Through choking depths of unseen sights
Turns a fabled fish mid swim
And he feasts on any beast he likes
Does the mighty briny king
Forgotten to the world of men
Just a story on the lips
Of fishing folk that love to send
A shiver through the ships.
My uncle insists that he accepted God into his heart
when he was six years old.
His daddy was a preacher too,
his momma stickthin red-headed submissive
he remembers them as lovely folk, but he was lonely.
Art did not exist back in those days
neither did color television, sometimes the sunshine
raised too much hell for babes to go outside.
He was lonely, he insists,
he knew that he did not belong on Planet Earth
if the universe was a legitimate thing (nobody knew
for sure in those days).
He decided to believe in God like his daddy
at the promise that Jesus would ride him on a rocket
ship to Mars or Heaven or something
after his body staled,
but I argued that he must have wanted to be dead
sooner than his time
because space and Heaven are really great things,
he must have wanted to kill myself for them.
I did not believe him until he told me that
mental hospitals did not exist back in those days
else they would have put him in one.
Somehow he turned seventy last week, still breathing.
In the ghastly dark of autumns rise
A gentle fog reached through the skies
And rested over glen and dale,
To seek out the shades night would avail.
Red stones were damp from recent rain,
That failed an iron weather vane
Which flaked its whispers to the dust
Of almost seven years of rust.
Distant birds he could not see
Danced branch to branch, and tree to tree,
As fires blazed and embers flew
From chimneys old and chimneys new.
And the rats, they tripped the thoroughfare-
Their black-tipped noses in the air,
Their whiskers bent into a night,
That never shared the morning light.
This era had begun anew,
And London town was growing too!
Expanding ever high and low,
For a London not afraid to grow.
Victoria was now the Queen,
And her Britain was a grand machine.
Industry and trade would be
But even Victoria, in her regal state,
Was ill prepared to expediate
An answer quick, and wise, and fair,
For a public who was unaware.
As the light fog draped the carrefour,
Where stood a businessman...and little more.
The day had surely took its toll,
Enough to task the heart, the soul...
When it jumped the railing of the dead,
And swept the gloaming overhead,
To land with but a thudding blow
Upon the dampened street below.
The thing was large and tall, a shadowed fiend,
Unnatural ears, an odd machine,
With horrid eyes, darkened and red.
As though it were a demon in its stead..
And the businessman stumbled, aye,
In the shadows long, dark and gray,
Until the demon skirled fair and leapt,
Into the night where all dark things are kept.
Still, lore and legend have their way
Of saying what they want to say...
They search for flesh and fertile soil,
Within our paltry, mortal coil.
In all the pubs the story traveled clear,
From face to face, and from ear to ear.
Of a dark in the night, and of eyes that would glow
Deeper than the evening winds can blow.
And Barnes Common never shared the same
Calm that bared its common name.
As a myth and lore seeped through every crack,
Of the legend they called Spring-heeled Jack.
Mary Stevens, they say, walked cautiously,
Down the narrow roads of Battersea,
She had just visited her Mum, her Dad,
And had lingered no more than a tad,
And against the cold, unnatural chill,
She started back up toward lavender Hill
Where Mary worked as a servant hire,
Even the humble folk admire.
Though it was late of eve, and dark of night,
With a moonfall wide and fair and bright,
Clapham Commons seemed a shard, a dart,
When Mary Stevens drew a start,
A something tall, and strong, and dark
Leapt from the shadows gray and stark,
And held her tight, in deaths embrace.
It even tried to kiss her face.
It tore her clothes, it touched her skin.
Such strength it had, so laced with sin.
T'was cold, t'was clammy, like something dead.
And oh, young Mary screamed with dread.
And that's when, oh, it leapt up high.
It disappeared into the sky.
And though neighbors searched and searched around,
The demon soul could not be found.
Though on the following day, a Coachman said
Twas not for fate, he'd sure be dead.
For a beast leapt before his carriage ride,
And if it weren't for fate, he'd have surely died.
The beast escaped into the sky
Jumping e're a wall over nine feet high.
While babbling a haunting, ringing howl,
A laughter feigned and bent and fowl.
