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David Ehrgott Apr 2017
I remember days of struggle
eking by by working my ***
off in some fact'ry and going
ten more bucks in debt every
month before the oilmen
declared war on humanity
and the white MAN could not
take this **** Any more so he
quit and 50 million illegals
that were here against the law
were given citizen-ships and
allowed to stay because they
wanted to work (for less than
anyone else would)

as we were all tricked into
supporting our enemies in war

by the american media because
they were told to do so

such nice t.v. scumb-bags
always doing what they are told
  Mar 2017 David Ehrgott
Denel Kessler
Eroding brick wall
all that remains
refracted, fading
fishermen shadow
red dawn’s early light

brackish still water
shocked violent green
seeps from the desert
to be subsumed
by an unrelenting sea

restless dreamers rise
muscle sturdy pangas
into the churning tide
seeking quicksilver
at the continental edges

returning boats ride low
the shrinking horizon
race to safe harbor
cold beer on ice
under palm palapas

in the restaurant
a young man
shows off tuna
half as tall as he is
to admiring tourists

like me, seeking
the deep, slow burn
salt, jalapeno, lime
a fitting end to this
unraveling dream

Pueblo Mágico
of “no bad days”
walls of contention
in a fractured land
will never separate us

one margarita, two
another raised in defiance
of those who would try
to confine and define
free-range spirits

the Pacific touches
this contiguous shore
from equator to pole
we could catch
a clockwise current

follow Polaris up North
arrive transformed
magnetically charged
disparate souls fused
together bound
Hello and thank you. my HP friends!  I couldn't wish for a kinder, more talented group of people to spend time with.  Thank you for being a part of my life.  Apologies for sporadic reading...been drinking too many margaritas!
: )
I never got to love the girl
she spreads wide her rainbow net
where the sky plunges on crystal river
tides swell to hide her shame
ebb to fill her bag of catch

I never got to love the girl
her hairs in the wind
my dreams spawn
a flower rising from the riverbed
she grants a love in my head
spreads wide her rainbow net
thru the long night of blue moonshine
her frock fills up with sparkling life

I never got to love the girl
could no way be the right match.
Fishing girl, the River, Feb 10, 2017, 7 pm.
I look at the sun
and it's rays
make me shiver
Still I remain numb
in the rain

The pen and the paper
My Lord and my maker
before my eyes

Like a song
pleads for it's words
A poet must be heard
Before the light
within is lost

It comes with a cost
One must be lost
Still the lines must
go on and on

Some day might
there be peace
Let happiness
Still the words they
must fall like the rain

Each letter feeds
my heart
Let the words
never stop
I will be here
on the page
  Mar 2017 David Ehrgott
What have you done
to the words?
I know them.
I recognize them.
I've even formed them
on my lips
or scrawled them onto paper.
They are the same words!
letters assembled
in predefined form,
but from your lips
they become
pure spirit. They flow
the form.
Spilling out,
they fill the universe.

What have you done to the words?
Your pen,
your lips,
your soul,

how much they must hold!
Inspired to post this when March 28 Daily ("The Poet" by Sjr1000) reminded me of it. A whole different perspective from the writer listening to other.
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