Incarnate

We've all heard the tales
of the wickedest souls
to ever revile this earth
but their evil pales
compared to the goals
of one who was destined from birth

to murder and maim
with true disregard
for anyone crossing his path
his devious aim
to leave people scarred
and bleeding from murderous wrath

he'll creepily stalk
the alleys at night
with menacing need to be mean
to victims that walk
unmindful of fright
and never again are seen

so if you are out
and strolling around
enjoying a life that's sedate
don't turn about
if you hear a sound
because by then it' s much too late.

Bulrush Boogie

The cattails swing
the cattails sway
who knew cats could dance that way

what smiles they bring
as they rescind
restraint and get down with the wind.

Hellion

Irene's sister Sandy
decided to stop by
and boy is she a dandy
you can see it in her eye
where indicants of darkness swarm
foreshadowing a wicked storm.

Poseurs

A greedy aspen tries to hoard
the last few amber gems
but rigid limbs aren't suited for the task
and with no flashy trinkets left to mask
its flaws, discomfort stems
all showiness, till properly restored

by gold that glistens from the sky
for any staking claims
in hopes that it will multiply their yield
so skeletons can once more be concealed
by ostentatious aims
that haunt the insecure until they die.

Counsel

We weather continuous blows
becoming more calloused each day
until our indifference shows
like scars that a pro would display
so all we can see are the foes
but not the welcoming way
the child within us knows--

and as the deadening grows
we forfeit our faithful resolve
and wallow in worsening woes
refusing to ever involve
ourselves, or remotely suppose
that love makes a person evolve,
but the child within us knows--

so don't let the dungeon doors close
and loosen that untainted heart
forsake your implacable pose
forgiveness is truly an art,
a stanza of the sweetest prose
that ever could impart
what the child within us knows.

Deficit

The banks that bilk
are swathed in silk
while common ilk
get spoiled milk
and all the barren land about
gives credit to the crippling drought

the deed of debt
confers regret
on those that bet
they dodged the net
for no one can escape the need
when everything is gouged by greed.

Crushed

Watching part of you die a slow death
is never that easy to do
you’ll keep insisting there’s plenty of breath
though respiration’s through

you’ll cringe as the organs disintegrate
progressively failing each day
regardless how often you venerate
the god on which you prey

it’s torture when finally facing the facts
and knowing your efforts are moot
a victim of those whose unscrupulous acts
are harder than any heeled boot.

Priming

Like flames cascading down each limb
a golden orange autumn whim
consumes the elm in torrid hues
the palette of a dying muse
that brushes winter off with scorn
for soon the leaves will be reborn.

Do

Lather is easy to coax
when passionate principle soaks
each atom of every last lock
the hand of sincerity strokes

despite detractors that mock
the strength you derive from your rock
which you're confident isn't a hoax
as long as your tresses stay stock.

Low Office

Is arrogance prerequisite
or fake what you need be
to prove that you are full of shit
and earn the White House key?

Congregation

They're back with a vengeance this year
those ebon carousers that ceaselessly caw
in fact that's all you can hear
but why did they reappear
I wonder what's the irresistible draw

and then the anchor clarifies:
a local lily ascends another rung
which must have prompted the reprise
of those that populate the skies
a canon to the saintly loudly sung.

Attraction

The pitiless sun has a rival star
whose influence matches its own it seems
for when I view it, even from afar
the blinding exquisiteness fairly gleams
so let the fusion of your smile and grace
bedazzle all that dare to bravely stare
and feel your winsome warmth upon their face
with gladness for the glamour of your glare.
Perchance your radiance will emanate
unhindered for a reasonable span
before the time for basking is defunct,
we lesser bodies tend to gravitate
around celestial beauty when we can
with hopes that we can somehow be conjunct.

Interior

The cold October rain
reminds me of your pain
and all that you endured while slowly dying
and if I claim to feel
resolved of that ordeal
one look into my eyes reveals I’m lying

refurbishing my cell
I contemplate your hell
as vibrant paint replaces dingy languor
and thankfully I see
your mended spirit free
that keepsake image safe upon its hanger.

God's Gift to Women

You're sure you have the ladies wowed
with all your lame old lies
so unaware how they're endowed
with hearts that compromise.

Marauder

Always on the prowl
for any beast or fowl
beware that chilling howl

that pierces your defense
alerting every sense
misgiving grows immense

it's lurking low and lean
(atrocious hunger keen)
impatient for a spleen

with jaws that splinter bone
and fangs innately prone
to butcher not atone--

so if you hear a growl
or see a lupine scowl
beware that chilling howl.

Backtalk

I wish I could tell you how little I care
though I kind of still need this job
but my last day here I just may dare
to launch this lethal lob—

To all with whom I’ve suffered through
this circus without peer
there’s nothing worse that I could do
than simply leave you here

but since I've got my chance to go
I never will look back
I'll simply say, just so you know
please kiss my hairy crack.



