Friendly Fancy

I’m in a daze
your lofty praise
has set my cheeks a glowing,
I fear that soon
like a balloon
this head will start a growing.

My paltry plume
well versed in gloom
has tickled your perception,
but you’re a scribe
with your own vibe
that captures the attention.

With luck our word
will soon be heard
or read or maybe spoken.
A lovely dream
that makes me beam—
Oh damn! Now I’ve awoken.

Befriend

No words could say
how much they mean
or nod repay
support unseen.
One so true
is hard to find
but friends like you
make me that kind.


***I can’t tell you how much it means to me when people leave comments and suggestions. I know I haven’t reciprocated much but I do read all the blogs in my links regularly and greatly appreciate any readers I may have. But one person above all has never stopped showing interest in my ramblings, and is my most enthusiastic supporter – Shirley over at Whispers in The Wind. I can still remember when she blindly Emailed me through another site I post on with some great comments years ago, and we’ve been inspiring each other ever since. She recently highlighted one of my poems which I am publicly thanking her for right now, but also penned a lovely verse about friends which has prompted my own response. Please go visit her site and let her know how talented she is and also her new baby, Word Catalyst, a magazine for creative expression which she runs. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – the world is a better place with people like you in it dear. Have a great New Year!!***

Spent

Like ever I procrastinate
then purchase in a frenzied rush,
precariously navigate
the whiny, aisle-blocking crush
while hackneyed carols resonate
until you pray for them to hush—
I’ve mumbled my last expletive
there’s truly nothing left to give.

Holiday Break

The same old spot gets cleared again and all
those boxes full of ancient tinkling glass
are hauled from musty spaces; silver grass
like snakes survey the tree on which they’ll crawl.
Reflections multiply, illuminate
with sentimental whims as flashing lights
adorn each bushy branch, the smell ignites
a crazy urge to loudly celebrate.
Mementos stored in cardboard vaults invoke
the need to journey back, beyond that point
when vows became the stony walls of pride.
But fragile trinkets jostled finally broke,
their healing balm no longer to anoint
as chilling snow accumulates outside.

Liability

For all the pomp and circumstance
it’s just a clusterfuck
entranced by the reptilian glance
of one vindictive cluck;

I was told the magical degree
negated foolish flight
but doctrinaire duplicity
ensures that nothing’s right.

Hack

My candor is my armor
and though the shine is gone
it’s shielding when you’re wielding
that pitted sword you’ve drawn
so go ahead and whack away
your dullness keeps the edge at bay.


***Hi all! Well back here I talked about a sharp blade, but today encountered quite the opposite. Unfortunately I was reminded how a quick clean cut is usually less painful. Oh well, can't wait to see who takes a swipe tomorrow.***

Not So Hot

"Sssssstay with me," the fire hissed
"We’ll sizzle everything,
I’ll help you cook your food
and keep away the bugs that sting."
But in the distance I could hear
a cleansing presence sing
with pure unfiltered tones
that brought me back once more to Spring.

So I threw an extra log upon
the pit and bade goodbye
"I must be off my ardent friend
before the sun’s too high
to find that distant melody
which makes my mouth feel dry,
I should be back eventually
endeavor not to die."

A pissy little pop proclaimed
"You know you need my heat
but go and look for paradise
until you bruise your feet
I’ll be waiting hungrily
for class to be complete!"
Then silence smoldered smokily
throughout my swift retreat.

Around my camp the forest spread
as far as eyes could see
with pines and birches towering
above the shrubbery
I walked with care but no one there
barked or seemed to be
too rankled that I trod upon
their former family.

I angled towards that bubbly sound
a vigor in my stride
excited to explore despite
the slowly burning chide
for how could one so self-consumed
appreciate the ride
we all must take to find new vistas
somewhere deep inside.

Ahead the forest thinned a bit
more sunlight sneaking through
I topped a ridge to come upon
an unexpected view
a river wide and powerful
that split the woods in two
delivering the draft of life
without which we can’t do.

The bank beneath me gently curved
to form a little cove
as sunshine sparkled on the waves
like gems in someone’s trove
I watched a group of waterbugs
defined within their drove
and knew how I resembled them
when hesitant to rove.

I gauged the course the current forged
with unrelenting grit
and realized I’d be a fool
to try traversing it
so I sat until a numbness started
where I tend to sit
then stood and stretched, resigned
that my new height was but a flit.

Conflicted as I stumbled back
across the trail just made
relief infused me when I found
my cozy little glade
but then the truth exploded
like a fully armed grenade
as I realized my wanderlust
was another masquerade.

So I stirred the coals reluctantly
and stoked them for the eve
they roared to life voraciously
saying "Now do you believe?
You wear your languor openly
upon your rayon sleeve."
Then I warned it "Do be careful
for there’s much I must relieve."

Bent

Without, The Raven mocks me
as monotonous wails beseech
to never get too cocky
with presumptions that I preach.

I crawl beneath my covers
to alleviate the chill
but like unholy lovers
we begrudge each other still.

Pick Your Poison

The fastidious alcoholic pours
exactly what’s required
to nullify the anguish
of existing uninspired.

The undecided dopers smoke
whatever they can buy
in order to facilitate
accepting someone’s lie.

The sanctimonious seek reward
to root them to this rock
but who can say who does more harm
within the sheepish flock?

Juxtaposition

I

Uprooted when the cold wind blows
revolving like a hapless leaf
we end up where no sunlight goes.

In tranquil groves creation grows
but leeward plots are often brief.
To tumble when the cold wind blows

and gyrate in contorted throes
of stormy overwhelming grief
and land where sunlight never goes

regardless whether weed or rose
will ruffle even stout belief.
Uprooted when the cold wind blows

alighting someplace no one knows
beyond redemption or relief
to shrivel where no sunlight goes

and wallow in depressing woes;
you can’t deter this craven thief—
uprooted when the cold wind blows
we drop where sunlight never goes.

II

How fragile is the fleeting spark
whose incandescence helps assuage
the grimness of the night so dark,

an emptiness so wholly stark
we battle it with fiercest rage.
How fragile is the fleeting spark

bequeathed by a propitious lark
which drives us to forever wage
our fight against the night so dark;

regardless if we miss our mark
inciting courage to engage.
How fragile is that fleeting spark

whose finicky precocious arc
reveals a way to flee the cage
that holds us in the night so dark.

With bold defiance we embark
upon a quest to somehow gauge
how fragile is that fearsome spark
emblazoned in the night so dark?

The Politics of Wedlock

I don’t care what the President said
there is a recession – it’s on my head!
Inflation is rampant across the beltway
and strict domestic policy keeps me at bay.

—A. Punnedit—

Nonconformity

Acceptance of the obvious
is not a sign of weakness
succumbing to the timorous
should not be seen as meekness
remaining ever frivolous
will seldom garner sleekness
depending on the devious
you’ll never find uniqueness.

Flux

We greet the planet polarized
aspire for attraction
but oft become desensitized
by lack of satisfaction.

Specific mettles propagate
the proper situation
required to facilitate
conflicting fascination.

Exchanging Gifts

The writer wrings reality
with words of willful wit
a painter pencils purity
impassioned by the pit
the sculptor slices symmetry
with every shard that’s split
their lies – a liability
or lamps that should be lit?

Incognito

We never knew the name or face
just simple words of subtle grace
adrift throughout this cyberspace—

with links and thoughtful pleasantries
extended forth from friendly keys
an artist crafted legacies.


**I just read in the comments at Anonymous Poet that the writer had passed. This blog was the first to link to mine I believe, and I am speechless with remorse. Take care friend, may you rest in peace, and thanks for your beautiful words.**

Wake

I heard the dreadful news Thanksgiving Day
and wondered as I prepped our festive food
if Paula could express her gratitude
considering how Jim had passed away.
My wife insisted we attend the Mass
for Jim had always liked to hear me sing;
we steeled ourselves to face this somber thing
then left to make our own respectful pass.
His lifeless mask was grayer than the cold
November sky, but everywhere were those
affected by the selfless path he chose
in celebration as the bellman tolled.
I opted to ignore the plastic shell
and focused on the life he lived so well.

Snarled

Commemorating gratitude
groggily nonplused
deciding what should wind up chewed
and what is better trussed.

Fossilized

Wavy snakes slither from pavement into air
charmed by silent rays’ insistent sultry beat
polished chrome sparkles in the late morning glare.

