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 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
Lightning flashes
& thunder rolls
over the mountain side,
where standing
exposed on granite slabs,
I guzzle it by the mouth-load,
become one with the creation.
Who needs sunshine,
I love the taste of
the Appalachian rain.
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
I swear I really want to write one.

I come up with a few great ideas,
formulate them into my creative mind,
then when I go to pen them
into an epic,
they end up much shorter.

Like, what would Virgil say?
Lord Byron would certainly cringe
at my bits and pieces of written word.
Alighieri & Milton would probably
laugh their arses off,
Ovid snicker & what about Homer?

I swear I really want to write one.

An epic like The Divine Comedy,
perhaps a slice of Don Juan,
a bit of Beowulf,
some Odyssey?
I wish I could find
some Paradise Lost,
a piece of the Illiad,
I pray for a Metamorphoses!

I swear I really want to write one!
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
Sitting on a partially
sunken Chestnut trunk,
I sat mesmerized,
listening to the babbling brook
gurgle between granite steps.

Strange sensations swept
over my body as I heard
the hypnotic tunes
of the wood spirits,
playing their melodious
mountain tunes.

Everything seemed
in perfect order,
to be dancing
to the magical
waves of ethereal
zephyr-notes.

I watched water bugs
skate on the glass surface,
miss spider spun her web
through glints of sunlight,
in the distance,
I heard the crows
fighting jays.

It was a beautiful day,
when minutes seem like hours,
when you feel alive,
the power of the forest gods.
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
The crazy world moves in nanoseconds,
mountains, terabytes of nonsense
move at supersonic speeds
along the info-highway,
traded between
infinite faceless entities.

What of our raw emotions,
those fleshly feelings,
the electrical synapses’
causing such great commotion,
stirring the wildest imaginations!

And who really reads philosophy anymore,
what person respects the words of a poet
when it seems to be all about the net these days?
For after all, everything you read there
is surely the gospel-awful-truth,
such total madness
exploded into a billion+ clusters,
cataloged into whatever floats
our boats.

It seems the real world is sinking
into advanced technologies,
synthetic pied pipers ply us
with their artificial intelligence,
humming dangerous notes that taste metallic,
with everything made somewhere else.

O human-kind,
my kindred,
please tell me,
where are the true artisans,
where are the keepers of the authentic minds,
where are the hopeless romantics with beating hearts?

Where are they?
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing,
******* around with my good nature.
I mean I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday,
but I didn’t think she’d break my heart like that either.

Oh sure, she used all the perfect words,
knew just what to say, to make me fall.
And when I fall, I fall hard & deep.

Oh well, I guess it’s my own fault,
but I can’t change the way I’m wired.
It’s this passion thing that
makes me see the best
in everything.
Even in hot calculating women.

Oh it’s crazy how
I’m wise to those tricks
& I still get taken,
trusting in some like that,
all alone & brokenhearted.
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
I love my early morning hikes
in the Georgian-woods,
where alone
I glide along,
my feet carrying me
through the zephyr-mists,
upward on the granite stairway
into the disappearing stars
& onto the bald-summit.

Happily,
I stand exposed
on another sacred-peak,
one of God's gifts
for wayward hikers,
smiling.
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
A chill gripped me this gray winter morn,
felt icy winds born in primordial forests
bringing a deadly-stillness.

Slowly,
slowly,
slowly
I walked up dead planks,
passed my smiling gargoyle,
crunching piles
of crinkled brown leaves
littering my way.

I smiled into the yellow haze of the rising sun,
watched squirrels run circles
on ancient trunks,
enticing the jays
screaming their dismay
above the din of trickling
fountain-waters.

The moment reminded me
of a gurgling mountain brook
& the time your gentle sweet caress
warmed my heart on a similar winter morn.
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
My master Lu
teaches me
how to blend,
how to use
the art of deception
& imitation.

I gesture,
roll & tumble.
I jump up & kick,
use quick monkey hands
& I claw with ancient arts,
it's intoxicating
this drunken-style
Kung Fu.
 Feb 2014 rolanda
Jonny Angel
I am here
to visit with my animals,
pigeons & eagles,
jaguars & mantises,
crows & cranes,
lions & tigers,
cobras & frogs,
cats & dogs
are all
calling me
to work,
to sweat the
sacred-moves.

O how funny,
I did forget
the drunken monkey!
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