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RW Dennen Feb 2015
Do our loved ones
once deceased return
to us in dreams?

When we walk in fields
with them
side by side
and chat, and smile, and laugh
and cry?

Is death hastily forgotten
like so many pebbles cast
into pools ever so deep?
And not thinking
the absurdity of their death
long past gone
paid by
our loved ones
that now talk to us?

Ooh what sweet dreams
are made of
that brings
us once again
to our beloved
once long past,
only to be awakened
in the morning
by unbearable
fleeting...
        ...heartbreaks
Some say that the deceased visitation rites are profoundly
through another energy frequency via dreams
RW Dennen Feb 2015
People of peace walk gently
People of strength never be stilled
Abundance awaits those with courage

RW Dennen-


Stay out of Iraq the spirits
pleaded...
Eyes wide opened, boots and shoes lined up in order
in almost perfect straight lines in Philadelphia July 2005
Symbolic death shoes of civilians out of synchronization
in a war of soldiers

Under a small tree meticulously placed
we're children's shoes in a perfect solid circle
I read o months of age on tags
I read 8 years old on tags
I read 12 years old on tags
And on and on the children's lists grew,
as wisdom must have waned
and common decency
was once cherished

These shoes and boots sadly became
the dimishment of human beings,
horizontal and vertical rectangular
snapshots of once smiling faces
all in the name of war, they vanished all too soon

And I saw running tears and tears being held back
and I felt lumpy throat feelings in unison
with the rest but in cemetery silence

Touching deep feelings so overwhelming
is to touch a false bent flower and flowers
and pictures of deceased soldiers and civilians
and letters once presented at doorways
throughout America
America cried its sadness and disbelief,
the vanished breathers of life giving air,
Our sons, our daughters,
Our mothers, our fathers,
Our sisters, our brothers,
Our relatives,
Our close friends,
All perished, like a vampire that ***** away the life blood of
the once innocent

I noticed mostly tourists coming in droves from Market Street
towards us volunteers who were located adjacent to the
visitor's center side entrance as silence like before still prevailed
And like before the atmosphere prevailed even stronger
as these boots and shoes became tombstones

And tender hearts became tombstones
broken into small pieces
Passions never changed into loud speech

And the green turf
rolled down towards the sidewalk
like a green carpet holding all those boots and shoes
like a quilt interwoven with boot and civilian
shoe memories about days that should never
happen again...
A heart rendering experience and what the 'Bush Regime brought about'
  Feb 2015 RW Dennen
Daniel Wetter
Who the **** do you think you’re talking to?
Going through the motions
you think you’re walking through?
Like lacking emotions,
makes up for the fact,
you make up your facts,
in hopes that no one crosses you?
Or shows you respect
that no one has shown you.
Cause you don’t show us.
I guess nobody told you,
being so low on life's totem pole,
in the sense that you’re light in heart and soul,
means that absolutely nobody,
could ever be below you.
So quit looking down, you’re bound
to find the older you.
The one you abandoned,
to show you’re a grower too.
Aren’t you proud now the whole world is over you?

I hear it in your words and see it in your eyes.
You’re weaker than you show,
"know it all" is your disguise.
Went to grow, to fall.
Taller hopes but not to size,
of the man that lives inside,
that heartless, aimless, shameless guy.
Not hard to shape the reason why,
he tries to shame when people try,
just to be themselves,
he needs some help,
with seeking decent vibes.
Addiction at it’s finest
find this person spineless.
Crying, and denying, asking
why in times of crisis.

Yo, just know man,
I mean it as i say it.
This the program,
get with it no debating.
I swear to ******* god kid,
I'll rearrange that face.
You’ve never seen this rage from me just yet, oh ******* wait!
Keep doing what you’re doing and
being such a ****.
Being such a *****,
is gonna get you hit.
I’ll hit you then I’ll quit,
pack my **** and ******* split!
Partaking in the shaking,
of your habit baby fits.
Complaining on the daily,
like its cute or something crazy.
Kid go find your ******* self,
before you tell me how things may seem.
Use that ******* brain,
for more than your berating.
Elevate yourself.
Hell won't be waiting on your "maybe".
  Feb 2015 RW Dennen
bones
In the end
it pulls
free of
its chain
and settles
inside like
a flame
and my
only concern
is how
long will
it burn
before I
have chained
it again
reflects smiles
mirrors pains
its beauty beguiles
entertains

wakes up heart
opens door
transcends art
furthermore

swells in vein
its maddening flow
drops as rain
on parchment glow

once seeded within
grows deep root
makes you come clean
speak only truth

soul's inked beat
pearls dug from deep
in true spirit
have it worshipped.
Poetry is a spirit; they that would worship it must worship in spirit and in truth.
(E.M. Forster: The Celestial Omnibus)
RW Dennen Feb 2015
Do I splash
the pool of Narcissus
when I call you nasty names...

...even hog
the grapes of Bacchus
playing friendly bar-room games?

Will I squeeze
the **** of Aphordite
in my tippler's lecherous way?

...And will I challenge
her MIGHTY HERCULES
and find i'm in a fix!!!??

For i'll fear of meeting Charon
upon the under-river Styx!!!

Oh me, oh my, lions and tigers and bears
Oh oh my...
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