Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Phantom Storm - (Villanelle)

a storm is coming up the coast
some other place they’d rather be
the mariners fear this one most

they pour some rum and drink a toast
as tortured souls try to break free
a storm is coming up the coast

a skeleton ship that’s manned by ghosts
made up of sailors lost at sea
the mariners fear this one most

abandoned hope and left their posts
from sinking ships they could not flee
a storm is coming up the coast

in pirate tales they often boast
but now reduced to beg and plea
the mariners fear this one most

they sold their souls to Satan’s host
to sail into eternity
a storm is coming up the coast
the mariners fear this one most

Write it Down

People say I’m incoherent
others think that I’m insane
light a fire but don’t stand near it
daffodils and pork lo mein

Maybe I’m not really crazy
maybe it is all an act
sometimes I might pick a daisy
take a bite and put it back

You may think that I’m absurd
butterflies and child-proof caps
I don’t know what you have heard
hemorrhoid cream and memory lapse

Perhaps I’m getting tired of life
maybe I’m just sick of you
they won’t let me near a knife
they’re afraid what I might do

My good jacket is at the cleaner
I borrowed this one off the rack
they are watching my demeanor
and the sleeves tie in the back

They want me to keep a diary
they ask me to write things down
then it turns to an inquiry
as they turn my words around

So now I’m writing random words
often swearing, sometimes shout
floating fish and sinking birds
more shit for them to figure out

Friday, June 24, 2011

Politicians - (Villanelle)

the politicians make their plans
while lawyers all review their cases
and corporate money changes hands

make policies for foreign lands
as media promotes their faces
the politicians make their plans

in words nobody understands
speeches made from well known places
and corporate money changes hands

while noisy crowds and marching bands
assemble in our public spaces
the politicians make their plans

and as the voter base expands
pollsters all predict the races
and corporate money changes hands

keep kissing babies, greeting fans
phony handshakes, false embraces
the politicians make their plans
and corporate money changes hands

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Always The Same Questions

a simple glance
instant romance
hoping for
an honest chance
a second look
is all it took
write your number
in my book
the slightest touch
I’m in your clutch
hold my tongue
don’t say too much
a little attention
no apprehension
my thoughts defy
all comprehension
Am I too needy?
Am I being greedy?
Are my emotions
just too speedy?
How can this last?
Am I type cast?
Why do I fall
in love so fast?
How do I feel?
Is this real?
Is this just simply
sex appeal?
Happy ending,
just pretending,
or is a new romance

Alien Nation

going through this world alone
feeling like you don’t belong
acting like a lifeless drone
feeling like your not that strong

living in a world unknown
wondering where it all went wrong
feeling like a mindless clone
only trying to get along

no one knows what it’s about
no one even has a clue
no one has it figured out
no one knows what they should do

but you know it’s not just you
many feel they don’t fit in
half of the people feel it too
feeling like they just can’t win

everyone I know has doubt
feeling all alone and lost
trying to find their own way out
feeling they’ve been doubled-crossed

My Beautiful Wreck

when they finish sifting through the debris
of fragments of your life that used to be
I hope they send the pieces back to me
though I may not assemble them perfectly

you would probably be a pain in the neck
with pieces back where they’re supposed to be
you’ll make someone a beautiful wreck
that someone might as well be me

when you don’t know what you are doin’
and when you’re tired of all the travel
I’ll sort through the mess and ruin
to see you don’t completely unravel

when the world you live in comes undone
and all your faith gets lost in rubble
I might just be the only one
to try and keep you out of trouble

I’ll be ready when you crash
to help you keep your life in check
and when it all goes in the trash
you can be my beautiful wreck

The Secret

I present myself
as a hard brittle shell
only because
I don’t want you to see me
as a soft runny yoke
and a drippy albumen

The Writer

amid a mountain of nouns
clipped from the Sunday Times
like discount coupons,
with a large box of verbs,
some of which
date back to the War of 1812,
out of a draw full of clauses,
some of which
have never ever been used before,
from a jar full of punctuation marks,
many yellowed with age,
among a closet overflowing
with prepositions, adverbs, adjectives,
articles, and pronouns,
all stacked like cordwood,
the writer sits
with an idea
and begins to write

The Sculptor

He can not rest until
he works his tears
and his dreams
into a block of stone.
He can not sleep
until the granite
contains his laughs
and his hopes.
He can not retreat
until his thoughts
and heart are
instilled in rock.

The Potter

The earth turns the potter.
The potter turns the earth.
The earth being
the medium by
which the potter
builds his dreams
the potter realizes
that his dreams
will someday return
to the earth.

The Poet

 tripping over
 three-legged words,
 clumsily fighting with
 left-handed rhyme,
 arm wrestling with
 awkward meter,
 the poet
 reaches into
 his wallet
 and pulls out
 his poetic license
 and writes

The Dancer

Gliding poetically
through time
and space
with movement
so graceful
as to envy a dove,
the dancer
puts art
to the test
of motion.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Artist

sitting at that
magic point
where a rainbow
touches the
the artist,
tries to
its colors
onto a
dry, lifeless

Unfashionably Late

you‘re just in time,
to be too late
the food’s all gone
we couldn’t wait
but come on in
we’re glad you’re here
sorry, but
we’re out of beer
look around
find a cup
there’s a little bit
of 7 Up
on the table
there were some chips
there’s just crumbs left
and we’re out of dips
there might be crackers
on the shelf
feel free
to  help yourself
grab a seat
sit anywhere
sorry there’s
no silverware
ice has melted
long ago
we had a band
they had to go
now you’re here
have some fun
turn out the lights
when you are done

Strange Dream

I dreamed I was awake
but when I woke up, I was sleeping
I dreamed I shut my alarm clock off
but the damn thing still kept beeping

so I got up and unplugged it
then I threw it at the wall
went back to bed and scratched my head
I hadn’t gotten up at all

I dreamed I closed the window
but the rain kept coming in
I looked back and saw a solid wall
where the window should have been

I got up to see what happened
my feet no sooner hit the floor
I ran all about but couldn’t get out
the bedroom had no door

and the clock it still was squawking,
with its’ loud obnoxious beep
I opened my eyes, to my surprise
found I was still asleep

Questions For A Firefly

Firefly up in the sky
tell me do you ever tire
of flying around with your butt on fire?
And with that flaming, glowing ass
do you fear setting fire to the grass?
Do you ever have to wear sun glasses
to protect your eyes from other fireflies’ asses?
Is one of those things you have to learn,
keep your distance so your face won’t burn?
As you’re gliding through the night
with your rear-end shining bright
do you ever worry that
you’re a target for a hungry bat?
I guess bats don’t hunt with their eyes
so that blazing butt will be quite a surprise.
And what about those nights it rains
are you afraid it might put out your flames?
What would your life be all about
if your pilot-light goes out?

Rainbows At Night

searching for things that just aren’t there
things I can’t find anywhere
but I keep looking just the same
I think that she might be to blame

she keeps me seeking things that can’t be
like a meaningful relationship between her and me
I’m looking for something I just don’t see
like a spark of compassion or some sympathy

but I keep on trying to figure her out
and keep giving her the benefit of doubt
she’s not there yet but someday she might
while I go on searching for rainbows at night