Cloud Thirst

Watched an old movie last night
Young lovers, star crossed, yet determined
Rowed a canoe across a lake, under shimmering moonlight
The camera panned skyward exposing one luminous
Yet somehow disturbing, white billowing cloud
I pushed pause on the tape player and stepped outside
Hanging, seemingly within the reach of my arm
Was a cloud, glowing white, it looked suspiciously….familiar
I ran back inside now standing before yesteryear’s images
The black and white luminosity reflecting off my face
I was sure of it….it was the same cloud, the same cloud…
That now, at this very instant, hung over my home
I retreated once again outside and reached up with trembling fingers
Take me with you I begged; don’t leave me in this cyber infected
Techno-madness that now seems to seems to engulf my very soul
Absorb my earthly body and transport me back…back

To a time when floorboards creaked and barrooms “speaked”
When pajamas were worn to bed, not to go shopping instead
I want to “spoon” in a rumble seat… with the “cat’s meow”
Oh! What a treat. Where hard boiled tough guys wore fedora hats
And gangsters rode in Packards wearing suspendered, tethered spats
When Cagney pushed grapefruits and Coop’ stood so lanky
The dames dolled up spiffy and hotels were swanky
And as I stretched out for that cloud, I heard many voices
Others were clamoring for alternate choices. My eyelids flickered, my fingers too
The voices were a chorus…take me, take me, take me… with you
As I regained my full eyesight, and looked up into that mystical night
I touched the sky, then touched my face, and wiped the tears
Then said with grace, Oh God on the day that I die
Please find a particular cloud in sky, then deposit me there
So I can be, for the first time in my life… truly happy

Dream Hand

I run…he chases
I see…old faces
I go…familiar places
I follow…dream paces
I tie…worn laces
I ponder…last traces
I touch…all bases
I open…cold cases
I create…a fracas
I conjure…dark spaces
I scream…breaking vases
I submit…good graces
I pray…take us
My play… Aces

Poe-sitive Advice

Whilst I was soundly napping
I heard a gentle tapping
Rapping on my bedroom door
Dickinson wore a bonnet
Shakespeare spoke a sonnet
Wordsworth wrote upon it
A scrap of paper four by four
It spoke of love and woe
And was voiced by he called Poe
He said, “‘Tis not the time
For dreary, nor somber, sad
and teary. Sleep on tired soul
in your humble home. For beauty
doth lie in the joy…of a poem."

Inscrutamutable

The Struggle…friends…has ended
Depravity… wooed, sequestered
proliferating. Has triumphed.
The boorish voice of the injudicious
The shadow of the gullible
Sweeps the land, of truth and compassion
Leaving shredded remnants of civility
And emaciated fingers of altruism… clinging
To the withered, vanishing vines
That once…oh so briefly
Bore the flower…of Humanity

Kal-Kannonfodder

Saw Gumby in Times Square
Pink, like a worn out eraser
“Where’s Pokey, dude?”
He held a dog food can
“Bummer”…”Yeah,” he said
There was ticking in his backpack
Mentioned something ‘bout losing his green card
I was already running
He exploded into 647 pieces
They quickly congealed
Ain’t buying can dog food again

The Girl Can't Help It

Bumped into Mamie Van Doren
On the Strip
She talked twenty, looked sixty
Drooled eighty
“It’s cool, it’s crazy, it’s fantabulous”
“Dennis Hopper’s dead,” I deadpanned
She looked down
“Seen Dick Clark?”
“He’s splitsville” doll
“What year is this, sweetie?”
She was…sincere
“The last one baby”
“Bye Honey, call me sometime?”
“Sure…Baby, sure.”

Backyard Buddy

He was raised in a backyard
And that’s where he stayed
Through scorching summer heat
Wet and freezing days
About forty feet by forty feet
Is what I would guess
He ate there and slept there
In perpetuity so “blessed”
Although “quarters” were provided
His bed stayed unlaid
He dug holes in the winter
In summer sought out shade
For seven years and odd days
I entered his “realm”
To find one wagging tail
And love overwhelmed
I fed and set out water
Then provided that which he lacked
As we contemplated a cruel world
Through gentle grunts and scratched back
On two separate occasions he took very ill
With love and with stew meat
He recuperated stronger still
This dog stuck in exile
Had a huge barrel chest
And when he died I realized
It was I who was blessed
We were friends in a world
Where true friendship is rare
And a piece of my heart’s in that backyard
Wishing he was still there
Now my twice a week visits
Are no longer required
But a pall hangs above me
And in mourning I am mired
Like a man beaten down
Who still has to get up
I must rise yet once again
But this time without…Pup