Archeology

A chilling hush will soon usurp
the cheery chime of morning chirp
that chides me to kick back the quilt
and savor every hearty slurp

of steamy sustenance that’s spilt
as prideful premises are built
upon the kind of sand that sinks
when undermined by guile and guilt;

meanwhile the true objective shrinks
from view the more one doubtfully blinks,
though what else can we possibly do
but excavate for fabled links?

Unfit

Perpetual pursuit
of precepts that're moot
will only dangle sour fruit

resist the status quo
and suddenly you'll know
where unexpected pleasures grow.

Defrosting

He really had it good
but didn't realize
what others understood
so kept on telling lies
and now his sleepless nights are spent
beside a pillow without a dent
there's no way he can circumvent
the fact that he will soon repent.

The sheets turn icy cold
for lovers left alone
and silence tends to scold
the fool whose heart has flown
although by then the damage is dealt
delivering a livid welt
and maybe once that pain is felt
the icicles will finally melt.

Sick

Oh, pity me, my luck may have ended
a banner ad told me that I was unfriended
and when I clicked on it to seek resolution
a virus made sure that my pain was extended.

Mything the Sun

When Mercury is low he's such a bully
jabbing me with bony knuckles
and causing pain in places
that I've never hurt before,
then taunting with the frosty barbs
the haughty will employ
if loosed upon the world
of mortal woe.

It's only when Apollo deigns
to lift his comrade up
that things can be much easier to bear
inspiring more temperate climes
by managing the reins
with emphasis towards splendor
not despair.

Black Currents

Completely round a gothic spire
the ravens swirl and swoop
an ebon-feathered frenzied gyre
that widens with each loop
and though we never can recoup
the virtues that expire
we may be shocked how low we'll stoop
when future days grow dire.

Wage

Distracted by some muted sounds
that trickle neath the door
my mind begins to focus once again
I guess I’ll go and make my rounds
like a million times before
alert to any plots that prod my pen

I weave my way between each loom
to ferret out the flaws
that mar the meshing of the warp and woof
the defects that could cause our doom
and silence all the jaws
we’ve fed to fund the fun of the aloof

there’s nothing they could ever say
to justify the lines
that we are often forced to shuttle through
or strangle in to earn the pay
that never quite defines
our character as much as what we do.

Dissolution

Like the spine of an ancient sky-beast
picked thoroughly clean by a scavenger's feast
a many pronged cloud girds the sky
it eerily hovers then calmly flies by
to linger in the east
where it will die.

Possession

Were I to pen the perfect verse
it would be for naught
I'd post it up for better or worse
where it would simply rot
but I demoniacally disperse
these thimblefuls of thought
until my husk must hail a hearse
it's all I've really got.

Worker's Psalm

My boss is a shit bird, I shall not want (to know)
demanding I make him green dollars:
he places me beside still workers.
He's destroying my soul; he forces me down
the chute of emptiness for his brand's sake.

Yea, though I work in the building
of the very inept, I will make no effort
for they won't pay me. Their greed
and the staff belittle me.

He begrudgingly tosses crumbs at me
like a frenemy: he burdens my back with toil,
my time's running out.

Surely glumness and privation shall
shorten the days of my life
and I will rot in the ground forever.

Gamey

I was startled by ravenous zombies
what a way to awake
they were viciously ganging up on me
I must've smelled like steak

the battle to live made me tired
and I eyed the pause button
but struggled on more inspired
because I'm such a glutton.

Duplicity

A plan can take so long to realize
that sometimes we forget the wheres and whys
at which point we must take the time to ask:
was the outcome truly worth the task?

We deviously dabble and devise
yet plans can take so long to realize
that often we are left without a clue
concerning what our schemes were meant to do;

a grudge will only carry us so far
despite the size of wounds that need to scar
and plans can take so long to realize
we'll likely heal before we jeopardize

our future for a moments wicked bliss
of relishing the life we made amiss
a puppet of the Devil's compromise
whose plan has taken long to realize.

