Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Getting Through

All the rules you thought you learned
are based on spans that can’t be burned
but once you join the wretched ranks
their pyrotechnics roast your planks
until you stand succinctly spurned
marooned upon eroding banks

and whether you use steel or stone
you can’t rebuild what you don’t own
so just get used to where you are
and never let encroachment mar
the inner path you walk alone
for it can take you oh so far.

Friday, August 27, 2010


Still waters run deep
or so people say
the trick is to keep
stagnation at bay
in order to reap
what fathoms can pay.

Thursday, August 26, 2010


Is selfish the same as self centered
can a doorway be closed once it’s entered
is chaos the key to conformance
will truth undermine the performance?

The planks that we’re all forced to ply
may help a seasoned star enthrall
but mummers fade before the eye
of those behind the lucent wall,
directed to a quick demise
unless they learn to improvise.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


The bed is barren
the banks austere
no thirsty Terran
finds succor here
devoid of dew at dawn and dusk
the weary world a withered husk.

We gather for
the sacrifice
to try once more
and pay the price
our angry gods have yet to heed
disgusted by our brutal breed—

we squandered all
to try and slake
our lusty gall
convinced we’d make
a planet purged of petty strife
instead of this barbaric life.

Friday, August 20, 2010


I fondly think of her
and how she makes desire stir
with one strategic stab
existence seems a bit less drab
she gets beneath my skin
transforming grimace into grin
and grinds between my bones
eliciting exquisite moans
with sharp intensity
she radiates through all of me
the fierce imperative
to grasp each day and truly live!

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Speak Louder

Contentment isn’t something you can simply wish to be
though chosen words can mask its errant seed
and such is the predicament that plagues humanity
we’ve learned to disregard each others need

by spouting milquetoast maxims that don’t mean a goddamned thing
while smiling because we think we’ve tried
oblivious to how a rote response can sorely sting
instead of warmly holding those who’ve cried.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Possible Scam Alert

I received a strange but official sounding email the other day, the body of which is right here:

During the month of July, the International Blogging Recognition Council (IBRC) had the pleasure of reviewing your blog Average Poet. Your blog was referred to IBRC through our Refer-A-Blog program. "Tailoring" was the topic that the Council reviewed. Based on the review, the Council has recommended that your blog receive IBRC’s designation of “Recognized Blog”. IBRC reserves this honor to those blogs that effectively connects with the audience and promotes the sharing of ideas and experiences.

We invite you to visit our website at
www.ibrcblog.org to learn more about IBRC and our “Recognized Blog” award. Congratulations on your accomplishment.

Sarah L. Tolten
Review Committee Chair
International Blogging Recognition Council

I never heard of the IBRC but was excited until I checked their site and realized they were asking for $45.00 to receive this recognition. I didn't bite and since then have found this article which raises many questions. I sent an alert to Rob at PU but have received no reply so just letting the few that read this blog know, be careful.

Knuckles Down?

There are those that know a lot of facts from books
and those that learned to deal from honest crooks
but the one that you should trust to make you dough
has the touch to knead ingredients just so.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


I know you believe you understand what you think I said
I’m not sure you realize what you heard is not what I meant.

~Robert Grant~

It’s quite unclear what makes a man
that others follow if they can
what circumstance or hidden trait
endows him with that certain gait
which clearly speaks to anyone
intent on getting something done
they absolutely can’t afford
to not have this one strut on board.

Saturday, August 14, 2010


Promethean pretenses prance upon a plainly plebeian page too delineated to deftly dance or awaken an atomic age irradiated beyond repair by fallout from the flame affair.

Thursday, August 12, 2010


The jaundiced shade

cold lemonade

or a buttercup bestudded glade,

a daffodil,

canaries *trill*

the morning sun that breaks yon hill,

a bumblebee

and soon you’ll see

the streak where my spine used to be.

