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Jul 2012 · 1.7k
Cotton Canoe
Curt A Rivard Sr Jul 2012
As I sit in pure delight
At my mentors desk I write.
Haven’t had but a handful of words
Together we shared in the past few weeks.
I been afraid I had rubbed his feathers the wrong way
But today I found out everything is ok
Because he asked me to stay
Looking out from the office and through the hall
I peer out the front double door.
Getting a true sense of what my life
Can become if I stay on the path
And I follow the heavenly one.
Patiently I wait left all alone
Waiting for the lady to make her rounds with the green slips
And to show her face, the one with the butterfly
On the nap of her neck she will bring two slips today.
In this motel today we have two new guests
They slept together in there cold room all weekend long
One zipped shut in a bag, the other wrapped up
In a ***** fitted sheet wearing a hospital gown
How sad it looked as it was stretched over his face and then his feet
Exposing his left hand and his lower legs like being in a cotton canoe
This was the second time I saw two at once
My first guest I got to meet had an odd name
And today there’s another with just the same
On a first name basis I want to know them all
These works are for them when they fall.
How honored I feel sitting in this home
As if it were one of my own
I love the trust for I feel I am a lucky one
I am learning things faster than the speed of light
And I’ll always carry them all long into the night
After the final exam and a node of the head it is check out time.
Tonight I will make myself a cotton canoe

(CARSr. 7-02-12)
Jul 2012 · 1.7k
Stuck in Limbo
Curt A Rivard Sr Jul 2012
What is real and what is not
All my life I’ve always had dreams
So profound that I find myself stuck.
I pray at night that I be given visions,
I pray at night that I be given answers to life’s mysteries,
And I also pray at night for the path I must follow
Be laid out for me like a blueprint.
In my dreams I can smell, I can taste
I do mathematical problems and the answers are always correct,
I tell the truth and I even lie.
I dream so much that I’m beginning to think
That when you dream that is real life
And when you’re awake you’re really in a dream.
I had a vision once that Stonehenge isn’t a time piece,
It really was doorways for the twelve apostles from the Bible
To meet up at the appointed time
And then to go be with the maker of it all
I had another one before that the asteroid belt
Was just like the game children play in the dirt
Drawing a circle and then trying to knock each other Out of orbit
What I saw it was like two planets smashing like flicking marbles
And the tremendous impact caused all the debris
To be caught in a gravitational pull between Mars and Jupiter.
My visions if written in an earlier time
Could have saved the one who was burned
At the stake and in return would take us all out of the dark ages.
My latest dream last night which caused me to write this was a vision of,
I was in the upper parking lot at the Canadian French Club in my town
And people were gathering all around in a heavy congregation
Next a station wagon pulled up and two medical examiners got out
With jump suits on and patches on their backs saying just that
As they approached the lakes edge I then knew what time it was
And then suddenly a woman with fishing pants on to keep her legs dry
Was caring a man who was blue, cold and clammy
And looked like a large rubber doll in her arms out of the lake
To the shores edge, I then approached and had to have a touch
As the body was dripping with cold water
The lady than took his right hand and began to
Swing his arm fast in my direction flicking water upon my face
And then she said to me, now you have been baptized.
My favorite dreams are the ones where I pre meditate a plan
And then execute it to perfection.

