Designs

The thing about topography
is who decides where what will be
or is it just a tapestry
of chaos to the nth degree?

Knocked

The structure’s disrepair
deters potential dwelling,
you knock but no one’s there.

With premises so spare
the site’s just not compelling,
the structure’s disrepair

shows a lack of any care
or future chance for selling.
You knock but no one’s there,

suspended on the stair
your knuckles slowly swelling.
The structure’s disrepair

is a danger to beware
and sadly, quite repelling.
You knock but no one’s there

no one smart would ever dare
ignore the signs so telling
of structural disrepair.
You knock but no one’s there.

Runon

I’d meant to browse my favorite book
but weariness prevailed
so nestled in my nighttime nook
I drifted off then sailed

beyond the crassly crying crush
to mazes deep within
where fear is heightened by the hush
before my foes begin

pursuing me relentlessly
through sinister abodes
as I scramble senselessly
while confidence corrodes

and urgently my sneakers churn
through slowly shrinking halls
exhausted muscles start to burn
momentum brusquely stalls,

reluctantly I turn to fold
then waken, most distraught,
will I ever be paroled
from cares that keep me caught?

Separating

Jupiter and Venus are becoming quite estranged
apparently an aspect of their situation changed
but every body carries on, without a word to say
despite the glaring distance that increases by the day.

Left

Sifting through the aftermath
swallowing indignant wrath
surprised by a box of childhood crafts;
four siblings clearing out the berth
of she who brought them to the earth
together spurned those cold December drafts.

Frost on My Guitar

The frost on my guitar is beckoning
with such an enigmatic, wistful grin
it prompts me to release the strain within
before that final frigid reckoning
prevents all chances for a healthy crop
whose bounty is a blessing to enjoy.
Why else extend the effort we employ
if not to taste the sweetest nectar, drop
by precious drop, and savor the bouquet?
Of course, there would be certain strings attached,
some pesky thorns have left me sorely scratched
but then again, they must be there to play.
I’ve gained another furrow, now my field
seems ready to produce a yearned for yield.

Wishes

May all who read this humble hymn
Have peace today within, without
Avoiding any type of grim
Calamity or doubt.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do
Is show someone we truly care
But heartily I hope for you
That love and joy are yours to share.

Shortchanged

Corporation dedication?
More like flagrant flagellation—
estimated restoration
never covers degradation!

Sentences

She wanted me to realize
some type of great achievement,
to prominently exercise
my voice and be vehement
but all I did was compromise
and now in my bereavement
I see that all she sought from me
was love, unconditionally—

but distances are seldom gauged
until it seems we’re too far;
despite what battles have been waged
we must drop the wounds that scar
for every one of us is caged
by doubting who we are
within a pen it’s hard to flee
although we share a common key.

Fortune

Chewy chop suey?
That just sounds screwy!
Plantain lo mein?
You’re talking insane!
Light blue moo shu—
is there something wrong with you?
Fast or slow? Don’t know,
but I’m sure it’s to go.

Once A Swabby...

I don’t play nice
with those whose price
is well beyond my cache of spice
nor will I vow
to ever bow
to those that prowl a petty prow
but shan’t complain
it’s all in vain
for only those ordained pertain.

Sound

If truth was gold, if every honest word was worth a cent
and if unselfish thoughts could be cashed in at the bank
would there be anyone with money to be spent
or only paupers wishing they were frank
if truth was gold and every honest word was worth a cent?

If love was sure, and if we never questioned its extent
and if we never dared to dangle on that pliant plank
would we ever see that distant continent
before we hit the briny sea and sank—
if love was sure perhaps we’d fathom its extent.

Turn

Our current posture leaves us prone
to longer colder nights alone
and sullen skies of swirling slate
that amplify the constant moan

of wistful winds that won’t abate
while frozen mounds accumulate
until a metamorphic stone
revolves enough to alternate.

Ambition

The moon was my companion
as I traveled to the show
lending me the comfort
of its silky silver glow,

everything was glistening
like crystal as I passed
the limbs adorned with trinkets
that the bitter storm amassed,

assurances of argent
helped reveal new fields to reap
which sparkled with such splendor
I don’t ever want to sleep.

Ambiguity

The onyx night is guarded by
a spectral sphere that haunts the sky
till wispy veils of vapor swarm
to once more hide it’s ghostly form,
obsidian horizons fall
beneath a silent inky pall
whose unrelenting appetite
obscures all settlement from sight.

Arrangements

A major progression
with a few minor stresses
can sweeten the session
without many messes.

Rain Man

Now don’t go ballistic
but caliber can’t be earned,
you’re either masochistic
or simply haven’t learned;

despite the endless accolades
you feel compelled to rant
I won’t precipitate parades
for those who’ve proved they can’t.

Buh-bye

Inequity is easily the travesty that bothers me most vexingly but I’m not free to evenly dispense the key so let it be with modesty till finally I go with glee.

Plague

You’re swayed by some higher degrees
unaware they compound the disease—
infected by Red
who’s laughed, as we bled,
those mindless malignant tee-hees.

Spring Sacrament

The stillness of the round expanse
induces instant calm,
enraptured by the Martyr’s glance,
a sacred healing balm;

beneath the buds of verdant youth
that once more favor earth,
I see the vibrant living truth
bequeathed by His rebirth.

Treat

They grind you down just like a tool
because you never went to school,
impale you with a haughty sneer
for ostracizing their veneer
and then they try to act so cool
by buying dinner once a year
while scratching you behind the ear.

Helping?

Everybody’s china bends
but delegation all depends
on who you’re not afraid to ask
for some can’t even mono-task.

Devotion

A soldier took a sojourn
from the clinging crimson mud
and met a girl whose auburn
hair consumed him in a flood

of fiercely raging torrents
he was helpless to resist,
despite the coming warrants
martial minds would soon enlist.

They took their time together
breaking down forbidden walls
forgetting every fetter
like the bugle’s distant calls;

to fall in fields that flourished
bearing blooms of every name
upon the mattress furnished
shrugging off unwanted shame,

embracing with such passion
not a hair could fit between
these lovers whose attraction
made all conflict seem obscene.

But others harbored ardor
much less innocent indeed,
for patriotic honor
they were boisterous to bleed

determined to deliver
all deserters of the cause
through testaments of terror
those in power labeled laws.

A unit was instructed
“Bring him back alive or dead”
they searched until they spotted
him with her whose hair was red,

they sought to merely capture
him, but chaos soon ensued
as automatic chatter
spoke of pain to those pursued

and when they spied the twosome
lying silent, hand in hand
they knew they found a reason
more profound than any land.

Kindle

Approaching bleak December
each day a bit less brash
my spark is but an ember
my tinder turned to ash
that burning I remember
seemed to fizzle in a flash—
I’ve got to clear the smoke
and start to staunchly stoke!

Level

It seems the well-to-do
are often less than true
is rapacity
a guarantee
hypocrisy will ensue?

The rich are reared to reign
through eminent domain
but all their airs
are worthless tares
for none surpass the plain.

Figurehead

Everywhere are shades of gray
forgotten in our haste to say
that someone else is black or white
regardless what is wrong or right—
the polls of straw begat their son
when mindless masses chose the one
dogmatic demons deftly groomed
and now the truth is truly doomed.

Reel

If only trailers constituted life
the most important moments flashing by
without those empty spaces that supply
a place to store inconsequential strife;
imagine (if you can) that throaty voice
embellishing each action packed event
with clever little innuendos meant
to help you always make the proper choice
so sentimental scenes will never drag
beyond the point that no one really cares
or make you see how many empty chairs
resulted when the plot began to lag—
and at the end, what kind of teaser lurks,
perhaps another sequel in the works?

Grace

They were strangely reserved
as I speedily swerved
and narrowly missed their buffet,
three gulls keen to taste
a wad of McWaste
have much to give thanks for today.

Despot

The moon is snugly nestled
in the nimbus of the night
refusing to be wrestled
from it’s dreams by pesky light

that pokes and prods insistently
with such transparent aims—
to rule the sky, if fleetingly
with fierce unyielding flames.

Breakdown

Every drip is just a drop that drizzles drearily
outside my window where I watch the world so wearily—

*plink*

a puddle’s penetrated
perfect circles generated

*splash*

a lonely man frustrated
remembers days less inundated—

the gutter gulps down gallons and the wind begins to gust
as iron tenets slowly turn to silent ocher dust.