Roaring engines generate their own fierce heat
dragon’s breath comes forth as though they were alive
anxious to do battle on the banded street.

Tremors shake the earth into a jaunty jive
swinging everyone to seek an earthbound flag;
only those that stomp the floorboards will survive.

Oily smoke rewards the one who tends to lag
cheers will greet the hero’s checkered episode
driving them to shift their mouth right into brag.

Clouds of desert dust arise, an epic ode
to steeds whose time has come to head down the road.

The Fall

The muted ocher testament
of summer’s swift retreat
meanders dazedly across the land,
with resignation evident
it tumbles in defeat
until some green recruits can make a stand.

Tap

I thought I just heard something
almost being said
a low persistent murmuring
somewhere in my head
like sap beneath the weathering
impatient to be bled
I swear I just heard something
almost being said.

Linkage

Hello everybody. Just wanted to let you know that I’ve added a new link to the right and if you love language and words as much as I do you might want to check it out. Lewis Turco, author of the ‘Book of Forms’ has his own blog and my latest poem was inspired by some dialogue there which mentions this poem I had never read before.

Bon Voyage

Another misty morning of misgivings has been met
by the midnight-winged menagerie that hasn’t left just yet
for every dawn they migrate to the river down below
like vultures at the murky Styx, in search of those too slow.

This gargoyle squats upon my brow, its shadow like a veil
that hinders therapeutic light routinely, without fail
my data are confounded with agendas and conceit
which tends to skew the plot in convolutions of deceit.

The firmness of my grasp is often open to debate
undistorted views have been infrequent as of late
perhaps it’s time to ride the current, blissfully serene
while all those blaring buzzards pick my weary carcass clean.

Cultivation

I penned this beast on fertile ground
confined by rhythmic beats of sound
a scheme they’ll never call profound—

but doggedly I won’t refrain
(despite resistance by the grain)
from plying the uncluttered plain.

Nags

With a shirk we’re belittled at work
for a fee we accept the decree
that the rich hold the reins and the switch
while we trot for the nothing we’ve got.

Lot

The crows are rather raucous as cold rain
comes down in sheets, their caws reverberate
across the parking lot to penetrate
my sleepy mind with barbs of harsh disdain;
November seldom promises a thing
except for loss, despite the extra hour
obtained, but I refuse to let their dour
derision cut me deep enough to sting.
I nonchalantly saunter to the pen,
my sentence (as it is) quite incomplete—
escaping, for the nonce, the final sheet
which emptily awaits this denizen.
Inside I’m laughing harder than those birds
for nothing mocks me louder than my words.

Fireworks

I watched the glowing orange streak
descend then slowly fade
hot ashes brushed against my cheek
I gripped the balustrade
my eyes were stung by sulfurous smoke
as oohs and ahhs were made
and then my six-string gruffly spoke
impatient to be played—
A plea no bard could ever refuse
so we cranked it up and lit the fuse!

Word Catalyst is Live!

Hi all! Don't forget to go and check out the fabulous monthly E-zine dedicated to the arts and run by my friend Shirley called Word Catalyst. There are some great pictures and articles contributed by some truly talented people, and even some of my mediocre prose too. It's got a great new look provided by the vision of Shirley and the know how of Harry, great job you two!! I am proud to submit to such a well thought out and professional looking publication, thanks for all your efforts.

Active Cultures

As hungry microbes populate
the world and lust for power
to shamelessly annihilate
they turn the whole batch sour.

Brown Eye Blues

You’ve coddled the snake
ignoring the scales
he wanted a break
his fancy prevails—
toadies come and toadies go
you’ll find another nose to stow.

Precarious

The ivy creeps along the wall
bedecked in scarlet shades of fall
beside a now quiescent creek
that raged when tears of spring were peak;
but don’t assume it’s moribund
for rivulets are iracund,
unsettled by the swift advance
of turbulent precipitance.

Pestilence

Civilization snakes through the valley
on a greasy black underbelly
carrying destruction in a can
like vermin slinking from an alley
garbage strewn and smelly
contaminating sanity with Man.

Shine

To think that someday all we know
will simply cease to be
is sobering beneath the glow
of brilliant brevity
that douses the October sky
in vibrant twilight hues
reminding me I’ve got to try
as eventide ensues.

Twist

My relevance as someone who
continues on without a clue
could easily be likened to
a sightless man describing blue,

for how can one that’s truly blind
express their convoluted mind
with imagery of any kind
that isn’t shoddily designed—

but metaphors are all I’ve got
to help remediate my lot
so doggedly I sit and jot
a paradox within the plot

whose premises are crudely built
from sacrificial juices spilt
when hands of over-zealous guilt
manipulate the jutting hilt.

Tangled

I watched a shifty spider creep intently down its web
to taste a tethered moth five times its size
and every time the frantic creature’s struggles seemed to ebb
that patient rogue snuck closer to the prize.

It’s clear to me we all are caught just like that hapless moth
in silky bonds too tacky to escape
made weaker by convenience that we fail to see as sloth
while dripping fangs approach our tender nape.

Project

Two decades of dogma and duties designed
to maximize output from body and mind
has taught me to always improve what I can
including myself – so I’m outta here man!



**Well I usually like to let my ramblings stand on their own, but today marks exactly 20 years that I began my enslavement/employment here in the bowels of the rust belt. As my ditty infers, hopefully I shall be a free, self-employed man if all goes according to plan.**

Go AWAY Hillary!

The time has come to rally men
to say vociferously – WHEN!
don’t be led into the den
of overbearing mama hen.

As milquetoast whine begins to spill
indignant cries are loud and shrill
to stuff the ballot box until
a harpy hangs upon the hill;

so don’t be fooled by your TV
or liberal duplicity
for this Hil has a legacy
of power hungry lunacy.

Key

Pythagorean principles
Reveal a revelation
Inherited by infidels
Dispensing devastation—
Extermination!

Deductible

Into a sterile metal maw
they feed the damaged clay
to try and find the pesky flaw
confounded with decay
that’s sensitive, but stays sedate
as polar forces resonate.

Throughout the antiseptic maze
subalterns banish pain
despite the mortalized malaise
we rail against in vain,
but even if a cure did show
it’d be denied by my HMO.

Hangup

Your foibles aren’t endearing dear
they’re tediously trite
like snapping gum in someone’s ear
or babbling all night
about the fact that no one’s near
to hear you piss and moan
no wonder conversations veer
into a dial tone.

532 AD (After Destruction)

Brave travelers through time and space
we chanced upon this cosmic place
looking about, disbelief on my face
I feel my pulse begin to race;
hurtling through the cold darkness
intent upon this celestial quest.

For countless years our ship did fly,
galaxies and bright nebulae,
black holes like a demon’s eye
all have slowly drifted by
the view-ports of our metal cell,
a steely cold oppressive shell.

The Captain\Father stands aghast
seeing the Promised Land at last,
he begins to mutter extremely fast
those sacred words of Earth long past;
that bright blue world that was destroyed
once nuclear weapons were deployed.

After sending a party to investigate
we determine it worthy to populate,
a rag tag crew with an unenviable fate-
a brand new race to propagate.
Did we learn our lesson well?
Only the passage of time will tell.

Misses

Becky had bodacious bait
the kind I was anxious to squeeze
but she always made me wait
until I whispered pleeeease.

Laura was lovingly lewd
an overly luscious lass
her tresses were multi-hued
and she loved to gun the gas.

Sandra sang slightly off key
preferring to sketch at my pad
she drew her conclusion of me
then severed the something we had.

Terry was terribly thin
though smitten with bountiful lust
recalling our tryst makes me grin
despite being just one more bust.

Ruins

Ambition calls
resilience stalls
momentum stumbles then just crawls
a crumbled mess
undone by stress
from all the elements that press
against the walls
and squalid halls
how long before the temple falls?

Sound Off

I started my day with a SNAP CRACKLE POP
then had a bowl of mush
protesting joints refuse to stop
and I can’t make them hush,
so I’ll just ignore those gruesome sounds
that come with every pang
and try to focus on ending my rounds
with some kind of WHIZ BOOM BANG.

Hung

The more my back aches
the more I hate to waste
the energy it takes
to counteract haste—

the lower I stoop
the less I can bear
but once in the loop
you can’t slip the snare.

Event Horizon

Knowing there’s a fleeting sphere
we circle on the fly
doesn’t answer why we’re here
to somehow briefly try
burning brighter than that ball
for everyone to see
before succumbing to the pall
of dreadful gravity.

