Wednesday, October 31, 2012

“The Raven-Haired Beauty of Gudger”

The Rambler’s Tale Part I-
I found myself drunken in Gudger,
In Chestua Church cemetery, all alone,
I rested my head on a comfy stone,
Of a winsome raven-haired beauty taken
Away from the life roads that I do roam.

The Enchantress’ Tale-
I find here a man in this dead land,
A searcher, a questioner marked male.
He rejects the common belief tale.
I see he loved a raven girl ripped
From Mother, and then Death tripped.

The Albino Snake’s Tale-
Here ye miscreants have found,
Buried deep in dank underground,
A lass, a fair Pooh girl betrayed,
By flitter female friends delayed,
Found by Death’s scythe’s dark ways.

The Constable’s Tale-
She was abandoned when abandoned
Her her sanctity and trust of no harm
Befalling a maid with her maids, untrue
Scattershot whiffs, faced truth anew,
Beshocked her scaly parseltongue allies.

The Coroner’s Tale-
No foul play this wet deserted coprse
Experienced she no friendship remorse.
Drowning Death from unknown allergy
Claimed this raven-hair girl’s life energy.
Parked alone in a too common Ingle’s lot.

The Rambler’s Tale Part II-
I loved the raven-haired maid of Gudger.
Yet I betrayed her as much as kith and kin.
I seek her company, but settle for her cold.
Ophidian solace, hissed at me as if to kill-
Leaves my soul naked, desolate as her last pill.

~Dedicated to Poohgurl, Tookie, Esta, Derek, JRG,
The Spartans of Thermopylae, & hanging chads anon.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

“The Locked Room”

The house had a brooding look,
“Dollar Store makeover” said she,
“Plus its soooo cheap!” her added.
So we bought it and moved in on
Halloween night, right before dusk.

We had candy packets prepared
Yet no cars or kids even slowed
As they thronged busily past us.
“Must be used to no one living here.”
I said as another group hurried past.

After the tricksters, we watched TV,
Then toward midnight felt sleep urges,
So we traversed the stairs to bed,
Then noticed a door unseen before.
“What room could this be?” said I.

“Open it,” said she, and I tried to do.
Alas the door forbade me entry,
Locked as tight as deep winter wax.
“Look, there is a key,” said she,
Pointing toward a dangling opener.

I grabbed the key and turned it fast,
Sprang the door inwards, heard a gasp.
Troll-like creatures ran swiftly past,
Down the stairs, then into the yard-
Brandishing carving knives, giggling.

Monday, October 29, 2012

“The Graverobber’s Lament”

I curse the concrete vaults,
The hybrid sod that stains,
Patio lights, solar candle,
Sage lined coffins of gold,
Caretaker’s dogs, lean & bold.

The jewelry hoarder Auntie,
The greedy bland mortician.
Hard packed dry Summer dirt.
Double-locks of stainless.
Internet plot guard camera rest.

Full Moons Revivals, lightening.
Drunks too broke to brawl or
Bother with yet too boo scared
Sober to pass on out, or about.
Cheap substituted slipper rout.

Buried early, ground has set,
Footstones to pry over away,
Ghosts of relatives not dissolved
Whispering old tongue verses vexed
Their hollow eyes seek me to hex.

Interred with a blessing time takes.
Makes for a longer & harder dig.
Hates me does me the bobber,
Funeral Home master key sobber
Tha’ pinches the corpse ‘fore buried.

“The Zombie in My Garden”

The cold doesn’t bother him,
Nor the rain, the gloom, the winds.
Sometimes a raven pecks his head.
The neighborhood kids mock
How slow he moves near the fence. 

We call him Zeke the Zombie,
He still votes absentee,
It’s a Tennessee zombie thing.
I give him Hardee’s chicken
Then laugh when he gets sick.

He favors Baby’s Breath,
Bachelor Buttons and Dear Zinnia.
My own undead compost heap-
Tax credit like an electric car,
But he still prays to zombie God.