Angel

When traveling each day to class
the bus went by a little church
and every kid, except one lass
ignored the weathered concrete perch

where someone much less fortunate
would stop to pray for needed aid,
she knew that he was indigent
so secretly, her plan was made.

Her birthday came but she eschewed
a trip to splurge within the mall,
instead she bought a bag of food
and gave the greatest gift of all.


***Story***

Caws and Effect

Some messengers of malice make their way across the field
determined to descend upon a town whose fate is sealed
I quickly scurry cross the lot employing hands to shield
myself from all the ordnance these brutal bombers wield.

Stability

The problem is balance—
which way do you lean?
We all tend to teeter
suspended between
the two fixed positions
we need to traverse
avoid looking down
it can always be worse.

Corona

Although it seems too early
the winter sun will set
no point in being surly
or fostering regret

as Jupiter and Venus dance
across a twilit sky
some haughty ravens gaze askance
at he who cannot fly

despite the best alignment
we often find ourselves
repressed by a confinement
where sunlight never delves

but every body interacts
with every other thing
though beady eyes ignore the facts
and savagely take wing

beside the green container
where refuse lured the flock
examining who’s saner
will make one gauge their stock

while improvised confluence turns
this knave into a knight
a blinding burst of starlight burns
with unabashed delight.

Obscurum per Obscurious

The words they left were vital
to help inspire me
a spineless sort whose title
is now obscurity.


***Hello. Can you believe that 3 years ago today I started this blog? I was home healing from gall bladder surgery and decided to continue my online offerings with the next logical step - self publishing. It's been interesting and I thank all who have left comments over the years. The first poem I posted was inspired by an annual garage sale I went to. It's sponsored by a local church and always has a great book selection which yielded that year the complete works of (are you ready?) Keats, Byron, and Milton all for a whopping $1.50. Well at any rate, this year I went and found a pair of old books by Thomas S. Jones Jr., a poet I had never heard of, one book even says it's only one of 600 printed! Well in honor of my three year anniversary, and to expose Mr. Jones' poetry to a global audience, I present to you a poem from his book Sonnets and Quatrains printed in 1928. I chose this poem because it is beautiful and it also was the day my Mom's service took place.

All Soul's Night

On a hill, an empty nest that swings
From a bare tree bathed in tranquil light
Of a slow-rising moon; in lazy flight
A flock of crows drift by on ragged wings;
A fitful breeze from the far valley brings
A blend of sounds that die into the night—
Hoofs on the highway and the echoing fright
Of a sheep-dog, the stir of startled things.

On quiet slopes that to the river spread,
Where scattered leaves a shroud of scarlet fling,
Row upon row of silent gray, stones gleam
That mark the resting places of the dead;
Dead!—lo, they share the joys of deathless Spring,
Theirs the reality, and yours the dream.


But at least Mr. Jones came up in a search, my next obscure poet has the distinction of being the oldest published author in my collection, at least in the age of the book. This book was printed in 1868 and contains verse by one S. Stockton Hornor, enjoy:


The Dying Prayer

I always wished to die at sunset

May I behold, by light of day,
The fields below, the skies above;
As life's dim shadows fade away,
Let me gaze on the face I love!

And may I hear that voice once more,
before my heart's last throb shall cease;
That gentle footstep on the floor,
With echo softly whispering peace!

Oh let me see the sun go down,
Then calmly sink ere it shall rise;
And may I gain that priceless crown,
The angels wear in Paradise!

Seesaw

As jaded ravens jabber raucous jeers
from barren autumn branches amply bent
a lonely figure lumbers feeling lost
for callow trinkets couldn’t tame the cost
of vicious hatred’s vengeful heated vent
that plainly wounded pity wielding peers.
The dimness slowly dwindles, sending dawn
to open up the options users opt
for, quelling nervous questions’ nagging. Quit
the grumpy kicking, grow some kind of grit—
your mama isn’t missing if she mopped,
but younger efforts yielded errors (yawn).
To zero out the zenith of your zeal
will undermine the solid with unreal.

Sympathetic

Love is bound to multiply
when you freely give
and life will never pass you by
if you learn to live,

faith can often be reborn
with strength enough to cling
in pensive hours of the morn
when Nature starts to sing,

and hope routinely catches one
completely unaware
like when the folks we coyly shun
show how our kind can care.


***I wanted to take a moment to apologize for all the gloominess lately, I'm just having a hard time this week and this helps to get it out of my system. I would like to thank all the people that have taken the time to send beautiful cards with beautiful words in them. I cherish these more than mere words can explain because it is helping me get through the darkness. You are all in my thoughts and prayers.***

Prognosis

When someone’s ears are burned away
What do you say?

And if their skin is horribly singed
Is it wrong to have cringed?

For bandaged eyes too scorched to see
How brave need you be?

When at last they are freed from this sod
Will they walk with God?

Worn

The block that laid between us
was a chunk of granite hewn
from the quarry where the detritus
of broken dreams were strewn,

a dismal place of mourning
too extensive to contain
that spawned a jagged mountain
with regret in every vein.

I told myself I’d tried enough
erosion though revealed my bluff.

Maneuvers

What benefit is there to doubt
except to live without
though sadly that just isn’t so
for lies are all we humans know,
but still we strive to act devout
delivering a worthy show.

The emptiness we can’t deny
despite our bravest try
becomes consuming if allowed
and often we are too damn proud
to realize we must rely
on help from those we’ve disavowed.

An armistice must be maintained,
agreeably restrained
developing our friends with care
avoiding those that fuel despair
so trust can be sustained
throughout the whole affair.

Long Nights

November lingers listlessly
like frost upon the grass
a never ending mass
regret that will not pass—

December holds no mystery
just frigid, barren days
devoid of healing rays
till solstice sun allays.

Playground

What a race
was fiercely run
they set the pace
then really spun
but screw the grace
or work to be done
see Nancy’s face
it’s about who won.

Faith

Questions I can’t quell
continue to confuse
and doubts that won’t dispel
are sapping my sinews

asking for an assist
isn’t rallying relief
but I instinctively insist
on buoying belief.

Very Shady

The soldier battled viciously
conditioned to attack
but failed to expeditiously
get into the black;

the speaker vowed to spread the cash
like Jesus sharing loaves
and then a most resounding crash
sent them out in droves.

Is Lincoln proud of what we have
would Jefferson abhor
the fact that Pennsylvania Ave.
ain’t so white no more?

Legacy

With auburn tresses, skin that fairly glowed
and sturdy heart that overflowed with good,
she nurtured us the only way she could
while hazarding her own uneven road,
a private path that had more dips than hills
yet always seemed to somehow level out
for faith was much more powerful than doubt
when harbored by her feistiest of wills,
whose spirit brightly sparkled when she spoke.
But tragically, the journey took its toll
and every dream she had of being whole
ascended in a final puff of smoke.
At last, she’s free from all the painful fuss
and hopefully her best lives on through us.

In Loving Memory of Katharyn Ann Hazelton 1944-2008

My Mother passed away tragically in a house fire earlier this week. The poem above was read by my Sister today at the service. We found this photo with her stuff and I think it is so beautiful...

We also found this little gem from my parents wedding day (they're split now) but I was blown away by this tender shot

I don't usually do any type of PSA but I urge anyone who reads this to pick up the phone and call that relative or friend you haven't talk to in a while, or drop them a line. Time is so short and you never know what may happen. I'm taking a few days off for a head break but I ask that anyone so inclined to say a little prayer for my Mom to finally have peace. Thanks, and I would also like to thank my friend Shirley for inspiring the end of this poem.

Signs

The crows above excitedly fly
as vapor trails spell KAY across the sky
I’m past the point of asking why
so bow my head and sigh... goodbye.

Outlook

What a beautiful day to die
with skies as blue as they’ve ever been
the sun so bright and high
reminding me of summers when
we didn’t have to cry
or wish a last goodbye
to one who suffers yet again
a pain they could never deny.
I state once more from my own pen:
what a beautiful day to die.

Trial

I shiver from the cold October rain
as seagulls soar serenely through the air
confusion pumps through every single vein
I fumble to recite a feeble prayer
my cool facade a challenge to maintain
because this test called life is so unfair.
I plead for her redemption as I kneel
and hope, for once, I’m granted my appeal.