(CARSr. 6-28-12)
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Writing poetry will be a lifetime challenge for me to try and conquer. With Credits in Poetry among other accomplishments I truly respect the gift I have been blessed with. A talent that involves attempts to portray a picture through a sequence of letters in there very special order.
At the tender age of 16 I learned of my first family death, Grandpa Ralph and exactly 1 week later my grandmother Mildred who my mother took in and I was chosen to make sure she got her coffee, breakfast along with her medicine and other meals all day. I had to give up a summer of going swimming and other things that a kid my age wanted to do just to keep here company but I learned something so valuable at the same time and that was, I learned how to crochet, learned about birds, and learned to respect the elderly. To this day I still carry those values even to the point of even walking into a old folks home to just talk to strangers and even if I have to pretend to be their own family member so be it because I would like for someone to do just the same for me even if I didn’t know what was going on.
It was due to a brain tumor that took my grandmother away after Christmas that year and I remember it still ever so well when I woke up to go to work at the family’s bakery and my mom told me what had happened and everything that was to follow. My grandmother was the first of many I had saw lying ever so peaceful. I even gave her a kiss and I could feel that it was a warm one that I gave her.
Death throughout the many years now have taking on a new role. A role that should I believe be more up close and personal. Calling hours I think should be done in the family’s home where the deceased can maybe feel more comfortable being among everything they ever knew and among the ones that they loved and vice versa.
I have always wanted to be remembered centuries to follow my death. It seems the only way to accomplish that is to die either famous or infamous. Like the pope in Rome I to want to be laid out in estate for all to come and pay their respect. Obituaries now on the other hand along with media coverage to me seems, only the important and wealthy get all the coverage. Movies on another note portray a different message that has no comparison to the true facts. Directors, they make you think that it is either something so morbid like Friday the 13th or make you think you have to go out in a blaze of glory like Bonnie and Clyde. Television now has so many programs that entertain people’s most inner fears that you only want it to be more gruesome and gory. Now cartoons, that’s another ball game, children see subliminal messages that, if you die you will come back to life after you’re killed when in true contrast how can that be true.
Arts and literature including paintings, writings and music have a major impact on the subject when it comes to death, The ancient Egyptians’ I think were probably the masters on the subject of embalming. There techniques still to this day can’t be compared to. I am still fascinated to this day on just that. I even wrote Poems speaking of just such procedures and how I’d want it to be done if I had my way with the preserving of myself. With all the music and there sick lyrics your found either wanting to **** or run and hide from the killer.

(CARSr. 4-21-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.4k
Awkward Feelings
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Try this one on for size,
Go to the twenty or less register at your local Wal-Mart
With hunger pains growling, its lunch time,
And all you got is a fresh salad and vitamin water in your cart.
Add this one to the list also,
A Safety orange colored truck circling around
Up and down the street
Looking for that next parking lot to tar
Or driveway to seal
That would be his next treat.
Waving hi to me every time they pass me by
I just play it off and wear my ear buds playing my own beat.
I know them both and I know them very well
Only if they knew, please GOD, I hope nobody will ever tell.
They think I just manicure the lawn
But truly, in reality for now, I’m just a pawn.
Carried their family flowers
Put them on easels’ and my O’ my
How they looked like the twin towers.
In front of them
I centered his remains
And then suddenly it hit me like a million trains.
Two prior works I wrote before and they were for him,
They were called,
“Ice Fishing” and “Positive I.D”
Yes, those were the name.
And writing them, believe me they were no game.
Yeah Hello Poetry Poets you all might know now
On whom I am and what I’m learning to do,
But forever, I’ll never even give them a clue.
What would you do?

(CARSr. 6-9-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.4k
A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Enter through the double doors and it will hit you
A one of a kind, nothing like you ever smelled before
You will know where you are even if you’re blind.
Plug in air fresheners filling all the outlets through out
With a fragrance of fresh cut nectar filled flowers.
Masking now the true scent of the repulsive chemicals
That fill your body and flush you till you run clear.
Stronger the smell, stronger my fear
The closer I come to the lower room
The deeper I inhale.
Expanding my lungs to capacity and hold as long as I can
Setting up my writing room next to the dead is my plan.
Nickel silver oil lamps eight feet tall
And a matching tear soaked blue velvet prayer alter
Worn out from carrying all the weight from the mourners
Will be my only light and seat as I sit and write.
Thumbing now through a hard cover book
That sat in there for many years
Eyes closed and close to my nose
I fan the pages as fast as I can go.
Polo, Taylor, and Calvin Klein,
They used to be a favorite
Pores now sweat a strange new lovely kind.