I tried to sell him on Craigslist,
No one wanted to buy, just rent.
Oh, and old weird Bill Bolton,
The King of Englewood, claims
He is the Fresh Prince sometimes.

Don’t call Zombie Zeke out,
When I go to meet the Sisters.
I left him hungry to ward off the
Fly boys and fallow cankered girls
That live alone in the sulfur cave.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

“We Saved the Indians from Themselves”

No mound ghosts to scare kids,
No buffalo dreams to roam.
Fences square the lands,
Ear tags show the brands,
Medicine men can get Obama care.

Dream Catchers in pink VW bugs
Emasculated by fake daisies in
Fluted dash vases beside them-
Protection from Redskin scalpers
Not selling NFL tickets in D.C.

The Wendigo stalks the mountains,
Finding the ersatz camper, hiker, lover.
Howling the death scream, stealthy
Murders unsolved by natural means,
Blamed on bath salt inhaler junkies.

Visit the chill that previews the kill,
Seek the lair of the quiet Winter’s skill.
The Spirit of the forgotten dream
Seeks your soul to ream apart from
Body mean in the twilight unseen.

“Mommie, what happened to the Indians?”
“They all moved out west, until the West ended.”
What the dear child isn’t told is that where
West ended, the American version of
Auschwitz began for the Mosesless desert tribes.

“The Lazy Caterpillar”

Oh. why should I cross this pallid frame?
Laid to rest on clover I love best?
Should frost dictate my appetites?
These shorter days and longer nights.
Under skies not witnessed by summer.

The orange monsters ply night fears,
I just hibernate my set of drears.
I cannot change these frigid times,
Else I would fly to warmer chimes-
Trapped am I as an ethered corpse.

John, Jonah, Jonas, what was his name?
He elapsed under the full moon game.
She came, she went, she his life spent.
All in the name of love and fame
Under skies loving no one’s name.

Insect dorma, insect pride,
Insect revelation of buggish pride.
Tell me caterpillar, what is life?
That dead Ted here lies without a wife?
The dirge plays anon, like a country song.

Caterpillar, Caterpillar. Sing me a song.
Make it gay and true but not too long.
Leave the world the way you like best.
Skeletons bleached, lonely greyed crest-
Chest burst open by butterflies unrest.

"French Ghetto Eyes"

They are all watching.
Wherever I go,
Whatever I do,
They gaze at my hair, my hands, my face.
There is no saving grace.

The birds, they report from afar,
Always following when I drive a car.
The fish watch as I swim,
Like the portraits hanging in a gym.
I have moved to hell.

I am watched by dogs,
When I buy a newspaper,
I am watched by cats,
When I watch the stars.
There can be only one torment.

Children watch when I walk,
Women watch when I talk,
Merchants watch when I shop,
Librarians watch when I read,
I want to scream in braille.

I can remember from the days gone by,
Everyone that watched as I passed
With their curious blank eyes,
Their smiles strangely similar to
Gestapo guards in Dachau...

Five, four, three, two, one---

“The Three Chairs of Leete House”

Come ye travelers and seek your rest
Here at Leete House, we know best.
Have a seat at the dinner complimentary,
We will leave you happy and empty,
Much like the way life has laid you.

Position One, the Vampire chair-
Seated happy and weak you feel,
The end of days is over-rated
Like Angus steak at a burger joint
Thrust between a drive-in and a bank.

Position Two, the Liar’s chair-
Tell us of your loves, your convictions,
Capital lies your Mother would not vouch,
Lived out on this seat, less than a
Couch to expose your false metrics.

Position Three, the Whore chair-
Now it can be told,
The wanted urges often bold and
Denied to all, even yourself and
The administration of corporate dollars.

Beware the node, beware the toad,
Beware the essence of truths once told.
May the sitter realize the settee and
Inform the Board most readily that
Gold standards are lies, like butterfly skies.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

“Soot on Snow”

Winter fires burn colder,
Like dark hearts in hiding,
Deciding which face to wear
To face each new day-
Abiding neighborhood stares.

Coffee, the planning,
Sandwich, the planning,
Pizza, the planning.
Ghoulish smile as darkness
Smothers the hope of light.