End of Part 1 & 2
To Be Continued:
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
the streets that whisper names,
through lace curtains
people play their parlour games
sneaking looks from behind Gothic scripted leather bound books and overstuffed chairs
where snuff is taken and sherry drunk
and tea biscuits dunked in warm Earl Grey
and another day begins in mill house town.
Locomotives sweating steel feel their way
across the bridge
to Morecambe bay
where there's a different class of folk
used to smoke and steaming coal
to steam the fish within the bowl.
And the bowl is either empty or it is not
never in between,
Like the life we live a lot is never seen
but talked in murmurs on street corners
by former miners
free creative thinking men who know to use the pen and not the sword but they're starving all the same
all in the name
We see it differently
a heresy that's being perpetrated to dislocate and disengage and put poor people in a cage.
In the zoo you'll come to see
democracy through iron bars
Tsars that's what these suited tyrants are
well suited to the task in hand
to strip the land of all its wealth
and let's not forget the National health which is good enough for me and you
they'll feed us anything here in the zoo.
Bupa now that is super for the supermen and ladies too who come to visit on Saturdays at the zoo.
I don't know what to do
should I laugh or cry or demonstrate
or have I left it all too late?
What a God damn awful state we're in
It's one for all or bugger all and then we'll fall
into the straw
strewn scantily across the floor in cage 3b
I see but can't decide
have I died and gone to hell?
only time will tell.
The choir girls on rooftops sing
songs of thanksgiving in
while the children dance
in vibrant gyrations
underneath the olive trees.
A fire burns while people cheer and chant,
and folk songs flutter like ash.
The sparks fly as burnt wood collapses
and the king takes his throne.
He addresses his court
with eager voice
that echoes across the fields
and all eyes and ears are keenly fixed
on his majesty.
"My people, my friends,
my enemies, my lovers -
from all lands far and wide -
will you open your eyes
and see your live like this?
There is no bloodshed or death
and I can see your lungs expand with each breath.
Now, please fill your cups
with the strongest of wines
and let music ring
with the loudest of chiming.
Let peace fill your souls
and love cloud your minds.
Lay down your swords,
pax et concordia
for love is the strongest of wards."
Eighty dollar Cuban cigars
and a seat on the Board.
what on Earth did you do to deserve all of that
Who's yanking your chain
who's pulling your cord?
Suddenly life seems so flat.
Dog ended days
Chips cut with corn or with maize
the life of the lowly
slowly I am beginning to get the gist
of the things I have missed
and I see things must change.
In this City
I can see disparity.
factions on the margin
Verging on obscenity.
So should we all be stars in cars
have cigars with
fast women swimming through
in a boardroom grinning to, the poor folk
who's winning the war
what is life for if not for the promotion of wealth?
and all other means necessary.
A pessary for Pilate
for where the sun doesn't shine
on this hit parade the weather's just dandy and fine
or it will be
when I get
Reserve me a seat on the board
attach the chain and the cord
For my Enchanted Woodland Fairy
Who is so very sweet
She always encourages me
With the sweetest of words
She loves me and I her
She has little fluttering wings
And she has a crown of rosebuds
Sitting upon her pretty hair
Today is my Fairy's Birthday
She will eat the most sweetest cake
And drink the most wonderful honeysuckle dew
With her lips of cherry
She kisses the flowers sweet
She weaves the most prettiest gowns
For the other little Fairy folk
Who use those gowns to dance in
Under the Enchanting Moonlight
That dances through my bedroom at Night
She is a sweet Fairy with a pretty
Her has the prettiest ringlets
That I ever did see
She dances through the rain and through the snow
And yes, you've guessed it
Her name is Adreishka Moonlight Luciano
We approached the counter, side by side,
To request our warm fulfillment.
I said, “Ladies first.”
And, with a trickle of a smile, she said, “I’ll have a café breve.”
The words left her lips in a solid, confident tone, yet they brushed my ears like a whisper.
I must have ordered the same, because that is what I got.
And we sat down in the plush brown chairs and she let her amber hair free from its tight bun.
And we sat. And we spoke.
I spoke of nothingness, I’m sure.
For that is what I remember – nothing.
But she spoke of her dreams, her future plans, her summer plans, her favorite colors and why they were the prettiest .
And though it was casual and carefree, I couldn't help but be bewildered by the beauty she bore.