Smooth

Behold the new effete elite that sport sardonic grins
a mismatch of cosmetics and jutting scraggly chins
accountable to answer for their father’s macho sins
too bad they’ll never sprout a single curl upon the twins.

Fleabag

You thought you had secured a bitch
more fruitful than the rest
but she’s unraveled every stitch
to that I can attest,
and don’t complain because you itch
you know her kind infest
anyone who buys the pitch
to endlessly invest.

Sticks

Another revolution wound
no elegant solution found
a vibrant blush adorns the face
of mountains whose majestic grace
surround this valley tucked away
from sterile steel so stony gray
that dominates the leveled loam
beyond this heaven I call home
where incandescent autumn rays
remediate my grim malaise
and soaring vistas abrogate
myopic modes that inundate.

Prisoners of War

We pity them with placards and parades,
an ebon flag whose snowy silhouette
portrays the ones we never should forget;
the shades too drawn to relish cannonades.
But who could ever overlook those gaunt
defiant faces staring hungrily through bars,
or battered bodies riddled with the scars
whose lividness will likely always haunt
our dreams. Commandos plot offensive schemes
anew, determined to eradicate
the worthless scum their doctrines designate
deterrents to their prejudiced regimes.
It’s getting harder as each day goes by
to look our fellow inmates in the eye.

Crow

I know I’ve found my fated cause
a reason to exist
that feels so good, despite the flaws
I’m certain won’t desist;
regardless how I tend to gripe
I’ll never alter common type.

A rook amongst the nightingales
I flatly sing my song
but all my garbled squawking fails
to satisfy the throng
and still my caws routinely spill
across the web from blackest quill.

As seasons spin their primal dance
of bounty and rebirth
there will be those that look askance
at how much they are worth,
a question with but one reply—
how much did you truly try?

Speedbumps

There have been times in life when I achieved a decent clip
just to wind up stuck behind someone whose pleasure trip
inured them to the fact that their lethargic limits gyp
those intent on moving past the surface of the tip.

Hacked

Must a job that’s almost gainful
also be so goddamned painful
can’t we just come in and labor
sans the sharpness of your saber.

To Do

I’ve got my list of all the tasks that really must be done
but first let’s talk frivolities; you know it’s much more fun
and then someone important can discover how we shun
our necessary duties while our fulsome flappers run.

(Too bad I never earned my degree
in acting more decisively.)

Denuded

There is no compunction
to focus or function
beyond simply saying ‘Why not’
specific suppression
of thoughtful expression
induces malingering rot
which tends to just wither
the urge not to dither
like every collateral leaf
destroying your comfort
with almost no effort
and now we can all share the grief.

Keywords

Your jargon is impressive
so detailed and progressive
but every day just brings a new mistake
whose fire spreads pollution;
become part of the solution
and implement the plans you love to make.

Odds

If twenty five cubes comprise a square
must it be five by five
and does the arc that makes someone aware
designate them as alive
can brand new angles help prepare
chaos to somehow survive
the calculating game of dare
and thrive?

Lag

We left the lighted labyrinth
our innocence upon a plinth
then raced the moons reflection
on the rails along the road,

regardless how I gunned the gas
that flashback wouldn’t let me pass
to seek a new connection
more conducive to our load.

The urge to retch is growing stronger
for now the stretch seems that much longer.

Feast

I thought about those distant lights
that coruscate on clearer nights;
belittled by the vast expanse
which dwarfs our petty appetites.

A smorgasbord of luscious chance
invites the hungry to advance
and sample all the heady spice
that seasons every circumstance,

for will alone cannot suffice
sustaining this condemned device—
assurance of unknown delights
alleviates the drastic price.

Blustery

If words were all it took my dear you’d be a superstar
chauffeured around this rusty town in your idealistic car
but truly all they care about is what you really did
not the windy diatribe behind which you have hid.

Gibbous

It looked at me
so stonily,
a most unnerving glare
as wispy veils
like billowed sails
traversed its solemn stare;
I can’t apprise
why shaded eyes
beheld this lowly one—
perhaps to hail
another pale
reflection of the sun
or circle still undone.

Rasavātam

Like mercury my thoughts cohere
to form a silver bubble
a tiny, shiny fluid sphere
encapsulating trouble
that common sense could never blot,
the surface tension’s much too taut.

Not As I Do

I juxtapose judiciously
a life beyond my reach
with circumstance suspiciously
arranged by those that leech
the marrow most maliciously
from bones then left to bleach
upon the coast capriciously,
a caveat to teach.

Good Stuff?

It starts with a spark
burning brightly, intense
whose crackling arc
ignites common sense
to furnish a draft
that windily stokes
the kindling of craft
which thoroughly smokes.

Inspired by Billy

Son of a Beach

I find the whole business of interaction
a bothersome distraction
preferring to be peacefully alone
like an eremite inside his cave
instructed by a roaring wave
on how to pound redemption from a stone.

Don't Look At Me

The paths that we tread often curve
to disappear into a haze
and every new step takes some nerve
for hazards exist in the maze
but uneven ground shouldn’t faze
a person that watches for stumps
unless they are lost in a cloudy daze
distracted by curious lumps.

Mild Please

A yellow drone came buzzing through
the window where I stood
alighting on a silken stretch
across its sash of wood
and suddenly, not one but two
arachnids sprang to munch
upon the madly flailing wretch
reluctant to be lunch—

but then with one last frantic tug
that entrée left them there to plug
the rupture in their silken strand
with hopes to wrangle grub more bland.

Distinguishing Marks

We raise the bar, then plummet twice as far
to scrape away a chunk of hapless clay;
each faded scar is part of who we are.

It seems bizarre to only shoot for par
when every day presents another way
to raise the bar, then plummet twice as far

and soundly jar our bones, condemned to mar
the shell we pray will make it through the fray.
Each faded scar is part of who we are,

each jagged star like strings on a guitar
that helps convey the verve with which we play.
We raise the bar, then plummet twice as far

but still we spar with those that knock our tar
to yesterday, despite the bloody spray;
each faded scar is part of who we are.

As Zippos char the tip of a cigar
our feats will gray and we’ll devise a way
to raise the bar, then plummet twice as far—
each faded scar is part of who we are.

I Beam

We all need a place to sit and just think
to brood on what may have brought closer the brink,
a private retreat where it’s okay to vent
without obligation to humbly repent;
but we can’t remain in our bastion of stone
forever defensive, forever alone
expecting the succor we seek from within—
support is best found in the arms of our kin.

Out of the Woods

For Phil Jr. - I love you and don't ever do this again!


Beneath the lush primeval brush
you wander through the shadowed hush
uncertain how to make it back
to sunny fields alive with plush
sensation.

You hear the sound from all around
this cloistered copse of stippled ground
determined to escape the black
which gnaws your heels like Satan’s hound,
damnation.

Benumbing pain that won’t abstain
then suddenly, the way is plain
lucidity sneaks through a crack
to guide you from the grim domain.
Elation!

Changing Stations

We see a clean kitchen (though really how can you tell in black & white) and a tall man dressed in a very dashing suit. In a condescending tone he begins to talk to the woman working in the background. Her smile is tighter than Hoover’s ass and her dress is pressed so stiff it appears to be made from cardboard.

Male: “Sally is preparing a hot meal for her hard working husband when he gets home, not to mention those starving children. Look at all the dishes piling up, poor Sally. If only she had some help. Well now she does – BING – (dishwasher appears) because here is the one and only Wash-O-Matic!

That’s right, now the little misses can put those dishes in our handy dandy pull out rack, pour in some soap, and bingo, you’re off to the movies, or maybe even a little shopping, right Sally (wink). So don’t delay, order yours today!”

Female: Silently poses by washer.

click

We see a colorful, well styled parlor with a chicly dressed woman wearing glasses that make her exude intelligence, talking quite confidently to a somewhat scruffy looking guy that suddenly appears in the doorway with an unmistakably bewildered look on his face.

Female: “I just picked up our 2.4 children from their various s extracurricular activities after washing the clothes, cleaning the house, writing my thesis, generating record profits for the company I am CEO of, and oh yes, I even changed the oil in your truck.

Please tell me you brought home a nice greasy bucket of that KFC so I don’t have to whip up a gourmet meal from common pantry items and can continue my superhuman efforts unabated.”