(CARSr.6-19-12)
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
As if having two cans with a string attached we got connected
I was on your mind and that was better than I expected.
I sense we harbor the same feelings, like my new train of thought I now carry
You showed me a new trick in the living you prosper from
You are full of new tricks I can see, and there is many more to come.
I can also see you’re on the way to patent a new technique in the art,
You learned from the best, and you learned it right from the start.
Traveling faster than the speed of light I am propelled forward
Mind is racing all the more remembering back to an earlier time
Now I’m heading to the room, the only room I ever begged to enter before
Back then I was led away and to only the chapel’s door.
Inside there alone, my eyes let loose, gallons of salty water.
Wanting to replenish at the machine I find I’m short a quarter.
Walking through all the twists and turns like in a maze
Up and down the stairs we also climbed, about face we now then descended
Found myself now in the room I cried to see,
So cold inside, I didn’t even have to check its A/C.
Dragging my left hand now along the wall, walking all the faster out so I didn’t stall
But really I held it so I wouldn’t fall,
Fuzzy feeling all throughout me like me I was in a haze.
Pushing you out all along the way, I enjoyed for that was no place to stay,
With delight and high honor I did give to you, too bad it had to be this way.
Faces did see what I did and I saw those looking, eyes all in a gaze.
Ridding with you lying in the back, I know what is to come next of you,
I just watched it only days before, O’ how now my heart is so sore
Attached I fight so hard from becoming, and I lose every time
What good money you don’t come from, that is the only crime.
I know you are still in there and wanted to leave the light on just in case
Congregation was told of my endeavors today, after my prayer request, you went into space.
To heaven you go, for that I believe is the only place.
Seemed to be the same every Sunday my request goes out
And for the grieving families you left behind it just make me want to stand up and shout.
I also pray that when exam time comes, seventy credits yes I need to pass the test,
But till Tuesday you were supposed to be the only guest
(CARSr. 5-26-12), (CARSr. 5-28-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.8k
Music Box Ballerina's
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Like a child with all his crayons, look at his toys and you’ll be amazed.
Like a jealous kid on the playground I wanted your toy.
A bottle to add to my collection but this one is of a special kind
A gravity fed Undertakers bottle this one is called.
Your father left it for you, yes he left it behind.
No room for error, No room for mistakes, No scribbling allowed.
With each passing of the brush he makes it look all the more better.
The stark appearance of death he made it all disappear.
He has a collection of different size music boxes
And each one plays a different song.
Now together we patiently wait to add the next ballerina inside
After having the last Dance together.
Hoping now,
we don’t have to wait too long…

(CARSr. 4-18-12)
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
When my time comes, put a hot one in my right hand and its pin in my teeth.
In the covering dirt hide the mines, on the top soil a million and one mole traps.
Faster than a switchblade with its safety off they will get you, you will see.
Plunder my bed and I’ll show you no mercy.
Let me rust in peace, Yes I said RUST!

(CARSr. 4-19-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.5k
Ice Fishing
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Tell me or show me once
I will not forget because I’m no dunce.
Saw you show me the day before
What I witnessed would have dropped you to the floor.
Heard it had to be done on another
I wanted to ask my mentor something
but he somehow read my mind,
Before the question, could come aloud.
Grab the gloves, and just relax, those were the facts.
You saw what I did now it’s your turn.
I found the target with my eyes and then with my hands
  And yes, you felt like you had a case of freezer burn.
Scalpel in my right, your ticker in my left
Like an augur in the ice I sliced you a hole
Fingers then went fishing like having a pole.
Wanting a trophy that is my next goal.
Lowering the hooks into you now
I poked and then pulled your skin apart.
Found what I was searching for
Snagged it on a line I got it somehow.
Pulled it up and then out the hole,
Like in a action packed movie,
I picked the red wire to snip first,
Closed my eyes and thank GOD there was no burst.
All day it seemed I was on the prowl.
Now that the day is over,
I can wipe my sweat with a paper towel.