And we did this all as we sipped our drinks, gulping down the vague design in the coffee and steamed milk.
And, setting down her mug, I noticed she’d left a smear of crimson on the edge.
And as I stared at the lipstick settled on the rim, I quietly took in the rest of our surroundings –
The frosted windows,
The scent of fresh coffee and pastries,
The lonely barista, who was currently changing the background music CD from folk to smooth jazz.
And as the music began again, so did she.
And the whisper of her voice was like the whisper of the cymbals,
Ringing in time to the beat of the song.
and so, what do we see?
Their planet is third from the source
That it still takes sunlight 8 minutes and 20 seconds to reach Earth
So, they're not as koodauzled yet
Thus, stable (for now)
Despite the polar melts and atmospheric fumes....
Stick-like appendages still grow out of extensions
At the end of long, dangly limbs
With hard yet pliable, translucent growths at end
To use for countless tasks.
They still consume: plants....and animals
No change there.
Yet, now ....less subsistence
More modified products to eventual detriment.
They engage in warfare, of all kinds
Air, ground, mental, cyber, chemical....
No end to barrage of senseless acts
Violence is slippage as means to commune.
Some figures more gaunt than others
A kind of poverty of the inside duels external opulence
Deep clutter and subsequent wasting
Twisted fragments of utter decay increasing.
More enterprising ventures in communication
From lightbulb to phone to pads
Neat advancements in technology and science
From many kinds of wheels to flight.
Their offspring subject to long years in learning
To maintain (by rote) their disproportionate rules and ready values
Propping equations and formulae into heads
Castaways on a rickety boat in a deep sea of confusion.
Amidst beauty of their art in all forms
Of dance and music, visual and written
Other forms of entertainment are demeaning to some
Mind-numbing staring and raucous outbursts.
Figures of peace reduced considerably
Voices erstwhile strong and fearless, full of candour and truth
Now, fashionable puppet-sticks of media
With regurgitated rhetoric a-spew.
Mother Nature and geriatric folk not as cared for
Neglected and (..)used
How long before this greed catches up....
Afore progeny be heirs to blight.
We see not....
Not nearly enough.
We long to reach out and touch the centre of their being
And share fruits of universal wisdom
And steer all away from adversity.
Yes, we long so
For them to see.....
All so easily done....but
They are not yet ready.....but
We will continue to observe
They know not we may be among them
to return on the Aurora in a few light-seconds
S T, 6 May 2013
(dedicated to outridin' light)
as Mr. Lintnaar (my ol' Math teacher:) used to say
just a silly poem, is all.
A must-see film (if only the introduction) ......"The Gods Must Be Crazy"
/ / /
One light year (a measure of distance, not time) = 365 x 12 x 4 x 3 x 30 x 7 x 24 miles
The sun is 93 million miles from Earth (or 149 668 620 km)
Earth to Alpha Centaurus (closest star system to our sun) = 4,3 light years
/ / /
Speed of light = 186 000 miles per second
One mile = 1,6 kilometres
1 light minute (the distance it takes light to travel in one minute) = 17 987 547.5 kilometres
1 light year = presently defined to be equal to precisely 31557600 light-seconds
/ / /
((((((((((: thank you for reading :))))))))))
A HOMELESS MAN WALKS INTO THE ROOM
And no, this isn't the start of a joke
Just pondering aloud in front of you
My fellow deep thinking folk
HE HEADS DIRECTLY FOR YOU
I know what I would think
He's not asking because hes hungry
I'm probably buying him a drink
THE OUTCOME IS SO OBVIOUS
I'm sure by now I'm looking to see
If I have anything to give him
Because thats what he' going to ask me
I KNOW I CAN SPARE THE CHANGE
Or maybe I do have a light
If thats what he needs and I have it
Of course I'll do whats right
OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT I'LL LEARN FROM THIS
Proving I'm not the judgmental kind
Without hesitation I'd dig out a dollar
And push all other prejudice behind
BUT LIFE LESSONS ARE OFTEN LEARNED ACCIDENTLY
And although some come easy others may not
You may learn what is right
Despite everything you thought
LIKE THIS LESSON OF ASSUMING
That we may learn from this man of doom
When you realize he only has to pee
And your blocking the restroom