Male: *grunt*

Cuts

All the purple crowns have been dethroned
for daring to encroach on land that’s owned
by a faceless despot simply called ‘The State’
destroying beauty it can’t regulate.

Running Courses

For drook—

The jumbled babble of a fevered mind
is all that I can manage, for it seems
coherency departs when illness deems
to crumble walls so shoddily designed.
Inside the linen labyrinth that twists
about my frame, resistance is afoot,
inciting fierce defenders that will put
their lives at risk until the raid desists—
bestowing peace upon the realm once more,
releasing characters that heretofore
were languishing behind a dungeon door,
while peeking through the cracks the best they could,
determined to get free (they knew they would)
to help the race move forward as it should.

III - Evil Victorious

A bizarre shadow controls the band
The music makes you weep

It's a cold day for the celebration
Marching feet keep time with death
Lost souls cry declaration
The crowd begins to sweat

Feelings rise
Tension mounts
It builds to a volcanic head
Everything alive holds its breath
The moon turns bloody red.

Behold the Beast in his glory
Worship at his feet

It's the only way to live these days
When reactions answer fear
There is no mercy to give away
Survival instincts commandeer

Terror rules
Pain is king
The victory is complete
Thoughts don't belong to you
A pawn on useless feet.

II - The Final Stand

Echoes reverberate and catch your ear
The reckoning time is near
You'll know it's come
When freedom is gone
And your thoughts are filled with fear.

It's a deadly game where no one wins
You lose when it begins
A hope for victory
Can never be
The stark reality makes you cringe.

Screaming vengeance for the wrong that was done
New problems have begun
Outlook on life
Teaming with strife
Social lepers shall be shunned.

It becomes a dream where you don't wake up
Troubled sleep won't stop
Toss and turn
Memories burn
You're slowly falling from the top.

Hypocrisy is the accusing soul
With infallible morals
Feel the guilt
A new lie is built
The Apocalypse takes control.

I - Of The Beast

Macabre reactions at parallel crossroads
Infect your mind with disease,
Shallow waves with tide reversing
Flutter in the fetid breeze.
The crooning moon sings to the night
Stars listen intently,
A glowing ash falls through the sky
Sight is gone completely.
Crooked trees with dead skin falling
Turn and face due west,
An evil beast with red eyes blazing
Rides a boiling crest.

Playing Hooky

How do true believers? Just in case anyone is wondering, that little tag line was ripped off from Stan Lee’s Soapbox, as anyone that used to read Marvel comics can tell you.

Well as regular readers may know I have been extremely busy lately and now I seem to be a bit under the weather with a cold. So over the next few days I will be posting one of my older compilation works because my mind is mush at the moment. I noticed long ago that certain poems I’ve written at different times in my life seem to have a connection, and so it was only logical to combine them into one story. And as luck would have it, while I was lying in bed resting yesterday I caught a whole blasted in depth series concerning the End Times written of in Revelation. I did have a very religious upbringing as a child, but since have wallowed in spiritual apathy, trying to figure things out for myself. Needless to say I haven’t been very successful.

At any rate, I present to you the one, the only – Apocalypse Trilogy.

Possibility

We make a choice
to use our voice
for dismal drool
or to rejoice

a moment gained
with hope maintained
to face the cruel
and unexplained.

Just Desserts

You spoiled the tart
with too much dough
and not enough attention;
now off the cart
you wish long ago
you had exercised prevention.

Parent Trap

We dress them and tell them
just what they should say
then watch them move out
to cavort as they may
expressing their concepts
as best as they can
while we sit, expectant
resigned to our pen.

Stuck in Neutral

I can’t be moved
from here to there,
or reproved—
I just don’t care.

Treed

The growth this year is dense and tall
from here it seems no man at all
had ever raped the virgin land
until, in shafts, a grayish pall
ascends

with calloused hands we wield the axe
obliterating vital tracts
so steel horizons can expand
to crush the world until it cracks
and ends.

Jam This!

Extremely enraged
creatively caged
rehearse your rebuke
strategically staged
slams from the slums
drama and drums
pay per view puke
condescending as it comes.

Reasoning Rhyme

I pondered what may cause my mind
to manufacture verse
with passion my obscurity
could never quite disperse
especially considering
existence is so terse,
but then I shrug and laugh, aware
that things could be much worse.

φ

The spiral of a shell reveals an axiom worth teaching
that flickers through the grasp of those intent on over reaching,
for misconceptions baffle them, beleaguered by distortion
unmindful of the splendor when all things are in proportion.

Tinkering

I wondered what component I could change
to make my life less prone to breaking down,
which configuration to arrange
that fuels momentum, even when I frown
and almost never winds up on the fritz
to minimize my time within the pits.

High?

Obliteration purchased in a little plastic bag
doling out destruction pinch by pinch
you hit a lower point with every self-indulgent drag
dreamily relinquishing each inch.

Clink

Look at all the guinea pigs
in their posh suburban digs
and even clustered mobile rigs

performing for their pellet food
in many shapes and multi-hued
that alters any drastic mood.

Distended cheeks frame darting eyes
that seek the council of the wise
to earn another coated prize

in order to suppress their rage
or make depression disengage
to keep a happy, healthy cage.

Tackle

Casting lines, so many lines
without the rubber booties
flinging bait so someone dines
neglecting pointless duties.

Lacking my bestudded vest
but trolling for the proper
type of pliant colored test
to help me land a whopper.

Angling in the current tide
to populate my strophe
with lively stock identified
as worthy of a trophy.

Swiped

Faster, faster
who’s the master?
Scan your card
or face disaster.

Hurry, hurry
strive to scurry
seeing’s hard
when things are blurry.

Swallow, swallow
all the shallow
ads that lard
the cult of hollow.

Enlightenment

I saw a rainbow arcing bright
each color so distinct
they fostered such intense delight
it caused me to rethink
this dismal self-directed hate
which always seems to radiate
a flame towards which I gravitate.

Although the sky was roiling black
I knew a lucent ray
would soon repel the fierce attack
by entering the fray
and wrapping up this futile war
but first, I headed for the door
because it really started to pour!

Declaration

We gather to commemorate the day
intrinsic rights were boldly ratified
enabling such warm festivities

the band was paid to loudly play
as awestruck watchers sighed
beneath a sky alive with bright decrees.

No Whey

A monumental task
that would weaken most knees
but now he can bask
after cutting this cheese.

Snap

Behind the neatly trimmed facades
there’s squalor and unrest
a workday widow blankly plods
about her crooked nest
as Doctor Phil extols his truth
and MTV sedates the youth.

Outside among the structured rows
dysfunction dominates
the minds of those that watch their shows
and always close their gates
around a troubled tract
to keep the cover shot intact.

psi

It seems that I can only feign
concern for just so long
before a hence unnoticed vein
erupts in rhythmic song;

your ignorance is so rehearsed
it truly is quite scary,
now please desist before I burst
a needed capillary.

Manifest

Whilst sunlight sneaks between the bars
to creep across the floor
and pool in limpid puddles by the door,
redemption seems as distant as the stars
whose beckon seems much weaker than before.

I languish in this messy pen,
the ichors fairly boil
to spew upon the paper and embroil
anyone encumbered by a likewise yen
to stop, and gauge the failure of my toil.

Fertile Minds

A seed is sown expectantly
the ground so well prepared
with hopes the fruit grows plentifully
in order to be shared—
anyone scared?


Hello all, just a quick note to let you know that my friend Shirley Allard has launched a new e-zine focusing on poetry and the arts. Fruits of The Creative Garden can be found at the link provided and I shall get a permanent link to the right asap. Why she’s even asked yours truly to lend a little uneducated blather to the cause and seeing as she’s always been so nice to me I thought I’d give it a try. So head on over and check it out, and if you’re a poet or artist or writer and you want your stuff showcased, drop us a line, we’re on the lookout. Take care,

Bob

Wallflower

Precariously perched upon a wall
high above a turbulent stream
the honeysuckle risks it all
to catch an extra golden beam;
embracing the abyss
enticed by Gaia’s misty kiss
relinquishing white tears to the sea,
and soon it will be bare
of every fragrant air
to blend discreetly with the scenery.

Cloud Control

As monuments of intellect approach the stratosphere
mirrored walls reflect a drop unreasonably sheer
and nebulous beliefs can make commitment disappear
eliminating any chance of getting there from here.