Numb

It’s difficult to get a wink of rest
after witnessing a piece of Kingsford’s best
that ere the valiant firemen could smother
was the person you remember as your mother—

too toasted to be woken by the flame
she finally found the peace she longed to claim
and now that she is free of her despair
perhaps I can maneuver my own share.

Usury

Unlimited credit’s as bad as coke
corrupting with it’s perilous pull
thank goodness I’ve always been blissfully broke
cause I can’t bear the bull.

Retreat

***Well don't ask me why but every winter my little home town is blessed by a gathering of noisy old crows on vacation I guess, maybe they need to get away from the hustle of big city life, and I can't help but write about it as they are blaring their blather from every tree in sight.***

Courting Winter

North of east a murder hies
across the amber autumn skies
exclaiming their defiant cries
emboldened by the suns demise,

then vibrant Venus flaunts her fling
with Jupiter, the would-be king
as jejune jesters dream of spring
when hecklers will at last take wing.

History

You can see they’re both fakin’ it
rhetorically rapin’ it
forget about makin’ it
shoot for reshapin’ it.

Drip

The chilling spray
that falls today
from skies as gray
as thoughts that prey
on my naked mind

will inundate
and saturate
exacerbate
the soggy fate
to which I’m resigned

and though wetter
this fluid fetter
feels much better
with each letter
I’ve wimpily whined.

Part

I wanted peace
so prayed for some
but my caprice
gained not one crumb
until release
began to come
through inner piece
it issues from.

Ride

Beneath the former august sun
whose heightened brilliance had begun
to surely dwindle every day
the Ferris wheel slowly spun

and everywhere were those at play
among the mechanized melee
where fetching looks of shy unease
made fledgling lovers senses sway

deciphering each freckled tease
responsible for wobbly knees
and laughing ragamuffins yearned
to join balloons upon the breeze.

But soon the carnival is spurned
as weary wicks are quickly burned
despite the wonders once revealed
when Ferris wheels slowly turned.

Blurbin' The Blog

I have to say something that may sound strange but - I've never felt more like a writer than I currently do right now. Besides being nominated for Best of The Net over at Word Catalyst I just found out yesterday that I was also nominated for a Pushcart Prize for my experiment in elfin excess. I must profusely thank the staff at WC for their support and the nod. I would also like to thank all the people that have left such inspiring and gratifying comments on my labors of love here and apologize for not commenting on others' blogs as much as I used to. Thanks!!!!!!

Sieze

I must uncloud my tainted eye
that’s thoroughly corrupted by
a festering myopic sty
so I can once more versify.

Vacuum

Despite the endless quirks to see
there isn’t much to ken
the universe will always be
and yes, it’s always been

no theory will explain the facts
or grasp the massive span
of wonder in these starry tracts
unknowable to man.

Upgrade

I’d like to build a button in my brain that I could click
to cause whatever memory I wanted to to stick
and during renovations I would also pay the crew
to add another function which allows me to undo.

Able?

Like plastic cactus on a concrete plain
or cattle no corral could rein
the empty carts are lazily lain
for courtesy was canned by Cain.

Shaken

I feel much riper than ever before
but still so immature
uncertain why I now abhor
the innocently pure—

perhaps a greenish worm infests
to turn my bounty fallow
a greedy grub whose gnaw ingests
more core with each new swallow

along with every precious bit
of pulp that hasn’t dried
to form a leper’s rattle
from the bitter seeds inside.

Den

Descendants of the snake
will fastidiously flake
aside the withered husk
of every foothold they forsake
encouraging the ache
that comes from being brusk
and darting for that little break
between the rocks where they can make
it safely to the soothing dusk
whose inky tendrils take
away the need to fake.

Moony

The moon is becoming
so radiant it fairly glows
with distant, untouchable perfection—
you’ll know you’re succumbing
to love’s insistent throes
when flustered by a phase of fierce reflection.

Scuttlebutt

Go on and help the rumor spread
take your little jabs
I’ll love her till the day I’m dead
who cares if she has crabs?

Pot

We’re all intent
on making cash
but once it’s spent
beware the crash

you’re better off
playing poker
than betting (cough)
on any broker.

Mission - I

Coerced by shadows in the amber glow
I feel compelled to share a tale I know
about a fierce nomadic loner born
when Ares hung brightly one fateful morn.

Possessed of great strength and terrible ire
he stalked through darkness, a killer for hire
no name was given for none had the chance
to see this phantom once fixed in his glance.

One evening a sultan of some renown
was keen to punish affronts to the crown
he called to the blackest fold of his tent
“Come forth marauder of fearsome decent!”

Alert to the promise of sanctioned death
this wraith appeared like ethereal breath,
a menacing glint in his feral eyes
subdued those seated before they could rise.

The buzzing of flies broke a nervous still
then someone boldly said, “Come, drink your fill,
our honeyed wine will soothe your weary bones
while sultry harem girls elicit moans.”

“Such lavish trappings soften those of wealth
I choose to don the thrifty threads of stealth,
enjoy the indulgence that makes you weak
for culling goes quicker among the meek.

Now who has called me to vanquish a foe?
The name of the prey is all I need know
my blade will quickly drain every last dreg
unless you would like them to shamelessly beg.”

The sultan sat breathless, consumed by his fear
but managed to muster his haughtiest sneer
“The name is Verona, remember it well
and send the ungrateful temptress to hell!”

“Her head shall be yours or my life in its place.”
he said with no hint of doubt on his face
as the stifled assemblage sat wringing soft hands
and watched him disintegrate into dark sands.

Gyrations

Beneath the final summer sun
too subdued to shimmer
my thoughts begin to simmer
revealing just a glimmer
of journeys yet begun

across a rock that spins upon
a temperamental tether
that’s barely held together
and contemplating whether
it’s prudent to go on.

Class

Your place is decreed
by how you are treed
for one fruitful branch
can banish the need

to bashfully blanch
deprived of a tranche
or cover a cut
to stoically stanch

the blood when they gut
you and cockily strut
displaying their sneers
on jawbones that jut

so never show fears
when blasted with jeers
remember your value
for these are your peers.

Hearten

Inconsequence is not a curse
just fodder for indulgent verse
but no amount of whiny wit
will ever make the quandary quit
so strive to string along a stream
of words that make one want to dream
about the best that we can be
as vessels of nobility.

Seclusion

Beneath the helm
there lies a realm
of one, who like a crooked elm
discreetly brims
with wooden whims
extending gnarly naked limbs
that long to touch
but only clutch
the remnants of a faulty crutch
and can’t achieve
the least reprieve
so log about the lust to leave.

Confirmed

This dream is in vain
my life too mundane
to warrant a visit by alien craft
but boy if they did
and I blew the lid
my friends would at last say "Poor Bob has gone daft!"

Rigamarole

Up down
moody clown
in out
screw the doubt
left right
who’s more white
true false
can the schmaltz.

Plum

Like little Jack Horner, we met in the corner
exchanging our pieces of pie
then she thumbed her nose, and I, lachrymose
must now wish her well and goodbye.

Swan Song

Performing pirouettes
upon an early autumn breeze
helps scatter the regrets
recalling days atop the trees

and swaying with such graceful ease
devoid of any debts
upon an early autumn breeze
performing pirouettes.

Here?

At times it seems my mind has slipped away,
despite the fact there isn’t much to lose
(nor hardly any ego left to bruise)
I grapple with the gallivanting gray,
my grasp becoming looser every day
allowing lucid rivulets to ooze
between the digits doubts discreetly use
manipulating confidence to sway.
Maturity begins to finally prey
upon my eyes, disintegrating hues
and hiding things behind a blurry ruse
that’s more disturbing than I care to say.
Defiantly I hold my favorite pen
to duly write… now where was I again?

Chip

I journeyed back to where the seed
became a pliant sprout
and quickly grasped the tragic need
to harbor constant doubt

for many elements can force
a tender stem to bow
by battering without remorse
the strength to disavow.

Environmental factors spurred
formation of a bark
that helps deflect debris that’s stirred
when howling tempests spark

but also hinders any form
of flexibility
with rigidness that borders on
insensibility.

