Old High School/Early College

Errant Blues

Dynamo! The air the light the sky the night

Riptide glass sloppy butts reeking asphalt

underneath the feet so heavenly.

Deserted street retched stalk graying grass

Stray cats and dogs and mice kings and immortal roaches

My brothers and sisters they do not know me

Dank storm drains cluttered gutters

forgotten appendages loveless lovers

go don’t go don’t go so freely.

Heaving blowing smoking sniffing

heroin sheaths, I see the light

And it’s blinding me!

Are you a vagabond? Does this world to you belong?

Are you a monster? Whoring monster?

Are you free? Roaming free?

The birds are free. Their graves are the street

stomped into mush ash dissolved in the wind

they spend their lives on the wing owning nothing...except everything you see

Soulless soul body made of crumbs

break into the nether essence for you are no master

slaves do lead slaves through eternity.

The Errant Blues are sung

But never heard listen to the wind

Formless thoughts encompass us, don’t just be.

_

Ailurophile

Felicitous feline! Sensitive ears,

pricked to hear the throbbing pulse of mine.

Curdled purrs grip your furry throat

When your paws stride ‘round.

Bowed fingers wave and gently float

with their purpose firmly bound.

Tail tacked to your behind

serves as a guide to wandering eyes

in a continuous solicitous state.

Body wrapped in movements sweep

slinking slyly leap by leap

seducing your intention.

Spoken “Meows” cause vibrations

toward my direction

with the weight of conversation

leading to expectation!…

But I know where I lie

what I am I know…

A Tatran Lynx in a barren ice haven

soon to drown in rising snow.

While you find virile lions grazing

in sunny climes licking bowls

of milk in carnal communion.

I’m stuck to watch from a distance

to ponder on what I am missing.

While in dazzling pomp

you fluently flaunt

many aggressive tigers

swiftly down the cat-walk.

So I ignore a potential kiss

for I fear your fatal hiss

further failure might hail

from your tooth and your nail.

Rather instead than tempt

with your wily ways,

claw out my eyes

so I cannot witness

the things that I miss.

_

Endevor

When that moment comes

I will be ready

with clenched eyes and fists.

I will be steady

on my ship in the mists

riding the troublesome waves,

aware of the dangers,

but free from life’s cares,

steering my weatherworn hull

fooolishly fast

to a destination unaware.

And on the rising mast

I will wave my flag

not of white surrender,

but of red and raven splendor

a bloody skull

of grim defiance

to show that I am unafraid.

When that soft wood

becomes petrified

thoroughly wears,

splinters and tears,

gives me up to the seas

I will swim with all the might

I own

and reach the land that holds

sailors of the most fantastic

degrees.

In stolid moods

they will greet me

and expect me to revere

their incredible achievements.

And I will treat them

insincere.

I will not bend my back to bow

or keep my tongue silent

while in the presence

of greater sailors

but I will show them that I had made

the same endeavor.

_

Peanut

The universe holds

so many things

so many things to know.

But the mind of man,

a small device,

is far too shallow.

All information

can not be fit

within this small, small piece

for it would be like

a peanut shell

scooping up the seas.

_

Elder Oak Tree

Elder Oak Tree,

with your mossy bark hid

what advice do you have for me?

What secret to confide?

“Enjoy your youth,

simply put.

I can still remember;

when I was a budding sprout.

I used to dance with the wind

and yellow jackets would caress

my leaves.

My senses were potent.

I could feel everything.

Every touch was pleasure.

In the summer the sun

would fill me with its lightning

and I smiled brightly.

My flesh was weak and small

but I survived and grew old.

Now, I am hardened by time.

I can’t feel much

and I am hollow inside.

In the winter,

the freezing ice

holds my roots

and I feel pain.

All I look forward to

is for the grizzled woodsman

to come by and give me the ax.”

_

A Vision

In a barge I was taken

over a river black with gall.

Death was my pale captain

and bad me not to fall.

Cerberus’s mouths were open

one two three, that is all

in my pocket I reached for a token

In his mouths I let fall.

Down a path I wandered,

Next to pandemonium’s wall.

Rocks and crags were everywhere

Lucky I did not fall.

Alone and forsaken

I saw a friendly well

in the water’s reflection

I saw my folly and where I fell.

_

Wishful Thinking

I can’t help but think

what life could be

if I was something

other than me.

An amoeba

changing shape,

in a pond or in a lake.

A lilac bush full in bloom

in spring it comes, 

but is gone too soon.