Sparkling

Why do some concoctions die
while others freely fizz
sometimes there is no how or why
the truth just simply is.

Remember: things that effervesce
will very soon be flat
so take what chances coalesce
to bubble, not to blat.

Amuck

A title’s nothing more than just a name
albeit somewhat fanciful, it’s true
what matters though should be what people do
and not their pompous labels gained by fame.
Whose contribution makes the day less gray—
a sweaty plumber draining what they can,
a wispy willow with a spray-on tan,
or those that seek precocious words to say?
In everyone resides a shred of worth
but only when we give will we aver
that no one has the power to confer
nobility to anyone on earth.
Despite our knack for sometimes making sense
we’re still just creatures of inconsequence.

Down Boy!

Spare us your obsequious drivel
I hate to see a pissant snivel
there’s never a need to stroke the knob
if all you do is a very good job.

Struck

She captures light
with deft control
infusing white
with vibrant soul
so bright and raw,
I bristle with awe.

Utensils

The bowl I sought to utilize was made from clearest glass
I scoured that whole kitchen, and on the second pass
discovered it just as I was set to mutter screw it—
to find what you are looking for, make sure to not look through it.

Cowed

Legions start with just a few
glomming onto something new
desperate to be called okay
making something fresh passé
lining up with little thought
to what is truly being bought
grasping for that magic brand
eagerly tattooed as bland
penned by interest faith incurred
broken in just like the herd.

Volition

My bleakest views
should not confuse
those that vehemently choose
to buy the lie
the leeches ply
while latching on to drain them dry,
for everyone
beneath the sun
deserves the right to say which one
will make them whole
define their soul
and help forget who’s in control.

Into The Blue

The way that vapor trail was spun
it seemed an arrow pierced the sun,
a wispy shaft that soon unraveled
ere my distance could be run
to dissipate across the sky,
like tears a lonely god would cry.

In The Loop

You’ve kept the circle small
to counteract what’s bled
but you cannot forestall
it slipping past your head
to choke away your gall
until you’re good and dead.

Xanadu Calling

I had a Coleridge moment
though I don’t think I was high
and dreamt of such a lovely verse
it made me want to cry,
but when I woke I couldn’t find
a proper working pen
so now each night I hope I have
that vision once again.

Issue

You can’t imbue metallic guts with nerve,
transistors with a self-reliant verve,
no flawlessly constructed shining part
could ever match the weakest human heart;
but still in endless trials we contrive
to manufacture something that’s alive
convinced the more our algorithms prod
that soon we will usurp the role of God.
Statistics state the future faces flux
with questions on creation at the crux
will data fall from heavenly demesnes
or be supplied by sentient machines?
We strive to make anomalies compute
while sniffing for the most elusive fruit.

Spring Reign

As fallen blossoms paint the ground
beneath a windswept tree
the whiteness is at once profound
in shades of amnesty
and dancing limbs emit a sound
that whispers wistfully
lamenting how it once was crowned
but now must leave it be.

Rust

Sixty ticks
is all it takes
enough to fix
malign mistakes
sixty ticks
makes or breaks
us all.

Within that lapse a universe explodes
disturbed by gravity from orbs
whose atmospheric angst corrodes
whatever it absorbs
beyond the broken nexus
of your woebegone reflexes.

What Changes?

As carefree children frolic in the gusty lilt of spring
they murmur joyously with every unembarrassed fling
rambunctiously extending tiny hands into the air
divulging friendly secrets only artless hearts can share.

Dump

This one is a so and so
that one has the clap
you know who loves to blow
it’s all the same old crap—

we find relief within a stall
inscribing impishly
our childish rants upon the wall
the hubris of ennui.

The Pits

The fruit of my labor is barely a snack although the exertion is crushing my back perhaps I should nurture that shiny green seed to harvest a bounty beyond what I need.

Anchored

I had a big bowl of sadness for breakfast today
which quickly grew soggy in milk
then clung to the edges all mushy and gray
like fortified fare of its ilk.

My coffee spoon became the moon
a face of stone, collision prone
another spin let sweetness in
while saucers sipped each wasted drip.

The Weatherman said everything looks sunny
so finish your milk and pass the honey
for things are seldom as bad as perceived;
digesting this news left me slightly relieved,
I sloughed off the guilt for the wars that we've fought
and left for the day, my mooring lines taut.

Evolving

I watch my feathered friends robustly dive
begrudging how completely they’re alive
while grounded here beside the daily grind
their playful antics help me to unwind
and show me how to possibly survive—
by grasping adaptations well designed.

Hurting Horatio

If only you knew what you think you know
you’d be quite a dangerous dude
but you’re not too slick when you put on a show
in fact, I’d say you’re just crude
and seldom, if ever, does anyone dare
to challenge the will of a brute
except for this person, who has yet to care
when you give your honker a hoot.

Brain Trust

Simplicity is so profound
but simply seen as dense
the rarest thing of all, I’ve found
is good old common sense.

Pennyworth

We all are dead
the day we’re born
but strive instead
to face the morn
with firm resolve
to improvise
a way to solve
the compromise
despite the scorn
of copper eyes.

Drought

I dropped the bucket faithfully
but didn’t hear a splash
I let the rope out all the way
right to the final lash;
with trepidation I look up
to see an empty sky
and hope for rain because it seems
the well is truly dry.

Turning the Worm

I’ve prayed for selfish gain
but nothing came about
which turned indignant pain
to sprouting seeds of doubt.

I’ve begged for distant parts
but changes never came
as scarred indifferent hearts
have chosen who to blame.

I plead and will continue to
for something to confirm
that faith is not a crutch for those who
wonder as they squirm.

Whoosh

Abbreviated incidents of unexpected calm
amidst the fleeting whirlwind of strife
accentuate the poignancy of life
with the brevity of their balm.

Freak Show

There are bastards that are blessed with wit
braggarts who are full of shit
monkeys that don’t have a clue
but do what they see others do,
scoundrels with uncaring hearts
mechanics seeking proper parts
doctors wearing thoughtful masks
anesthetized throughout their tasks,
plumbers wielding rusty wrenches
homeless people hugging benches
while thumping stumpers multiply
to reinforce the freedom lie,
activists stir up the rabble
evangelists benignly babble—
the carnival keeps passing through
as dreamers jot a line or two.

Clear?

The less you share
the less you bear
but loneliness
can cause despair
so always dare
to try and care
with openness
like crystal air.

Susceptible

To regulate excess
the perfect paradigm
so simple sounding, yes?
But pleasure’s not a crime
and often, all we heed
afflicted by our need.

Igor I Presume?

There is no piece of paper to confirm I have a brain
no sticker on my auto from the ivy clad domain
no pin or ring to grant all access to the secret club
which makes me perfect to assist the snobs that love to snub
(provided elbows never rub).

Going with The Flow

I’ve walked beside the creek
when the water was alive
and heard the rapids speak
of their struggle to survive
the folly of ambitious fools
who seek to dam them into pools
and damn them with their rules.

“Relax” I tell the frenzied froth
“You’ll still be here tomorrow
arrogant degrees of sloth
will soon turn into sorrow
unlike your fluid grace,
to eliminate this race
without a trace.”

bric-a-brac

The range of contradictions that encompass who I am
is wider than the world in which I wallow
preventing me from going incognito on the lam
for everywhere I go exceptions follow
but whether in a palace or a ditch
eventually we all find our niche.

Dream On

Take this unpretentious verse!
and as my essences disperse
I’ll mutter an impromptu curse.
Will needed ripples ever bless
this tepid pool of consciousness
to agitate the brackish bog
through which the throngs routinely slog,
can’t some new voice surmount the din
with words that thunder deep within?
Is all that has been said before
a distant echo, nothing more?

I fade amid the drone
of the static we condone
and hear inside my head
the anthem of the dead.
How fake! But we’re so lax
who’ll search between the cracks
while I wax — while I wax!
Oh Lord – can I not sing
a scintillating ring?
Oh Lord – can I not voice
a mantra to rejoice?
Is all that has been said before
a distant echo, nothing more?

Glowing

A pallid moon is swimming through the murky depths of night
struggling for buoyancy, it sheds some borrowed light
to rise above the misty sea that twilight left behind
illuminating new horizons deep within my mind.

Familiar

Once more the hoop is set aflame
the whip is smartly crackin’
although my body’s almost lame
the ramrod thinks I’m slackin’
I jump when cued despite my shame
and penchant for attackin’
those that feel I should be tame
but never send me packin’.

