In the early 21st century this is when time
really started to go backwards and the attack on the constitution laid the foundation for the TeA pArTY,
and other corporate fascists. Too much to the right our
nation starts" GOOSE STEPPING".


And Uncle Sam sat on a very narrow
conservative wall.
And the King of heartless ( Bush ) ordered,
" OFF WITH YOUR HEAD" without just cause to a sandy
world of black-gold.
And all three nations were written up as
the Axis of "Jabberwockey".
And Wonderland's scared caterpillar colored red, orange,and so on, sat upon an imagined poison mushroom cloud.
And Tweedly Dee; Teedly Rummy,
gave quick cheap armor ( of course to fight some of the Jabberwockey) from a quickened "Rummy Dummy",
the slam dunker.
And the MAD HATER of people went
DUCK -YOUR -HEAD oil haunting
And "Cheshire Cat smiles ( Bush again ) was taken
at phony opts.
And we majority of Alices tried
making sense of this new "Wonderland" as Constitutional,
law backers were considered bad-and in mirror reversable-
so too International Law backers.
And good was this unconstitutional
main war-knight  (Bush again ) always WORD bumbling,
war stumbling, falling and failing off his Trojan horse.
And still us Alices are in this-now current-perpetual
land of MIRRORED-IMAGE-REVERSAL.
Tune in next time for our great escape
from this forcefully adopted land of horrid wonder.
Maybe if we tapped our shoes three times...Oops wrong tale.

An elegant lace curtain
blows on a light breeze
it gently parts
An emergence of light,
emitting a radiant beam
it delicately slices through pitch black
A dazzling
spotlight
resting
on a
***** old sneaker???

Tiny airy
golden feather
seemingly floating
then caught
forever floating
then caught on a delicate puff of wind
It rocks
to and fro,
a miniature cradle
Then suddenly
a changing tiny turbulence,
now a spinning
horizontal
propeller
on a short
golden flight
lands gently
in
garbage???

Light blue
summery silk
gently clasp
in a smooth feminine hand
to
catch
a surprise-wet-******-sneeze ???

An ENORMOUS proud elephant
charges relentlessly
from a great distance
towards the camerman
in the jeep
Ground sHaKiNg
nearer nearer
dust-bomb clouds
engulf the air
LOUDLY BRANCHES CRACKLE,
HIS GABRIELS TRUMPET,
AIR IN TURMOIL,
A SUDDEN STUMBLING,
HIS
HUGE
BULK
FALLS
he gets up
turns around
limps away
showing
THE END

Like a hypnotic beacon in darkness
guiding oily ships,
like this same rhythm,
I sing to myself
so much the same beat,
the song of
apathetic thoughts
of ignorant tranquility   While

smokestack clouds
loosen tears of acid rain
that rust metal on boots
will this prevail?

Dried poisoned earth beneath my feet
Yawning gaps and cracks
frown their crooked gruesome frowns
upon the dust crumbling ground

Micro-macro things float in the air
in which we inhale
Farts from smokestack gases
carbon emissions from cars
forever excrete poisoned
cougher's body-coffin-clouds
of black and blue

Trees as if on bending knees smothered
by accidental fluoride
little and feathered bodies
plummet and land
on polluted blackened ground below

Smokestack refineries
make fishy lakes
into crummy toilet lakes    Oily

ships clumsily spill oil contents upon
the sea to oily sea
Yet so crazy a world
so crazy a song
of easy tranquility
I sing sheepishly,
among TV commercial smokestack wolves
of sitcom ***** darkness,
who gleefully watch all the lambs go by
in "**** TUBE" harmony

You walk the whitened snow
in overcast-shadowed delight
You look back seeing
where your tracks traced you
from where you were before,
like words written on
snowy white paper
holding memories
gone by...

Your mind slowly
backtracks
to places only moments ago,
where small inclined drifs
on each side
reminded you
of miniature mountains,
you were a GIANT
in the middle of a tiny valley...

Sounds became muffled,
your planet became
transformed into another world
Silence prevailed,
brief shrilling sporadic gusts
nipped at your nose, nipped at your cheeks,
and had painted
your living portrait red...

You had felt your feet
crunch down
on the newly
softened snow,
its sounds created noise
that crunched LOUDLY...

In some places,
your wider lifting strides
became arduous,
they became wider in deeper spots,
but you did not mind...

This whitined fact
almost held by fantasy
ridiculed everyday life,
silhouetted trees
reached their bare arms upward
like black grayish winter phantoms
against the white horizon,
against the gray sky...

Tiny windy whirlpools
-ever so often-
danced around your feet
in a soft swirling
celebration
of your delight...

Charmed by your exploration
you had embraced every moment
Clever in your adoration
you now invoke this poem,
distinguished only
for the astute...

...Provoked by this flurry
wisdom and wonderland,
you now turn slowly
around then forward
Now realizing you have
just left your memories
and poet's signature
within those very backtracks
you have just left behind...     .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .' .'

