Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Black Birds of Autumn


Autumns crows have fallen out
Solemnly resting on branches barren
Silhouetted in the blushing dawn
Warming their damp feathers
Brooding, chanting their awkward song

In funeral attire they gawk and morn
The end of Summers sweet berries
Big fat bugs 
Bombing windshields
Pranking the squirrels

Backs to the wind 
They sit and brood
Reminiscing on gentle showers
Stealing cookies from drowsy babies
Scintillating flowers

Dark sentinels though they be
No admiration do they seek
They only party with their clique
Sharing a joke now and then
That always ends in loud guffaws

Friday, September 15, 2017

Acquiescence


Bring me vellum and Charcoal
  Then lay awhile in tepid light
Humming and winking
  Fresh and naked as a newborn fold

There used to be music
  Fall and winter spring and summer
Comes now the doors rusty report
  With cheeky landlords process server

Bring me parchment and indigo ink
  Then clear the table, strewn in waste
No checks will there be drawn
  On this counter of buckets singing with rain

There used to be words
  Cherished and clever
Before this rasping hollow
  Conch shell echo of air waves absurd

Bring me wine and honey pears
  But stay a while
Love making on slightly clean sheets
  Knowing the master has left in despair

Hold long the dog-eared page
  The remnant pencil with bitten point
Passages of heroism that no longer cleanse
  You and I in this failing light

Bring me the linen and fine silk thread
  Await to step in the crimson gown
Tunes on the radio acclaim your face
  Hand in hand with the dystopian dead

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Playground Polka


There had been

no explanation

Only incredulity

Naturally I reacted

Shoved that flaccid excuse

Right back at her cold hard indolence
I stood in the door



There was no finely polished floor

For her to drop her proud ass on now

Kicking her protestations

Like the spoiled brat

What now! I said

But the silence went on

A vacuous adagio of wind pipes



Her weeping

Could not have been sweeter

So here she will play

Grinding it out

On that lysoled expanse

Her own concrete

Playground





There it was

Like a sail on the horizon

Getting smaller

Us, it, everything

The door opened and closed

With a loud metallic clang

Let the dancing begin

Monday, August 28, 2017

'the Eccentricities of Sleepwalkers'


Hastened by the daylight
Sanctioned on the essence of amnesia

Warriors of the mind
Cloaked in darkness

Padding unshod
Armed with a comb

Pursuing the minions of evil
From every tissue of the mind

An indestructible construct
Of pure imagination

Slipping in like children
Among the Johns

Pocket picking the circular jerkular
Leaving like whores

Rescuing kittens
Plucking keys from a river

Sailing the ocean
Plank walking Pirates with teary regret

Peacefully ennobled
Saving the ever loving planet

Returning to bed
And the essence of amnesia


Thursday, August 24, 2017

Taste of Victory



Choose your weapon” she said,
And so the pacifist and the activist paced twenty,
Turned and took aim.

But how can I destroy
One who I am obligated to protect?”
The pacifist asked.

Grow a pair!”
The activist replied.
Now take aim.”


"If I win it will be said I am a brute”
He closed his eyes,
Taking aim at the Sun.

If you loose
It will be said you were bested by a girl.”
She said, they fired.

Either way I loose”
He gasped as a dove fell beside him.
Together they lay dying.

Who will care for my vines”
He gasped.
The grapes are my life's work.”

They taste bitter”
She said spitting back at him,

Dove killer!”

Friday, July 7, 2017

Introuvable Tears


When first she awoke
She thought she was dead

Darkness and pain
Had seemed to cease

Inside of a moment
She froze like a stone

None would carry her
Nor welcome her home

Down in her heart
A spider did weave

Even in day
She captured all light

Confined in her sight
She wished for the lake

Smothering the day
Slipping away

Stopping her breath
She cheated the chair

Thursday, June 29, 2017

Love Like an Abacus

How many times do we recall
Counting the days
Since first we met
The years and tears
Adding our lives on loves abacus
Weighing emotions
Erupting eventually
Like a shaken abacus

How many ways did we avoid
Counting the days
Of silent pain
The cold derision
Counting the good
Subtracting the bad
Exploding in the end
Like a broken abacus

Monday, June 12, 2017

Strange Flower




Oh sweet death, herald of silence
Pale defiler of the impassioned breast

Mocking lover's wounds
Like some wild Hearts-ease of minioned souls

Robbing thought and gentle touch,
Sweet scent and final breath

Stay the broken heart like that strange flower
Cold and still, casting pale silent regret




Friday, February 24, 2017

Dance to my Door



When will the lonely path we're on
Entwine with hearts & minds so strong?


