Granite is an easy stone to carve,
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Granite is an easy stone to carve,
Monday, June 9, 2014
In a Monte Carlo.
Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'
A doomed yet historic love.
Wet passenger side seat.
Throes of passion meet.
Burnt orange Texas Tennessee blend.
Rock the house down BLM.
Killeen Texas gal,
20 years ahead of the Tennessee.
I miss you every day,
I miss you and I miss your sting.
Riding together in a Monte Carlo,
Heading to your home,
Mother's inspection of shirt tuck.
Brenda's ire of you, lovestruck.
Do you ever talk to Felicia?
Of base dances, the gender men?
Do her letters still peregrinate
Edifices longing for satisfaction?
Our song was Hot Blooded'
Yet Steve Perry intervened;
Event horizon the Rape of the Lock.
All things lost, all in between, and all of us.
I love you Beverly,
I lost you and love you still.
The dust of dreams cast bitter wayfarers
In this land of Nod, yet I abide alone, anon.
Friday, June 6, 2014
As the old warrior
Behind lay battles,
Friends,foes and her-
Esmeralda of the plains.
Keeper of wayward hearts.
Ahead lay the Nazis,
Authors of the Perfect Plan.
Efficient disposers, impure purifiers.
Hollow men with hollow hearts.
The old warrior inspects his men.
Saplings cut across the USA.
First grade writing class now,
Pencils dragged with heavy hearts.
Sea foam pierces nostrils
As pings and plunks
Of bullets assault steel and flesh-
Dead men fighting with ripped hearts.
"Normandy! Normandy! Normandy!"
Cry the surf waders, slogging
Slow-motion, hating their killbox,
Loving their country with all their hearts.
Marie du Mer cleans the fish
Her Papa brings home for supper.
The biggest one is old and scarred.
His belly carries a locket, a heart.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Roads we travelled,
Time we cheated
Roving away the days.
No King's Road
Or high court,
Yet plenty of needed-
Scenic routes abounded.
Maps of our journey
Resemble our own
Veins & arteries-
Spirit housed topography.
One day each year
You live again
Through each landmark,
Dear Mother, my obelisk.
-for the girl that liked to shoot marbles…
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Two ships sailed west to Sussex-
Invaders ready to spill English blood.
Shades of color glinted off
The razored blades of well-used swords
Axes and maces bound in fierce leathers.
Sixty-two wives bathe in the shallows of
Tanagra Kin, singing the battle-song rent
Like linens from the halls of Valhalla with defiance.
These accidental widows invoke their Gods
Odin, Thor, Freya with the certainty of nuclear strategists.
Seven leagues off the English coast
Spouts a squall from the God called I Am.
Viking armor and amour both descend
With equal speed in the murky North Sea depths.
No horn blown triumph of fields reeking English blood.
Sixty-two she-cuckolds receive the King's permission
To serve as shield maidens anew in hurried raids
(Avenge disastrous lost sons of Odin.)
Women singing the secret blood song as
English Bards and Knights fall in heaps before them.
Sixty-two warrior women return to their homeland-
English hands, feet and heads they bury in
Plantings, shriven with prayers to their Gods
For forgiveness, glory, and honor-
Remembering men now turned to garden sausage.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Cellar knocker on my door.
Lost at sea or lost at shore?
No one knows who went before…
You going home tonight Julee?
Ready to cruise fell backroads
Of love, hate, regret and rebate?
Help me couch our twilight load?
I arrive, the we that is me.
Can you hear Lil Wayne do Milli?
Feel Kevin Rudolph on 105.3?
I play the play you wrote, silly!
Floating stiletto follows me,
Seven days since the captivity.
The pointed prick demands your blood-
It flows alone, muted crimson flood.
Your phone vibrates, why its Josh-
Calling you in the keepsake box!
Pity the fools that let you slip away
They plant pretty lights on your grave today.
A nice mix, 373
Cemetery lights adorn your plot.
Your burnished tinny land-bound yacht
Silently sailing this harbor of the dead.
Cemetery lights glow ghostly shapes,
Hummingbirds, butterflies, dragon drakes,
I placed one there among the throng;
Dolphin/dagger, blue like your thong.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Credit to The Bard for use of Mortal Coil phraseology~
My cat doesn't ponder
It's next meal while devouring
The supper I give it, or which he
Pounces upon, unawares.
The birds of Spring don't
Worry about staying warm the
Next Winter, or how to stay
Dry during coming days of rain.
Even the cursed snakes do not
Appear to be overly concerned
Whether today my heal may grind
The life out of there scaly bellies.
Them comes man, the lord of illusion,
Soul-blessed, and saved from perdition-
Scarcely does his eye blink unburdened
With questions of the future & the past.
We shall be happy tomorrow,
We shall be happy then,
We forgot how to be happy,
And shall never be again.
Meanwhile the cat sleeps,
The bird nests snugly,
The snake does whatever contented snakes do-
While we rue, and rue, and rue.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
---"But once, we were here." Chingachgook, The last of the Mohicans.
Slipping through the forest thickets
Spryly; a springing leopard on the veldt.
Uncas! Unfettered by guilt, debt, or regret,
Seeks his love, his destiny, his own Munro.
Ancestor Spirit flows in his veins,
The son of the father, a soul without chains.
Uncas! Friend to all that would be free,
Companion to Hawkeye, la long carabine.
Duelling with Magua, whose hate burns
Beyond extinction. Felled by a fell blade…
Uncas! Beloved child, friend, and future groom,
Banished from earth to his heavenly tomb.
Taller than the treetops, swifter than the raven,
Nature spirits mourn the long death plummet of
Uncas! Brave-man, lover of life and the sister
Munro, following her wherever she may go
Above, Below. Love is the artificial horizon.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
To remain unsung, everlong?
A shame for you, a shame for me.
Tree limbs tapping feet-
House draft vocals of sorts.
(Artists funeral ne’er draw a crowd.
Less their riches cause great rue.)
I can’t sing it for me, or any man.
Dance your melody-for my soul’s wan.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Met I the spirit in a waking dream
Which lasted several lifetimes.
The days afterwards were hollow,
Filled with prits and prots and jots.
Loved I the spirit in a mash up of eras
Darker some than others, like licorice.
Gold rained and water shimmered
Beneath this spirit and the acolyte I.
Lost, I lost this spirit, fallow hope spasm.
Emerging from the ether world back
To dry blood-stained parking lot of
Nondescript convenience store odors.
Heart tattoos vending machine playing
Journey & 2Chainz, wedded alternately.
Night people, drawn by red smells,
Consider me, then snarl and laugh.
Can I Dream the spirit dream again before
I fade into a dim lit waiting room's tapestry?
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Our trail homeward has begun.
We'll be punchin' hoofs in
Texas again ‘fore autumn winds
Start blowin' o'er the prairie.
By your birthday night I promise
To breathe Austin air, clean and combed.
Be at our grove by the little river,
Cleanse my dusty heart by your wondrous sight.
Till then, I'll just sing more to myself,
And ‘ole Stamper, while watchin' this
Trail unwind like your golden tresses,
Shimmerin' in the moonlight.