Bull (dozer)

Edifice Wrecks was a CAT that never could find a good home he always left things kind of flat and was destined forever to roam. The day he rolled off of the line he crushed a man just like a house and when he was told of her pine he hinted at digging the spouse— it’s hard finding someplace to park when constructed to murder and maim or seeing ones way in the dark with halogens shattered by shame.

Weathering

Every port eventually sees a storm
even cozy harbors tucked away
opposing fronts are always bound to form

and fill the sky with swirling clouds of gray
that promise to unleash torrential tides
obliterating settlements of clay

until the heavens wrath at last subsides
and everything that's soaked begins to warm
because the fickle sun no longer hides.

Easy as A B C

Hey how is everybody. As you can see from my sidebar I have decided to join in the A to Z challenge this year. All the details can be found by clicking the badge at the right, so if you're ready for a true writing challenge go check it and jump in!

Weeping

The willows weep
because their plot
is filled with tortured souls
that try to sleep
but only rot
within their shallow holes
and when the windy winter blows
it whispers of the willows woes.

An evil man
whose mind has snapped
dug every heinous grave
his cleaning van
is where he trapped
each unsuspecting slave
the victims of his twisted whims
interred beneath those weeping limbs.

When out at night
don't ever stop
or talk to someone new
because they might
just plan to chop
you up when they are through
to leave you where nobody knows
lamented by embittered boughs.

Stirred

My unobtrusive utterings
go utterly unheard
the mushy mealy mutterings
of an inmate that's interred

within a pauper's prison
of his own unique design
where every bad decision
is just another worthless line.

I'm a poet-on-the-go
with my trusty mobile phone
but when reception's low
I'm a lyricist alone

I've digitized my diary
and keep it in my cell
the parts of me that I set free
from the cage in which I dwell.

Passage

So many things get lost along the way
to clutter up the thoroughfare of gray
horizons beckon those that look ahead
despite the human tendency to stray

(another way to say that one has fled
the straighter path they previously led)
you never know when somebody will burn
away the final remnants of their tread

or take a screeching unexpected turn
to try and find that spot for which they yearn
beyond congested causeways that convey
the flock that thinks to follow is to learn.

Pounce

Don't dwell
just dispel
the thoughts that make you feel unwell
pain scares
pride impairs
the lions locked in leery lairs
be brave
not a slave
refuse to let them see you cave
sharp claws
jagged jaws
will always make a poacher pause.

Ratings

She was a blond-haired blue-eyed corporate clone
whose tragic death was widely aired
my mother suffered drunk and alone
and no one cared, no one cared.

Who decides the worth of souls
remanded to the Lord?
I hope it’s not the louts whose polls
delineate the horde.

Allspice

A grain of poetry suffices to season a century. - Jose Marti

A tasteful touch
of flavored flair
can be too much
for some to bear

I live to write
and write to live
the pungent night
my additive

which helps enhance
the endless spread
that circumstance
ensures we're fed.

Mystification

What’s the difference between pedagogy
and hair that’s soggy?
They both weigh down the cranium
and make things slightly foggy.

Observance

The best way to avenge an enemy is to learn to forgive - Hiroshima Survivor

We have to choose what we believe to see;
this fractured fixture shows us just how cruel our kind can be
but will forgiveness ever grant us courage to refuse
what we believe to see? We have to choose--

do we see the light, or do we see the beam
the broken concrete symbol of a sorely wounded dream,
for only our transcendence can eradicate the night
do we see the beam, or do we see the light?


Here is a link to the story that inspired this: http://mohawkvalleyindependent.com/world-trade-center-artifact-delivered-to-riverlink-park-in-amsterdam-p466-95.htm

Protean

Words can be bent
to express your intent
or twisted at times
into musical rhymes,

they're dropped on the ground
to rudely resound
and bandied about
to help conceal doubt,

sometimes they're blurted
at best disconcerted
or hurled so they hurt
then whispered to flirt,

they're often misguided
to delve the divided
but laden with love
they're a gift from above.