(CARSr 2012)
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Mr. P.  Showed me the first time,
And now placed before me, Mr. J
I questioned your state,
While you laid there like a piece of slate.
Thin you were with the apple in your neck.
Tempted for a bite like in the book of Genesis,
A sin you might say, but what the heck.
They didn’t care for they put you in a partial wood and glue box,
Then they stole your money like a masked fox!
Opening your velvet lids she exposed them both,
Pressing all around, for she had to make sure.
Just in case you could have been saved
From some kind of a cure
A bowl your pupil turned
Something you gave me to eat from
Milky white yes they were,
Something else they did tell me,
And I didn’t even have to look that far.
With her clipboard and her pen
She marked all the things outside and then within.
Doors now closed and stained instruments are now touched
Thick blue rubber latex gloves are passed around
Pre prepped he already is,
What’s next I then wonder?
A quick slice of a scalpel
Now exposes what was under.
Hooks seven layers deep
Removing something you now couldn’t even keep
Like pulling a worm out a fish’s mouth,
It then popped out,
“Look” He just snagged himself a trout.
Putting your trust in something better then Big Ben,
If it seized up, what would you do then?

(CARSr.5-31-12)
Jun 2012 · 875
C+P=Life
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
I wish I were a Pharaoh, and you were my Queen
So we then can live in a pyramid together when we pass on.
When our bodies lie stretched out in sleep,
Upon the walls is sketched-
The last appointment our patient souls must keep.
Like mummies that have been wrapped ever so tight
I wish we would never be disturbed
Not ever by a beam of light.
I’d be sure that the hieroglyphics’ would say
That we be wrapped tightly together,
And all my worldly possessions be left behind to our children
For the only thing I would need in my afterlife is…
“My Precious 1”

(CARSr. 2001)
Jun 2012 · 1.4k
Green Tea
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Sipping from the goblet, green leafs they are
Infused with a fruit that bares billions of seeds within
Lying stretched out now with feathers covering me all about
Pewter on thy chest, and steam billowing from within
A glance to the footboard tells of a new tale to bring back to life
Like a pouch that’s placed inside I’ve placed two now, O’ how I can’t forget
Submerged in steaming water, submerged in a bed of silk there almost the same
Vision of a string and tag now hangs on my jars side
Bee line strait to my right toe that’s where my eyes go
Like a sick joke it reminded me again of another tag I can’t erase from my mind
Soaking in lining, soaking in a mixture of two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen
Ever so carful while pressing the bag to get the remaining flavor
Trying not to rip for fear of a foul taste
Like a pouch that’s placed in its chalice with a soul still attached
Body has been brewing all the same told maybe not to rip that bag
For things might not look so good, no fear here I had to see the face
Eyes were closed and red lines running from the corners of her mouth and her nose
With a blink of my eyes I took a picture as if she had posed.

(CARSr. 5-17-12)
Jun 2012 · 642
Toe Tag
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
On your cold
Big right toe,
That is where
The string
And paper,
Now must go!

(CARSr 6-2-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.6k
Trapped In The County Morgue
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Putting many miles in the rear view mirror
Off I left working on making my life all the more clearer.
Dragging left hand on the wall again,
This time it’s all the more complex.
In a matter of minutes I’ll be doing toe tag checks.
Fresh cadaver held me up
Out there eyes came and into a sterile cup.
Given visions to the blind
How I wish they were my favorite aunts kind.
Needle through the glass thirty eight degrees Fahrenheit
Inside you all lay and with no light.
The door was pulled losing its vacuum.
Breaking this seal was better than on a bottle of
Crown Royal Cask number sixteen!
A frozen slumber party inside yes I did see.
All but one with my two hands it took to count all of thee.
Capacity of friends allowed inside,  a maximum of only fifteen!
Sudden Blast of cold air turned all my body hair into needles
Like the quills on a porcupine or a cactus in the desert.
Moving the bodies all around,
I’m looking for number one.
I trapped myself in, now look what I done.
Found the man I came looking for,
Now I have to figure out, how to get him to the door.
In a split second I shattered the games all time high score.