Here are some other colors I've explored:

Blue Green Red Orange

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


I set the bait
and drop a line
then calmly wait
for any sign

that there’s a bite
upon my hook
and then I fight
to drain that brook

of all the fish
within the hole
that have a wish
to taste my soul.

Monday, August 09, 2010


The oath he swore
couldn’t help him save
the pupils of war
so they dug his grave,

how many more
must be consigned
to dying for
the truly blind?

Friday, August 06, 2010

No Crock

Every minute that we live
is sixty chances to forgive
but if we choose to sit and stew
a leery lifetime turns to two.

Thursday, August 05, 2010


I think of all I could have been
then look at what I am
remembering with sorrow when
I didn’t give a damn

so many people tried to help
though I just turned away
a cocky unrepentant whelp
determined not to pay,

and now I turn my pockets out
divulging all my shares
but like the me that used to pout
nobody really cares.

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

1000 Posts

The moon is as high as high can be
reflecting the sun half-heartedly
while every choking gutter overflows
with the brown remains of spring’s last throes

a bilge releases brackish ooze
that stains the deeply rutted road,
it slithers like an irritated snake
as Slowhand amplifies the blues
I come back for another load
of clutter from an old abode,
my deadened foot discreetly on the brake.

Perusing yellowed pages of the past
compels one question – did it go that fast?
The spine corroded
when faith eroded,
for how can friendly winds prevail
to fill a limp and lifeless sail
that isn’t even fastened to the mast?

another post goes deep
to shield this outlook that I keep.

We’re here for the doing
so get the job done
refrain from your ruing
those races that you failed to run
and fleeting moments in the sun

reflected by the moon, still rather high
and feeling, for the moment, keenly shy
it ducked behind some clouds that scuttled by
while I repeated – “Why beloved, why?”

Our independence day
relied on the establishment
of reasons for abandonment
to help ignite the fray

the corporation stands to profit
when we decide to deftly doff it
though interwoven with the weft
is doubt that loomed in those bereft
of leisure
or pleasure
or any decent chance at all
of finding buried treasure.

We fraternize beside the pool
such restful relaxation
made possible by chlorination
isn’t murder a handy tool?

The nectar from the sweetest fruit
can’t quench a thirsty point that’s moot
but still we seek that fabled draft
with all our crude attempts at craft,
the frantic fumbles of a green recruit.

another post impales
the earth from which this body hails.

We’re here for the doing
so get the job done
refrain from renewing
your doubt in the gun
when it comes to bullets
it only takes one.

The ghostly moon is paler still
from starting to come down
its pock-marked face looks deathly ill
with such a stony frown.

An abundance of redundancy
makes creativity arcane
indeed, almost profane
like shadowy cave paintings
made from some forgotten stain
that lingers in your brain.

The something we wish to become
will become only when we’re a sum
our destiny won’t be decided
while the world is so clearly divided
we strove for a land void of class
a status we more than surpass
unable to garner comfort from
the time we foolishly bided
when evil was still coiled in the grass.

another post and still
I need some more to ring this hill.

We’re here for the doing
so get the job done
and stop misconstruing
the words of The Son

for the night will continue
relieving the day
while the moon, looking brand new
comes anxious to play.

The sultry air of summer
clings just like a lover
that wants to crawl inside your very skin
enjoy it while it lingers
for soon your crooked fingers
will wrap a tattered scarf around your chin.

The matriarch
whose fragile spark
endowed the courage to embark
could not foresee
the agony
of eremitic artistry.

the thousandth post and nowhere near
the palisade I pictured here
perhaps it’s time to engineer
a bridge.

Monday, August 02, 2010


When he was young
he had so much to say
then life lashed his tongue
in it’s sobering way
until the cord began to fray

releasing his thought
from the numbing routine
whose fibers are fraught
with fragments of spleen
he lost to the machine

so all he can speak
is the jargon of fear
and his sentiments squeak
like the whiniest gear
that people seldom choose to hear.