The game is afoot,
Grey lanes, grey drakes.
Lonely calls of separation.
Cadence, remember cadence-
Grip the handle of steel death.

The spin overcomes fear,
Red swirls peppermint candy.
Subwayed Earth bowels from
Point safe, to point knife.
Eviscerated minds and souls.

No one likes to visit the rats.
They spend sewer Christmases
With garland wrapped round
Dainty foot topped with
Star on inward bent big toe.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Yeux de Ghetto Français

Ils regardent tous.
Partout où je vais,
Quoi que je fasse,
Ils regardent mes cheveux, mes mains, mon visage.
Il n'y a aucune grâce salvatrice.

Les oiseaux, ils signalent de loin,
Toujours en suivant lorsque je conduis une voiture.
Le poisson Regardez comme je nage,
Comme les portraits suspendus dans une salle de sport.
J'ai déménagé à l'enfer.

Je suis regardé par des chiens,
Quand j'ai acheter un journal,
Je suis regardé par les chats,
Quand je regarde les étoiles.
Il peut y avoir qu'un tourment.

Les enfants regardent quand je marche,
Femmes regarder quand je parle,
Marchands de regarder quand je boutique,
Les bibliothécaires regarder quand j'ai lu,
Je veux crier en braille.

Je me souviens des jours passés,
Tout le monde que vu que j'ai passées
Avec leurs yeux curieux vide,
Leurs sourires étrangement similaires à
Gestapo gardes à Dachau...

Cinq, quatre, trois, deux, un---

Sunday, October 14, 2012

“Pyramid or Pin?”

When nightly dream’s rapture
Seeks your soul to capture,
Remember the Alamo, & the Maine.
Remember your private Shania Twain.
Dip a dip and gloss your lip.

The road goes ever on,
Like the black night,
When you stop to rest,
HR will send you a test,
Prick the Pin or Pyramid fright.

Bow hunt a black bear,
Lunch hour boss’ shower scare.
Ready the obelisk to confuse
Pyramid Head’s ruse
Puts your heart in your shoes.

Now you’re trending,
Social mending,
Lots of spaces for
Pin Head’s places
Lowering your soul’s best bid.

Forgotten-soul rotten,
Hanging like a snake on a nail
Walled in the lost cabin of youth
Where sleeping dogs lie,
Under a blood red sky.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

“Playing Cornhole Watching ‘Deliverance’”

Squeal like a pig when you win…
Wow! There’s a true cultural renaissance.
Dr. Drew drew two, but
Drew drew only one twisted arm of the
Chatta, Chatta, Chatta, Chattahoochie!

The unfortunate banjo kid,
Autistically picks and grins-
Due to a vaccine reaction and
The truth of corn-mash satisfaction
Administered from without yet within.

Hey Jed, I got CORNHOLE!
Wasn’t a headline of triumph
When piggy went to market
Mountainside with curvy-lipped
Marvin and his 1/3 brother Munt.

Help me Rhonda! This cornhole
Is something your branch knows best.
Why do the of some so you have none want to
Beat It-just Beat It, like the rest?
The gloved one rallies and summons the hole!
Burt’s toupee is on EBAY,
But cornhole is in your bedroom,
Sunroom, skyroom, diningroomtable-
Leave the lost red-haired pooh girl lapped in
Sweet waters Ingles’ parking lot morgue/stable.

Sunday, October 7, 2012


North, South, East, West-
There is no foreign land
Worth the years of your best.
Poker face mortar shell games-
Vanilla dew drops with names.

Montana waits your return,
The one-horned red bull paces.
Had first snow before Canada’s
Thanksgiving and saw a lot of
Things on TV, except your faces.

Dig in deep and sleep with one eye open.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

“Giants in Those Days”

Riding down the grey way,
Isn’t the thrill of yesterday.
Too much going on now for
Anyone to want to stay.
Don’t let the sun fade away!

Prepping Mac issues and
Playing Half-Life while
Eating Victor Nasser humus
Washed down with flaskwater
Jammed with that Marilyn guy.