(CARSr.5-31-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.0k
Positive I.D
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Out of a licked sealed envelope your face emerged
Handed to me I did then look at thee.
It was a glossy three by five,
Who would know latter I’d take you for a drive.
Studying you like a blueprint in this sacred place,
All I got to work with was just your face.
Found myself suddenly in the middle of a quick test
Smile ear to ear, my mind then tells me, this is the best.
Off I go I’m on the quest.
Family Lacking in any kind of trust,
Now I hold your photo
Comparing to the profile of your now bust.
Darting eyes go back and forth
No prominent scars, not even a mark from birth
Picture looked about ten years earlier
How much you all change while lying on your back.
Doris did prove that to me
After the fact I found out that she was thee.
Turning your face to look at me now
For you laid looking to the left
Your mouth hung open exposing your pearly white.
Top front two I found the clue,
Inward they curved, from teeth maybe to big
And having a jaw, which was too tight.

(CARSr.6-1-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.1k
Hanging Dead Upside Down
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
The anger from having to clean up a clumsy child’s mess
The sudden sound of rubber being laid on the tar
Quick snap of the head to the right
Sight of an undercarriage fly’s past you
Mind could not comprehend such a vision was like in slow motion
Telling yourself just had one sip this can’t be true
Crash, bang, boom is what I heard a cold dark winter’s night it was
Hoping what I always said won’t be true
Now sprinting around the corner Come around the bend
Eyes open to only confirm something here is not right
What’s inside man, woman, children cannot see in because tint was so dark
Rushing to your rescue I struggle to see within
Can tell you are a carpenter by your lumber scattered all around
After not being able to open your door
Grab a piece and take out your back window
Shattered into a millions pieces it went
Letting me see the truth within
Hanging like a pendulum in a clock
No swing was this to mark the time in suspension you hung
Was suppose to save your life now takes it your last breath away
Hey buddy I am here for you There on the way
Traffic built up now and a voice you knew Shouts out just let him be
If it were him what would he say then?
On the scene now they come
Spotted a blue glove on her hand Tore it off like a thief
Grasping at the **** that was too slippery lonely moments before
Step aside sir let me see A quick reach in was all it took
Shook her head over and over to the left and to the right
My precious 1 was also by his side with hidden eyes that were welled up and burning
When she heard what was said
Blinked and a dam broke loose down her face it flooded
Shouts of fury I shattered crystal for miles around.


(CARSr. 5-4-12)
Jun 2012 · 1.2k
Two Unburied Treasures
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2012
Back again like a farewell tour I saw once again
Like a vision from GOD there she laid all the more peaceful
Freshly washed strands of silver hairs of wisdom now full and wavy like a child
All the closer I felt this time, all the more feelings as if I know before
Remembering your face as I saw you across the room
Like a face on the cover of a music magazine
Pulling a ritual out of my pocket I asked with my eyes
Got the response I was looking for in his node
No disrespect is intended just my way of coping
Everyone needs a way to deal, doesn’t matter what side of the tracks you’re from
High school dropout or on the A list in an Ivy League were all the same in the end
You might not see but others will through the procession that follows you
Stopping traffic, being able to run through red lights it’s all ok, doesn’t matter
It’s your day; Warhol says fifteen is all you get not on this day it’s all yours!
Seeing vapors again around the outer edge, shadows are dancing as well
Buds are pounding drums deep with bass
Saw you open up your arms after pushing you as if a child on a sled then pulled like in a wagon
Releasing nitrogen then pulling back the skin on the one closest to your heart off them came
How you must have felt flaunting your two rings of Saturn
And how you must feel now knowing there in the hand of another
I had no say in the matter it comes with the education so in return
I played for you a sweet soft song and prayed by your side all alone.