Tada!

First Lady?

Counting on the sisterhood
to bear her to that vaunted throne
her cracked façade has somehow stood
though worry lines have surely grown,
increasing from the constant strain
of feigning deep emotional pain.

Such artifice is quite obscene
employing shameless machinations,
spewing lies from every screen
pursuing selfish aspirations.
Talk show fools can barely wait
to get her on and validate.

A future bid is all but assured
the lust for power undeniable,
hopefully people won’t be lured
and search for someone more reliable—
we need a leader, not a wannabe
obsessed with making history.

Outlook

When I was younger
and clouds buzzed my head
I thought I was watching the world revolve
now that I’m older
I focus instead
on misty reminders of dreams dissolved.

Then I wonder which is bluer
the sky or I?
No failure could be truer
so why deny.

Each moment
is a fleeting chance
to garner some salvation
as latent
as the orbs that dance
beyond precipitation.

PHD

Please don’t think me rude
or your meaning misconstrued
I understand quite clearly what was said
you just seem so confused
I can’t help but be amused
at how some forms of ignorance are bred:
so yes, I’m being brash
but I heard the distant crash
when your stunted tree of knowledge wound up felled
take the time before you speak
to make sure it doesn’t reek
like that last steaming pile you expelled.

Earth:Terminal 1

We snicker, we bicker
entranced by a flicker
while seeking the software
that makes it run slicker
so we can get sicker
and make the affair
implode that much quicker.

Alienation

Welcome! You’ve touched down upon
the planet of Automaton
where only those with rigid views
decide what constitutes your dues.
Right there is a Republican
take note of its malicious grin
and to the left a Democrat
obsessed with doling out the fat,
religious types are all about
contributing their share of doubt
so every fragile mannequin
can wonder if free will is sin.
You look confused, well join the lot
we haven’t much but what we’ve got
is there to waste so grab your fill
before our machinations kill
the world in one big firestorm
but first – you must complete this form.

Zero

Nothing divided by nothing is free
and easily outshined;
the quotient of no consequence is, just me
forever undefined.

Suckitude

There is no up
there is no down
there’s only in betweens
fill your cup
or wear a frown
you can’t avoid the means,
performing hard
to win a clap
will only get you tired
there’s not a bard
whose wistful crap
could be more uninspired.

Work Zone

Lethargic, for nothing is left to be proved
a coma might make me a bit less removed
I’m not sure what’s blanker, the page or my gaze
a negative factor of cubic malaise.

Fantasy Land

For John — You should have listened to the Magic Mirror.

The giant was hungry (as their kind will be)
to manage its growth with a larger degree
it soon found the answer (as their kind presume)
by cleaning the floor with a newfangled broom
but once the motes settled (as they tend to do)
this glutton found out it was too much to chew
and now it has withered (as most deadwood will)
a victim of those who thought smug would fulfill.

Going Nowhere

We drumble through the day conducting various affairs
and scumble as we may to help eliminate repairs
but humble doesn’t pay the never ending corporate fares
that rumble like a dray whose heavy burden oft impairs.

This Little Light

To capture this transcendence in a line
is something I have often tried to do:
the tingle of a breeze along my spine
respiring beneath a sky of blue
enveloped in the prepossessing shine
which helps ignite the night we hurtle through
and knowing deep inside there’s still a spark
that won’t be overshadowed by the dark.

Ahhhhh

Along the ancient streets I roll
my wheels slowly spinning
I try but I just can’t control
this almost foolish grinning
the lights are out, the work is done
I finally have a minute
to grab my bike and catch some sun
and truly revel in it.

Yummy

Our patrons insist as they sip their caffeine
that we have the best home fries in town;
for most people the color of money is green
for me it’s golden brown.

Protocol

Impatient to receive what’s gotten through
I’d scramble to my desk each day with glee
if only every Email sent was true.

Imagine all the clicking I would do
exploring lines in the digital sea
impatient to receive what’s gotten through

so I could see how much my fortune grew
or all the horny babes that long for me—
if only every Email sent was true

I’d garner the endowment I am due
while activating anything that’s free.
Impatient to receive what’s gotten through

the filters that protect my CPU
would end up disabled permanently.
If only every Email sent was true

no longer could I sit and idly stew
my finger moving much too fast to see,
impatient to receive what’s gotten through—
if only every Email sent was true.

Arrgh!

Nocturnal hunger begs the belt to cinch,
but lust will always conquer pride’s thin stand.
Impatient taste buds waive an extra inch
so, guilt to bed, my sly foray is planned.
A quick descent - avoiding creaks, I slink
as juices start to coat my anxious throat.
I’m almost there then – CRUNCH – oh no! I think
this escapade has waylaid one remote.
My toes alight on ice and curl a bit,
so near the treasure chest with humming cord.
I swing the door with glee, prepare to fit
these twitching lips around a filling hoard.

I stand aghast in barren, chilling glow—
a swifter cutthroat pillaged my to-go!

Myth Cue

A massive orange moon meanders
upward through the mist
of thunderheads that flash with vengeance
hurled by Odin’s fist,
unsettled by the spectacle
unfolding in the sky
I comb through entrails for a sign
that Ragnarök draws nigh
but soon decide my fulsome fears
will fade come light of morn
though in my ear I swear I hear
a distant wailing horn.

Children of Chaos

Greetings. I wrote this one a couple of weeks ago but was reluctant to post it as things haven’t been that bad lately, right? Yeah right. I hope these latest innocent victims can somehow find true peace now…


How can people do the things they do to one another?
Why would someone sentient decide to calmly smother
any shred of empathy existing in their being
to perpetrate atrocities some lunacy is freeing?
How can people do the things they do to one another?

Ring

Hey go check out the latest ringing hosted at Knocking From Inside. Great job Tiel, thanks for all your efforts!

Commenting

No one cares about the word
just give them validation.
Artistry? Why that’s absurd,
promote the congregation;
repartee is more preferred
than wry accentuation
whose subtle nuance may have stirred
a new appreciation.

What'll You Have?

It may seem strange, a would-be chef
filleting evanescence
but on the line I’ve learned to cook
for thyme is of the essence.

Leftovers

Thirteen blackbirds congregated
in a crooked tree
their caustic caws reverberated
oh so creepily
the shadowed street insinuated
things no one could see
until the moon illuminated
killers on a spree
whose gory antics devastated
one community
as thirteen blackbirds calmly waited
in a crooked tree.

Fugue

How quickly it can all become
a single beat upon one drum,
the subtleties of harmonies
forgotten in the martial hum

which rattles sensibilities
and motivates reluctant knees
to instigate their weary gait
before defiant symphonies

can find a way to orchestrate
melodies which help abate
that overblown monotone
intent on jamming freer fate.

Touché

Duplicity drips off her tongue
like honey from a dagger
but once the hidden barb has stung
most braggarts lose their swagger.

Icelandic eyes can quickly turn
the strongest steel quite brittle
with just one glaring glacial spurn
those chilling lasers whittle.

A velvet touch will soon inspire
you to beg her — “Linger!”
Incite her fearsome fickle ire
she’ll smite you with that finger.

An odyssey of doubt awaits
those brave enough to tarry
and face the compromising straits
while learning how to parry.

Afloat

I’ve lived a lot the last four years,
encountered many changes
but still must question if I’ve really grown;
maneuvering throughout the tiers
that consequence arranges
will oft supplant the seeds we should’ve sown.

Another revolution sparks
a searing revelation:
assembled wicks are nothing but a blink.
Accumulated static arcs
with one determination—
those that fail to tread will slowly sink.

Red Red Robin

No more will it get to sing
that joyful chirping code
which heralds the rebirth of spring
it’s insides cross the road
unnoticed by each car
careening as they are.

Dangling

It’s been a while since the eviction
but eves are still dark and stormy
unnerving our conviction with guile
upending the world with a smile
that slithers into a form we
so seldom consider as fiction.

We bite the taut yet tender skin
our hunger burning deep within
as tangy juices wet the chin
we wait for wisdom to begin.

Maintaining

It seems like I’m always a little behind
but that’s okay, I really don’t mind
for I know if things were going too well
they’d be on the verge of going to hell.

