If my hearing's weak,
Or I seldom speak,
Perhaps my mind may wander;
Don't overlook
My eyesight's fine,
I detect
Eyes roll and shift.

I know, I know,
I repeat myself,
Echolalia is my mantra.
At this age one forgets
Who heard his story,
Tsk. Tsk.
Such disrespect.
Ah, well.
What should I expect?
Did I call,
Or send a text,
Use Skype or Face?
I'll learn what's next.
Sometimes I use snail mail.
Sorry, memory fails.

You must admit
Your old man
Tells a story
Like no one can.
Stories drip
From my lips;
But given time
I'll learn to mime


The muscles relax,
One can't hold back;
Please tell me if I smell.
You may be bolder
If I make an error;
**** happens
When you're older.

My
life
passed
before
me....
and
I
wasn't
in
it.

If someone says, “And time stood still,”
Consider him an imbecile.
Time creeps, it flies, it disappears,
It changes seconds into years,
Consumes our life,
Each passing day,
And woe the soul
That’s in its way.

Time marches on, as if to war
Countless battles fought before
Why do we refuse to yield?
Lay down our helmet, sword, and shield
Is it so hard
For us to see
That time will claim
The victory?

Time overpowers the strongest men,
And laughs at those who try in vain,
To conquer time, for they will die
Not knowing when, or how, or why
Yes, we will die
While time endures
Time mourns no life
Not mine, not yours.

Time humbles strong, and kills the weak,
It laughs at those who dare to speak,
As if they understand its goal,
Time will extract its rightful toll.
No money spent
Can slow time down.
Time will have
The rich King’s crown.
Phil Lindsey 4/23/15

“I have loved you so much that I believe I understand you a little.”
Marcel Proust

we are wearing our glowing skins
full of unwoven whispers
or au contraire
we’ll have worn them
-who knows
in poetry, not in theory,
anything is possible-

one of us could say
“take this animal
out of my eyes, teeth, bones
for wild flowers
to grow in my sockets”
and I’ll say:
“for my eyelids to rest
in the shadow of your breath
and my vertigo, indigo
in the nest of your palm"

-words are just riverbeds-

see you - the sea in me
at the echo point
of blood

I’ll wear rivers
lipstick
bluebirds

in this poem of touching
every cell is spinning
its nucleus of *numinosum
while the day breaks open
into the heart of trees

-words are stones of silence,
unintelligible altars-

I was in love
with a vertigo man
last time I checked

blood has its madness

Tangled in love. Tangled in
his bedsheets. Arms on back
chest to chest. Lips to lips.
That's how they kissed and
kissed. The clouds above in
the sky didn't hesitate and
ask why. The angels above
awed and cried. Tears of joy
and love fell down on them.
The flowers giggled and
gossiped. While the summer
grass outside danced gently
from the left to to the right.
Promises were said in the
language of kisses in bed.
His body was explored with
her hands and tongue as if
he was a shipwreck that was
long gone and she went back
to find the lost treasure just
like in the stories and myths
that were told over centuries.
For his eyes were gems. His
arms were gold. His beauty
looked better than shimmering silverware and pearls. He's
the lost treasure that she claimed
will be hers till the end of time.
For his love drove her insane
and blind. And she found that completely fine. "I'll love for an infinity" she said. "I'll marry you
for that sweet little heart caged
in that chest of yours and keep
you mine. And darling your
beauty will be to blame" he
replied* ~

I've weighed the pranks:
Pulling out a chair;
Flooded fairways;
Skunky beer;
Onion candy apples;
Mayo in cream-filled donuts;
Lubricating jelly in handwash;
Polyurethaning soap;
Baking soda in ketchup bottles;
Flushing while the shower's in use;
Sending a welcome card on behalf of your friend to Kingdom Hall;
Eliot was right,
Snow in April is the cruelest.

As I get older
I would rather be
         Independent.
Than in
         Depends
It all Depends
         After all
So far
         Sooooooo good.