Will time implode like hunger pains
Will distance parish all our flames?


So till the heat has been eclipsed
To fantasize with prescient lips

Till heat and wild passions soar
Your dreaming steps dance to my door
 
 ~

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Pale Umbrage



Perceive the air as loving stories
Where we are bound up in our mores
Conceived in moon lit sweet warm nights
Preserved in days of pale gray ice

Cast into the mist of Winters regret
Delirious Summers of denials cool sweat
While warm embraces defer our woes
Cold earth shall clutch our
insentient toes

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

The Widowed Bride


A tremendous act of kindness, by him brought love about
For on a cold and blustery day the passions acted out

A Sunny day shown down that perfect April morn
'Twas damp with chill, on wintry night a tiny lass was born

Her papa was a strapping lad, who never shirked from chore
Upon her mother's aching heart, they sent him off to war

Their hearts were locked in mindless bliss, that Spring upon the heath
Too soon their deed tore all apart, mid silence bound to keep

With sturdy limbs, bright eyes of gray and hair of tousled curl
Much interest in the child turned, who'd fathered such a girl?

The letters came to cheer each day, upon the sheath, no mark
But day by day each soldier's fall, revealed his beating heart

Sublime the day the war had passed and soldiers all came home
But not for those whose caissons rolled, her secret love be known

For in first days with lists at post of lads who marched no more
His name did cut the paper white, with ink her heart it tore

Still letters made it to her eyes a mystery hand had sent
As only one could even know from whence their passage rent

And on a day as fair as most with child by her side
She wed the deaf mute postman, who wooed the widowed bride

Monday, September 5, 2016

Women of Grief and Forbearance

Like a thousand Million stars
Shedding a thousand million tears

Time cannot describe the issuance of pain and joy
That is born of heartfelt woman

Like concealer and confessor
Those who bears and buries

Nurtures and defies
All that is saintly and that which is vain

Comely and confounding
As a thousand million tears

Amid a thousand million prayers
All the joys and all the woes

To bring us light in the morn
And drive dark from the sepulcher

The women of grief
And forbearance

Pushing us on
Holding us close

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Oh Orlando

Oh Orlando,
how could you know,
that your city was too lovely,
for our shattered hearts,
Orlando?

Your gardens were too green,
 
but how could you know,
your castles were too fantastic,
your fountains too bombastic,
for some to share?

Oh Orlando,
how could you know
your warm nights were too majestic,
your lakes too reflective,
to instil love in all?

Oh Orlando,
can you help us to know,
your days of bright light
of glass towers and blue lakes,
are for all to see, to hear, to touch?

Orlando,
how could you know,
your rainbow city
would teach us all
how to heal and love?




suggested music; https://youtu.be/40Y6Luq4GNU

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

White Dragon of Death


Pull back your harsh encounter
Bring not your evil pursed lips into my face
Hold fast that icy breath 
You vast devouring scourge

Today I have turned my back
On your evil continence
Long have I relished the day
Upon which
Your evil
Would cease to pester my quiet foot
My naked face and weary eye

Today I embrace the hot
Pulsing, glaring fire of the tiny universe
Of my great ancestors, and swear
I am still here!
You have not killed me yet!
You bitter wind!
You frozen ground!
You white dragon of death!

Today I shed my outer layers
To lavish all my extremities
In the grand healing rays of Rah!
Sun god!
Giver of life!
Master of all that grows
And brings sweet smells
Of birth and regeneration

Now I shall dig and plant
Build and store
From the bounty of this great planet
And gird my measly existence against 
One more intolerable winter

Damn!

Thursday, February 18, 2016

A thousand yearnings



The snow has found us once again,
Setting down it's ghostly countenance as a silent wayfarer.

Tiny flakes gather on the backs and ears of my nighttime visitors,
Long legs holding trim bellies above deep snow.

A knowing calm hides their distress,
As the night conceals a thousand yearnings, theirs and mine.

Monday, February 8, 2016

'My Serial Lover'

I say she's fat in all the right places
My best fake honesty gets me in trouble every time
She finds it sweet
But then it's too late.