Futility³

I watch them departing the corner store
exuding the weakness I so abhor,
their sovereign spirit that blearily tore
apart the hearth impatient to pour;

what proof exists that will appease
these catastrophic tendencies
to disregard corporeal pleas
for jaundiced, gaunt indignities?

Distracted by the gentle clink
of rocks that help define the brink,
a ruddy face and carefree wink
is all you see before they sink.

Tools

Productive machines are dynamic
and need motivation to thrive
but just like the finest ceramic
they must be refined to survive
although an accomplished mechanic
can often finagle the drive—
to avoid a big clench
be discreet with your wrench.

Verily

Effort extended
need not be defended
provided the purpose is never pretended,
as forced affectations
can roast reputations
so try to stay true through the trite tribulations.

Mouthfuls

I watch them come and go from my food preparing station
stopping in to fight the pangs of overnight starvation,
they smack their lips and rave about the flavorful sensation
but the sustenance they savor is the spicy conversation.

Rootless

I’ve ripened in the rough for quite some time,
beside an orchard where the scent of lush
fertility belies the sudden rush
of woeful winter’s unrelenting rime,
which soon will steal the succor of the dew.
Amidst these blades I sometimes catch a peek
of distant canopies and wonder how
I ended up here, overcome by cow
manure pies encrusted with flies that reek
so strongly, often I can’t even see.
I think about the branch I never knew
is it the one from which my tartness grew?
There is no broader breadth (it seems to me)
than that between the apple and the tree.

Mega-Mart Must Die!

Surrounded by the artifice of printed polyester
I pause before an obelisk that spurs the spoiled spender
to sacrifice security and skinflint aspirations
for fabricated finery produced by starving nations.

Spring Ahead

The piney scent of distant youth
a wind that murmurs ancient truth,
expanding buds can’t wait to bloom—
emboldened bane of winter gloom
or future tributes for a tomb?

Briar's Patch - The Conclusion

Hello! I posted back in November what is to date the longest rhyming poem I have ever written and promised an ending too. Now four months later I finally have something to post and I hope it was worth the wait.


A perfect sun began another less than stellar day
but momentarily managed to eliminate the gray,
amidst a cloud of thistledown a silent figure stood
remembering his moment as the champion for good
when harried elves triumphantly extolled his fearsome strength
then eulogized their ancient texts which prophesied at length
about a human warrior who’d deal the fatal blow
to save their humble habitat and everything they know.
Engrossed in thought the troubled man was blind to all around
except for that one darkened spot reserved as hallowed ground
when suddenly a voice said, "Don’t succumb to your regret,
we knew the outcome ere the time that you and Briar met."
"But why did you neglect to tell me? Somehow we could have planned..."
"You know that knowledge would have stayed your less than steady hand,
besides your mind was on the edge, we feared that you may snap
thus ruining our one small chance to spring the fatal trap."
This prompted Jim to spin around, his features skewed by pain
"Tell that to your friend!" he screamed while pointing at the stain.
For moments, only silence met his unrelenting glare
then Bramble (Briar’s cousin) spoke, selecting words with care
"We never wished to cause you any unresolved distress
you must remember — Briar chose the path of selflessness,
he knew that in the greater scheme his life meant next to naught
and this is why he sought you out, then bravely stood and fought."
Once more the only sound was when the gentle wind blew by
as long restrained frustration leaked from Jim’s determined eye
which never left poor Bramble’s face until he said at last
"We humbly ask forgiveness for transgressions of the past."
These simple words expressed undid the stifling chains of rage
which held Jim’s heart a prisoner within a shrinking cage;
he stared at Bramble sheepishly, observing his attire
and noticed something weird so he said, "May I please inquire
why you have that crimson spot upon your tunic sleeve?"
Without a pause Bramble said, "Of course, it’s how we grieve,
commemorating the glory of our comrade’s final fight
by wearing badges colored like the blood he shed that night,
and now if you’ll excuse me Jim, I must get back to our cave,
stay well, we’ll always be here for you and lastly — behave!"
Jim watched his little figure disappear into the brush
then waited till the forest slowly settled to a hush,
he stayed there for a long time thinking hard on what was said
then sauntered home to find a piece of fabric that was red.

Keystone

I tried to pick
the proper brick
and stop a messy tumble,
but all I did
was run then skid
into a writhing jumble.

Ceremony

As stanchions storm a snowy hill
their steely limbs are stiff, but still
display a certain kind of stoic grace.
Conducting their dramatic drill
in radiance that seems to spill
from Venus’ alluring star struck face
just reinforces something we all know—
for passion there’s no peace we won’t forego.

Bearing Paul

I’ve known him for eternity it seems
but never truly came to know the man
we all avoided like the plague; we ran
in fact to try and dodge his endless streams
of rambling, over romanticized crap.
He always managed to corner us though,
his failing ears oblivious of low
ungracious snickers I hid with my cap,
to talk about the Great Depression or
the ‘Big One’, bleary eyes so far away.
My Mother, smiling wide, would save the day
by saying, "Dad, quit being such a bore!"
The burden of my shame invoked despair
is much more than the casket I now bear.

Truce

Confounded by the prideful scam
sometimes I wonder if I am
and then the days of cold disdain
where I really just don’t give a damn,

and on those days I can’t abstain
from voicing (though I vent in vain)
this emptiness inside of me—
a growing void I can’t explain.

Is substance only what we see
or is there more we need to be?
Such heady thoughts are well above
this vessel of simplicity

that seeks an olive bearing dove
to grant the peace they whisper of
so I can finally come to terms
with this world I long to love.

Iamb What Iamb

Foot by foot I fight the fight
designing droning dynamite
to plant upon the pixel-scape
and nudge the hairs on someone’s nape
but solemn silence signifies
didactic drivel I devise
will peter out in patterned time
robotic duds of rusty rhyme.

Pieces of Eight

Hello true believers, how goes the fight? I recently found this little blurb on another site I visit frequently and found myself inspired to pen a little verse (imagine that). I would be very interested to read some other takes on this and invite anyone so inclined to pen something of their own and post it to their blog or here in comments or even Email it to me and I will link back or post it here accordingly. Take care :^D

from Nietzsche's Human, All Too Human:

"Joy in age. The thinker or artist whose better self has fled into his works feels an almost malicious joy when he sees his body and spirit slowly broken into and destroyed by time; it is as if he were in a corner, watching a thief at work on his safe, all the while knowing that it is empty and that all his treasures have been rescued."


Within this chest I know I’ve stored
some sundry bits of detritus
but every now and then my hoard
divulges gems of veritas
and each time I dig deeper yet
aware that someday very soon
I’ll pay off my remaining debt
with one last shiny bright doubloon.


From Shirley over at Housemouse:

There’s a place I go, within myself
When I am all alone
And there I find a treasure shelf
Of things I call my own
Gems that go unheard, unseen
Unless I make them known.

And when my being fails to be
This cache of words will speak of me.

Thanks Shirley, very nice!! 8^D

Whiteout

Adrift among the falling flakes
that swirl around so breezily
I’m grounded by increasing aches
which seem to spring too easily

from weathered, sometimes droopy limbs
stripped bare of all embellishment
that reach, as visibility dims
for root embracing firmament

but only flounder worriedly
in much more whiteness than it takes
to cover up quite hurriedly
this least divine of all mistakes.

Unlump

Once we grasp how brief the span
it’s much too late to neatly plan
then we endeavor all we can
to be—

but constant motion causes blur
and bitterness you can’t defer
so always take the time to stir
your tea.

You're In!

The perfect attribute
is to never refute
just bobble with unexplained glee
as they gaze in your eye
and tell you it’s dry
while dousing your denim with pee.

Obscurant

I wish I could tell you how meaningless
this all purports to be
and just how truly hilarious
your fervor is to see
inventing brand new ways to waste
the precious energy
expended in a futile haste
to forge eternity.

Epigrammatical

Hey everybody, hope all is well with anyone who may read this. My life as a cook/owner has been incredibly hectic (though I’m not complaining) but on top of that work has been rather tedious lately. I’ve worked where I currently am twenty years performing various tasks and never had one bad review, often doing several jobs above and beyond my job description for a nominal salary. The last couple of years with increases in medical deductions, the cost of living, and decreases in the amount of raises, I’ve actually been losing money while my workload triples. Then they find out that I’ve started my own business so they start whipping me because this is a ‘what have you done for me lately’ kind of place and meanwhile the team I used to work with (and get along with) famously was replaced by a bunch of the most disingenuous and nonproductive people I have ever met, making it just horrible to even show up, but bills must be paid.
Well enough whining, I just wanted to explain why a lot of my writing has been short lately, I literally only have minutes to jump on and post so I try to stay pithy. I am airing a couple of my recent vents and hope to have some longer works done soon. Thanks for reading and commenting and writing your own great material which often inspires me. Take care!!

