MY OWN PARADE

April 18, 2017

 

Walking, mostly neat in clockwork close meter,

Warmer ghosts  from my former  features;

All the roles, All the resume’,

Falling in line,  Just the crew to rescue me.

Faded as sad old soldiers, parted.

(Vain fantasies say  old glories stay guarded)

Again, always, They had  heaved it all in a heavy chest.

Again, always, they had heaved in their chest

Taking it to heart & head.

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I’ll call it for you  my own VFW

hall. I have my own tall tales to tell,

We’ll share lies, & libations.

I’ll wear my  mightier  pen.

I’ll share  sham wisdom  wide open.

But first, false memories in verse.

& what’s worst,  I’ll con, & confide  open.

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“I’m ready to go anywhere/ I’m ready for to fade/ Into my own parade”

—————-Dylan (the troubadour one), from “Mr. Tambourine Man”

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“Every hero  becomes a bore,  at last.”  -Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

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.                                                                                                                       (5 yrs back)

line

June 9, 2013

I had slid much more

Across that little table’s surface

Than was on the chalkboard

Across, to the very pleasant

Atlantic City street psychic

Because, the very pleasant 

Now spoken secrets

Rocked no boats, just as the  line

You get from me

A FOND, OLD, FARAWAY ROOM

October 24, 2012

“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.  So anyone who’s in love gets sad when they think of their lovers.  It’s like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of. One you haven’t seen in a long time…”

“.. A fond, old, faraway room?”

“Exactly.”

-from “Kafka On The Shore”, Hanuki Murakami

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We mind that there mustn’t be dust

On those closed blinds.

Behind  those  blinds,

We  find  us.

We find ourselves  salving

Our sore selves,

Saving  us  so

Fleetingly.   Completely.

And after each chapter,

Which did us delirious,

It can be  meant as some payment,

It can serve to defray..

It can’t save us, when in a night and a day,

without fail, We derail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair”

Leonard Cohen, from “Tonight Will be Fine”

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e r a s u r e

January 6, 2012

I’ve submitted my documentation

(It backs me up)

It serves, inside, as the shiny side of my alibi

(This cracks me up)

It might name  time frames

(But not the pretty pictures  they hold up)

I made them aware  of what  might be what.  Right where.

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I forbade  the naming of names.

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a task you always  ask

is the erasure  of all  the call

 

 

leaf shadows wild

December 22, 2009

There is indignity this city

Shouldn’t see from me.

We wouldn’t want it continuing.

I’m advised to restrict public showing.

And sunrise is up 1st to say

It’s not good should not

See the light of day.

Tonight tho’ I say

When storm winds

Blow shadows, leaf shadows wild.

What might be imagined

Stands on stage, and acts out

Just now written out

Scenes scripted from unsound yells out.