She's buying me drapes and underwear
Telling me what's cute and what's disgusting
Giving me nick names
Naming my plants, my fish, it.

Scented candles show up in strange places
Things begin to disappear, like
Pictures of my friends, my magazines,
Notes with girls phone numbers on them.

Her fav albums shuffle to the top
Cans of designer paint start showing up
A drawer is taken over by toys
I feel like one of them.

New bedding, as it's called, appears
Yogurt now resides in my fridge
The guys stop dropping by, at the scent of
Fake honesty in the clutches of my serial lover

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

old people


Old people

Head like a turnip

Long time you been going
Remember the good times
Tell us where you been
Show us how was done
Back before cars and lights
Fishing with a stick and a string
Help us see where you been
Take out your teeth and grin
You not have to work now...
All tired out creaky and weak
Hear with tiny speakers in your ears
See with tired eyes.

Old People
What do you know now?
Close your eyes, run and jump
Feel your first kiss
First love, first heart break
See the day I was born
Nothing but a pants wetter
Me then, you now
Old and happy as a little kid
Old people
Forget the bad
Close your eyes and fly away
Sing with the angles
We are too young to care today.


Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The All Night, Half-wits, Masquerade Ball

I ain't a gonna wait till late next Fall
I needs my fix by-gosh by-gol
there ain't no reason to delay
So snag yer mask down off the wall
And we-ll git stupid one and all and par-tay
At the all night, half-wit's, masquerade ball

Yo, come on Addie make the call
Give the time to one and all
Were kick'n down on Fester's hay
Say brang your cousins big and small
Go'n have one bawdy full Moon parr-tey
At the all night, half-wit's, masquerade ball

Go plug that coon in the pine tree, tall
An stew 'em up with fixns' y'all
Next bring up barley-hops on dray
A cord of wood to blaze away
We'll sing and dance, howl and prance and parrr-tay
At the all night, half-wit's, masquerade ball

Dig out yer blackest hat and shall
Tuck yer locks up in it all
Brang the fiddler with teeth like clay
He'll lighten foot of stout and tall
A squeeze box player who aims to parrr-tay
At the all night, half-wit's, masquerade ball

Then purdy soon a drunken brawl
Will over take the horde, piss-all
Till stupid drunks we pantin' lay
And mornin' light drives home the owl
Won't be a one who still knows how to parrr-tay
At the all night, half-wit's, masquerade ball

Raw knuckles, sore eyes shut down small
We'll sport about the streets and hall
But none will recollect to say
Just you or who been at the brawl
Cuzz-a be'n masked, at the drunken parrr-tay
Of the all night, half-wit's, masquerade ball

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Creaky Vocal Fry



You may never do landmark inventing,
and who knew that?
But your peeps will notice your meaning,
in no time flat.
You'll always give out the impression,
you're one cool cat.
But they'll all want to just stop and listen,
when you speak that....

Qualityyy Fryyy,
you've got that creaky little,
Qualityyy Fryyy!

There's nothing better for your cool demeanor.
The fashionistas will agree that you-er,
A dynamo with vocal registry-verb.
We're talking

Qualityyy Fryyy,
that creaky tweaky little,
Qualityyy Fryyy!

Around the coffee shop or clubs you dance in,
they'll look around to see if you're Kardashian
But all will simply find that you're in fashion,
inserting,

Qualityyy Fryyy
Flamboyanttt, annoyanttt, so poignanttt.
Every woman and guy, you'll tournmenttt.
Amazed and dazed with your,

 Qualityyyy Creakyyy Vocal Fryyyyy!!

Sunday, May 24, 2015

So Sorry



The last time you held my magical thoughts...
In no mood for what you wanted me to hear.
You made one of those insipid
all encompassing statements you're famous for
With out a second thought, I said so

I am sorry for that

Now as I fidget with the medal, of your pride
A stain of angst sours in my gut, draining me,
pulling my energy from inside out.
There had to be a bit of envy, but now,
It's bronze dull, ribbon faded, meaning lost,

I am so sorry for that

With no more concern than a puppy,
you stood and performed, despite the concerns,
the rumors, the accusations.
We did not, kept our cool, dropped out.
You stood, a prideful grin, ignoring it all.