Bowling on lunch hour and
Eating Cajun chicken,
Watching convertible Ford’s
Break down on the interstate.
Looking around for the lost exit.

We wielded tech swords with
Shields of Norton manuals.
Modding playstations while
Directing the errant Iowan on
How to update a sound card.

Borrowing tools from Radio Shack.
Selling out of the trunk at West Town.
The dawn of our Computer Age-
The gold rush of the twentieth century.
Can you make me a new CD?

“Rachel, Krista, Kasha”

When the RKK splash the ground
Solemnity is erased like a bad answer.
Little Dieter wants to fly but these
Girls’ smiles light the sky with a
Veracity not unlike a comet strike.
Rachel has doctor eyes
That make the pain go away.
The wispy lay of her pretty hair
On a symmetrical frame both
Fair in nature and yet aflame.

Krista carries the group denominator.
Friendliness as constantly musical as
Leaves trilling to the ground in November.
Her countenance befits a queen of Troy,
Too vast a universe for just one boy.

Kasha gives me goo-goo eyes,
Her grin slices heart icebergs-mocking
Dr. Evil’s darkest laser designed mini-me.
The deafness cure lies with her smile
Communicating deftly through her eyes.

I earnestly maintain that this SuperTrio sprang
Forth from a long-lost Dionysian spring.
So bring along all your troubles and woes,
Then watch them float away from Orange City
When the RKK gaze tingles your toes.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

“When You Write It, You Own It”

Read that Neil Young
Was sorry for his ‘Alabama’ tune,
Said he & Lynyrd had had no beef,
Happy birds all feeding-
Windowsill windmill sailing relief.

Neil went on further,
Saying oh so sorry that
Kurt quoted ‘Rust Never Sleeps’
In his supposed suicide note…
You wrote it-you own it Neil.

Take on the Yankee gushers,
The Rebel Yell plushers,
Then own it like a grown-up
Unfettered by regional meek
Shading, just be mature.

Braid your story,
Sing your song.
Write a lottery eulogy,
Admit when you’re wrong-
But when you write it-you own it.

Someday when you sit
In the court of the Crimson King
Or the Lamb that couldn’t sing-
Remember this one true thing,
When you write it-you own it.

“I Miss the Great Plains”

I miss the Great Plains,
I miss Randy Gaines,
I miss the BBQ sandwiches,
I miss getting change for _____,
I miss Saturday morning cartoons.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

“One Place Peril”

I love it here,
No challenge.
Wait, is that good?
Too late the hero?
Best to fade away?

Travel young man-woman.
Adventure the day and night.
Lay down to a different
Starscape often young sprite!
Never feel the dread of familiarity.

Leaving means departing & going,
Going means fresh newness,
No Rick’s remitter reiterations
Of the safety dicuss or the kaizan fuss,
Or the smell on the funky Weaver bus.

“Manifest Destiny”
Was never a land grasp maxim.
Instead it was an alternative way to
Provide your bobbing ju-ju head with
Excitement usually reserved for bed.

Go West young man-woman.
Go East, Go North, Go South, Go forth!
Leave the Madding Crowd to settle
Insect politics and fast food menus-
Pursue the dream, go find your true self.

“Ode to Jack-He Who Got Old on Us”

Now the honey wagon
Involves a steak sandwich,
The golf club strikes only plastic,
Wood, grass, and gravel.
Oh Solo Mio, janzten Jake!

Leave it on the stage,
Bottle-up your rage,
Demand the higher wage,
Serve the salmon to the page,
You remain Matt Damon’s Mage.

You never rode a hybrid,
Always flew first-class.
Avoided starring across
Honey Boo Boo & Benji,
Much to their Mother’s morass.

I think ‘The Shining’ stamped
You with an imprint of
Lost horizons serendipity
Explainable only by Charlie Sheen’s
Naked Torpedo of Truth.

Will you be a Lynchpin,
Before Theda Bara beckons
You join her in the tinsel Valhalla?
You certainly enjoyed the Peak's
Girl company after the goldrush.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.