Know It All

You push everybody away
with the barbs you invectively say
then whine that you've never been loved
well nobody likes to get shoved
I suggest that you learn to delay

your tri-tip tongue from spewing out
the spiteful spit you love to spout
if the consensus is you don't belong
who do you think's in the wrong?
display the astuteness you tout.

Digitization

I felt dirty
without a qwerty
forsaking my typewriter roots
but I like Swyping
instead of typing
for future writing pursuits.


***As anyone familiar with this blog knows I prefer to let the poems stand on their own and seldom get into my inspiration, but the genesis of this poem is truly the evolution of how I record my thoughts. I started as any person exploring language would, with a writing implement and paper, whatever kind I could find. I obtained notebooks and filled them with my less than flowing scribbles.
Then my first adaptation - someone gave me an old portable typewriter. I began playing with it's keys (plus 5 quarts of white-out) and soon decided I should keep my notebooks by year and called them OT (original typed) then the year, like OT95. I even had them color coded: Yellow-typed poetry, Red-hand written poetry, Green-songs and Blue-stories.
Then my second adaptation - I experienced my first computer at work, hey now. This was something I immediately saw the potential of and quickly switched my notebooks to OD (original digital). My output began to increase because it's so much easier on a computer than a typewriter, and soon I didn't even print them out anymore, just made new folders on my computer. But once I got one at home it turned confusing because now my folders were on up to 3 different CPUs and it was messy.
Then my third and final adaptation on the way to where I am now - I got my first smart phone a couple of years ago. Once I found a word processing program and learned how to use it, my phone became my main tool for recording and storing my work. My first such phone had a keyboard as told here, but now I'm keyless and loving it. Being able to record my ideas anytime, anywhere has enabled me to not miss a day's posting in almost a year and a half - woohoo! And I also plugged into all hard drives saving my files and consolidated them on my phone, it's unbelievable. If you told me twenty years ago this is how I'd be doing it I would have laughed, but the bigger question is: what does the future hold? Thoughts streaming directly onto a grid of universal conciousness? could be tricky to keep your private thoughts private. Or will it all crash and burn starting the cycle anew? It's tough to say at this point, but until then I hope I can occasionally post something that people find worthy to peruse - are you reading me?***

Bullseye

Eros can be quite a scamp
inciting passion doomed to fail
and make a lover's journey damp
with tears that leave a salty trail

but sometimes when that arrow flies
it deftly penetrates the mark
in two whose uncommitted eyes
when locked produce a magic spark

and so it was for one young pair
it seemed their love was meant to be
despite the man's intense despair
from kidneys failing rapidly.

He waited on a donor's list
as one year very quickly fled
his only joy was when he kissed
the girl he wondered if he'd wed

and when their hope began to sink
she sought to help her perfect catch
so got checked out and in a blink
success - an unexpected match!

She gave her mate the apex gift
then married when it all was done
a blessing from across the rift
the two becoming ever one.

Crazy Love

He longed to impress her
then sweetly caress her
and one day declared
he had to possess her

and no cost was spared
to show that he cared
convincing his kin
that he was impaired

and they felt chagrin
while checking him in
to the small padded room
where he waits with a grin.

Landscape

The shrubs are shrugging off last season's shawls
like fashionistas vamping at the malls
impatient for ungainly limbs to show
and bask beneath the spotlight's searing glow,
the lawn has also shed that winter quilt
its tolerance at last begun to wilt
excited when rambunctious robin talks
to feel that brilliant glare upon its stalks.
The world is ever changing as we speak
in ways that no one living could foretell
controlled by forces far beyond our grasp,
it doesn't matter if we're strong or meek
we can't affect it so, we might as well
exist with style until our final gasp.

Fair Warning

I'm not raring to read
and too fed up to feed
refusing to grovel to greed
there's nothing that I need

my body isn't buff
nor is it terribly tough
but those that give the guff
have made me say - ENOUGH

and if they opt to play
despite my rain delay
I'm honor bound to say
that I won't walk away

I'll swing with all my might
regardless who I smite
so they'd best expedite
arranging their last rite.