***This is actually the 25th anniversary of the first I started my current sentence, er employment - yay!***

Touchy Type

I bought a phone with keys
for typing poems and such
though my screen, with a touch
displays a set to appease

those that might prefer
to glide across the glass
but as for me, I'll pass
I crave that tactile lure.

Overtones

The crinkle of leaves underfoot
and smell of decay in the air
are signs of transition that put
the sage in a mode to prepare

though nothing alive can escape
the coldness that follows the fall
we try with abandon to scrape
together the means to forestall

that moment of chilling exchange
when latent initiative grieves
the end, but that's not strange
just listen to the brittle leaves.

Sad to Say

Tragedy is pain that we never would predict
misery's unhappiness we often self inflict
tragedy can shake you to the core of who you are
while misery just puts you in a constant mood to spar
neither is a state in which we wish to become mired
for frequently through one the other is inspired.

9 O'clock Train

He longs to be a writer
And pours out streams of ink
But it looks like another all-nighter
Just to stay at poverty’s brink
And as he heads off to work in the cold October rain
He hears the whistle of the 9 o’clock train

Remember that kid from high school
There was nothing he couldn’t do
We all thought he was so cool
Till they found him stiff and blue
And as that final rush fatally flowed through his vein
He heard the whistle of the 9 o’clock train

Every night the train goes by
While letting loose that lonesome cry
Its single headlight brightly gleams
As people chase their crazy dreams

The couple that wanted a baby
And tried for many years
Never knew how happy they’d be
When filling up their ears
With their child’s cries which was worth every ounce of pain
And the whistle of the 9 o’clock train

Suspect

I'm filled with a foreboding
that I don't quite understand
my confidence corroding
like a rusty iron band

and now I feel dependent
on survival instinct's fare
a fidgety defendant
in a hostile jury's glare.

Lifer

The person I aspire to be
is already there inside of me
repressed by pointless enmity

that smothers any random ray
of sun that tries to shine my way
and pierce the archetypal gray

but I can never seem to find
a way to free that soul resigned
to living out its life confined.

Gag

Exaggeration seldom hurts
when levity is desired
a dud delivered dully flirts
with laughter uninspired

so never fear to give the facts
that calculated stretch
a dry demeanor soon exacts
the urge to simply retch.

Seaworthy

In search of new worlds to explore
and loot to haul away from shore
I'll cast off unresolved despair
a wayward lad with dreams to spare.


***Hey all - Happy Columbus Day! In honor of this day I've composed a poem with links back to some poems with sea faring themes so please enjoy, and if you're lucky enough to have a day off like me - SWEET!***

Missing Persons

'Adults have the right to disappear
if they so choose'
a statement which kept ringing in my ear--
they call that news?
Almost all of us could shed a tear
for those we lose
including those lamentably gone
while still in bed with curtains drawn.

23.5

People before us were prone
to customs more savage than ours
relying completely on stone
or gods with unspeakable powers
and watching the heavens for hours

but how could they know to the day
when things would go awfully awry
unless they were blessed with (let's say)
a degree of insight as to why
we're currently leaning that way.

Fab

It was fifty years ago today
That the people heard the Beatles play
And though it's really been a while
They've never gone out of style
So may I introduce to you Paul, Ringo, George and John
And may their music always live on!

Can you believe that it's been 50 years?
No I'm certain it was only Yesterday
I guess that it's true nothing good disappears
They left us quite a legacy to play

Oh I get high when I hear a Beatles tune
I wanna cry when the Walrus starts to croon
Yes gonna try to always play a Beatles tune
A Beatles too ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh une.


***Sing the first part to Sgt. Pepper and the second part to Help From My Friends***

Correspondent

I record my observations in reports that no one reads
along with all the numbers that a non-combatant needs
to face the true futility of this relentless war
between the ones that we make rich, and we whom they keep poor.

Enlightened

There once was an artist with a moped of red
and a masterpiece moping around in his head
he longed to expel what he couldn’t express
(epiphanies seemed to elude his address),
he scampered about on his scooter each day
in search of a scene that had something to say
but all of his travels just chewed down his tread
the canvas denying his shot at success,
a spectrum that smeared to a prison of gray.

One Thursday he cruised without thinking a thought
when sunshine through clouds unequivocally caught
his eye with its beauty and taught him to see
that shadow and light must achieve harmony
like all of the subjects he longed to compose
so he motored home overcome by the throes
of true inspiration and skillfully wrought
a picture depicting the world that could be
without the addition of darkening woes.

Sanguinary

A single crimson leaf
is lying on the ground
so vibrant yet so dead

its redness is profound
as though the summer bled
because it's way too brief

too soon for trees to shed
and shake their limbs in grief
as wailing winds resound.

Paradox

While everyone was living
I was busy dying
because without forgiving
there’s not much point in trying,

it’s cold without compassion
and darker when denying
the diffidence we fashion
to quell the constant crying

but now I’ve reconnected
my mercy multiplying
ironically resurrected
while you were busy dying.