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 Oct 2016
hunched over, a brown-skinned army,
picking, the field soon to be stripped of its bounty;
they will move to the next one, fast,
before the fruit falls to the ground

"los ninos, los viejos tambien"
the young, the old ones also help, though
they are slower and tote less a load  

when the day is done, they build fires
for the frijoles, and to keep the night's spirits
at bay; they sleep in the shanties, the sheds
the master provides  

the next day will be the same, though maybe
not as hot--maybe a rain will give them respite
from their labors  

a gentle, short shower they pray,
for a storm might lay ruin to the crops, the treasure
they borrow only long enough
to basket and truck

not even a cloud visits the white sky
so the stooping, the loading drags on without relief
but from the north, a cool wind does blow

in it they hear a voice without cords vibrating,
yet one that speaks a language their hearts know well,
telling them their toil is to be brief, yet eternal: that winter
only whispers now, but soon commands all to rest
susurros en el viento translation: whispers in the wind
 Sep 2016
they came
together to celebrate his life

how he made it this long,
he wondered; he saw them poking endless candles
into the white cake in front of him

behind him, his daughter
hand on his shoulder, insisting he have all ninety
instead of two fat wax digits "90" wedded,
a lone wick on top

ninety on June 6, 2016
he gave little thought to past birthdays
he forgot most, except one burned clear
in memory--his eighteenth, when
he landed on that beach

the sands and surf of his dreams for
three score and a dozen years since, eyes open,
or shut tight in deep sleep, he recalled that shore: someplace
between light and dark, between breath and air;
he saw the blood, he heard the cries,
he remembered his heart thumping

more than that he recalled jumping
over bodies on the beach, now beyond his reach
he could see only vague shapes of them--men
with whom he spent months sharing meals,
smokes and secrets

in all these long years,
he never understood why he received
not a scratch, while those only feet, even inches
from him were eviscerated

now, as ninety lightning years
flashed then flickered before him, he closed his eyes,
to ensure this waking dream was real

and those around him, singing, were not the angels
of death he eluded so long ago
 Aug 2016
you were born in Denver
during a white out blizzard

like all round babes,
you had no clue, what was in store for you
you couldn't have known...

you would be
the last nickel to ***** through
a five-cent coin phone box,
in El Paso, Texas

or that you would sleep
for a year in a piggy bank,
of a boy named Felipe, who would die
of white blood cancer, before
he could spend you

and who would have thought
you would be in the linty pocket
of a serial murderer named Ray, when
he was captured in Santa Fe, a sunny day
on the ancient square, stalking
his next victim

a jailer used you that very night
with a twin of yours he found in
another picked pocket, of a drunk drifter,
to buy a Hershey's bar, from a machine
that would have taken a dime as well

your face began to show the fingered
signs of age by the time the choppers found sky  
above the Saigon Embassy, where you had spent
an aching April night in the Ambassador's pants

when you turned a half century, you were tossed
into a gallon jug, e pluribus unum, no more special
than others a third your vintage

I finally met you today, only because chance landed you on
the top of the heap, waiting to be saved from further folly
 Jun 2016
Paul Hardwick
Let me split the words down for your mind

Space is room
Space is the distance from there to here
Space is your room, your head
Space is what you conceive for you
Space is all you think to be true
Space is distance
Space is small
Space is no Space at all
Time is Man Given
just to explain space
and the time we spend there
who we meet
those we love
those we don't
is no time at all.
True   Love P@ul. ***.
 May 2016
eunsung aka Silas
heart beats                              brain stops
thoughts quiet                       heart sings
a new song                             free of fear
life grows anew                    with heart free
I was experimenting with spacing and abstract free association.
 May 2016
white winged water walker
filled my dreamy head
sliding, gliding on shimmering glass
far from my land locked bed

once a child and filled with awe
my visions shamelessly bold
a water walker I would be
and straw could turn to gold

but spinning orbs wash one with age
and weight one's wings with years
flights of endless prowess
are grounded by groundless fears

yet when blind night blocks the light
and one's mind is free to explore
childhood's chirping vision
is again allowed to soar
 Feb 2016
Paul Hardwick
Is it desire?
Is it a feeling that grows and grows?
Is the passion you feel?
Is the emotional surrealist?

Of    L    i     f              where is that ******* E

So hard to find

Of    L    i     f      
Of    L    i     f

Of    L    i     f
Of    L    i     f
Of    L    i     f
Of    L    i     fE

Of    L    i     f      E.
Boom!  Zonck!  Pow!

this can from the Art of Pop
 Jan 2016
Paul Hardwick
seams no one
who will hold my hand
as I fall
as my legs have become old
however my mind is not at all
I am only rich in life
and on a good day
my eyes will see
I am always right
please do not frown
It's true for me
for I am wiser than you
in time it will change
but the past will alway's return to me
I am better than me
Better than you.
Boo .  Love P@ul.
 Jan 2016
Paul Hardwick
Hang my shell
on that there tree
and before you do
let me say this to you
some one said
he knows
he knows nothing
but in nothing he really knows.
True Story  with LoVE. from me, who knows nothing at all. ***.
 Dec 2015
Paul Hardwick
....................................Did You know her Name.

 Dec 2015
Paul Hardwick
Tick Tock
around the clock
hands keep passing me by
I just care for you
and there's nothing any one can do.

But the flowers
still bloom in winter
under the limited sun
and that is there universe.
True  P@ul.
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