I am so sorry for that

Dust layers the memories of those times.
Most of the critical elements, forlorn
and with no more grudge than that young puppy
I extend my hand, to lay a dull medal
Where all can see that you stood strong

And I am so sorry

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Melodious Mew


I once knew a cat named Melodious Mew
Her coat she would clean till it shined just like new
Her day was spent sleeping, as much as she could
Yet, nothing would pass her constant review
Especially the dogs in the old neighborhood



Her nemesis the bloodhound was old and sprue
Famous was he for his wandering through,
Her Garden, where he'd deliver his calling card
And so she had named him, Copious Poo
And scorned such deposits in her pristine yard



Sweet little dignified Melodious Mew 
Would wait all day long for Copious Poo
To amble along all rumpled and droopy
A sniffing and drooling contented old fool
Her stealthy position, up high in the fruit tree



Then just as her target began his foul deed
She would drop on his back from where she was treed
And deliver a fright to Copious Poo
He'd dash from her garden with all of God's speed
And return to her nap, would Melodious Mew

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Butterfly Woman

Days passed on the wide prairie, the Sun pounded the tall grasses while overhead a lone cloud barely shaded a distant clutch of cottonwoods, presently the woman emerged from among the trees. She walked defiantly up the long incline, a wooden bucket handle in either hand. Water tossed by her steady movements, soaking either side of her long skirt, but gradually she made her way up the slope toward the solitary wagon. The resounding wind tugged at the canvas coverings and starlings cavorted in the tall switches of grass, bounding from one stiff blade to another, plucking the unsuspecting grass hoppers as they inched their way up the long green stems.
Reaching the wagon the woman rested against the wheel carefully avoiding the mass of brown grease at the wheels center. Her small foot raised to step up on the hub and just as directly her other foot held the hem and once up the height of such a high step her wet skirt stayed revealing her slender waist and hips to the young man beneath the wagon.
“Mercy” she exclaimed in alarm, and just that moment he looked to see those fine legs as the heavy wet skirt slide down to her ankles.
It's good... good! some help?” he asked, perceiving her discomfort.
“No , no, I don't!” she replied, stepping back down and reaching for the missing waistband. Immediately her feet tangled in the heavy cloth and she lost her balance, falling back into the tall grass.
“Josh help, help good.” the brave stated resolutely, rising and gripping her hand. He quickly lifted her to her feet. His strength was surprising to her and she landed in his arms, flustered and pleasuring at the chest muscles in her hands.
“Really, it's fine, I am good, you are good, um very fine. Yes, you are fine now?” She asked her patient. “You are much better today?” This seemed all to obvious and the morning sun blinded her eyes while she turned to cover her lower portions and pantaloons.
Injun Josh watched in confusion as she struggled to get her feet stead properly to lift and cover her embarrassment. She stepped back and turned modestly to fetch the waist hooks back into place only to find them ripped completely out and nothing to complete the clasp.
He stood confused and wondered at the discomfort of all this clothing, now he finally knew that white women had legs just like his kind. All this confused him, since his fever came upon him he had suffered in the hot days and nights in barely a loin cloth, and she suffered in these long hot hip blankets and blouses over corsets.
“Leave!” he said, pointing to the wrap. “So hot! You not need this.” a long pause passed between them as she gathered he might be right. He looked in her face and she knew he was right. Silently she went to the water bucket and washed her sweaty face, a slight discomfort passed as Injun Josh went about his business putting on his leggings, drinking from the cool water and stretching up tall to finally feel rested and alive after the fever, now searching the skyline for any cause of concern. When he turned back he caught Mrs Gillette staring at his bare back and she quickly looked to her grooming with a little blush.
“They come back now?” Josh asked in his awkward English. “It is time they be come here back?” But there was a long pause from her and he knew she was distressed at this question.
“No, Josh, not for some time now. Say, 'they will be back in three days'...” He repeated this and saw her distress. “Food is slight. I am much more hungry and you must be too.” She studied the direction of the wagon wheels and saw nothing that gave her comfort there. Immediately Josh took up his knife and turned to go.
“I am not asking you to leave, not go.” The small woman asked and went to Josh, her wet face hid a tear of her fearful state. She'd had some doubt as to what should be done for the young man, as it seemed his illness may have come on with some reason to believe he could have contracted it from her young girl at their first meeting. Scarlet fever was serious for most and worse for the natives. But once the men had left for supplies, she knew she had to remain at the wagon to try to keep the young Indian from passing on with fever. Now he was leaving her all alone in this huge flat grass land with no food or protection.
“You stay, I go...” He motioned with his hand toward his mouth, “get food” he finished. And turned to go, as a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned back to find Mrs Gillette fall into his arms, weeping and holding his arms in her cools wet hands.
“Oh, thank God!” she weep-ed at his ear and he could only hold her and patted her distressed head. There was weakness in her body and Josh knew she was suffering, weak probably from lack of food. Slowly he set her in the matted grass and she gripped his hand hesitantly. “You will return?” she asked passionately, a crack in her voice. “I shall simply die, if you fail to return to me.” In the long spells of his fever while he deliriously shivered and cried out, she bathed his dark shape in cool water and studied his good form. She had lain next to him as he shivered, his chill shook them both to the bone. Certain he was marked for death, her reservations had flown and with no medicine or anyone to see she had become enchanted with his handsome features. Now she was torn from fear of his loss and ashamed at having grown so close to the young man. 

