someday we’ll meet/(the agenda)
in the flesh,
touch elbows,
staying masked
investigate each other’s
eyes;
discuss
rock ‘n roll
choices,
favorite
anything;
no need
to start falling
in love
with you.
unmasked!
we been there,
we done that.
so,
everybody knows,
that’s
old news!
p.s. yes babe, that’s the truth
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 10:48 AM UTC
how can it be,
the mathematicians,
the statisticians,
can so well predict
the curvature of my day;
is my life so impoverished,
so undifferentiated, my course;
the climb, the leveling, the
ultimatum gliding, a summary
path to an unremarkable landing
probable outcomes of my
statistical profile so calculable;
my dreams, their peculiarities,
essences, massaged into conformity
hatch plot, deceive, it’s cool,
write a poem, unpredictable,
who could foretell, this scheme,
let’s keep a secret, tween us only,
cover the keyhole, so their eye
cannot peak inside the you and I,
two twice ten thousand indecipherable,
writer and reader, we one, inseparable
only we can decode the true meaning
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 12:43 PM UTC
to the edge and back (inverted diversion)
——————————————————-
*your life may throw you curves,
mine, straight edge blades,
lines galore, like sidewalk cracks,
jumping from safe to safe place
but always teetering tottering on
edges, like verses in the next poem,
trying to make it just to the next line
without falling in cracks, China bound
you can follow my lead, don’t though,
if I could, would willingly plunge, deeply,
for there is no safety in safe spaces, only
in the holy dark, cracks is the true safety
you seek, where poems roll on a highway
like Reno tumbleweed, humble before snow
capped mountains, these are the contrasts
where you birth procreations, poems yours
and mine die in childbirth,
returned to sender,
returned for retuning,
despair not, they’re coming
back to this world
guises in a different colored skin,
a different alphabet, script,
the meaning yet unchained and
unchanged, despite the*
inverted
diversion
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 9:05 AM UTC
those who created wind and water had many reasons,
but their first purpose was to constant enliven the human mind
with the softest message that true freedom is never bounded
nature’s song is refrained, “man, be unrestrained,”
nature’s majesty is then greatest, for men fool
themselves with lines, divisions and walls.
Earth’s best, humans too, best seen in its
unconstrained, searching character.
this is the one, only truth.
12:07am Sun Jul 12
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 12:08 AM UTC
the thin line between poet and:
******** artist
is so thin,
it is almost,
almost,
invisible.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 2:01 PM UTC
while out walking...on a SUNday afternoon...
*the senses five have vacated the premises,
sun doesn’t rhyme with June or moon BUT,
two out of three say get thee to liberty child,
go outside, find the mottled color rabbit and
smell the light, its scent arrives with hints of
old lyrics, huckleberry friend, feet humming to
let the sunshine in with “visions of harmony and
understanding, sympathy and trust abounding”*
*so you see the writing comes hard, but the knees
promise with every step to return, recur, recapture
each pleasing flag and line, every odor, all the perfectly
nonsensical so that a walk is a poem, an exercise in
harmonious...that a drifter like me, vague remembers
someone singing, like him, that he is:*
“off to see the world,
there’s such a lot of world to see
we’re after the same rainbow's end,
waitin' 'round the bend” and a moon river...*
Jun 7, 2020
Jun 7, 2020 at 3:25 PM UTC
Declivity
noun: a downward slope
~
a perfect word for the world, the mood, the man.
stroke of luck, *** an email arriviste, word-of-the-days
all encompassing. what could go wrong, has happened,
only degree unknown remains.
don’t thing we can bend the curve twice, ours, and not
just the coronavirus, but the virulent state of the globe.
we are in a pandemic world, with plagues centuries old flaring.
disease revived of ugliness,and selfishness, so, wilding, and you
ask, where is God in all this, so I asked him...of course *****
has whimsically hit me back with an email containing this new
word of the day that summarizes where we fall, falling, felled,
signed ***
Use in a sentence:
The declivity, the angle of decline, steepens, and the human world, *** ***** even worse.
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
*displeased to report all my attempts
proven unsuccessful
*the poetry that forms yet mocks, gloriously,
all things that which avoidance was intended,
this stuffing, too tough to swallow, just surfaces ********** me,
appears unMasked, pushing, bullying to the head of the line*
*my will contravened, and now in review, poems suspected,
poetry was a wonderful, grand failure, to wit, escaping to
the fore, were the very words from which I sought relief, they,
didn’t escape my view, so when imprisoned, they were damning*
*words that arose from the gullet gorge, as you can espy verily,
verified words of little value, no truth, these them are the ones
I’ve come to despair + despise, hurtful to my eyes,
my escape not merely in vain, but rocks hurled,* so my escape foiled*
myself,
beneath buried
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC
who can hold the wind in his fist?
~for Ken Pepiton~
your poems full of hints and innuendo,
most of them I don’t get, of stuff, I don’t know, no clue,
my education impoverished, which is why lucky me,
I’m getting my viral signed check for 1200 bucks,
yes siree
but some college educated sharp eyed feller,
said look, see how Ken keen, has the bestus, the real tuff stuff,
hidey holed in the footnotes purposed for you to miss it,
**** he was right, cause I found what you hided!
<>
who can hold the wind in his fist?
*an inquisition worthy of a thousand answers,
my Roman slave cautions forbearance, whispering in
my one remaining unconquered Gauguin ear, just the best,
these time of times, hanging heavy, be sweet, leave out the chaff
*I, cannot *hold the wind in my fist,
for it has always befriended, going
over my life-coarsened skin,
through my-stubbled fingers,
cooling and christening, constant teasing kissing
as it was born anew, a first time poem,
it was meant to be unkept and unkempt*
*you might want to hold on, keep it, for its touch is indeed
that of a first time lady loved, savoring the cool,
and the heat simultaneous, no fool us, empowering,
the wind forever runs freely, between, never sticking,
going around my body, into my open orifices,
sometimes caressing, sometimes troubling,
its power leaving us atrembling, moved, straighter or bent over*
those who created wind and water had many reasons,
but their first purpose was to constant enliven the human mind
with the softest message that true freedom is never bounded,
nature’s song is refrained, “man, be unrestrained,”
it’s majesty then greatest,
men may fool themselves with lines and divisions,
Earth’s best best seen in its unconstrained, searching character
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC
***ramble on to your hearts discontentment
for as long as it is discontented
rambling will be the cure,
poems deep rock sourced,
from sorcery, for good!
as long as spoke, needy needed,
their wandering brick path is
the road to a content finale
she’ll alone recognize***
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 12:37 PM UTC