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
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
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
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
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
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
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
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)