we used to be able to look around and fit in,
we did it to survive, yeah it kept us alive,
not wanting to be absorbed,
we did not or lose our identity,
we did not adopt the patterns,
of the religious or prestigious,
adaptation to a certain degree,
if we could not win it,
if we did not conquer it,
if we traveled, as was our nature,
we were reserved unless in the
heat of battle or DUI,
desiring* under* the influence,
we were womanizers and drunks,
unless we were sailing or battling,
eyes on the horizon and swords rattling,
but don't lose sleep,
we aren't cheap, no one
can afford an army like
ours nowadays, and
truly we were more than
an unruly mob, with helmets
axes, swords and a thirst for pointed
play, sharp wit and a bit of
****** and mayhem while
we slay the hours, so...
hand over your treasure,
or your life we rob and
drop it off before we get to
Valhalla, you are not invited.


©ClemC072013

does the ground freeze,
           in the winter,
does the ground drink
            all the snow,
as it cries, that winter
                     is over.

The sunlight does not
                   tell me
winter is fleeing swiftly,
         nor the moonlight,
just the tears of every
                    snowflake.

Mother Earth catches
            those drops
and keeps them as
              memories,
              precious to,
deep in her heart she
           holds each drop
until
the sky longs to whistle
a sad song and drink anything
that will become cloud tears,
dropping by the millions,
to
free fall
their way
to where
they began the journey, how
old is the oldest drop of moisture...
possibly as old as your first tear.
Mother...


©ClemC072013

In the whole sky as night comes,
It is half-lit, and it was nights
like this that we would sit around
a campfire, with park rangers
nearby, saying if it got any
drier or hotter we would
not be allowed a camp fire,
but we'd have our bucket of water
and our bucket of sand,
oak handled fire ax with in reach
First we would
chase down every spark,
that silhouetted against
the light blue night sky,
just after the sun had set,
wherever they would land,
and footprint them, into
oblivion.

That half-lit moon moved
further and further away
as the sparks we watched
closely, begin to show their
red embers, and we chase
them and stop them where
they would land, we would
brush them off our tent trailer
suddenly
then a log would heat up
let go with a volume of
noisy sparks from a
pocket of sap from
some overheated pit
deep inside and all
four of us would chase
them down, and those
would never come back
cause ours shoes showed
them the route to oblivion.

The camp would get quieter
as less people had fires or less
sparks that needing chasing
and across the glow we
would be facing each other
and know that this would
not last forever and we
would not know when we
would share our last fire
together, and it would and
did happen sooner than any
of us knew, it is the passage
of time and
oh beyond
oblivion there is an Eternity,
maybe we will gather
the four of us around a fire again.
Watching
sparks and not having
to chase them.


©ClemC072013

I thought it was knives or guns with bullets or bombs,
that injure, or maim or ****,
I have no ill will,
but somewhere,
across the ocean,
there is word,
I heard,
that a law,
killed someone
at the hands of a man,
tell me it isn't so,
as that is a place,
I will never go,
won't you join me?


©ClemC072013

Punched in plexus of the sun,
No wind in these sails inside me,
Wooden hull dashed against
heartless rocks,
No battle left, no where to run.

So I lie here.

So I lay down.

If, when I again raise my head,
Expression of pain,
Will it be judged by dread,
See me fetal, futile, trying
to  grasp the emptiness
that was
My next breath.

Black falling, as I fade,
who will take my place!
I will be replaced
I will be...
I will...

I will just start over
further behind with
further to go,

No kicking, I am still down.


©ClemC072013

No more safety,
breathing toxicity,
don't be hasty,
to live/love the city,
surround
yourself
with people
not relics,
surround
your
friends
with caring,
not social
media
or sharing,
stop liking
start loving,
we may not
be in a war
zone or may
be you need
to open your
eyes, depends
what you
recognize
as a casualty.

Too much rage,
that ain't sage,
too much hate,
won't dissipate,
too much crime,
happens all the time,
               all the time,
use your
arms to surround
a friend with hugs,
adios to the thugs,
say no to the d   s
not preaching
not teaching
just
reaching out
to all that is
human.

©ClemC072013

the brook wanders by the farmhouse,
an animal falls in, and cannot swim,
the brook does not know this,
the brook lets the animal struggle, it is tiring
the farmer sees the animal tumble in,
he checks to see it is not one of his, poor animal weakening
he knows he does not have to save it,
he too has more important things to tend,
a person in an ocean of people, (two or more)
wears masks to make them seem to belong,
they hide their struggle, from the closest ones
to them and from their co-workers, and family
as well,
all of who do not want to notice the battle,
they do not look beyond the mask,
it is not their business,
it would be rude,
it might take too much out of them,
that is right,
just ask the
brook and the farmer.


©ClemC072013

Black ink squirted in my eye,
Too close as he passed by,
Crusty barnacles, reachin' up and out,
Scratch my beluga belly,
swimming distracted,
always on demand,
dump me in the deep end of the ocean,
off of dry land,
Is the only solution, IF
you put me in a bind, with chains and anchors,
then I could escape the twenty four hour me, baby.

©ClemC072013

I am a beluga stuck on the ground,
My covered water body, sounding,
An echo to the sounds around us,
I move the water that moves, us
I am not shy, of passersby,
I love being me!
appetite for life,
devoured at my whim,
though I am a baby, small in this place.

©ClemC072013

I am a Beluga but stuck on dry land,
My thin skin the fish tank, where I feed,
On music,
On wonder, always aware of danger,
On dance,
On water, afraid of drying out like a stick,
On swimming,
On life, bring it on...baby!