(CARSr. 5-14-12)
May 2012 · 917
By My Side
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
Fearless he is, fearless he was, fearless forever now.
Less than half my age my first time he is
Painted planks first for the centurion Baptist Church
Promised to go fossil and crystal hunting when done as a reward
Beads of salty sweat drenching the tiny brow now
Arms sore and tired from the heavy coating
Minutes finally now of sunshine now squint your eyes
Rounding the corner can tell a new cut is due
Without a second thought found delight it the next chore
With passion, with precision, with intimacy it must be done
Doors unlocked shoeless we enter never wanting to desecrate
Hand in tiny hand he pulls me in all the quicker
Unfamiliar smells puts riddles ends mark on his face
Like a brave warrior he marches down to his own beat fearing nothing
Finds himself a level lower looking at all the music boxes
Sleeping boxes he calls them “They shine don't they daddy!” yes son they are
Questions of why no sight of little sleeping boxes now shatters my drums
Instructor confirms of such a thing then comforts his unbroken spirit
Like praying to his God saying “Those are the sad ones”
Opening another door closer he wins with me with his sincerity
One in the lock the other same one on the ring he sees’, unaware of the other side
I know what lies behind the other side of the keys hole
With uncontrollable anticipation I reach and grasp his hand to spin around
Eye to eye we lock in with one and another like looking in a mirror we are
Nothing can be heard no other sites can be seen as if we are one
“No need to be afraid Son, I am here with you hold my hand”
Double door swings open now exposing a lovely dress and shoes
Can tell she’s deeply loved and will be terribly missed
By seeing Saturn twice side by side
Looks of wisdom, in the gene pool,
By the tale, of having such silver hair
Delight in the sight I get my fill turn my eyes and saw him standing still
No fear in his face I knew he could do it, hoping now his Mommy won’t have a fit
Feelings of tremendous love rush through me like a raging torrent
Hugged my side and look, he never even cried
I’m getting my rhythm I’m getting my flow and look I still have room to grow
Took charge without even a prompt pushed the music box to where it should go
That’s my boy that’s my Son; even a stronger bond has now begun!

(CARSr. 5-12-12)
May 2012 · 1.8k
Music Box Ballerina's
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
Like a child with all his crayons, look at his toys and you’ll be amazed.
Like a jealous kid on the playground I wanted your toy.
A bottle to add to my collection but this one is of a special kind
A gravity fed Undertakers bottle this one is called.
Your father left it for you, yes he left it behind
No room for error, No room for mistakes, No scribbling allowed.
With each passing of the brush he makes it look all the more better.
The stark appearance of death he makes it all disappear.
He has a collection of different size music boxes each one plays a different song
Now together we patiently wait to add the next ballerina inside
After having the last Dance together
Hoping now,
we don’t have to wait too long…

(CARSr. 4-18-12)
May 2012 · 843
Stark Reality
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
Be afraid; be scared yes for no one is ever spared.
Into the burning chamber you go because no one ever cared.
A raging inferno tale I tried it before, but again I must tell,
Cause I skipped the parts of how, it also did smell.
Trapped you are in a cement and stainless steel tomb
Your body is then surrounded with a foul fume,
Then suddenly it encompassed your room.
When it’s all said and done, into a plastic bag,
Zip tied shut held closed with a metal tag.
That’s what is to become of you, and that is your final doom.
Back to back I see them go and it’s happening all too soon.
Electric sparks now ignite the poisonous vapor I did get a whiff,
If you witnessed then what I saw next,
You’d run away fast and then go jump off a cliff.
Engulfed instantly in a blanket of about fifteen hundred degrees,
I can read your lips and you were begging me,
Pleading for mercy I heard you murmur, I tried to quench your thirst for thee.
Dry, cracking and starting to blister you still managed to say please.
Brain then begins to boil inside like a yoke in an egg.
What is going on inside of here? I saw you thinking inside your head.
Pressure building up like a volcano it had to erupt somewhere.
It was something brutal, but it is now becoming a ritual.
Out it all came it did, out your right eye.
I saw the ball pop and then it all squirted into the sky.
Smoldering ashes you are now, no longer can you stand up like a tower.
Into the cauldron with spinning blades you enter into next,
Turning your rubble into a powder now as fine as flour.
Dragging magnets collecting all the surgical steel,
Combing through then with fingers like having a metal detector
Looking for all that precious metal and they did for about an hour.
Waiting to put you in a jar they call an urn,
I’ll pass for now, I skip my turn.