Conduit

I was put here to share something beautiful
I just haven't figured out what
and fear that my failure's immutable
except for a pang in my gut

which goads me to keep on exploring
the trail that I've chosen to tread
in search of a summit where soaring
conclusions can roost in my head

evoking a sacred transcendence
to which I will surely respond
by shucking my pity dependence
and channeling what lies beyond.

Regulate

The miners of today wear dresses
and khakis and casual wear
but dig through the dirtiest messes
a server routinely compresses
to lay our secrets bare

and anyone with veins worth sticking
would have to be laughably daft
to make themselves ripe for the picking
by those that are greedily licking
their lips to give the shaft.

System

The crows are out there cawing
as the storm begins to build
negating any thawing
that I wish I could've willed
but needs continue gnawing
with a lust that can't be killed
and every flake within my sight
is cursed with uttermost delight

but as they fall and settle
on my tiny patch of lawn
I dream about the petal
of a rose, a fragile fawn
which fortifies the mettle
of this unrepentant pawn
to handle what accumulates
with confidence the sun awaits

and will achieve ascension
when the angles are just right
relieving apprehension
and the shady grip of night
and need I even mention
the removal of this blight
that coats the camp of either side
as two opposing fronts collide.

Skittish

Can someone halt this hamster wheel
I'm dying to get off
beneath a winter moon so crisp and new
my pangs refuse another meal
of pellets that I scoff
in search of more substantial fare to chew

I scurry through my plastic lair
to sniff for some egress
and wind up where I was when I began
my whiskers twitch, I blankly stare
undone by the duress
of wondering when I'll become a man.

Idiocrasy

Don't
Ever stop
For one heartbeat
Your belief in you--

Cancel out that demon doubt
Or suffer an eternity of sorrow
Never really knowing the comfort of conviction
Flowing fiercely through your veins like the ichor
Of immortality, imbuing your heart with the rhythm of
Redemption. Far beyond elysian plains is the coldness of the
Mountains, and no amount of righteousness can help those condemned there
Insisting that the snow will soon be gone, for the crystal claw
That is winter shall firmly clutch their lost, forsaken souls with frigid finality.
Yea, though we long to belong, never forfeit that which makes you truly unique.

Forth

It's time for you to journey out
and see what wonders await
don't be overcome by doubt
I know you'll do just great,

I can't believe how fast you've grown
and how much you have learned
I love you like you were my own
and I'll always be concerned

so if you ever need a hand
or just an ear to bend
I'm here forever, understand
you've always got a friend.

Eyeopener

The day he learned he might be going blind
became a somberly halcyon day
he tried to embed in depths of his mind
all he could before the light went away.

He drank in the colors of sky and earth
the day he learned he might be going blind
and worked his memory for all it was worth
to save each image he happened to find

like spiderwebs ingeniously designed
or sunlight shining on the garden wall
the day he learned he might be going blind
he noticed many wonders, big and small,

determined to ferociously explore
and always be perceptively inclined
amazed at how much he had missed before
the day he learned he might be going blind.

Misguided

I met a gray man from a distant sun
who claimed: "An errant, spinning lump of rock
has killed my planet, and when it was done
I sifted through debris and what a shock--
for in amidst the shattered chunks there spun
a fragment of a small metallic plaque
depicting humans, and I wonder why
or what we did to warrant this attack
you fired upon our unsuspecting race,
have you decided everything must die?"
I tried my best to answer him with grace
about the probes we launch without a clue
to find new life that we can all embrace,
but he was gone before my speech was through.

Uncooperative

Your stuff is yours to destroy
however you see fit
but what of those in your employ
that always do their bit
and need your pennies to survive
while you do nothing and thrive.

To you it's all a tasteless joke
a way to pass the day
but now you say you're damn near broke
and we're lucky we get any pay
well that's alright, we won't fuss
but you'll be lucky to get any work out of us.

Poet or Pauper?

I'd rather rhyme
than make a dime
so why get sore
at being poor
if I can breathe
I'll always seethe
with couplets which
make me feel rich.