A fish drowning in the air

or a bird in flight with feather fair.

A moth with little time to live

but time enough for young to give.

A drop of water on a rose

on the petals it begins,

sliding downward 

through the thorns

absorbed by spongy earth it ends.

Drawn into the roots and up again.

Or a little crab that walks alone

on the floors of the silent seas

ignorant of company.

Or a satyr submerged in foliage

watching nymphs play happily.

An angel’s wing or devil’s horn

a puppy old or newly born.

Or perhaps a planet

on the edge of a supernova

or nothing at all.

_

What it means to Grow Up?

What does it mean to “Grow Up”?

Is it literal or figurative?

Is it automatic or gradual?

Necessary or insubstantial?

Definitive or inexplicable?

Is there a trigger to set it off?

Or is it through physical change?

To become old and weak?

Or to grow in size and in weight?

Whiskers on the chin?

Does that suffice?

Or is it contained in gray?

Wrinkling skin?

Is this an ample sign?

Or is the definition more refined?

Does it mean to lose loved ones?

Or feel a large amount of pain?

Is it based on experience gained?

Or the size of your brain?

Maybe it is wisdom or spirit;

Morals or ethics;

Beliefs or traditions:

That are the stain

of growing up…

Or is it material gained?

Is reproduction the mark?

Of a grown up?

Or is sex the start?

Or sexual feelings?

Or simple thoughts?

Does growing up mean

To sit in large wooden chair

Reading large wooden books?

Or does it mean stating labor?

Or finishing school?

Does it begin with making decisions?

Or the loss of ambition?

Relinquish of dreams?

Or the realization

of life’s fleeting expectations?

_

Fallen dreams

The pool is frozen over

Like shattered glass.

I’m robbed of the notion

of forgetting memories

all I see are fallen dreams

The present course

is a jagged knife

and all I see are fallen dreams.

Back me up, if you have the promise

the trust in me,

and all I can do is promise

that I have trust in dreams.

But the pool is frozen over

like shattered glass

and my memories are terse and strong.

I am robbed of the potential

of trusting you

Because you fail to put faith in me.

And all I see are fallen dreams.

_

The book’s end

You are the exception to every bad portion of my inglorious life

resurrecting my faith in God of some sort.

I believed you were Grace incarnate.

But time told a different story.

A hundred pages passed the last chapter’s end.

There is no American ending to this body.

I have done wrong to myself,

And by doing wrong to myself I’ve cast the final piercing arrow

to ensure the fears that I ran from would hit me in my back.

Cupid thwart me again so I can learn to put it away forever.

The shadows can’t be blotted out like the sun’s rays,

But grow deeper and darker to cover up the whole.

What led to this moment is a mystery

But I know it’s not the end yet which makes me squirm

when I want to feel the cool earth keep me still.

Alien of Man

Upon waking thoughts are unclear...the mind recedes into reality…

Reality is an ever receding shore... always beyond our reach…

Strange…

I awoke today,

groggy headed and scummy eyed,

After a dream.

Now gone forever...

And saw the image of death

briefly

reflected

off my TV screen.

On the edge

of my bed I looked

into that portal,

looked away,

and imprinted

in the fresh memory of the moment,

His body and face were clear enough

for me to recognize

even though I saw him there for

just a moment...

The Reaper.

When I looked back,

I was alone once again.

But his image,

That bony grin,

I remember,

Behind me lurking for just a second.

Anyway…

I washed up

Today, I must work.

Tomorrow, I must work.

For that is what people do;

Work.

Shaving,

I cut my self,

very superficial.

Blood hit the sink.

I spelled my name out

with my finger.

I live alone.

No wife.

No kids.

But in time

I told myself

Things will look up.

Today a promotion.

Tomorrow a promotion.

Today a date.

Tomorrow a date.

One day…

It will come together.

On my way out

While locking the door to my house

i saw my next door neighbor on her doorstep,

and said "hello there, neighbor!"

She stared at me but did not respond.

I had to go to work.

I heard

a terrible hum

outside

and became very

anxious.

What was that nice,

i though to myself.

Cicada?

not the season.

The sprinkler?

not the time.

I looked up expecting to see

an alien

spaceship,

one to carry me far away 

into spaceship

for any reason,

any reason at all.

Nope.

The air conditioning unit.

To be kept cold in the summer heat

is so unnatural.

Driving

to work i had

a good feeling.

Today is the day.

I'm a great worker

the best there is

Goddammit!