(CARSr.5-29-12)
May 2012 · 2.3k
“Killing the Crab”
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
I write words with passion, I write words learned from wisdom
I study the works from the greatest; I even study the stars in the sky
Look to the North West on a dark Southern Autumn‘s night
Hanging side by side with the king of the jungle and holding a *** of honey
A relative to the one in the deserts with stinger in its tail you will see
A Giant that walks on ocean floors with meat that is ever so sweet
Constellations that fill the sky all been given a specific name at an earlier time
Many a being read the wise man tales in the daily papers
They live there day to look to see if there predictions come true
Your visions can only come true if you search without looking
My journey today took me to the second floor I’m in a ward
Doors open exposing many smiles and many, many frowns
Team Poppy’s Ride for one dollar I bought into yes I did
Relay for life fight the silent killer and have fun doing it as well it says
A dozen silk roses pull me near to the table to touch them
Fur lined slippers; ports open on his body, one in his neck
Another in his arm with plunger attached I can see
Flush him clean and pure I pray aloud rid him of his pain
Give it to me I cry as I looked into his eye
Tapping red heels with anxiety she’s called in next
Chairs with wheels fill the room to capacity
All with hoses and green cylinders attached given a fresh breath of life to inhale
Delicatessen of food on a low cart is now delivered from the one with child in the womb
Smile she puts on my face for there’s another life to keep the circle of life going
Journeys not over for they have just begun
Stacks of Danielle Steele books are scattered all about
Comforting the mind, comforting the soul they do
Precious words are better than man’s medicine I believe
Come to me, my written words are stronger then the script you’re looking for
No ringing of the bells here to mark the toll
To the left I see a three leaf clover hanging in the window
On the Next there’s a hanging cross
Waiting is the master, to do your part
He welcomes you and your soul.
CELEBRATE, REMEMBER, AND FIGHT BACK!                                                                                                                                            (CARSr. 5-21-12)
May 2012 · 736
Obsessive Compulsion
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
Like my finicky constrictor with one third of his body
Erected up like the Eiffel Tower he looks to the top
Waiting for the next meal to be delivered to satisfy
When the pain becomes too much to bare
On the move he goes searching for the next treat
Around in circles is all he can do confined in a glass music box
When normally even in nature they just lay and wait
I too am like that serpent that suffocates and then consumes
Waiting for that early morning call to start my day off  
Too start it on the perfect note don’t matter what side of the bed
Finding myself at the pumps to go the extra mile I see out in the distance
I know of a place, heart is banging ever so hard here I come now
As if a pitcher on his dirt mound flexing before his throw
First pitch makes it a fast ball then I run to the plate to try and hit it
Strike one! Too fast, bases are loaded ninth inning uneven score series at stake
Second pitch makes it a slow ball and uses precision, articulate the words this time
Ran again and missed now Nero’s stadium of the dead is chanting, “Send Us Home!”
You can do it; I’m doing it for the home team that is all that is on your mind
Like my bag of tricks I pull out another, I’ll show them who spits out diamonds when he talks
Last and final pitch I send out a curve ball ran ever so fast and grabbed my club
Looked to the heavens and wacked a GRAND SLAM sending the dead to home, we won!
I know someday later I must follow, till then I’ll take my time rounding the bases
Smelling all the flowers and listening to the melody of birds along the way
For I look at people different now and I take time to look at all of them in their eyes.

