Fourth of July Sparklers

we can barely open our eyes
from the humble pain of acidic sunlight
our brains numbed by its robbing our sleep
unsettling our brows, causing disenchantment

time passage dares our superstitious beliefs 
like other upsetments counted in threes 
let the clock tick loudly our resentment
bringing some briskness back in the breeze

no one blames us for what we are not doing
why you do not like us is more absurd
human error maims innocent victims
interaction avoidance stows our sterility

we need not wait to be forgotten after death
forgotten we have been from our very first breath
write not for anyone's enlightenment but our own 
so long as she needs me she will find me at home

how many Facebook hits will thrill us?
how many bong hits will fulfill us?
how many road trips heading home
until the road becomes home and home is a tomb?

so pick me up, Joe, on Tara's portico
sleep like an opium-eater in Savannah 
under the willow tree, cobwebbed and heavy
cannot get it up in the back seats of Chevys

the ides of summer, soft and delinquent
three typhoon daisy-chain causing excitement 
open eyes wider for Fourth of July sparklers
then shut them tighter awaiting tomorrow 

7-4-15

much has life been waylaid subordinate to love

much has life been waylaid 
subordinate to love
yet whose lament regrets
having no significant shove
wonders he of the sights 
along the road not taken
future better seen 
in the palms of your hands shaken

nuance and notes
that make old wine fantastic
care not of bottle labels
snazzy bombastic
new is every sip 
fermented in the heart
missed vineyards 
reachable when lovers take part 

snoop around, march around 
make an awful fuss
when unsure backtracks leave
love scent in the rust
moving forward 
hands can be in hands found
pissed away starvation
follows those who get around

do your dearest, dearest
lovely in the mood
life led astray
missing bones for good
tenderize me with your kisses 
near my whispered ear
gone today along the way 
that egos rightly fear

forward looking backward
plans we met that night
left others blind in dusty roads 
missed us out of sight
when scoundrel made 
you strayed fighting for your life
spit tonic sewer water
sacrificial wife

no road left we cannot walk
together every day
lead us be where we are going
must be on our way
fly fly velvet butterfly 
make our lullaby
compensate us for the loss
that saved us from the lie

7-2-15
updated 12-8-17

ours is the sky light blue

ours is the sky light blue
          behind puffy white clouds
for us tall blades of grass green swish
          leaning with the breeze

barking dogs hint at annoying obstructions
      
we long to be soaring birds 
                                                catching thermal winds
          but we are tiny sparrows frantically slaving against it

             force me higher to uninhabited forest spires go
                                                                                                   
there 

                     you proud car drivers 
                     burning rubber tires 
                     helpless government
                     taxes for destructive rockets

don't bother me

                                              mountain tropics are my witness
                                              river waters carry quickness
                                              from the dregs downtown
silted  corporate seas
                                                            ...of eroding humanity 

6-27-15



         

Actions Taken or Restrained

actions taken or restrained

chances faking this understanding

harmony brews naturally

prolonging fermentation

growing big and strong

letting leaves and buds get along

for the days we raise our glasses to toast

and pass the dutchie to the host

built-up energy float and float

reaching the inner groove in a leaky boat

without getting stuck on twigs through songs

until someone else comes along

overtakes the faking

leaves you out alone like an actor baking

without a breeze that dispels the dusty red dust

of wild habits or rituals 

in conformity distrust

6-23-15

All Washed-Out

all washed out 
from my hair to my shoes
the color is bleached
from opinions and views

youth has dissolved
what i had learned
will not feel the heat
until they get burned

my white hair sparkles
with Tinkerbell dust
lets me safely through
that old red rust

everything is out of me
i have used it up myself
my store of tricks is empty
there is nothing on the shelf

you passed me by and left me flat
i would be sprawled out on the street
if not for provisions provided i
when life was full and sweet

if you were shot they would not come
to search me in my home
"he is much to old to pull the trigger"
the cops would leave me alone

yet i can pass through any keyhole
when others lose their key
and float through you with revelations
you could not even see

i ride my washed out bicycle
through brilliant greens and blues
a world of wonder full of thrills
if you would see the news

for washed-out beings are all-seeing
void of pigment lush
travel farther, give a bother
and do not miss life in a rush

6-14-15

Empire with the Erie Canal

Empire with the Erie Canal 
greed through commerce drowned simple people
sacking earth's resources into hands of the few
impoverishing workers into wage slavery
states united undivided
from the Great Plains to the Appalachian Range
major undertakings taking natives under
industrial imposition revolutionaries wonder
when it was imperial to block the movement west

for well-connected colonials canals meant fortunes
Washington's land and wealth were presidential 
the Potomac Patowmack Canal Company his
so trade would pass Mount Vernon and not Montreal
friendly American fathers engorged themselves
at the expense of natives and squatting homesteaders 
to make their own empire
from sea to shining sea
it had nothing to do with you or me

"a canal to the moon," was the outcry
greed with territorial binds that tied us
leaving us stateless realities in rich men's dreams
through the Mohawk Valley it would gleam 
without the republic that Jefferson schemed 
eerie Erie banal Canal
landed aristocrats profited well
deeply did slave-laborers dig into hell
commercial adventure enterprise sell

to be continued...

Keeping the Faith

only summer's return 
lets me keep the faith in the day,
southern winds at my back
pushing the bicycle forward,
dappled clouds of content at noon
merge into rains that brew
storms of whispering cloudbursts
that wet the ground and vanish like that.

i keep the faith with the sun returning.

remove socks and sneakers
to tan feet up to the ankles.
outstretch legs into the sunshine.
remove a t-shirt to brown my chest.
horizontally lay to flatten breasts
letting light reach under cleavage.
when riding up the Han River feeling dandy
all is well in Arabian Nights.
moonshine shines on Black Oak Arkansas
as faith is kept like in years before.
faith will be kept in summer evermore.

6-5-15