Ascension

A fledgling winter moon attains the sky
as distant as the dream for which I’d die
while bitter, barren winds begin to sigh;

aside from the encroachment of a chill
this point of purpose gleams within me still
like glimmers from uncharted stars that spill

upon a grounded scribe that longs to scry
(so maybe he can finally learn to fly)
how fledgling winter moons attain the sky.

Lead

Dedicated to the memory of Sandor Feher.


He truly gave his all
to save the few he could
why must the curtain fall
on those innately good?
Despite the virtuosity involved
the scales will never be resolved.

Gouged

The snow falls like whispers
from a cold, uncaring god
that feeds upon our fear
not adoration

ancient friends and fallen graces
can’t turn to plastic
fast enough
consumed by the creed
of ungratified greed
while dodging recognition
maneuvering through the maze

we expect things to be
the price that they’re marked
but they always seem to ring up high
so check your receipt

the mournful sound
of wind through naked trees
distracts you from the sting
as crystals crash
and cover up the ruts.

Recession

When titans shrug
the earth stands still
for all the little ants
which tends to bug
the common will
prohibiting advance

we’ve got to seek
fresh hills to climb
new bounties to pursue
or we’ll grow weak
before our time
extinction to ensue.

Humors

Much like in the olden days
when folks were bled to heal
I cure my own unique malaise
and yes, at times it hurts
but I ultimately feel
much happier the more it squirts.

Mythos

The Satrap's strength was almost spent
as he stumbled through the sand
but he made it to his fancy tent
to face his final stand
with one insidious intent

he had to see Verona pay
for everything she'd done
the guards her clansmen chose to slay
and lies that they had spun
to make his subjects turn away.

He scrabbled through a giant chest
of arms he'd had to sieze
most of which were junk at best
but sharp enough to please
the anger burning in his breast

by slicing through Verona's throat
and lopping off her head
a trophy over which he'd gloat
to show his foe was dead
a chilling message all would note.

Outside the tent Verona caught
her love, "I go alone,
for all the pain this swine has brought
he surely will atone."
The Dark One bowed, his jaw line taut

he knew that he was honor bound
and couldn't intervene
the contract he had made was sound
but if his nomad queen
was hurt, the Satrap would be downed.

Verona crept into the dim
enclosure, steel in hand,
within her she felt hatred brim
compelling her to land
the killing blow, despite how grim;

from nowhere came a slashing blade
which barely missed its mark
Verona ducked, then rolled and made
a stab into the dark
where fiendish unhinged laughter brayed

that fairly dripped with fright
for justice quickly neared,
she pounced with unabashed delight,
"Rot in hell!" she sneered
then thrust with every bit of might.

She staggered from the tent and fell
into the Dark One's arms
he felt his adoration swell
enraptured by her charms
(at least that's what the poets tell)--

the land from which this legend came
is sadly now anonymous
except their son of some acclaim
whom they called Ozymandias
perhaps you've heard the name?


***Well this is it, part VIII and the conclusion to my Desert Saga, here is a link to part VII which has links back, plus I will add permanent links to the right. Enjoy!!***

Always Greener

Preconceptions splinter
when we question what we know
but an upstate New York winter
without an inch of snow?

The earth is ever changing
as I'm sure we soon shall see
while we go on rearranging
our environment to be

it's a tenuous arrangement
that's allowed our lot to thrive
an ego fueled estrangement
our indifference won't survive.

I stated this a week ago
(just had to open my mouth)
now there's so much freakin' snow
I wish I could move south.

Determination

We're often chided and derided
for things that we've decided
but choices are like voices
heed the chorus that rejoices

when yesterday becomes today
tomorrow isn't far away
be confident and circumvent
the problems that you can't prevent

illusion and confusion
can be deadly in collusion
let your vision spurn derision
and defend your own decision.