I am great!

Almost hit a cat.

A house cat.

A family cat.

It was

White.

Why did it cross the street?

Did it have work too?

Did it have somewhere to be?

Reached 

the store.

A fine place to make a living.

Such a meaningful job.

One on every corner nowadays.

Retched before entering 

the automatic door,

a fly or some flying insect,

very small, went down my throat with such precision,

my mouth opened for a fraction of a second,

a fraction of an inch,

making its movements with precise

calculations.

As if it had to be 

in my throat then and there.

i coughed,

Throwing up liquid and a small amount

of yesterdays dinner,

for i did not eat breakfast.

no time.

But no bug.

I recovered and entered.

What a life i live

where cardboard and recycled paper

i know intimately,

yet, my coworkers are

aliens to me.

Tom, Kathy, Wesley

And a dozen young teens

who are fired and hired

cyclically.

And me...

I've been hear Ten months

and Ten years,

an assistant manager.

Disposable and replaceable,

like the dirty break room fridge,

yet i fit the qualites of a sheep

they need.

Quiet, passive, neat, and cowardly.

If I'm fired

they will replace me

with a doppelganger

or a machine.

The costumers lowing,

quaking, and crowing,

is enough to break

any sane man.

In each one of their faces,

i meet,

the same face i saw

reflected in the morning

on my television screen.

Warped and contorted

with mindless living

producing nothing

always consuming

and always

at low prices.

why do they complain?

Run the natural course and die

you are all unfit to live...

So am i.

No raise. No wife.

Today...

I will die childless.

My genes left in my jeans.

i feel no love from anyone.

A gloom falls over me.

Yet, i cannot suppress

a smile

at the dumb comments

when i really feel like

committing murder

or articulating a scream.

Forced to stay till closing time,

I had nothing better to do.

I never do.

And the other manager failed

to arrive.

i consented to their pleas

Get paid overtime

but it doesn't matter,

Its money to support

The living dead.

Oh...the loneliness.

Oh...the pain...

of living with little...

or nothing to gain...

I died a little today.

I die a little everyday.

And every moment

is a little bit of death.

We all die by ounces.

But am i the only one that sees

The inherent sadness

in our predicament?

Forever foregone.

The moment is forever foregone!

Now its time to leave.

The night is upon us

i hear the chatter

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

All the ears are deaf

as i close and lock the doors.

They leave me be

without a goodbye.

They all leave.

Have i ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

the light is not pale, it is yellow and bright.

The clouds cover the sky

images always different

formless and free

and block the moon's face

that smiles,

Why does that wide face smile?

Does it laugh at me?

And the devil,

He does not meet me

Under this moon

nor any moon that ever was

or ever will be.

He is busy

and i aint worth the price

of traveling fees.

My soul is worth

a peanut

and nothing more.

Ah...the nice air.

It stinks..of garbage

and filth.

The store produces 

heaps upon heaps.

And...oh...

The store reproduces:

A million begets a million,

spoiling the scenery

and i jest a cell

to this corporate world.

It is a devouring beast!

The lot is empty now.

All the cars are gone.

I should go home and sleep.

To regain the next day

the same as today.

But no...

The dumpster

she calls to me

with subtle voice

and putrid smells.

I consent to the wiles

of my wit

and descend out back

near fence and chain.

I feel like dancing with the devil tonight,

i call, send prayers and listen.

H is out of sight.

But there is movement in the filth.

The dumpster is full.

What a bed

what a rest!

I'll have in the garbage heap..

And these nymphs

they are here

dirty whores

with cabbage in their hair

and herpes on their lips.

For bras they wear

tin cans,

for ornaments

old condoms and cigarette bits.

Their eyes are full of despair.

Come here with us Smith

They sing and get my name wrong

Come here and give us love

come come, we will fulfill your lust

your passions and dreams are one with us

come come, there is nothing to fear

your loneliness with us will disappear

come com, what do you have to lose?

Come to our side, you need a muse.

Come come, The moon does smile

the devil is here only for a while

the angels watch, and god does sleep

There is nothing that keeps you from this heap.

I swoon, I sleep...

yet still awake

dreams are reality

reality a dream

what vile perversions.

my soul is at stake.

But i am lost

it is too late.

Underneath the pale moonlight...

once yellow and bright,

the wide full face smiles down on me

while i, in the dumpster behind the store,

make love to the mermaids of the garbage heap.

And god still sleeps.

Forever he sleeps.