What desirous riches we crave
to return our destinies
for paradise
sights and nights,
filled with glittering starry portals
And to feel the air of day and night
abound with blissful
restfulness and sleep
Ooh how we
dream
note that dreaded dream
but dreams of peace at rest

Aaaah to
return only within a second
and relearn what nature has to give
and only what we're allowed to take

And to listen to the shakers of the earth
growl their pristine craves
And to feel that solemn rest once more
the return to freshened softened earth around our barefoot
toes
and to regain freedom spatial
b o u n d l e s s n e s s  LOST but only
regained at last in dreams reposed...

Our friend so furry black and white
on softened cushions
so soft a silent tread,
walk on whimsical nocturnal flight

You rest upon a wooden rail so smooth,
the same as the Sphinx upon the sea of sand,
so cunning, mischievous and shrewd

Now hum your murmurings aloud,
glad tidings you bestow to me
And whisper through your stare,
a friend you are, you are to me

You sense the beauty within our hearts,
no pretentious human outward showiness
For in a world of bombs and hatred spread,
you tell your tale of love instead...

We're GIANTS on a toy-top spinning-speck
space-bound swallowed;
joining harmonics
in gyrating clock work's working;
catching gears of time's time
circling Ra's warmth

We're GIANTS on a toy-top spinning-speck
bellicosing great power's glory;
dwarfed into a vast cosmic oblivian
likened to a speck
of plankton
in a whales belly

This actually happened in Center City Philadelphia
in a actual setting along the underground Broad Street
giant concourse. We always had a few homeless people
surviving underground but an explosion of homelessness
occupied during the Bush Regime. It got so bad that police dogs were used to chase these unfortunates away...


There's a little bit of Bushville under Broad Street
between Spruce and City Hall
There's a little bit of calamity between idle minds
and idle hours, between quick-*****-ground-naps,
police harsh tongue slaps and paper wraps
strewn helter skelter all about,
between dismal gatherings
of few laughter and just for basic survival

There's a little bit of Bushville
in saddened eyes and some veterans' ***** faces;
long unkempt beards
and bodies that lay limp in rags under cardboard in fetal
positions

There's a little bit of Bushville in hearts of broken promises
There's a little bit
of Bushville in ***** stench
and ***** walls and ***** ground made black

There's a little bit of Bushville in all our conscious-hearts,
too much, too much to do

And so you came and left Alabama
     on words that blew sharply
   piercing even the most covered ear
Great cities welcomed you
  and some did not
Pride from a long struggle
     finally subdued anger
      bringing about a glimpse
      of  worldwide hope for everyone
       and all the poor

Prophetic visions were shouted
   in strength to all four corners of the globe

Yet a crucifiction was waiting
  for you in the guise of a missile

And too early a wheat was
razed,
    and the loaf became bitter
Your body was passed from mind to mind
          as we ate of your bitter loaf

And so the drums were struck
  And so the cadence bowed
   And so the tears were shed
    And so a brother in spirit was dead...

All colors mixed in unison-
   and out from that dark gloomy cloud
appeared a rainbow
          And rain tear-cheeks dried
and a resurrection of pride
soon flooded the country-
We all became baptised
                    in blood and truth...

I sit upon a park bench
mentally piecing together
a utopia

You steal along silently
to sit upon my throne
of wooden slats and cement

I quickly turn and look at you
and say inwardly,
"your tree is not my tree
with squirrels that scamper about,
but a table top or a chopping block
even tooth picks lined in a row."

I bend to feed the pigeons;
a saintly feeling fills my soul,
to be abruptly taken from me,
by your sudden pounding feet;
a turbulence of wings
that nearly touch my eye

I finally begin to rest
in reverie,
a peaceful rest
of blue and white

You even steal this rest
and talk about muggers in parks

I hide my ears between my hands
to stop your thieving voice
I suddenly SHOUT at you
but you leave suddenly as you came
FOR YOU STEEL AWAY YOURSELF FROM ME
              to take from you
                               YOUR STEALING BLAME!!!

Watching night step-sitters staring at each passerby
abiding time as if counting sheep stepping with the city's cadence
Hearing sirens alarming in their BEWARE BLARING;
persistent fearfulness for evil and citizens securities
Staring-walking-bodies searching a barren land prostrating
before the great needle
Patched streets and decaying sidewalks by flooding night lights lay surreal

DECAYING fingers of poverty playing its fingers into every crack, crevice; into every pore, into every cell member
into one's whole being
Sounding the hip-hop generation street corners of hustlers
jiving away the night
The hustled and hustlers' overwhelming struggling for power; being surrounded by red brick and stone; being  incased in poverty

Pounding city hysteria;
at times laying silent in sleepless depth
by the waning gradualness;
anytime readying itself to ERUPT

The great New York metropolitan
stretching its  vibrancy
trafficking its wears.
Car horns combating in contemptuous arguments
habituated eardrums unwittingly pulsating

Great buildings upward; towering behemoths in grandiose splendor
This great asphalt jungle sprawling its electricity for blocks,
for miles
The jazz of the city continues the chanting; the sounds of bass and the blowing of the **** sax, the horn, the piano
and the drums drumming on its rhythmical beat

Beating hearts feeling the vibrancy; the shock waves of nuances echoing the great hustle
Multitude of voices singing praise to the different tongues;
vibrant in diverse rejoicing, the poetry of men and women
Metropolitans claiming the world condensing into small
blocks and listening to its RHAPSODY.

