongol Hordes…Roman Coliseum Barbarism
Tiananmen Square…Million Man March
Bolshevik Revolution…London’s “Globe”…alive!
Army-Navy game…Rape of Nan-Jing
Aztec sacrifices…”The Giants win the pennant!”
Day’s on the Green…Night’s under stars
Roar recedes...Earth slumbers…and
Only the “voice”…of the heart…remains
Mongol Hordes…Roman Coliseum Barbarism
Tiananmen Square…Million Man March
Bolshevik Revolution…London’s “Globe”…alive!
Army-Navy game…Rape of Nan-Jing
Aztec sacrifices…”The Giants win the pennant!”
Day’s on the Green…Night’s under stars
Roar recedes...Earth slumbers…and
Only the “voice”…of the heart…remains
Cherished Cavity
Went surfing on a Popsicle stick
Blew smoke rings from a candy cigarette
Savored the slopes of a root beer sno-cone
Dueled a Three Musketeer
Took a stroll to a Fifth Avenue bar
Smacked lips with Suzy-Q
Played tetherball on a Pixie Stick
Did a diddly with Sugar Daddy
Kidstuff…Bazooka Joe blast
Blew smoke rings from a candy cigarette
Savored the slopes of a root beer sno-cone
Dueled a Three Musketeer
Took a stroll to a Fifth Avenue bar
Smacked lips with Suzy-Q
Played tetherball on a Pixie Stick
Did a diddly with Sugar Daddy
Kidstuff…Bazooka Joe blast
Off My Rocker
“Who sang that song…I’m asking you?”
The answer so clear…Willie knew
“Who played guitar on that great tune?”
My retort for you…Willie knew
Stockton’s rock ‘n’ roll family weeps today
The doors are shuttered…no more Replay
‘T is sad reflection…finds me writin’ these lines
Saluting the Maestro of vinyl…Willie Hines
The answer so clear…Willie knew
“Who played guitar on that great tune?”
My retort for you…Willie knew
Stockton’s rock ‘n’ roll family weeps today
The doors are shuttered…no more Replay
‘T is sad reflection…finds me writin’ these lines
Saluting the Maestro of vinyl…Willie Hines
Every Second Tuesday at the Metaphysical Bar and Grill
“Revolution” played backwards…78 RPM
Circumnavigation of the eight ball…Venutian in proportion
One-legged men sat on three legged bar stools
Eleven bartenders poured seven and seven’s…upside down
She inhaled pale grail of her exhale…blew me a heart-shaped smoke ring
A “leaner” on my pool cue…second hand smoked…uh huh!
Circumnavigation of the eight ball…Venutian in proportion
One-legged men sat on three legged bar stools
Eleven bartenders poured seven and seven’s…upside down
She inhaled pale grail of her exhale…blew me a heart-shaped smoke ring
A “leaner” on my pool cue…second hand smoked…uh huh!
1970 ... The Descent into Humdrummery
Jim, Janice and Jimi
Strolled in about sunrise
Janice sang a bit…it made me feel free
Windshield wipers keeping time
I wished I was Bobby Mcgee
Jimi ate a bowl of Trix
Submerged in Purple Haze
He spoke of a Foxy Lady
In a Manic Depression Maze
Jim just had a beer…it was morning, for God sakes
Remarked how People were Strange
And lethal “bathtub lakes”
Then all three disappeared
Leaving shadows midst the room
I walked outside…I laughed, I cried
To reflect on iconic tomb
That morning I’d lost…A Piece of my Heart
But there’s one thing I’d bet
Rock and Roll has a piece of my soul
And Rock and Roll…never forgets
Then the “Wind Cried Mary”
But Mary wasn’t there
Just an aging, anxious man
With graying locks of hair
Strolled in about sunrise
Janice sang a bit…it made me feel free
Windshield wipers keeping time
I wished I was Bobby Mcgee
Jimi ate a bowl of Trix
Submerged in Purple Haze
He spoke of a Foxy Lady
In a Manic Depression Maze
Jim just had a beer…it was morning, for God sakes
Remarked how People were Strange
And lethal “bathtub lakes”
Then all three disappeared
Leaving shadows midst the room
I walked outside…I laughed, I cried
To reflect on iconic tomb
That morning I’d lost…A Piece of my Heart
But there’s one thing I’d bet
Rock and Roll has a piece of my soul
And Rock and Roll…never forgets
Then the “Wind Cried Mary”
But Mary wasn’t there
Just an aging, anxious man
With graying locks of hair
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Looking In, Reaching Out
My beginnings are rooted in that of all of my kind
Air exhaled by the rich and powerful has entered my lungs
Ground traveled by the craven and courageous soils my shoes
Blackened skies bathe us all in outpourings of moisture
The crow's protestations, the mosquito's irritations know no boundaries
Spring grass tickles many toes, warm sun alleviates chill on bourgeois or beggar
And the North Star, as that of my ancestors, hangs like an ornament
An antediluvian jewel on all of humankind's celestial Christmas tree
Yet, the equality of our conceptualization ends as seed becomes sapling
Cashmere vies with cactus amidst swirling textures of existence
And the path to our ultimate destination is littered with both mirth and morose
Am I to be faulted for asking why the billowing cloud shades some and not others?
Or shall I be commended for the audacity in simply asking...why not?
Air exhaled by the rich and powerful has entered my lungs
Ground traveled by the craven and courageous soils my shoes
Blackened skies bathe us all in outpourings of moisture
The crow's protestations, the mosquito's irritations know no boundaries
Spring grass tickles many toes, warm sun alleviates chill on bourgeois or beggar
And the North Star, as that of my ancestors, hangs like an ornament
An antediluvian jewel on all of humankind's celestial Christmas tree
Yet, the equality of our conceptualization ends as seed becomes sapling
Cashmere vies with cactus amidst swirling textures of existence
And the path to our ultimate destination is littered with both mirth and morose
Am I to be faulted for asking why the billowing cloud shades some and not others?
Or shall I be commended for the audacity in simply asking...why not?
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