Nights like tonight are the hardest;
Clear bluish black skies-
the deepest velvet cradling the full moon...
These nights are hardest, because I
still remember her silhouette
in silvery moonlight; My angel,
my darling, sleeping peacefully
as I cradle her close...
A dream come true, but now-
just a dream; One borne of
clear bluish black skies-
the deepest velvet cradling the full moon...
Nights like tonight are the hardest.

With lifeless eyes he forms the south side hand sign
Represent his neighborhood is all he know
No remorse for his actions banging on the other side
He got his dope in his pocket and his pistol in his waistband
He pulled his pistol aimed and fired shots with his left hand
Hot steel spiraled out the barrel of the gun
Empty shells and bodies hit the pavement
Elevating the crime rate he celebrates with his homies back on the south side
Lines of ******* being snorted off the stomachs of *****
With bloodshot eyes they scream south side
North siders come through gunning automatic weapons being fired
Screams of ****** echo through the night
Unable to return fire south siders lay dying
With lifeless eyes they form the south side hand sign

Written by Keith Edward Baucum

-

I tried to count the minutes
but I ran out of time
So I’ll just write this poem,
forcing out a rhyme

When will it start to happen
just like I’ve heard them say
Will it begin tomorrow
or several months away

The emptiness keeps growing,
this pain within my heart
I can’t believe the ending,
remembering the start

I just can’t stop the crying,
my face now drenched in tears
Staring at a future
filled with lonely years

How does it become easy
when all I want to do
Is wake up every morning,
a sunny day with you

But now my days are cloudy,
the rain keeps falling down
Where once I wore a smile,
holds nothing but a frown

Every day is different,
though all are just the same
I stare off to the distance
calling out your name

They say it will get easier,
just wait and you will see
I don’t want to see anything
if you’re not here with me

Life now has no meaning,
darkness comes to call
Weakness is my shadow
on my knees I fall

I tried, but I can’t say that
my broken heart is fine
So I’ll just write this poem
forcing out a rhyme

I woke up still dreaming,
A silly little seeming.
I dropped a cup upon your door,
And your mom to my wonder, beckoned me forth.

She asked questions I must confess,
My mind remembers not but my heart craves, even at rest.
She smiled down knowingly,
and in that, Moment, greedily,
My mind played tricks to give me reason
To find you again, to beckon forth
As if I was ever a prince. And you anything but, a nevermore.

Oh, such, poison, sickly sweet,
In those hazel eyes, and bountiful *****,
In your perfect hair and perfect smile,
That in my dreams a stranger convinces me, it's worth a while.

Oh, broken heart, still beating,
That even yet still needing,
Something from days best forgot,
From traumas that still burn hot.
Go away, I say. Find a new devil to ache.
Nay, nay. Nay.

Ah am I more scared to remember, or more afraid to forget?
And I may never find a lover, not one that's here,
I only look in the distance now.
She's the only one who can get near.
Just me and my regret.
Still just you. My Amanda Dear.

to eat more oats and drink less Barley
and plant more wheat and **** more duck
or walk more at sunrise and forgive more my
neighbor, I may need to be forgiven , and in
that quest I cast the first stone and forgive
that sum ***** I caught with my wife in the wheat field
sowing his oats and drinking barley
ducking the stones I cast his way
******* my wife
in the rising sun and the field
i owned

patterns pressed
in old vinyl
needle-scratched
pop and crackle
background noise
just genetic ambiance
old as the blues
smoky aftertaste
blessing     curse
lost fortune
lured fate
lessons earned
the hard way

long playing
at 33 1/3 rpm
I'm humming
no resistance
my will altered
I submit
to inevitable vacillation
accept ambiguity
as sweet song
lyrics unknown
an uneven melody
I can't deny
or disown

A  poet was given
a life sentence today.

He'll be going the way
of Bob Marley and Frank Zappa.

I saw him perform
over the last few decades.
Hip he was and always will be.

In the ranks of Canadian poets,
his peers being  Gordon Lightfoot,
Leonard Cohen and Mister Neil Young.

He wrote about the Canadian Prairies,
about New Orleans sinking and nautical disasters.
All with soul and intellect.

A friend said,
"You didn't have to
Know know know him
to love love love him".
And that's true.

With a heavy heart I ponder the noon news.
I recall the day I heard of John Lennon's ******.

The only time I ever cried
over the death of a celebrity.

Thoughts and prayers out to you Gordie,
and your family and friends.

Ironically tragic for one so Tragically Hip.

Alone in this silent desert, burned indelibly by sun
after the call, after the blue, red fall of flames
here, after the dancing scorch of fire
I am left to the smouldering doldrums of desire
this bed, now an empty space, a wordless, lifeless place
here, where I have slowed, my movement stagnates
the memories, the sheets - they suffocate
some days feeling so trapped by love
I can only think to run, think how to untangle again
still some days I dream a life with you
in colorfully painted, magnificent hues.

let's all revel in the duplicity
duplicate posts that lack authenticity
authentic thoughts fall to the simplicity
simple minds are guilty of complicity

a new origin of no originality
original thinking crushed by formality
formal rules lead to our commonality
common perspectives to lower our mentality