Josh could not possibly understand what this woman was feeling, his confusion was growing with his own fascination for her cheerful voice and the box with strings she played so magically from her shoulder. He had been smitten by her early on but thought it better to make that silent in his heart.
Now he stood and lightly held her hand with both of his looking like rough dark paws. Quickly she wrapped her arms about his waist and hugged him from where she knelt, in a moment Josh took her arms from his hips and looked down into her light blue eyes, the tears shown wet in her gaze as he touched her pale cheek. She held his hand tight against her cheek, and felt his pulse pounding under his flesh. He was beginning to stroke her long curly hair as slowly a noticeable growth was swelling in his britches. She smiled and blushed with her impassioned thoughts. Tugging on his arm she pulled him onto the grassy thatch and they held tight to one another rolling into a full embrace in the throws of sighs and soft eyes holding a close gaze their minds became fixated in longing bliss.
A warm gust licked at the wet skin of their bare arms and picked and twisted at their clothes now slowly loosening and tiny buttons in fumbling fingers. His young desire was callow in her hands, gently she stroked his warm face, a butterfly landed on her bare shoulder opening and closing it's bright wings, it seemed to be curious and approving.
“You... this is your new name, what's called?”
“Butterfly?” She asked softly putting her finger near the visitor. It opened it's wings to draw in the sunshine and gently lifted to drift about their bright smiles.
“Butterfly Woman” Josh said clearly, and put a light kiss on the spot.
“Think you” She responded in her clean musical French accent, “Bootefly Wemin” her voice soft and lingering. She held his face close and gave him the longest kiss she had ever known. His hands were under her blouse holding her against his bare chest and she pulled back with a gasp. His face was full of curiosity and she knew that this was what she wanted so very badly and nothing would ever compare with what she had known with her husband. Here was a power of true passion and it gave her heart more fire than she had ever imagined possible. Slowly she slid off her shirt and unhooked the front of her bodice. The pale soft flesh of her ginger chest showed fine round breasts with small pink nipples. Josh was surprised to not see the dark brown orioles of his women, the firmness gave an inspired rise in him and tenderly his hands closed on both to find perfection in such as this touch. Her mind was spinning with anticipation as her hand caressed his back while pushing his long black hair off his face.
“The butterfly opens to the sun, I am a son...” He lowered his hand to touch her rump and indeed she opened to the son.
“Give me all your manly organ...I know it is ready for me.” As her hands explored his britches and she was not incorrect. She discovered the thing of her expectant joy and removed it for him with her gentle hands. Deliberately she made firm her grip and instantly Josh shirked with excitement and exploded into her hands. Momentarily she waited to see if what she thought, had just happened, and then she began to softly laugh to herself. He was so new to this, probably a virgin, she thought. But he looked pleased and soon he had risen back to his feet.

“Make soon food, wait you.” Josh said with a big smile and turned to go search for a good willow limb to make a rabbit snare. As he walked off disappearing into the tall grass she laughed aloud and dreamed of what she would do differently come dark.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

To see the Dark



Eyes like coal
Heart of stone
In the beginning
You think you're a god
That's what you can see
In the Dark

Till you learn
To fear not death
Mark the day
You walk the night
Stifle life and
Be the dark


Render the blood
Of the disbeliever
Teach to fear
The light,
To see
The dark

Hollow the heart
To be like a god
They who do not
Never shall dance
Till the rigor mortise 
Shall finally depart?