Odd Man Out

See all the brilliant minds expressing their conjectures
formulating treatises of lower case lectures
dispensing garbled imagery with cryptic connotations
and splendidly sublime allegorical iterations;
while here in my strange little land
I prattle on, morosely bland
constructing embankments of sand
for reasons I don’t understand.

Aw Nuts

I watch it leap from limb to limb
an auburn flash amongst the white
inspired by a gnawing whim
to sate a growling appetite
devising ways to somehow skim
the ever thicker winter blight
then fixing me with eyes that say I’m stuck—
I whisper “Join the club my friend, good luck.”

Introversion

Confounded by conflicting quirks that make me who I am
I waiver at the threshold of belief before I slam
the door so viciously the hinges come undone
to strand me here within a world I’ve always sought to shun.

Whistle Stop

Subdued amidst the sundry bric-a-brac
a dustless frame displays a fading smile
that once bespoke of willows by the track
and sighing tendrils hiding us a while.
As hyacinth and jasmine breezes blew
we’d tarry in the early summer sun,
frenetic lovers rolling in the dew
quite certain that our time had just begun;
until that night, seduced by perfect lines
you chased the midnight musk of distant stars,
I wept beneath the boughs as our designs
were hauled away on lurching vacant cars.

I hear the horse’s herald echo shrill,
your picture shudders from my nightly chill.

Living on the Ebb

We try for all we’re worth (we think)
to fraternize accordingly
suppressing our own fearful stink
with fragrances that cloyingly
impede

the tiny chance for true rapport
which flashes from the grim milieu
but then just like the distant shore
only ever seems to
recede...

;)

Uproarious assaults
on uncontested faults
do little to dissuade jaded winks
as characters display
internal dismay
which once past the colon stinks.

Keep The Salt Handy

The promise of dreams is misleading
implying you’ve found what you’re needing
as argent persuasions
disguise the abrasions
which leave you confounded and bleeding.

As The Crow Flies

They take to flight
at dawns first light
as though the bright redemption might
disable their
command of air
to ground them here without a prayer,
while christening the snow encrusted town
with fluffy trinkets of the blackest down
which flutter in a howling winter wind
that further revolutions will rescind.
Mired in this never ending drift
I quickly grasp the beauty of their gift.

Blah Blah Blahs

Your rhetoric just makes me sick
it’s so damn patronizing
mismanagement to this extent
deserves some penalizing
but legerdemain and drivel reign
where substance once was king
to downplay losses caused by bosses
that couldn’t lead hornets to sting.

Only Friend

*chik*
An amber imp is born
another life will soon be torn
*whoosh*
The menace quickly gains
a foothold in supporting grains
*pop*
A cache of sap explodes
unsettled by such searing goads
*crash*
The framework kisses dirt
and still this fiend is not inert
*hiss*
At last the pest subsides
but ever in the pit resides.

One Off

Stringent expectations can prohibit true success
always keep some options on the table,
but never shed conviction when encumbered by the press
of those who need to see a certain label.

Wake Up Call

Each morning they await me in a gnarly elm out front
these unrepentant scavengers forever on the hunt,
my further life convinces them to seek another prize
beyond a pearly moon ascending opalescent skies.

So off they flap to roost beside some distant domicile
indifferent to the denizens that curse them all the while
excited by the prospect of a consolation treat
their lusty caws reverberate across an empty street

to echo through developments that sport a brick façade
and settle with finality upon the frosty sod—
pronouncements of a paradox that ultimately lies
beyond the pearly moon ascending opalescent skies.

Gazed and Bemused

A crimson fire crowns the crest
of rolling hills in search of rest
for soon a quilt of stars will be unfurled
while billions and billions of miles away
a kindred spirit from yesterday
stared in mutual wonder at our world.

Gab Fest

As crispy whispers rattle on a dry autumnal breeze
vermillion, gold and orange trinkets gild effusive trees
that soon will have to scrawl their thoughts across a chalky sky
with naked limbs that seek the song of spring to rectify.

Crossing

I passed that trail along the brook
that led us to a wooded nook
where giddily we braved the brush
to savor that forbidden rush
our sapling hearts mistook for love
which slowly waned with every shove.
Beside that stream we knew no shame
enraptured by desire’s flame
as willful youth swam unabated
a new condition complicated
but then the term was terminated
and my regrets were so belated
there was no way to not have hated
me.


The tinkle of that forlorn creek
which flows beneath the bridge I seek
reminds me as it nears the sea
how short some spans were meant to be.

Trick

The bigger the cheese
the sharper the wedge
or so they would have you
proclaim from the ledge
where you sit every day
with your chair on one leg
performing posthaste
so you don’t have to beg.

Spoof

In the arms of avaricious abandon we languish
so pampered and prideful we patronize anguish
forsaking compassion for crass levity
a biased brigade of baroque brevity.

Halflife

Discouraged by decay
I sit here every day
uncertain how to make myself
react the proper way.

Shell Game

Every egg cracks differently
it’s something I now see
for every morning, sleepily
I break a dozen or three.

Some have skins quite durable
requiring one more cuff,
their doggedness commendable
though never tough enough,

while others suffer fragmentation
from the slightest touch
the cool façade an affectation
relied upon too much.

So many seem so satisfied
within their ivory vaults
unconscious of the world outside
until you find their faults.

Tumblers

Regardless of the coming spill
we always choose the steepest hill
quite confident our favorite pill
will cure the ills with every swill
from glasses showing little skill
except to suckle at the still
ensconced behind a bolted sill
and sculpted shafts of tempered steel.

Bad Form

Nothing can thrive in cement
I know, it’s a rigid lament;
you may point to a rose
and imply it’s content
but if it could speak
I’m sure it would vent
about the extent
of this gray miscreant
conveying dissent.
Nothing can thrive in cement.

Sleightly Cloudy

Those vaporous crabs are darkening
scuttling on high
hearkening the lonely sun
who calls them to draw nigh
for mischief making nebulae
are happy to comply
with their capricious carapace
athwart the winter sky.

Crows Feet

They bend the boughs
such raucous fruit
and coat the bony trees
like soot
in search of bags
through which to root
to find a juicy
scrap of loot;

then with dawn they’re gone
the scavengers of night move on
to dim the sky, indemnify
an aging son that soon will die
demoralized, ostracized
beside the stream that rushes by
chaotically, hypnotically
to fool the most observant eye
encased in lines that lend a hint
how often we are forced to squint.

Hanging

A camera never lies
but the truth is no surprise
you can’t construct perfection in a snap;
with every twisted line
you’re bound to redesign
a noose that gets more lethal with each wrap.

Shelf Life

If I dropped anon I’d be satisfied
that at least I tried before I died
to do much more than simply bide
my time,

but then my penchant for the facts
recalls a youth innately lax
that dawdled, doodling pointless tracts
of rhyme.

Ironically it’s truly moot
for all we are is spoiled fruit
routinely bruised in our pursuit
to climb.

Charming The Snake

Structure comforts those who find no solace in exemption
reaching for generic rungs of plasticized redemption
certain their conformity will guarantee a placement
upon that helix slithering its way beyond the basement.

Bored Meeting

I sighed, uninvolved
while nothing was solved
as pointless conjectures were voiced
with each awful tick
prolonged by a prick
whose death I foretold and rejoiced.

They Can Dish It Out But...

Today I dropped a vaunted plate
designed to never break
and witnessed shards repudiate
the brazen claim they make.

Fold

The misty luminescence of a January moon
immerses me in portents of despair that all too soon
will make me rue the day I drank the bitterest libation
to mark that dismal moment of my excommunication.

No wick can wipe the wickedness away
No hymn can offer harmony that soothes
No staff can staunch the wounds from those who prey
as whispers scurry forth from curtained booths
and shadows dominate the drafty aisles
imbued with incense of demonic wiles.

Flotsam

A fading picture’s yellow crease
is crisp upon the wall,
the portrait of a fine young niece
he never knew at all.

No glowing hearth or imminence
secures him to the ground,
displaced by vast indifference
too stubborn to be drowned.