Ancient trees of majesty
   why reach your arms in excellency?
Why skim the clouds and pierce the stars,
    to stand so bold as warrior Mars?
Why be a thing of children's play,
     and watch the scene where lovers lay?
  Why touch the hearts of young and old?
      Why change your leaves from green to gold?
   Why dip your arms in pools below
       and float your leaves as falling snow?
    Why whistle tunes on winds of high
         why whistle tunes as winds go by?

     I waited from dawn to dusk you see
     for these ancient trees soon whispered to me

      We grasp the day
      We grasp the night
      We grasp the fowl on earnest flight

       You give us  breath which we repay
            we mold your health in loving way
        We climb these hills and mountaintops
             and spread our green as greenery crops
          We house these creatures in wooden shacks
              and feel the cut of the woodmen's axe
          We watch the peace and wars go by
               and suffer pestilence without a cry
            We dance and sway on winds of old
                to tell our stories far untold..

This is a lyrical poem which can be accommodated by
       Enya's "The memory of trees"
Author of poem is--RW Dennen of Hello Poetry
Thank you kindly

Walking walkers
that soon vanish
around corners
  Crazy
          cracks
                    catch
      ­               crumbs crumbling in crevices.
And some man-made drilled drains
drum drum drops dripping droplets
                                               down
                                               drowning
                                                drowning­
                                                drains for rats
Roaches run rampant
randomly.
Running rats reach
reeking rotten
radishes
as walking walkers
crush roaches
running rampant
randomly for crazy cracks
that catch crumbs crumbling in
                                                    crevices.
­
And running rats
                      reach
                      down
     ­                  drains that
                                   drip
                                    droplets...

You say it's time to
test the waters.
Are my waters too hot or too cold?
Are my waters too deep or too shallow?
Are my waters rapid-streams or stilled and stagnant?

Do you test my waters for its impurities,
for its abundance, for its content?
Does your manifestation of myself
bubble with excitment?
Will your love norms succumb to your desire?

Myself, bestowed to me, and at this moment,
I have not the inkling about your water judgement.
But only a few flirtatious idiosyncrasies.
Am I the only one to be judged?
The only way to find out is it to leap into and feel
my warm soft-flowing immersion and myself
into your warmth...

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
in 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

The car
The bar
The music
The laughter
The bottle
The gladness
The bottles
The glasses
The sadness
The reluctance of a listener
The anger
The fight
The door
The sudden thud outside
The gettin' up
The staggerin'
The poor judgment
The rain
The car
The short-long drive too far
The slippery and hazy highway
The swervin' from side to side
The oncomin' other
The collision
The crash
The smash
The mangled torso
The last gasp
THE END

They walk into darkness
exiled from fear.

Relinquished  cerebral thoughts,

freedom   wanes,

dissolved      into             rote-reality,

into a spirit of ****,

cast                        downtrodden,


embracing submissive                bogus         security.

Do you think that Jesus ever accidentally
stepped on an insect even sat on an insect???

ANSWERE BELOW (way way below)




































I haven't the slightest just  like you.
What, you expected a Joke?

Just messin' wit jah

What are the three Libers


                         answere

       AnSwEr e
ANSWERE.                                 ANSWERE

      A N S W E R E.           OH PLEASE... COME ON NOW
The answers.       is is is
                  READY????
liberal liberty liberation  ARE YOU A LIBER???

With your even fixed waxy smile
I'm beguiled by your looks
as you wear the latest looks
as you read the latest books
as you wear the latest fashion
in vogue

Dressed to ****,
you will soon be the center of attraction
Poised ever so
in perfect balance
you stand among the  up most glitter

A plaster of Paris soul,
you feel nothing, you see nothing,
hear nothing, know nothing

You will soon be ready for your public
Your show draws nearer
And finally you step onto
a mindless flashing disco floor
with the rest of the "MANIKINS"

The city buzzing
then the ceaseless cease.

The devoured Sun,
horizon seeks
to **** in last rays
absorbed
always waiting for dawn.

Then stars slowly
are splash-sparkeled
upon our black ceiling.

But now
a city metamorphosis,
spaces seemingly expand
as people dwindle-down
and echoing shoes abound.
And the night phantom stalks
to spread his expanding cape
while male alley cats serenaded
with strident love songs of blue-*****.