©ClemC072013

have you ever wanted to wander off alone,
to find yourself bending to skip a stone,
across the water.

did you ever lay in a meadow and spy
a vulture watching you from up on high,
gliding across the sky.

now or never stand on a mountain top,
looking east, or west, south and north and stop,
to stare across time,

To appreciate,
the gift of life,
so who are,
you going to
share it with...a cross...

Red flashing lights on the beach,
Green cold liquid state around me,
     lake water surrounds my body,
sandy bottom down and away darkly,
  the water absorbs all the light starkly,
but we are looking for a swimmer lost,
the beaches, we checked
and the diving platform decks,
we searched the bathrooms of both sexes,
parking lot a lot, again we were vexed,
parents though, cried and filled with panic,
the search was organized, very mechanical,
until
in the shadow of
a deep sunken log
the eleven year old arm,
pale, body lying still
caught the eye,
of a big-hearted guy,
a strong guy named Joe,
who dove
and dove,
till he reached
the hand that was
reaching out...
to say goodbye.

They sounded so close, waves
flashback in my memory, of
a filled back seat circled by, cars
as the movie played on, speeding
us along until that moment goes, by.


©CLEMC072013

she dragged a clear bag,,
a patchwork of her clothes,
she held her hands behind,
her back, checking traffic,
to make sure all crossed safely,

ours eyes met, and I assumed
some things about her life choices,
we smiled at one another,
she recognized my thoughts,
and I looked away, all cars paused.

her blue coveralls, were extra
large and extra tall, she had the
cuffs tied and they
scuffed along the
asphalt like her
clothing in the
clear plastic bag,
the blue over-sized
jumpsuit was tied at
the waist, cropped hair,
gave her a girlish flair,
but she did not care,
twenty pairs of eyes
all stared, waiting for
to get out of the way

it was laundry day,
and she was going to
pay to wash the stuff
out of each piece she
owned, oh that smile,
said that I was right,
and she was okay
with it, as she was
off
for the night.

©ClemC072013

Walking ( ) birch trees,
knee deep ( ) crystalline flakes,
piled high on one another,
bright sunshine glaring,
white reflected light as
seen ( ) a birch bark slit
in the snow goggles,
being ( ) with winter is
not easy, when
winter is not ( ) with
stilling any liquid,
chilling any warmth,
filling the air with
silence ( ) and ( ) and
moisture
in the breath
moving slowly away
until caught on the
frosted breeze,
blowing ( ) the trees
covered in birch spots
and birch stripes.

Don't go barefoot in the snow,
if you have no where to go;
like a sauna, good for Flora and Fauna,

Don't run naked on the ice,
slipping is not to nice,
abrasions sting, make you sing, in the hot tub.

Don't live your life carefree,
or fuel your God given creativity,
dig your hole then be brave,
climb in to make sure if it fits
                        it is your grave,

after all

if you do nothing, nothing at all.

We would get to go across the snow,
We would get to run fast across the grass, laughing
We would get to wade to our knees in water
                                       and warm breezes,
We would get to kick high the drying leaves in piles,

That is when I was a child.

They would march in droves across snow and ice,
They would run fast into mayhem, across foreign grass fields, battle cries
They would push the long boats in water up to their knees
                                     bracing cold winds of journeys to discover,
They would get a kick out of conquest and ****** battles fought, for Valhalla
                                                    gates to open as smoke curled high and flames
                                                    fanned funeral pyres piled higher.


That was my ancestral family.

Not much has changed...?

Where is the warmth,
not of another human,
not of the parka,
fake fur wired rim,
to take
shape and protect from
the relentless wind,
that cuts and maims,
with minute particles of
ice that travel so far,
to cut and melt on your
face, sting your eyes,
bloodied and cold,
"too bad you shaved?"
you think
out loud
talking to
no one
but the cold,
the cold
that can't
hear you    for    the    wind,
that howls at your
trespassing,
still you walk,
crunching and
leaning into and
on all things the
cold has touched.

All is white and pure,
ready for a sacrifice.

If the cold could
bury you, and
embrace you,
it would if
you let it, go get it,
take it to the cold,
be a bold fool, lean
into the wind and howl
back.

But remember,
they are relentless,
they travel in pairs
cold and wind,
wind and cold,
and you are all alone,
and that is how they
will find you in the Spring
after the cold is gone for
a season, but the wind
will move over and
watch over you, howling.

don't believe me?
Just ask the cold.

A fjord is a mountain,
                 a fountain,
of splendid beauty,
that bubbles up ,
with laughter,
from the wind
moving trees, shrubs
land laps at the waters
edge which is
so generous with
LIFE  
teeming, with sea
LIFE
in water, that is
pure and clear,
and deep,
drag me there,
         to witness
         where
the water is so
cold and light
is so slight, sea
creatures move,
like,
still LIFE.

A baby,
a toddler,
a child,
learns first by;
undoing pieces,
tearing down,
taking apart,
all by heart,
then a child
assembles dreams,
then a toddler,
holds hands together,
then a baby,
makes a family,
with so much love,
it is my undoing.


©ClemC 062013

Night sky,
any dark sky,
with pointed
shards,
poking holes
in that fabric,
of the night,
of the unknown,
now bright,
now twinkling,
mischievous,
sharp hooks to
snag dreams,
and tear,
space, space,
                      space
that goes
out there,
and never
comes back,
the same,
but there are
those stars,
ripping holes
for the moon,
then the sun,
then back to
starry
night.


©ClemC 062013