(CARSr. 5-16-12)
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
Backstage pass of words I’ve been given
Her voice so soft, O’ how long it seemed I wished to hear it
Had doubts that should have never been there for she looked me in my eyes
On my heart and on my brain, a lie detector is strapped to my body
Brightest light ever seen is now glowing warm on my complexion
Interrogations now begin from a sibling trying to protecting their name
I can’t blame them for I’d do just the same
I told my story through my written works that he read
And then I saw him smile and with his hand he reached for mine
Embracing with a shake we joined as one.
No reason to get excited because this is not a joke
Partial board box zip tied with paper conceals your shroud within
Knocked on the wood for good luck cause the hour is getting late
Up from below on pulleys it is pulled
Locking latches to the left and to the right
locking the left like batting down the hatches I locked you in
Knobs are turned with fifteen minute increment you will go
Kissing the crucifix I powered it on
Kissing the cross again I try to wash away my sins
For so long nothing else has ever mattered
Nothing I tell you, no nothing I tell you again
I stand and scream can you hear my shouts
For I can’t wait another day to be somebody before the damage is done
Wanting a quick peek I then took a walk to talk to my soul departed brother first
Then they came and said are you ready it might look ugly are you up to it
Arrived to the same scene and something’s wrong, red lights are lit up
Nothing has happened while I left to pray and they wondered why
I know the answer for I hadn’t done my part till then
Again we try, this time it went off without a hitch
Then the sounds of a roaring flame overcame everything aloud
Window with a handle like having a periscope I took a look at the danger inside
Watched for a minute and suddenly you were consumed in a blanket of flames
Gasping for air, my breath was taken away and then I began to suffocate
Tingles throughout my body you did it to me so I never forget the sight yes I know
Closed the hatch and let you be praying even harder now I go white knuckling for thee
Outside the grave diggers looked in amazement for they were puzzled with the strength
Wanting to give a last respect I peer in once again
Feet first in your body did laid there, laid there in rest; I watched your face disappear
Ribs erected up like fingers reaching to grab anything it could reach
My spirit and my soul you did grab hold
raven on a willow, robin on a stone
Mother of mercy, angel of death, Mother of mercy, angel of pain
You are both the same Mother of mercy, angel of death,
We are all just players in the master’s game


(CARSr. 5-29-12)
May 2012 · 957
Four Legged Hearse
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
It’s High noon in a tumble **** town
And everyone’s running for cover,
Shops are turning their open signs around
The saloons piano player is now frozen with fright
All is quiet like a cold winter’s night.
Back to back ten paces forward
Counting in your head the jingles in the others spurs
Turn and draw
Be quick or be dead
Shots ring out like thunder
One grazed the other not so lucky
Town’s people wrap you up like a caterpillar in its cocoon
Slumped is your body over the back of the horse
Now is trotting you to your resting place.
The piano man is now unfrozen.

(CARSr.5-1-12)
May 2012 · 786
Fogless Mirrors
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
The sound of a voice shouting out a distinct color,
Comes over the intercom.
Orderlies rushing all about in frenzy.
A screen that should look like an 8.9 earthquake happening,
Now only shows a razors edge thin line.
Compression thrusts must now begin
Once started you cannot stop.
Paddles please now to the chest, crackling static zaps,
Body thrashing about like a fish out of its safety zone
Log the minute, pull the drapes and tag the toe.
It’s a private encore just for me now
******* on her wrist and then on her neck
Still not any kind of clue, one last chance,
I reach again into my bag of effects and grab
Like having a last trick up my sleeve.
A Mirror in my clutch is unseen from her eyes
Placed now upon her lips as I look for something like a morning dew
Nothing so sweet can be found.
Her eighty sixth was the last time for candles that could be blown out.
Wrapping her now I try to keep her warm
Then slowly I help place her in her eternal slumber bed to rest
Now I’m given a key, O’ boy here we go
I know what time it is. I find comfort telling myself I’m just winding up a clock
I blow a breath and a last kiss; my eyes were the last to see.
If know body ever remembers, I will never forget!                            
                                                                                                                                                                            

(CARSr. 4-24 -12)
May 2012 · 821
Skeleton Keys
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
Look into all of your pockets,
And you will see, you have one or two and maybe even three.
What do they go to?
Your house, your car, a lock of some kind maybe?
Each one with its own unique cut and different look
Brink’s, Fargo “Safeguarding your valuables” is there motto.
Putting all of your trust in hopes that they will do what there made for.
So goes the saying, always trust the one you cannot see.
It takes two keys to open your box at the bank in there vault
Just like another type of box I know now.
One key lowers your bed for the perfect fit,
The other seals you in air tight and blocks out all the light.
No locksmith needed, no slim Jim required
These keys are all the same where ever you go.
What is the value of what is inside? I know what hers will be worth,
She should have two lira in hers and they’ll be covering her velvet eyelids,
Because it’s to pay the ferry man to cross over to the other side.    



                                    (CARSr.  4-25-12)

— The End —