And obsessions rise under a werewolf moon,
the crooning of a barooom tune
while the city out-light-winks
its squared-eyed goodnights.

Caucasians and noncaucasions
become night brothers
by sharing similar oblivions...

...and we sink within our deep dreamy sleep
being snatched by
the penumbra
of  unconscious thoughts.

And other awakened languished
thoughts
wane into a city goodnight...

Dancin'  shadow on dat wall,
white-blues-boy sing yawl song,
harmonica cry, guitar scream,
to dat beat beat so sweet song,
dat dancin' shadow is ah swayin'
in ma head.
Yawl blues echo like dat shiftin' breeze
and shiftin' bayou winds in time dat blow
so sweet, like da shiftin' silt and sounds on breezy thoughts
about red fiery dusks.
Yawl black shadow on dat wall
dances like dah vanchee* in heat.
Clamorous mixture is dat beat
frum dat white-blues-boy smooth-song
dat fills dat *** in heat of vanchee*calls
and his shiftin' black silhouette on dat wall,
dat smooth-song black man yawl becum...


RW Dennen (c)  2008

Take the kid out of the ID
                 What do you get?
                              Answere
                           ANSWERE
                 AnSwErE                 please

     oh oh please answere

THE ANSWERE READY?
          
                     THE SUPER DUPER EGO!!!!!

RW Dennen ??

Swimming indoors
                              is a
                                  horizontal ballet
floating and swimming in the return to the womb
ah ah ah room.

RW Dennen (c) 1980

Smashing boots on doors,
splinters fall like rain.
Smashing boots on doors,
children feel the pain.
Smashing boots on doors,
granny's years of age.
Smashing boots on doors,
Mom and Dad in rage.
Smashing boots on doors,
panic sets the stage.
Smashing boots on doors,
Iraqi freedom fades.
Smashing boots on doors,
like thunder in a storm.
Smashing boots on doors,
an innocent family torn.
Smashing boots on doors,
a brand new hatred born.

RW Dennen  (c)  11/24/09

He and she walk alone so young.
So young he and she are.
Without another's tender touch
and tender kisses.
Being without a loving, caring other;
expressions desolved by war.
They're still in the desert
guarding buddies.
They're still in war-torn towns.
So young they are.
Behind every house door lurks
an unseen enemy.
Every crevice in their home-sweet-home,
a hidden device.
Every patch of an American road
hidden IED'S.
Every turn,every corner,every glance,every walk,
Every position, for some, a hand gun hidden in his
or her belt.
So well they learned their craft.
Their home vehicles are now Hummvees.
Their towns are now
the unfriendly and foreign Middle East.
They walk alone,these ANGRY ISLANDS,
unto themselves they are...

RW Dennen

Shadows
  and warm hearts.
Evening whispers
   in gentle staccato;
breaking silence
  Lips upon lips
enchanted warmth; rushing of lust.
  Further entrenchment with
entwining flesh upon flesh.
  Our heated breathing;
the nirvana of sweetened glandular
  Aphordite's love-perfume.
My heat against your heat,
  climaxing into passion's hard embrace.
Embraced by Dionysus into
life-death-death-life dance.
We soul-swim in warm waters...

RW Dennen (c)  11/24/09

Warm oozy-melted words
  over tangy heated
saucy sentences.
  Poetry of crunchy
crusted rhythms.
  Scattered mushrooms
and pepperoni characters
  I eat hearty my poetry in pizza...

RW Dennen  ( c) 12/27/09

These are human tears
I say,I say.
They're down my cheeks they roll
and baptize away my past
feelings suppressed.

These tears of sometimes joy or sadness
and everlasting human connections, connecting to my
inner worlds exposing outward revelations.
These revelations through my saline
liquid rushing down my cheeks;
soaked from my reddened eyes.

These my friend are feelings
both good and bad, these liquid representations
of hurt and gain
and of both joy and pain.

Existential to the core my eyes
do show my dripping soaked Windows
of my soul...

RW Dennen (c) 4/29/2010

GOD IS ENERGY

Energy moves

Movement is life

Life is God

GOD IS ENERGY...


RW Dennen

Colorado,Colorado,
I wish I was in Colorado.
Where  puffers stand in line
to have a good-old-time.

I wish you were in Colorado
and puff away your blues,
and have a restful snooze.

Where people laugh
out loud and make their puffers' cloud.

And people stop and stare
into thought provoking air,
and talk about the deeper things
in life.

Sensuous summer fills
my mind
between my munchies
all the time.
My tastebuds shout in glee
with popcorn near my reach
and soda made of peach.

Colorado, Colorado,
I hear you callin' me
forget about that tree
of good and evil be.
And smoke away-at times-
those nasty nursery rhymes
cramped between
folders made of black.

Colorado,Colorado,
I wish I was in Colorado
to get a mountain high.
Where puffers' stand in line
to have a good-old-time...

Since not allowed to light
we're allowed to write:
"Let the **** reign forever"