Round

Higgs said it mattered
but once things get splattered
will deeper enigmas be all they produce?
There’s no big solution
to war and pollution
empirical data can ever deduce

for greed is chaotic
desires neurotic
raw clay is a substance not easily tamed;
we foster collision
creating division
essential to see how the whole may be framed.

Schemer

I resent redundance
but seldom have time
to alter with abundance
this repetitious rhyme.

Hunger

In deep dark recesses
on sticky silk tresses
two warriors spar
as mortality presses
the fray

and the one who is leaner
appears to be meaner
and quicker by far
inflicting a cleaner
array

of blows till, defeated
the fatter is treated
to bindings that bar
escape, then secreted
away.

Ripples

I see my own fragility
reflected in the glass
with lines made no softer by the blur
whose indents are the kind that must occur
when sentences surpass
the semblance of civility.

Breezy

September has transpired
and though I should be scroungin’
I’m suddenly inspired
to exercise some loungin’

for seldom is the sun so pure
or pleasant wind so clean
that all my doubts are less unsure
and prospects seem umpteen.

Specialty

I clipped some thyme
which sparked this rhyme
about a soup some call sublime,
you have to sweat
to truly get
the flavor patrons won’t forget
but don’t call it toil
and try to spoil
my taste for bringing the pot to a boil.

Mettle

The scintillating grass is so exquisite
each waving blade alive with bursts of light
that seem to hail my unexpected visit
as though I were the archetypal knight,

but lately my defenses have been failing
depending on this armor rife with chinks
and confidence in victory is ailing,
abandoning a countenance that sinks

until I take a moment to remember
it’s not the outer shell that makes you strong—
the best defense against a harsh December
is filling up your heart with summer’s song.

Root

A family of beech trees is standing plainly proud
their tender bark so different from the ruffians that crowd
around them crookedly, voracious for the light,
examining their timber in the oldest kind of fight.

Bias

How much a pane refracts the light
depends upon your line of sight
as many vistas thusly built
exhibit a peculiar tilt
ignored by those content to dwell
within an ever-leaning shell.

***picture provided by Shirley, thanks much!!***

Swampers

Old Johnny has led using right-wing railin’ but now that he’s bled his chances are Palin, and Hil dropped a hint that Barak could be shot though she stifled a glint of appeal for the plot.

Veneer

Everyday new patterns are perceived within the grain
as I ponder my obsession with pursuits uniquely plain,
perhaps someday the questioning will quietly abstain
so I can just accept the surface sheen that says I’m sane.

Happy Hour

The phlox are flirting flippantly
aflame from dewy draughts
and roam the gently sloping lea
to feast on golden shafts,

though stymied by the stony walls
erected to define
they drain their cups as nighttime falls
to savor evanescent wine.

Consumed

It’s such a shame
how maulers maim
the verdant blush
with blades that crush
all life away,

and most ignore
the gaping sore
as smugness spurns
and progress churns
the green to gray—

they paint their lines
like spendthrift spines
to herd the spree
too spent to see
how much we pay.

Last

Beneath the mound
I heard a crack
whose grisly sound
made all step back
for no one knows
which extra bit
would so impose
to make it split
itself in two
with such a cry
but now it’s through
and so am I.

Relate

Calamity, amity
inherited insanity
everybody in the pool
and join the growing family.

Bounty

At times it happens hurriedly
a banquet in a blur,
sometimes it’s served up sloppily
and spillage will occur;
when it trickles tantalizingly
a tidbit at a time
you aspire agonizingly
to bag that tasty rhyme.

Squawker

Your mouthy machinations made you part of the machine
if only you could bear your share as proudly as you preen
perhaps you wouldn’t need to loop around the murder scene
alert for any carcasses on which to vent a spleen.

Adrift

So many come, so many go
so many seem to think they know
but no one ever gets it right
though certain quips show some insight:

the counter clicks, the counter drops
the traffic waivers then just stops
and still this fierce unsounded dream
floats aimlessly across the stream.

Rite

The sky is full of vapors
like a cauldron has been primed
by transcendental tapers
to brew the stuff of life
while ancient spells are rhymed
to spark the sacrificial knife
that stains impartial papers.

Be

The defeat
of conceit
is a trend
we all meet,

so defend
or amend
but compete
till the end!


***For Bob***

Crunched

Demystifying data dramatically degrades
energy extended engineering escapades
internally invigorating, indeed, intense
subtracting satisfaction, stifling sense.

Felungulous Fletch

Felungulous Fletch
the ridiculous wretch
was a curious codger from Kent
shacked up in a shed
with no room for a bed
but extremely affordable rent.

Felungulous feared
strategically steered
around anything he couldn’t grasp,
with a visage quite vexed
he’d prattle, perplexed
like a button unable to clasp.

Felungulous frowned
as he woefully wound
his way through the sweltering swamp
to forage for food
be it fresh or pre-chewed
his hunger cared little for pomp.

Felungulous Fletch
the ridiculous wretch
was immune to the world and its ways
too placid to plot
he lived with his lot
all alone for the rest of his days.

Meltdown

The band dismembered ‘Twist & Shout’
I was munching on some wings
as hair upon my arm stood out
“Man that coating stings!”

A swig of amber goodness made
me groggily carefree
enough to count each timber laid
in the floor geometry.

“Bartender please decant some more
to chase this chicken down,
I can’t taste, my lips are sore
it’s time for all my woes to drown.”


***since inspiration has been hard to find lately I decided to play jigsaw poem. Just click here to find out how***

Learning

Knowledge or ability
which is truly best—
feigning with facility
or finishing the test?

Sop

The river hugs the valley
exploring every twist,
engorged by all the passion of their
long tempestuous tryst
yet damned to watch the future
eroding in the mist.

Structure

Amidst the trees a rusting hulk
whose sagging framework seems to sulk
submits to the prolonged decay
of those that live beyond their day;
the undergrowth has claimed the bulk
and soon, it will just fade away.

The morning sun is snugly warm
caressing this diminished form
that strives to make some distance ere
the westward skies are filled with glare
or shrouded by a sudden storm
negating efforts to prepare.

So many thoughts, such little time
confounded by infernal rhyme
that counteracts the urge to quit
until there’s been a proper fit
despite accumulated grime
and ailing girders sure to split.

Downtime

Hi everybody, hope your summer is going well. I am enjoying my first full week of vacation since the year 2000, if you can believe that. I've been doing things around the house, riding my bike, reading, and above all - RESTING!

Well as my friend Shirley noted in her comment, the poem below was inspired at a very specific place, and while it could be seen as a figurative place, it is an actual physical place that I love to visit as well.

So I started to think about all the poems inspired by my walks there and found this little one (which was also published in the Taj Mahal Review), and this one as well. It is a magnificent hilltop overlooking the sprawling Mohawk River Valley, just awe inspiring.

But I also remembered all the things I've thought of while riding my bike like this, or this, or this, or this, or this, or this, or even this and figured I'd leave some links to read through as I'm going camping for a few days. Take care!!

Mount

I journeyed from the depths below
to that shrine where wild flowers grow
and clouds come close enough to know;

I beckoned one to socialize
but it ignored my squeaky cries
preferring the untainted skies

then left without a second glance—
consoled by blossoms’ breezy dance
I managed a forgiving stance

forgetting what it means to frown
just long enough to cast eyes down
and watch a monarch leave it’s crown

to also fly away scot-free,
somehow escaping gravity
and all the hapless fools like me

that wonder on such perfect days
if we could ever thusly raise
ourselves above our worldly ways.

Let Down

I watched the jumbled colorful mass
anointed by a nobler gas
ascend beyond where eagles dare,
but even the loftiest still need air;
as turbulent clouds of grayish white
obscured the rising from my sight
I knew its hence uncharted flight
would falter sans that valiant knight—
deflated dreams descend to dirt
when champions become inert.

Diminished

I long for the moon
while embracing the sun
every morn like a lover returned,
for each time I swoon
and my pulse starts to run
means the pale one’s advances were spurned;

but late in the night
as I pensively peer
at the radiant face I adore
I am stung by the bite
of a burgeoning fear
that our triad will soon be no more.

Vertical Contrition

My affinity for steel
makes me question if I’m real
if my flesh is just a peel
beneath which sprockets squeal,
but when I try to kneel
the anguish makes me reel
and I embrace with zeal
the truth that I can feel.

