FIERCE PHALANXES

May 17, 2018

Her heartbreaking fuses

Popped one by one   useless

His hearing distant thunders

Scared him, scarred him

far ago

A  steady  rough  ruckus

The  steeds’  hooves  deep in dust

For  needs for tender mercies 

Form  now  in firm phalanxes

not far ago   at all

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Maybe I’m madly wrong
My perspective’s askew.

.
Driving here drowsy, & now all along
I’ve dreamt there is time to see it all through.
.
Could be I’m way off.  Way off course.
My Heart’s compass’s needle must still be true.

.
A cloudy road’s option is straight on, of course
Seemingly there would be one way  to drive through.
.
Maybe I’m madly wrong
My POV’s askew
Driving here lousy, & now all along
I’ve dreamt there was time to see it all through

 

 

 

 

Best not be so sure nor positive
On the turning point,
Unless talk show representatives
Have affidavits to fill out
To protect them when they project
Yr. image and Yr. more imaginative story
From coast to coast, but don’t worry,
Viewers love viewing

When things turn around.
You can fudge the exact time
It all went down.

B L I N D I N G

February 27, 2018

“Ill  at  ease”

Will be one accurate way,

When  I can think then straight about it,

One apt way to shout it.

They  say  they

“Say it as it is”, (they’re pissed)

They say  ” just being honest, man”

“No B.S.  man” (slurring pissed)

They’re weak to only “speak their minds”.

And when I,

Gently as I can,

Retranslate to that guttural, but frank tongue,

I  see

They’re consequently

Hurt.

&  then there’s me  in this blinding  open lot

W/blood on my shirt.

gone

February 14, 2018

All Paul Simon sang  he

Via new phone science  got me

 

“..half of the time  you’re gone..

but you don’t know where

you don’t know where.”

i  wept  at  work.

.

Yet i got Simic  in his lunch sack/

I got Irish for when i get home

For salve  & for saving him/

More, I have a mate giving me gladness

Across  the  states

I love indirectly  like a madness

DOLLAR-STORE GLASSES

January 5, 2018

I wear dollar-store glasses
they help me work on perspective.
I live for nothing I can think of.  fact.
It’s suggested I might strive for focus.
In my day bed i might live
with one window & uncertainly my curtain cracked

I can wear one seventy five
On dollar-store glasses
I passed par for an old guy.
I’m far from passed, muy alive.
Tho’ she could present a good argument
Contesting that mad “muy” adjective.
I’d abstain again & again
And I’d hate to publicly substantiate

11-17-2005-07 Read the rest of this entry »

 

I know  a show of hands

Could go help  solidify

Some  Freedom Solidarity

In  some look-in lobster  tank.

.

Odds are  dismal to abysmal.

IF I can be more frank,

When the  independent  finch, for instance,

Finds her very own  airy currents home,

It’s a cinch  she might not light

(Her, broken on a branch?)  (perchance)

.

When It’s one chance

We had once gone

before  on the long ground,

We  look  down.

 

EDGY ARTIST SELL

September 8, 2017

 

 

Peter Sellers (9/8/1925-7/24/1980)

.

.

I heard a ways back/that the actor Peter Sellers/stormed off a set/(a clunker cliche’/”stormed” as a verb)/That Sellers acted up, disturbed/by all that was wrong when a man in the crew/

wore green and purple.

Sellers balked at doing the scene and walked off/quite mad./Purple and green./An omen of death,I guess/not for you/

Edgy artist/Peter felt put out enough about it/the stuperstition thing/to blurt it/stand by it/insistassuming others to buy it.

Stuperstitious/I’m edgy/it just doesn’t hurt./Tonight I wear my purple tee shirt/The one I sport under my sportjacket For and at my favorite Art concerts/ My sisters…/

my snug Mr Greenjeans, and Airwalks are on/I ride on a stride so fucking strong/

soundsynch on my full ON! phone/

juju mon/ Rajiohead/ Could carry me dead on.

.

 

(from 2009)

SOME ON LOSING YOU

July 22, 2017

 

 

 

“Outside… I’m masquerading,

Inside…My hope is fading..”

-Smokey Robinson, from  ” Tracks Of My Tears”

.

I’ve seen  winters and  springs

Since I’ve seen a winning hand

But I’m at a loss to say

About losing.

It’s not farfetched to say

I’ve not too far to fall

But it’s best & for the best

For rain and tears to fall

I’m meant not to miss all this all

.

.

I encounter seeing faces I have seen, Countenances

I believe  I know,   abit a blur

I can see the many apparences

Surely, all the one, to me  all lure.

Always

From somewhere  a ways

So familiar in a dream that

Sentences formed for her

presences   are pointless,

When a smile from an eye

is enough.   Not enough.

.

.

A close look!  Too late.  Those closing elevators.

One shine on a glass, as she passes.

A wave or a nod wayover another streetside.

A bolt  from our sure bond  that burns

From another car just as it turns.

We’re silent together and calm

Fifty arms apart in a crowd

In a loud throng.

I’ll see you for a sliver

In all this  time & space, long

In all this  space & time, a pace or two somehow wrong.

 

 

 

.                   i)

M  U  C  H

often it’s uncertain   to see,

to see the true things through,

but certainly sometime’s there’s time

when surely much of what’s new

when noticed might matter

to you or rather

to  me

.

.                    ii)

.

D  U  E

I fear I forget that the frail,

nearly unable, but

when a whisper of   Will…

when they muster an incalculable

measure of  reach

to straighten, and lean up

for what’s due.

That’s alot to wait for

.

The Freshest thing in the clearing

by the pond’s sunk boat,

near a nest,  There’s this ringing

drop, possibly  just now  dotting

one leaf,  left  just new

by all the dew

That’s what I wait for

.

.

.

.

.

(from 9 years back)