What Time Have You

So here I am at seven o’clock
Umm, that’s not the real time
Its where in my maze I’m lost at
Is really 9:20am to fix the rime
Lost inside this place
Of my own making
So I am amazing
Ain’t anybody here faking
Two glasses gone
A merlot for moi
What’ll you have—
Muscadine for toi?
Truelove went to Maine
Chances favor the Bentley
But we‘ll go home alone
Just saying truth, incidentally
No answers from my imprudent text
Who knows what’s coming next,
Chances swarm and the mind reels,
I wonder is that how kismet feels.
Around the bend and around the corner
Such nights as these I could be a goner
But the parade comes thither and anon
Beads, doubloons, and lingering glances and I’m so gone
Over my head for the goddess up ahead
Only to return solo to my Lysol-kissed unmade bed
Cat gets his insulin in the morning
Nine units to keep him alive
You think live isn’t fair
Well, I can’t disagree Clive
So here I am at nine o’clock
Umm, that’s not the real time
It’s just where in my maze I’m lost at
Is really midnight to fix the rime

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Idano

So
There I was heading to
Haplee, Evraftor
And decided to
Take Aroad less used
And now I’m stuck
In Ushudna, Idanno
Yep twas a USN tar
Held spritely in the eye
By a winsome cradockadileefilly,
But I blinked,
And for many moons—
And now I’m a sworn Ushudna-ite
All by my lonesome
Unless occupying the Artmosphere
Unabated by company or reason,
Looking for a chance to try a dance,
Idano
Tis an old old affliction
For oldems looking aways back
To figure where they went amiss;
Ofttimes it’s about a miss
Or a missed shot for a miss,
Idano
But I’ve tons of free time,
Free to see time
And total the misses,
Down Aroad not much used,
Idano

You’ve No Power Here

The glass misted over,
But that’s not entirely right
It was a more liquid remorse
That bedewed my lensed sight

She had borne my child
But she couldn’t bear me
Seems 8-balls and feng shui
Aren’t long together friends-to-be

Another dark winter passing
Cold fronts, love chill, and lost friends—
In the negative balance amassing:
All aspiration to the living Nature bends

Where is our Episode IV New Hope,
In reconciliation or masked medicines?
A new maturity is whispered for and called upon—
Can we but rise up above all these civil venal sins?

Digital Sith and Jedi return to the nursery;
All illusion is dead, what’s to become of me?

Meet Me Once Again

Always wisht for a ‘grand affaire’
A love that rattled and shattered and grew
But only stolen glories and dried up hopes
And always the remains: ‘oh, how I’ll remember you’

Now guilty grey outcount the callow brown
And real age looms large in my mind
And alone with my picante Bordeaux
A joke portion remains of grace that one can find

Without pretense or malice aforethought
I plead you risk a newer pain
Join my foolish tilt at aged windmills
Meet me once more again

A riverbank, a hilltop, or bar
Your house, my house, running train
Restaurant, cemetery, or banquette
Meet me once more again

No promise of happily ever after
Just attentive present conversation
A chance to explore old embers
Or bury a youth’s spent intercession

A promise of ‘la grand affaire’
A love that filled and shattered and grew
Meet me once more again
Are all daisies really better when blue?

Following No One

I seem to be slouching
Forward onto my hospice bed
But I still remember my name
And I’m sure the cat’s been fed
But I can’t open the Just Tart Cherry
And the shoulder’s crap as per usual
All the Senators have stopped representing
Their polity with a calm and disdain casual
Tracked my keys into the box
Outside the box of what I can remember
Who I am and where I’m going—
I’m sure Fest Acadien is still in November
Pouring the second merlot
They say it’s good for my heart
I should move over to Alexandria
If I’d ever own what it is to be smart
Summter lingers on here is Austin
Need to replace the ac filter soon
I hope the rains pass soon
I wanna to see the Harvest Moon
But I know what’s coming
And I should get ready
But I’m so tired these days
And my thoughts are unsteady
To pack all this important stuff again
Boxes in boxes, memories in stiff cardboard
I had followed her here, a path made easy
But now to move for myself, O Lord
I’ll die here in Casablanca
Or any likely foreign shore
Not ready for the next chapter
Not alone, at least; not anymore
But time to let Jack out into the night’s stew
Hey Mr Tambourine Man
In the jingle jangle morning…

Maple Leaf Dance

Faraway from the witnessing sun,
Escaped away from reproving glances of dead roses never sent,
Once dared think our love might grow,
But crushed beneath small expectation to answer for a knee unbent.
Loose laced shoes carry old feet forward on,
Stumbling with a book of ill written rhyme to find you there—
Polite as always but with nothing to add.
Assaulting the ramparts of indifference, I wonder if or should I care.
A frisson of longing ever lingers—
Some memories of dancing in our Maple Leaf Bar;
Happily ever after slips from old fingers
While an indifferent Moon grandly outshines any old star.

Block This Caller

How do I tell you I hurt
That being your nothing pays only pain
That even now I pine away the hours
Until I get to see you again
Can we please sit and talk
Maybe catch up on this and that
Maybe remember how we used to be
Before all our feels went all flat
Why do I hope this’ll all change
I know there’s no room next to your sorrow
Maybe the time has come around
To accept there is no together tomorrow
How do I tell you I hurt
That being your nothing pays only pain
But it’s time to edit Settings on this old iPhone
Because it doesn’t only rain in Spain

Wait On Tomorrow

In the flat awful of your newly broken heart,
Find that space for a (yes) scant new start.
It’s a hard surprise, a twist in the plot;
It’s your chance to show ’em what you got–
A vision true to see over the far yonder hill:
That happiness can still find you, I know it will!
So repair to a bed that druther entertain two
That is again graced with the joy of just you.
Wait on tomorrow.
See the new day.
Start a new poem!
Whattaya say?

Alone With The Jagged Cold

I don’t quite think it was the jagged insult of the cold while stepping out from the shower;
It couldn’t have been the yawning cold empty space beside me on a still unmade bed;
Perhaps it was that the single cup of instant coffee was just okay enough with real soymilk;
Certainly not the unresponded to question of what possibly could I have said to you instead.
More than I surely love you.
More than we can go so far.
More than dreams seek the possible.
More than let’s get out of this damn bar.
I don’t know but the cat claw calls for more food for his old porcelain bowl;
I don’t understand but the heater needs a filter shift out with the coming cold;
I can’t see the change that the sunsets promise for those unparoled tomorrows;
But I could have added that the place beside my heart is all yours, truth be told.
Unless the future scares you.
Unless you can’t chance chance.
Unless my words wither at your feet.
Unless all those maybes can only translate into can’ts.
And, down the tracks and beyond the call to prayer and the next bead-toss parade
I go on with my so lonely but hopeful heart, though I’m not quite sure I got it made.

Aloning on New Year’s

Tried to share her in a poem,
But the heart would not scan.
Trying to forget all about her—
I fail, trying as hard as I can.
Winds turned to colding;
The heater runs all day;
I can see each wispy breath—
Singled out in about every way.
Staple-gun together some words,
But joy and doubt won’t rhyme.
Aloning it again on New Year’s—
It’s Love for sometwo else’s this time.
But, it’s all good for this po little coda.
And, yes please, a lil more rum for my soda.