Flip

For every bad day there’s one not so bad—
the trick is remembering that when you’re mad.

Crash

How small I must seem
to someone up there
who chances to look at the ground
while I fight the gleam
to triumphantly stare
at a race resolutely profound—
but what good are planes
or cars and the such
how well will they get us around
when Man at last drains
what we covet so much
not one precious drop to be found.

Herd?

Suspended twixt the magic and mundane
I hang upon articulated lines
while music courses through each rhythmic vein
like whispers through the undulating pines
that carry far beyond the chosen plain
to help compose fantastical designs
discernable to any that will choose
to listen with the ears we seldom use.

Sedimentary

The moon was so new that it shone
like a sliver of hope in the sky—
the wink of an omniscient eye
dismissing the need to atone
for even the craggiest stone
with a penchant to coldly deny
the truth,

despite being perfectly blunt
albeit not terribly round
or (some would say) deeply profound.
Embedded faults command a grunt
but sometimes it’s more than the brunt
that keeps you on the ground—
Ah, youth.

Pets

I read the wry rebuttals on the board
as highly educated minds dispense
their over-written tripe and then commence
to gripe about who may have truly scored
an instant classic; and there’s the old coot
(of course) proclaimed as ‘He Who Knows It All’
concocting quips with aggravating gall
that make you wish you had a gun to shoot
him dead. But then, you’d more than likely miss
and have to suffer through his evil taunts,
or worse yet hear stories of anal haunts
while he recounts his boyish backdoor bliss.
I try to fit in, but never quite click—
it seems I’m inept at stroking a prick.

Resolution

With what eyes do we see?
In what light do we limn
the mysterious whim
of our own destiny?

Are we partial to clay?
With what tool do we shape
or conveniently scrape
imperfections away?

Is the model the key?
Is it balance we seek
as we grow more oblique?
With what eyes do we see?

Rebel

It’s easy to see
how a plea to be free
could be signed on a day such as this
the sun’s bright and high
each breeze like a sigh
of barely containable bliss.

What creature could stand
a governing hand
compelled to cavort in a crown?
There’s so much to do
and days are too few
to squander one tick bowing down.

No Catering

I spared a sprig of thyme
from the order I had scrambled
aware the only crime
would be in never having gambled

for struggling by corporate rules
is much too all consuming,
I’ve had my share of fancy fools’
pejorative presuming—

so belly up and grab a plate
the fare is quite delicious
without the risk of gaining weight
from richness that’s pernicious.

Misread

Gestures of humility
mistaken for hostility
will over-complicate a simple matter—
pleasant country platitudes
do not deserve an attitude
when all that was intended was to flatter.

The Art of Alienation

Hey all, how goes it? Me, well I'm slowly getting myself together. I have recently been through much bullshit at work and it was getting to the point that I wanted to snap, literally. I felt the rage burning inside like never before in my life and it was making me miserable. Anyways I hope I haven't offended anyone in any way and am posting this rendition of the Incredible Hulk I did in honor of the new movie and as a way to say goodbye to the monster I was becoming inside. Hopefully it will 'draw' some responses (sorry couldn't resist)

Riddance

It takes no divination
to see your future dear,
that former invitation
is a ticket to appear
upon some transportation
that’ll cart your worthless rear
to a dismal destination
far away from here.

Powerless

Without the loud transmission
or the cybernetic thrall
I’m lulled into submission
by the clock upon the wall;

each tick is like a cannon shot
proclaiming the demise
of one more chance to change the plot
that circumstance supplies.

I hear a low commotion
as it clatters far away
which calls derailed devotion
to forget the ties and stray—

such furrows crenelate my brow
that shadows blind my sight,
I’m blowing out the candle now
it’s time to say goodnight.

Communicable

When muscles warped and shuttles zoomed
who knew what insidious illness loomed
for remnants cut so many times
that only fragile fringe remains
to dangle like forgotten chimes
as any wind worth catching wanes.

Decaying streets became a sheath
exposing cobblestones beneath
that fester like infected cuts
in need of an effective cure
but all there is are deeper ruts
ensuring sickness will endure.

Prescription

As smoky sunlight saturates the clouds that won’t disperse
reality repudiates that things can’t get much worse
but luckily the need to vent is easy to coerce
and so another night is spent dispensing physic verse.

Offish

They went to the wake
I stayed to forsake
my waning humanity lest I relapse,
if forced to partake
bravado will break
releasing the sorrow that clogs each synapse.

I long to relate
but fail to create
a permanent pathway through which to commune
and sadly I’ll wait
until it’s too late
my own wake attended by none but the moon.

Burning

I bathe in the wrath of a withering star
as a hammer confers with concrete,
ignoring the hardhats that labor to jar
me from reverie’s soothing retreat:

I dreamt of moments in the grass
observing pliant nimbus pass
the vigor in my tawny skin
as vibrant as my eager grin,
no thoughts of senseless enmity
to soil the unfettered me
nor any pressing plans to ply
just me, the earth, the endless sky...

A deafening crash brings me back to the truth
and I blink in the dazzling glare
as photons more feisty than those of my youth
incite me with each fleeting flare.

Slacken

I sought a soothing subject to expound upon today
but found no wry expressions that were worth the breath to say
so I jotted down a couple lines that didn’t take much thought
relaxing nerves that heretofore were dangerously taut.

Press

Twenty six soldiers of lead
have conquered the heart and the head
with passionate plays that have fed
the fancy of all who have read.

Back to Reality

The giant was humbled (and grumbled a bit)
abashed that the eggheads were brimming with shit
he found out that lingo (while sounding quite sweet)
should not be confused with a plan that’s complete
he called on his captain (a grizzled old cuss)
to foster tradition and bury this fuss
while those in the trenches (who bled all along)
are wondering what the hell took so damn long!?!

Broken Dancer V - Monotone

Sitting, waiting, watching lifetime
Slip between your hands
Like sands from a broken hour glass

Sweeping up the sands of time
We often find our hidden selves
But then it’s too late to change what could’ve been helped

Home alone on a rainy day
Quietly composed
Wondering who ordered the storm

The sound of rain drops on the sill
Like moments from your life
Drip on in a dreadful monotone

Hopeless, relentless problems
Running through your mind
Suddenly your dream falls behind

Looking back to find its face
Buried in the crowd
It hides itself never to be found

Floating through society
Adrift without an oar
About to sink like a hefty stone

The slap of waves against your hull
Like moments from your life
Slosh on in a dreadful monotone

Running nowhere on a treadmill
Watching life pass by
You better say goodbye

Broken Dancer IV - Four Wheels

Remembering summer days
How I used to love to play
Running, jumping, climbing trees
Sharing secrets with the breeze
But then my promise made me new
I had no friends I could turn to
The price seemed much too high before
Now I wish I had paid more
How my parents taunted me
Refusing needed sympathy
Driving me to fulfill their dreams
They never heard my silent screams
Alone I laughed, alone I cried
Alone I chose to run and hide
I never wanted company
My only friend was misery

Remembering those days at school
When I played the silent fool
Afraid to share my tales of pain
Afraid of being controlled again
The dance was all I lived to do
It kept me strong and pulled me through
The times when no one seemed to care
The troubled times of deep despair
Silence, all I dreamed about
Was constantly being shut out
By the applause of those who always failed
To see the hate my smile veiled
Pain, the only thing real for me
Was confused with artistic eccentricity
Never feeling understood
I’ve grown up cold and subdued

Remembering those days on stage
I suppress a fleeting rage
That cries for recompense
That strives to make some sense
My dancers legs, no longer whole
Destroyed by fate in a single blow
Lie uselessly below my waist
Displaying the result of my haste
Yes, four wheels make up most of me
Two large, two small in harmony
The rest is just a wasted mass
Barely able to make a gasp
If only I had tried a little more
If only I had cared before
Perhaps these endless days of pain
Would not be driving me insane

Broken Dancer III - Too Much Gas

Another show over
But you don’t feel right
You get into your car
And burn into the night

Trees whizzing by
The stars in the sky
Tears flood your eyes
You can’t see the road

The needle hits eighty
You’ve sweat on your brow
When it passes one hundred
You lose your resolve

You stomp on the brakes
They fail to take
You realize your mistake
By then you’ve lost control

You gave it too much gas
You went much too fast
There were no cars to pass
You just gave it too much gas

Spinning and swerving
All over the road
You can’t see the truck
There’s no way to avoid

Crushed and bleeding you lay
You hear someone say
The ambulance is on the way
Oh the hell with it

From the operating table
The doctor looks grim
He’s shaking his head
Everything grows dim

In a recovery room
Draped with gloom
You find out you’re doomed
You’ll never walk again

You gave it too much gas
You went much too fast
Never again will you dance
You just gave it too much gas

Broken Dancer II - Glory Child

See the potential glory child
Wasting away, getting high all the while
See his bitter smile

Because, he says, there’s no sense
In being someone special
If you can’t be someone free

So why don’t we all go get stoned
So we can be the same
Too blind to see

Too blind to see
What’s eating us away inside
Too concerned
With jealousy and petty pride
Too wrapped up
In our forlorn dreams
It’s enough to
Make me want to scream

And scream he will
When one that has it all throws it all away
He’ll be sorry another day

Oh glory child with your
Hair brushed and angelic smile
Can’t you see the damage you’ve done?