Dusk

The sun sets on us all
each ray a precious gift
but then it’s time to fall

beneath the dreaded pall
no dawn could ever lift,
the sun sets on us all—

our shadows tower tall
priorities will shift
but then it’s time to fall,

to heed our maker’s call
from that other-worldly rift.
The sun sets on us all

it lessens in the hall
where dust is known to drift
but then it’s time to fall

leaving no way to stall
that which comes so swift—
the sun sets on us all
and then it’s time to fall.

New Testament

Can you write about love
if you’ve never received it
or heaven above
without having believed it
do you feel at a loss
to convey something new
just remember that cross
and who died there for you.

Outpouring

Back in the day
he was one of the crew
I saw him today
unsure what to do
there was nothing to say
so I just filed through
completely numb, lost in thought
among the tearfully distraught,

I hugged his wife
his daughter and son
their teardrops rife
with dreams undone
the worst of their strife
just now begun,
remembering what they once had
while burying a partner and dad.

My arid cheeks
do not reveal
what sorrow wreaks
or how I feel
but then the leaks
are all too real—
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry
goodbye my friend... goodbye.

Harmony

Dead men sing in the sun
I shamble in shadows of shame
lonely and laughably lame
I search for a crutch, but find none
now who’s the pitiful one

that dwells in a ramshackle shell
the lowliest walking the earth
impatient for sunny rebirth
to join in the chorus as well
and flee inhospitable hell.

Stay Off the Grass

There was a young girl named Amelia
whose innocence made her seem dumb
she grew this insane sensimilla
with the aid of an emerald thumb
just one decent hit and they'd peel ya
up off of the floor nice and numb.

One morning as she gladly gardened
she noticed a path through the grass
the tracks of a thief to be pardoned
she followed then let out a gasp
the cold lifeless carcass had hardened--
that rabbit was 'stoned' off its ass.

Swamped

The river atones
for a bed full of stones
by washing away the unsinkable bones

but sometimes we're scammed
and banks become jammed
until we find out what it means to be damned.

Glow

Existence is a fight
against the dreaded norm
to radiate (despite
the pressure to conform)
your own compelling light
that stabs the static storm
with piercing rays revealing more
of spectrums never seen before.

The prism of the mind
will color what we see
beware the shades that blind
with chilling frequency
or sadly you might find
how dull your life can be
a dismal realm in monotone
that may have changed if you had shone.

Admission

The cost of redemption
can be rather daunting
there is no exemption
from ghosts that come haunting,

the chains that they rattle
prevent your perception
from winning the battle
against misconception;

you’ll find no solution
contained in a vial
avoid retribution
by shunning denial.

Rent

As winter’s incisors latched onto my face
I wondered while leaving my car
how anything lives in the vacuum of space
and yet (as you know) here we are
our planet’s interior seethes with a fire
that kindles a massive array
of needy creations that long to respire,
with no inclination to pay;
inside our iridescent shell
the pressure mounts as numbers swell
with more cheap labor doomed for hell,
they harvest less with every crop
and water? Savor every drop
for soon we’ll hear a telling –pop-.

Maintenance

Foundations tend to crumble
then drafts start gnawing through
you mutter and you mumble
as the chills begin to chew
on goose bump stew,
when you hear an errant rumble
and your heart is wracked with rue

for shingles are eroding
letting rain drip down on you
while fixtures are corroding
along with every screw,
but don’t surrender to
that ineffable foreboding,
just do what you can do.

Character

A poet's pen has piercing Is
to penetrate the best disguise
and sometimes it's abuzz with Bs
that pollinate the fruitful trees,
judicious use of yearning Ys
can help explain the compromise
while conquest of uncharted Cs
may broaden what a seeker sees.

ReLeaf

Collective thoughts can fly
in the blinking of an eye
as rites of paper die
the trees give out a sigh.