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A Simple Question

I was born
The petals of my life flower burst open
My shoots ached to touch the sky
Roots reached down embracing Mother Earth’s hug
Bees came, and I was pollinated
My youngens sprout at my feet
Frosts came and robbed me of my face
Springs return gave me back my voice
And sunshine ruled my every day
And now my old brittle petals close back again
The night attracts with stars and luminous futility
I once came to see and now long for sleep
Withering stems
And low-slung pistils
Call me home to Mother Earth
And I must answer
We all must answer
Because the simple question envelops us
But Nature doth fulfill and fails—
Clover softly calls us to assume fallow
And the warm soil receives our kind

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The Sun Goes Round and Round

Did you see how that sun did sure set
Burning down and turning grass to hay
A fiery heat like in our redhead’s eyes
When things broke up but it’s gonna be okay
Too young to Afghanistan
Too young to learn life’s that dirty
Too young to have to always gear up again
An old old woman before she made thirty

Did you see those high night sparkled skies
Space with just enough empty to hide all the shame
Stars breathless shining down on we the unworthy
Though not so for our redhead who lost the game
Too young to Afghanistan
Too young to sail in the Horror Sea
Too young to fight it over and over again
Another veteran shotgun betrothed to PTSD

Did you see how that sun did early rise
A fresh start promise of another new day
Like the love flowing in a nurse’s pure heart
Floating in a speed boat off a New Jersey quay
Too young to Afghanistan
Too young to become so old old
Too young even if she’s only just fifty
With a sad sad story too often again retold

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.

Where Are My Stars?

Where are my stars?
Why hath my comforting night lights left me
To blacked out windows in this small room
With not even full curtains to reel with the spring breezes;
Blinds keep the outside away and reflect my aloneness.
Leaded words with dissonant chording try, but fail
To stir thoughts of brighter days and warming evenings.
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.
The roof needs repair?
The steps brittly break and the animals snort their disdain.
Mothers hurry their kinder swiftly past the door.
In this late-March cold winds sink and lank rains linger.
Sore joints and crookt fingers lift but cannot reach.
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.
The tree killers have done their deed.
The cable lines are now safe to carry each and every thirty-minute fat show
With prospering inanities, but you can do better; if I may have a word—
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.

Dragons Need Slaying

Do you not see the day pass by?
Over the far hills, and what is more—
The stars and Moon now ruling,
Stole the sky made black; Ruin is in store.
Faraway glances promise change slow nears;
Saint Patrick rues cold the sordid green—
No religion lives to check nether impulses
And things worse than ever before are seen.
Everyone, everywhere, all about
Strives to complete their level best;
While dead heroes’ secrets wet the floor
Stout hearts fail and eschew any challenging test.
Half lies are retold by our complete fools
And the uncaring cast yet another pointless vote.
Sad, the oppressed embrace and brightly paint their chains;
Presidents for Life on all shores have us by the throat!
Who now dares deny the Emperor’s new cloak?
When will Truth return to freely warm our mise en scene?
Our better angels want to do their honest best.
While partiers don their 100-proof gaudy St. Paddy’s green.
Do you not know tomorrow will surely come?
The Sun will light house and yard, and think on what is more—
A fresh start presents to all to make Father proud.
Rise! Rise! Rise! Dragons need slaying here and upon the far shore!

Just Dance

Some poems are wine lyric
Two goblets Clos du Bois
Others are simple syrup
Just so much blah, blah, blah

Now some too-humble wrought lines—
An old wrenched heart softly pines

Heart-tears gathering inside
Aching to let go and fall;
Words mocking a conscience
Of feelings so cold t’would appall

Terpsichore blanches, and then wilts,
Suffers in her marble a new deep fault:
Who can answer for these deaths?
Young stars ripped from the celestial vault

Haruka and Meechaiel pas de deux—
What are we all ever going to do?

The pain lingers…
The words won’t come…
Broken thoughts slip chalky fingers;
The glib finally struck dumb

How to unsee a sunset?
How to unhear the rain?
Where do we put these feelings?
Where do we plant the pain?

A far lightening pirouettes across your glance—
Dance for Haruka, dear friends…just dance

A Simple Mind

In this place of tattered expectations,
The old novice at last did rise,
Hours before the dawn
When stars still ruled the skies.

Disdainful of mocking glances,
And all who’d dare criticize,
Piffle stooped to sit at table
To chance last night’s left over sprout pies.

When Master arrived after dawn,
The novices chanted their obeisance;
Twas aged beyond any reason
For such death defied any and all sense.

“You’ve nothing to fear at all!”
A grievous, now proved, lie oft told:
The young novice had been annihilated,
And Master’s now twice time too old.

But Piffle knew the dread secret
Of why PanWren had passed from life—
As he had chanted the dire incantation
His mind slipped to a memory of a wife.

Piffle swallowed hard at the held image
Of the foolish novice smoldering away,
Shattering the apprentice’s soft held thought
That today had been an ordinary day.

Escaping from his thoughts to the catacombs
The old novice took up his rusted quill pen:
“Treat not lightly with the Dark and the Dire
Or loved ones you won’t live to see again!”

The stars again claimed their kingdom,
Though sleep failed Piffle entirely—
The grounds grizzled raccoon high aloft,
Skittering a chant from the old Squire Tree:

“When thou doth play risk in life’s hocus pocus,
T’would much profit thee to never lose focus!”

Hoo!

The sun got shouted down,
Hollywood, darkly, filled the skies.
Tuesday never looked so rad.
Yessir, that actress does have some nice thighs.
Hoo, you wait!
Lord, doth my cancer itches!
You’d better keep me away
From all you sunsabritchches.
Course can’t ask her out—
I just know what’ll she’ll say:
“Yer talkin’ to me?
Hoo, baby, ain’t no way!”
Mulholland is calling;
The surf’s just about right;
Ever hang your ten
Over a weekday night?
Sunburnt teener cheeks
Smile up at the cent-sign Moon.
School starts week after next.
Hoo, weren’t just June???
Right THERE…
In the stinkin’ middle of my back…
Ahhhh, that’s it!
Lord, that’s good, and dats a fact!