Just to have your own way
Even the slightest victory
You discard common sense
And turn your back on dignity
Sneaking out to have your fun
Soon it will be history
But history has a way of haunting the future
Glory child better hide your bitter smile

Broken Dancer I - It's In You

It’s in you,
Can’t you feel it my son?
You were born to be great
To be number one
You must cease all your playing
And practice non-stop
If you have any hopes
Of reaching the top
It’s in you my son
You must not be afraid
Just keep on dancing
Till your fortune is made
Then you can care for us
As we’ve cared for you
Can’t you feel it my son
Our greatest dreams come true?

I see in you a seed
Of blind discontent
And selfish greed
To an unknown extent
Oh mother dear
You knew from the start
To remove the fear
You rip out the heart
But you forgot that hate
Soon takes its place
And now it’s too late
For me to erase
The anger I feel
When I look at you
This just can’t be real
My worst nightmare come true.

Day after day
Hour upon hour
I go through the motions
I grunt and perspire,
But my mind is moving
Apart from my feet
It’s dreaming of freedom
Of walking the street—
I’m never allowed
Out of the house
I have no friends
My parents know about
I’m just a lonely child
Forced to be a dancer
It seems to be a riddle
For which there is no simple answer.

Anthem

Existential exaltations
mollify misguided nations
stimulating separations
axing all amalgamations.

Contend

If friends turn to foes
don’t brace for more blows
neglecting deflecting
bodes ill for the nose.

When plans go awry
don’t curl up and cry
endeavor forever
to fearlessly try!

Key Ring

Back in days of innocence
my heart was like an open door;
the portal to such pristine bliss
unlocked, I thought, for evermore.

But as orbits quickly flew
I felt the pull of gravity,
every time my burden grew
I gained another weighty key.

My ring has grown over time
denoting quite a heavy load,
it jingles with a haunting chime
that rings goodbye to days of old.

Now my heart, no longer free
clamors in a rusting cage,
as I scrounge for one small key
to loose the fetters of old age.

Break

The lower the rung
the quicker the wit—
when drowning in dung
you laugh or you quit.

Gallant Tree

Oh friendly tree I love thy breeze
more than you’ll ever know
but I can’t bend with supple ease
like thee when tempests blow;
contentment courses through thy veins
yet someday thou will leave
and here beside thy bare remains
will end my short reprieve.

Self Rising

I bagged the pointless griping
and practiced fancy piping
for cupcakes look much sweeter when they flaunt a little flair;
the recipe to savor
isn’t all about the flavor,
omit the things prohibiting a treat as light as air.

Exemplify

Do you believe in the power
of personal expression,
in the life changing force
of uncensored confession?

Can one voice validate
realities that resonate
deep inside each private pate
without conveying harbored hate?

The jury hangs, suspended
by the thinnest thread of hair,
confluence is contended
but communion starts with care.

Scrapper

The dawn is like a fading bruise,
an omen that I’ll probably lose
another round, despite a left
I’m not afraid to use.

Determined, I dismiss my doubt
undaunted by the streams that gout
from all my wounds, as I heft
my gloves to brave another bout.

Chain

I’m one with the grit
scraped off of the shoe
that costs more than I make in a week,
while swallowing shit
as they trust I should do
for the rich feel deprived sans the meek.

I contemplate change
for my pocket has none
yet this mountain has reached a new peak—
they say there’s a range
beyond all this fun
where the lowly may find what they seek.

Pumped

I pedal through
a nascent patch
where buds are new
and chipmunks snatch
what grub they can
as I ride by
immune to man
they barely shy
away from me.
Despite this jaunt
I am not free
my duties haunt
me every day
I have no time
to think or play
or jot a rhyme—
but this is not
the proper place
to mull my lot
I’d rather race
along this path
until I shed
this pointless wrath
and smile instead.

Hard

Inspired when the sisters sigh to sneakily implore us
sometimes the proper word resides within a new thesaurus
but estimates won’t satisfy an unresponsive chorus
and though it seems a bit absurd, this boulder isn’t porous.

Wish It Was Over?

The annual date of my messy arrival
a quaint commemoration of continued survival
I wonder what dreams merit revival.

Each revolution I turn less inspired,
deeper in doubt my soul becomes mired,
will life seem worth living once time has expired?

Extinguishing wicks with receding relish
trying to think of a doable wish—
oh well, I hope the cake’s delish.

Draining

Half empty, half dead
the bottle’s been bled
relieved of it’s spirit
like one who instead
succumbs to the dread
and lies without purpose
alone in her bed
her apron strings shed
half empty, half dead.

Tightrope

A pause to reflect
may cause a direct
connection between
what we blindly expect
and the foolish mistakes
we too often elect
to make—

but don’t let regret
confuse or upset
the balance to lean
far enough to offset
the more burdensome breaks
we must never forget
to shake.

Funk

Some food I couldn’t finish
in a box inside the fridge
(because I was considering
a way to torch this bridge)
has sat there much too long
and is now almost spoiled
just like the mess in which
I have become so embroiled.

Smack

It’s not about talent, commitment or guts
it’s all about kissing appropriate butts.
Aspiring artist? Best pucker those lips
and anchor yourself to the soft fleshy grips.

Ambivert

Inconsequential aspirations
compromise integrity’s seal,
uneducated justifications
instigate rebellious zeal;
infuriating vacillations
roughly churn a floundering keel,
contradicting condemnations
are all I ever seem to feel.

Spackle

They tread their path to glory
on the hardened, dirty backs
of those whose labored story
is eclipsed by sullied stacks—
just more filler for the cracks.

Partied Out

Republicans just love to launch
their demagogic rants
while Democrats, reserved or staunch
can’t keep it in their pants;

perhaps a group should be begun
devoted to us hicks
so we can all at last be done
with lying liberal dicks.

Passed

He was a regular
(yeah, a regular pain in the butt)
He was a musician
(boy he played you like a fiddle)
He was an orator
(man does that guy ever shut up?)
He was a friend
(God, we’ll miss him)

He was a decent guy
but now he’s gone
we can only try
to move along.


***Rest in peace John***

Nudge

Why do those we worry for
at times become an awful chore
when love is all they have in store?

So crippled by our own conceit
enfeebled hearts refuse to beat
with mercy for the indiscreet

that make the most forbearing cringe
as they impishly impinge
once heralded by squeaky hinge.

Perhaps we should be thankful for
those that choose to use our door
before they can come back no more.

Coast

A river has no enemies
and likewise, no true friends
although it’s quite a mover
in regard to current trends,
reacting to a rocky bed
by gouging graceful bends—
obsessed with finding distant seas
towards which it ever wends.

Simulation

I wish that that was truly me
just cruising through infinity
with stellar sites cascading by
while hyper-drive propels me nigh
the center of the universe
from which all energies disperse
to intertwine and incubate
the matter that comprises fate—
but fingers press upon the screen
prevented entrance to the scene
or escape from earthly strife
that passes for a so called life.

Picking

You slash at the sheet
to the margin’s surprise
like a scythe felling wheat
while chaff plainly flies;

a calloused pursuit
will hinder the yield
of tantalizing fruit
once foraged afield.

No Gilt

You purchased a cow
more glitter than gold
then told us to bow
but I’m much too old
to change my beliefs in support of your lie—
I guess there are some things money can’t buy.

