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 Feb 2014 Mike T Minehan
st64
stuck
 Feb 2014 Mike T Minehan
st64
standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself


1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we *spread it out
real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints

and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old

by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright

common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres


2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour

when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay


no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..



:)




S T - 24 Jan 2014
if you spromed, then I sprocketed
whiling away telubrious fallies
upon the jousters of Dorbeyville
canta-laughter and rent-a-carter

why.. hello, future..
see here, I light my smoke uncut
and dare to peer into you :)






sub-entry: footprints

whether the bells toll in odd-clang
wait for the crash of the cymbal
diffident-dreamer makes moves so small
no attention-seeking

when the waters run silent
beneath the rocks cavernous
and upon sandy shores

there, some footprints
of some erstwhile-reverie
a dream late last night
I felt you walk beside me

look again.. our footprints
and a plain-line
where you towed away my heart

open your hand, my friend
your life-line just grew some more
and what's that under your nails?
fine-grains of white mirage-sand

there's this key in the locks of time's braids
time to undo the plaits
I ran back
down to Piccadilly Square
just to get a closer look
at that doll baby.

She rambled by so quickly in
striped red & white stockings,
her lemon yellow
draped her shoulders,
bouncing like springs,
like her gorgeous *******
& that sweet ****-tune.

She had vibrant graffiti
sprayed on her arms,
wore come-do-me ruby stilettos
as she glided like a storm trooper
along the promenade.

Her blackened full lips puckered,
with slanted paparazzi shades,
leaving a wake of open-mouthed
wide-eyed gawkers speechless.

Man, she was tough,
a rare cool bird,
struttin' her pretty
hot stuff,
it left me breathless.
I wonder
is he embarassed at all to show off a new wife
when they knew the old one too?

Does he think about it?
Does he wish that he could remove the old one from history
so that he could introduce the new to the people they once knew?
Oh I forget. He did that. He took the new back in time
across the continental divide and showed her to the people
who knew the old. He did erase her in their minds.

Only the old is embarrassed to be replaced.
Only the old thinks of these things.
She is not busy being new
and so remembers.

But old and new are such common occurrences
that no one thinks anything of it now.
It is how it is.
That’s all.
My boyfriend used to take me to Pizza ****
(as we always called it)
after every home basketball game.
We'd fill up on bread sticks,
box the leftover slices,
just so they could sit in the back seat
of his green Chevy jeep
while we made out in the parking lot
with Eric Church's new CD on the stereo.

I told everyone the bruises on my thighs
were just an accident,
when really he pushed me
into the tires
after he had a few or dozen beers
at the party down Bear Run.
He never did like being told
what he shouldn't do.

We'd lay down the seats
and sleep on sweatshirts
with a cooler lid for a pillow
until 10a.m. on a Sunday,
an hour late for mass.
Silently we'd ride
until we'd reach the power plant.
He'd cough and I'd sigh,
quietly singing until we'd reach my driveway.
He never did kiss me
whenever he'd drop me off.

I came back spring break
the following year.
The jeep in his yard with a for sale sign
propped against the hood
and his cell number
written in blue window chalk
just above the windshield wipers.
I saw his little sister
peek behind the curtain
when I knocked on the door,
but no one came to answer.
So I lit a cigarette and drove home
listening to "Springsteen."
him
I remember that first day I saw him, noticed him
I was young, we were both young
Are young
His eyes glimmered with sadness and mystery and I knew
I wanted to know that boy
Afraid and uncertain I forgot, but then he came back
Older, still mysterious and more attractive that ever
How could I forget
That face the smile that told me he was uncertain too, and that was okay
Everything would be okay
I fell in love harder than a rock hits the ground from a thousand feet above
That's where I was one thousand feet in the air, I was flying like I've never flown before
That trust, that unconditional love scared me to death
And again I tried to forget
Pushing him away and wanting so bad for him to hold on
He was hurt, I was hurt
We had destroyed each other I thought it was the end
I was wrong
There he was again those eyes, sad mysterious eyes
And then came the smile telling me it would all be okay
He saved me, I saved him
I always will and I know, so will he
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