What We Make It

Jealousies, hypocrisies,
subtle incongruities
make you see the cold face
of this world’s reality
in all of it’s ferocity;
a sad and desolate place
that reeks of dark curiosities
and borderline insanity.

Liberals, radicals,
some, a bit fanatical,
endeavor to advance their cause
regardless of eventual
damage causing rituals
like war, which has it’s own laws
denying right to trial
for all things cruel and vile.

Stretches

If you seek to illume
fill your stylus with light
but doctrines of doom
come from inkiest night

and moments of mirth
should be cherished as such
while we question our worth
or reluctance to touch

with the words we acquire
through precocious parley
as enigmas inspire
imagination to play.

Spurs

Sedated by the lullaby
of steel caressing steel
I feel the wayward workhorse cry
with every labored squeal
bemoaning how it’s destination
is never a surprise
considering determination
comes from rigid ties.

Tracked?

This just in: An obscure and average poet faces the ultimate irony when one of his works is referenced in an online paper in such a way that it highlights the very anonymity this poet frequently rails against, particularly relying on the title of the poem to make her point, but never mentioning it outright.

Thoughts?

Long Overdue

Hi everyone. I was thinking what to post today and figured it was time for some payback. I recently received an unexpected and much appreciated shoutout from that growing community of online creativity called Poets Who Blog, run by the magnanimous and talented Sara. She is organizing a promotion for April, which is National Poetry Month, and has asked for participants. Get your asses over there and sign up if you already haven’t, Sara does a lot of work to promote others so let her know you care. She also has her own blog and I highly recommend this poem which voices so well the emptiness I think we’ve all felt at one time or another. You are awesome Sara!!

Next up and I’m sure no big surprise to anyone that has visited my blog, Shirley Allard. She started this Word Catalyst magazine thing and it just seems to be getting bigger and bigger every month. Next month being a national event, Shirley is really working hard to bring you the best issue yet and I know it won’t disappoint. Shirley of course has her own blog also and I would like to direct you to this little gem she just posted. Is that title autobiographical? ;)

I now would like to thank someone that has left me some truly generous comments of encouragement and who is also a great writer in my humble opinion. Noah the Great, someone that says it like it is with style. Sometimes it’s dark, sometimes it’s funny, but his writing is always clever and original. This poem got stuck in my brain, so head over and let him know how good it is. Thanks Noah!

And last but certainly not least, the man that taught me what blogging’s all about, the original bloggin’ poet, Billy Jones. This guy can and does write about everything, just look here, and is also a tireless supporter of others. Thanks Billy!!

Well these were just off the top of my head. More will be coming in future installments as I have been fortunate enough to have some truly kind visitors to my little online world of words that deserve many thanks. Later.

Cultured

Narcissus is certain
her helix ingrains
the rosiest tulips
the garden contains

but lily’s a lady
immune to the plot
who needs not belabor
the something she’s got.

Idle

The wheel spins, a race begins
to multiply as fortune grins
amid the starry slip of night,
developing a will to fight.
The wheel spins, a race begins

to stigmatize divergent sins
and stratify unblemished skins
while never learning from the past
just how unbelievably fast
the wheel spins. A race begins

each morning with determined dins
despite the fact that no one wins,
they rev their motors really loud
to fall right in behind the crowd
as wheels spin — the race begins!

Capacity

I left behind the slate expanse
impaled by pillars of steel
to make an epic exodus
beyond the dirty deal
in search of something real.

Once past the pressing, stagnant air
conveyance altered my view;
along the thrumming thoroughfare
I watched a wreck or two
no blinker could undo.

It doesn’t take a lot of drive
to head where nowhere goes
and steering clear won’t satisfy
as need for baggage grows
before my exit shows.

Appeal

Another round of failure
complete with facile fluff,
“Your stuff is really good
but not quite good enough.”

How many times must one be told
their pen is too mundane
before they shun that lone release
conviction can’t maintain.

Pew

The right denomination
can garner salvation
so flock to get fleeced
by this shrewd corporation—
forgive the mild sulfurous stench
they’ll never bench despite the clench.

Renaissance

I long to see the hyacinth anon
imparting salutations breezily
and breathe the sweet cologne that wafts upon
invigorating gusts that easily
dispel the winter doldrums dragging on,
accumulating drifts inside of me.
I pull my collar up to warm my chin
in lieu of golden kisses on my skin.

As angles change, the chance to see protracts
but only if a pupil seeks the truth,
hallucinations often pose as facts
when altered by the heady state of youth
and even sully patronizing pacts
of those a little longer in the tooth
that hide behind their overweening grin
denial of the emptiness within.

We all require temperate climes to bloom
and solid clay to hold us tenderly
when certain days of unexpected gloom
precipitate their misty misery,
and if tomorrow brings my final doom
I’ll face the end with much felicity
unburdened by my mitigated sin,
as haunting hints of hyacinth begin.

Name Game

The hitch to being frank
and salvaging a nick
you forfeit every hank
to become a plain old dick.

Tasty

Who knew a flaky little tart
could be so damn acerbic
to shrivel an absorbent heart
with venom—

but reservations soon depart
when teased by fruits endemic
as she practices her deadly art
in denim.

Partitioned

Retaining isn’t all they do
they stand for more than that
obstructing an improper view
or keeping out the cat;

at times they lend complete support
sometimes they’re just for show
defining a defenseless sort
with nowhere else to go—

so cry behind, or sit astride
or lean against these things
like rats that scurry on inside
the structure building brings.

Stinker

At the peak
of a week
without bathing
the reek
will be scathing

so

frequently scrub
in the tub
or they’ll name you
a grub
and defame you.

Brood

At last, a clan to call my own
a root to spur the seedling sown
when offspring of the average dust
surrendered to their primal lust
before the temple, cold as stone
could crumble, as it surely must.

Yon titan with a voice of silk
has helped identify my ilk,
Moneta emphasized the line
whose balm, at times, can be divine
while opposites serve curdled milk
more bitter than fermented whine.

This fever can become quite rash
and left unchecked, abruptly brash
to aggravate the thinnest skin
with shameless shares of sheer chagrin
that issue from a massive stash
unequal to the total sin.

Despite the tribal urge to dance
to celebrate my circumstance,
beneath this aerie I will lie
a mote beside a mountain high
entranced until I catch a glance
of blazing raiment streaking by.


***This may help decipher the above***

Help

It’s no surprise
what’s on the rise
to flee the lies
they choose demise

with pills or knives
or messy dives
self-pity thrives
on taking lives;

perhaps despair
would never flare
with someone there
to show they care—

if signals shine
that chill your spine
don’t say “You’re fine!”
proffer a line.

Tenebrous

I see the ray, but not the shine
I feel the heat, but not the warmth,
forever balanced on the line
between redemption and remorse.

I long for peace, but earn disdain
I look for light, but fail the task—
resigned to this obscure domain
until the day that I can bask.

Done

Bellies distended
appetites ended
spirit awoken
bondage broken
compliments tendered
substance is rendered.

Clime

My footing failed on icy tracks that coated the cement
I had to put some effort into every increment
expending energy that heretofore had no intent
and now I’m feeling less inclined to be inclement.

Lightness

Momentum stalled
a beacon called
to guide me through the shallow sea
of tears I cry for poor old me,
a silly stream
but now I beam.

Quill of Impotence

Pondering the human plight, this curse that is existence,
I’m painfully aware my meager words mean naught,
yet still wishing they could somehow make a difference
maybe even lend someone a warm and happy thought.

Liquid desire streams, scribbling impotent hieroglyphics;
remember as you read this jaunt, the answer lies within.
Forgive me, for I do not mean to be pontific
but much can be accomplished with hard work and discipline.

Alas these words are just so trite, I flounder in frustration—
I’ll never pen the perfect phrase or write the sweetest prose,
instinctively recording my descent into damnation,
dipping in the inkwell as my lifeblood slowly flows.

Regurgitation

Hello, how is everyone? Hope all is well. Me, I'm extremely tired and in place of my (almost) daily dose of rhyme that I dish out, I offer a blue plate special of plenteous prose spiced up with some chunks of recent history hurled (bad choice of words?) in.

For those that may not know, on top of my usual dreary hourly job which sucks the life right out of me on a daily basis, I also operate a small diner on the side plus play in a band at night. Needless to say it has been a challenge, but I knew it would be when it all started and I'm not complaining.

But on certain days I get cranky, particularly when I realize I have not had a day off in over a month. My head hurts and my eyes get blurry, making it difficult to engage in any type of creative endeavor, let alone even look at a computer. Hence my sporadic spurts of posting/commenting.

The hospitality business is often a thankless one, though I have encountered a lot of good eggs along with the few inevitable bad ones. From my observations, most people just need to be around other people communicating, great food is a bonus.

Which brings me to the heart of my impromptu (love that word) ramble, for you see, one thing we are 'famous' for, and which requires tremendous work to keep prepped, is our home fries, made only from fresh potatoes that must be boiled and peeled continuously. The other day while paring some spuds I came upon a perfectly heart-shaped potato. Not an anatomically correct one, but one shaped like those ubiquitous red blobs that Cupid takes aim at this time every year. Of course my pre-programmed response was, "How sweet, perhaps I should save it to show my wife." Then I remembered my last chance to rest, which was New Years Day btw, and I couldn't wait to slice into that little sucker, cut it into bite-size pieces, fry it up and eat it!

Thank you, please come again.

Virtuosity

I frequently fret
as fingers forget
the key to compelling expression
but sometimes the scales
tear off weighty wails
which prompts me to voice this confession,
for on those rare nights
that deftness ignites
my chops with harmonic persuasion
I know it’s a gift
from across the great rift,
a melodically mystic occasion.

Dandy Lion

Well apparently I have been tagged by 3 different people with this award ( Billy, Shirley, Dan) and I am surprised to say the least. Usually it feels like my meager mewlings are being issued by this guy:

But in the spirit in which it was given, I humbly accept and shall now list my obligatory three things that make writing good and powerful before listing my five recipients.

The three things I feel make good writing are:

1. Avoidance of cliches

2. Crisp unique images

3. Loading each line with ore

and now (drum roll please) I pass the feline ferocity on to these whose blogs have been a constant source of entertainment and inspiration:

1. Ozymandiaz at Ocellus

2. Soulless at Unguarded Utterance

3. Russell at Yuckelbel's Canon

4. Dr. Ng at Always More Beyond

5. Brian at Brief Poems

Lapidary

Beyond the frozen diamond streaked
some chariots of vapor
defying the attraction at a cost
I analyzed the facts and squeaked
with laughter, for my caper
could not recoup the satisfaction lost,
so I forfeited that facet to the frost.

Cast Off

Within my keel an urge resides
vaster than the sea
stronger than the tides
that long to break upon the land
at last completely free
and wander past the sand
insouciantly.

But gravity pulls harder now
making surges ebb
furrowing my brow
with troughs much deeper every day
like spaces in the web
of rigging christened by the spray
across my grounded prow.

Failing

Can apathetic arrogance account for the attrition
of democratic dialogue demanding disposition
for economic errancy exploring erudition
with catatonic characters condoning their condition.

Provenance

High above the catacombs
a pearl upon a tether roams
beginning an adumbral phase
so nebulae, like chromosomes
can sparkle on atop the maze
emitting those ancestral rays
to grant the gazers in their domes
a glimpse into the nascent days.

Conduct

Your brassy tone
has been reduced
to just a mousy moan
a flush has shone
for you produced
discordance on your own,

you like to blow
without a mute
to dominate the show
but now you know
your latest toot
was pianissimo.


**Dedicated to Horatio.**

Divergence

As way leads on to way
we search for signs
that might display
a place to rest among the pines
that innocently sway

Will left turn out alright
or could a rut
become your plight?
Resist the urge to smugly strut
because your goal’s in sight.

The curious should stray
beyond the trail
of beaten clay
to find what wisdom will entail
as way leads on to way.

Dark Matter

I felt your touch
then watched you leave
I hurt so much
but cannot grieve;
the day drags on
though sunlight pales
I seek the dawn
as night prevails.

Discourse

I had a talk with life
in its rustic dialect
it was sharper than a knife
whose temper sings,
impatient to dissect
uncertain things.

It held me rapt for hours
with compelling repartee,
a cavalcade of characters
and yarns galore—
I didn’t know what to say
except for, more.

Drudge

How stirring or concise
can I make a wry device
with aspirations dwarfing aptitude?
This question though precise
has no answer to suffice
so I’ll simply simper here in servitude.

Shrugged

The extent of this vent
will render me spent
but I’ve pent up dissent
too intense to relent
so beware and prepare
for a very good scare
as I share my despair—
is there no one to care?

one of my favorite bloggers and a truly nice guy left a great poem in my comments inspired by this cheap whine so I had to post it below. Thanks Oz! My reply is above ;)

Blackened Skies

Like a chimney in a city of yore
I spew rage billowing black
Acrid bile from my burning core
Fuming from my gaping stack
To the skies
My anger flies
Obvious for the world to see
But countless chimneys rise
Rendering mine to obscurity

I Got You

Remembering those summer rows
of emerald razors long and lean
that slashed across a freckled nose
intent on sniffing out some foes
in which to drain a magazine.

With gnarly sticks we’d all convene
beside that farmer’s furrowed field
alive with furtive fronds of green
to camouflage a sly marine
determined not to meekly yield.

Our bloodlust couldn’t be concealed
so anxious to say, “BANG! You’re dead!”
no treaty would be signed or sealed
or higher court could be appealed
to stop the drops that must be shed.

But after the insurgents fled
we three would make our way back home
to eat then scurry off to bed
while playing back within our head
that conflict on the fertile loam.

As oldest, I was first to roam
forsaking sod to stalk the street
beset upon by steely chrome
and tenets of a vicious tome
embedded in the hard concrete.

The front became a cold retreat
from which I never traveled back
and though we siblings seldom meet
my self absorptions still compete
with pieces I refuse to lack,

and now they’ve shipped one to Iraq
beyond the land of beaten ploughs
I feel my heart about to crack
my troubled face morosely slack
remembering those summer rows.

Operation

Is educated the same as smart?
From what I’ve seen, not quite
reciting instructions by heart
doesn’t mean you can make it work right.

It takes someone somewhat adept
at wielding an unbiased knife
to excise the plainly inept
that demand understanding from life.

Unloading

Keys tap
emphatically
as weight repositions
to leave unblemished paper so
heavy.

Nowhereville

The coastline here is nondescript
with no inviting grottos,
the flag is pale and slightly ripped
devoid of any mottos;
each grain of sand is frankly coarse
too dull to share a glimmer
of the scintillating solar source
beneath which wants will simmer.

Shelved

Stagnation has subdued my pay
despite exertion every day—
if slow and steady wins the race
how come the empty trophy case?

No Shelley

No other droning orator
could ever be a bigger bore
it’s obvious that Silver
isn’t sterling anymore.

Dumb

Musty tomes
of precious poems
dog-eared at that special verse
surround a room
where dwells a gloom
more sinister than any curse,

which taints the air
with deep despair
that fosters an ungracious gripe—
will anyone
beneath the sun
attempt to fathom silent type?

Fare

What needs be fed
the heart or the head
and how should we know
where to find the best bread?

For the flashiest deal
advertised as a steal
will never deliver
a well-rounded meal.

Objective

Some crows cavort in cryptic quips
about a gothic spire
the biting winter banter whips
their rhetoric much higher—

a glint of opalescent flame
alerts me to the scythe
whose dark side lay devoid of blame
and infinitely blithe.

As chills assail my solitude
I scan the sky for signs
but verity is seldom viewed
within one’s own designs.

Plotting

In pursuit of a heavenly form
we forsake the advice of our peers
and the comfort that once kept us warm
in the promise of earlier years.

We are dazzled by stars out of reach
in pursuit of a heavenly form
but are anxious to learn what they teach
if it aids in outshining the norm.

From the stillness that follows a storm
we begin to see splendor revealed;
in pursuit of a heavenly form
the most prudent approach is to yield

to the cosmic concerto above
well beyond the insipient swarm—
there will never be unreturned love
like pursuing a heavenly form.

Open

Each drop more cherished
each sip less sweet
no proof can perish
the doubt we meet;
a vessel half empty
casts shadows full blown
where knowledge is plenty
but truth still unknown.

***Inspired by a challenge at Word Catalyst Writers Workshop- go on, give it a try!***