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

My body is a vehicle
so I do pretend
And this I will defend
until the bitter end

Walking nearest stores,
and doors that open out
SLAM on your BREAKS
or get it in the SNOUT

Weave in and out
when traffic turtles walk,
cross your late fingers
to hear your bosses' BALK

Keeping to your right,
an american decision,
on the opposite side;
walking the English way,
a body collision

Ahead
hog-walkers walking s t r a i g h t  i n  a  l  i  n  e
slower than molasses
and YAPPING all the time
REEEEVEEE up your engine
and pass them on the left,
say a "Hail Mary"
and CURSE their walker's theft

Pavement hogs on corners
gather all about
Sometimes I dream,
of PUNCHING THEM ALL OUT!

Pheeeew have a good caminar, mis amigos

A day
that cries at burials,
plays havoc on sinuses
and sales
vendors...

...rainy days
remind me
of tears
rolling down
the eye-windows
of my abode...

...and cling onto
flowery buds
and leaves
looking like
tiny delicate
crystal *****
soon fortelling
their own quick
evaporating end
of ephemeral
microscopic
life form
worlds
held inside
each droplet...

...how well
DeVaSTaTiNg
each innocent
each drop becomes
Once POOLED TOGETHER, CAN EVEN MOVE MOUNTAINS, FLOOD WHOLE TOWNS, AND CLAIM VICTIMS BY THE SCORE...

...I see crowds
being gently pelted
by these heavenly
tears;
reminding me
of a GIANT baptism
that nurtures
bodies and minds
as well as
flowers and trees...

... I became interested
with the truth,
that the FORCE
of droplets
being OVERWHELMING
and AWESOME...

In the lull from the tempest,
a country breeze
whispers gently
The sun wanes
over the horizon
as leaves now flap
ever so gently
Slow darkening cast unto "Mother Earth"
She echoes gentle night songs
by a hoot owl
Comes the celestrial show
spreading across the black canvas
And in darkness,in consortium,
brooks softly gurgling over
ancient resting stones
An eagle softly glides in its genetically
fixed circle
as the moon fills the scenario
This rhythm of nature
lays calm
So influenced, so too does man...

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

RW Dennen (c) 1980

The great upside down **** WHACK
2. You're the child you have parents
3. Your living autobiography
4. Your the parent of your kids
5. Your kids are the parent of you
6. An unwelcome flowery parlor
7. tears
8. Slow decent into six feet of Hades
9. Scriptures read
10. Sprinkles of dirt; a rose on metal
11. More tears
12. Mound of flowers; mound of dirt
13. The catering
14. Remembrances
15. Hand shakes, embraces, kisses
16. Many more tears
17. The after clean-up
18. Empty building
19. More great primordial WHACKS for others
20. On going de'ja' vu

I remember how slow
time flew in my
boyhood days
when everything was
unsophisticated, uncomplicated,
when a joke was a joke
that lasted days on end,
when a walk down the street was endless
And besides,
you felt as if an ice-cream cone
was so enormous
that it would take you
an hour to eat
And greeting a friend
became frozen in time
and somewhat endless
In fact, almost every act in life
was set in slow motion
for just like you,
we were flying through life,
at that time,
just with little propellers

But like you and so many others
we ate of the tree of knowledge
thus expanding our vision
A vision that hasten our life
and accelerated us
into adulthood as time quickened
Now greeting a friend is like eating
at a fast-food restaurant,
not quite remembering
fully what was said
and even listened to
An ice-cream cone has emotionally
dwindled to the size of a thimble
and passes our
taste buds so quickly
we can't remember when we
started and when we finished...
And like those sophisticated air jets...
         for all
                  time
                        flies..       ­  towards oblivion...

Let's escape
urban scorching days;
hot cement,
sirens,
and flashings from red to blue
then blue again

Let's excape
where a cool, cushioned green hill
in quiet and stillness awaits
across a narrow steel blue-green bridge
A bridge crossing,weeded, rusty,
broken railroad tracks
that beckons the call
to the other side,
from warlike city
summer shouts and cries

Let's flee abandoned pill-box look-alikes
these homeless homes
Let's flee boundaries of barbed fences and stone,
these monuments of a choking society

Just the same
paradise one block away
denied by our madness
vacantly awaits,
like a non-seduced wooded hill
what impotent partners
we are

And almost never remembered,
those whispering
leafy archways,
where those bending canopy
branches spread
to protect from the sun
the absent human head
A head filled with rememberances
yet forgotten
childhood days of tranquil green,
the smell of grass,
And birds that sing and fly

Forgotten way-up-puffs
of white against blue,
a musical buzzing bumblebe
And a little dancing ladybug
on a mushroom table top
Forgotten parachute seeds,
that fly
and a branch upon the ground,
your swatting stick,
your staff,
your royal rod

All forgotten
KINGS and QUEENS
we are in paradise
just one block away...

There you go again with that **** hand
held device,
your eyes are but only
hyptonic spin thingys

Your fingers are tools by rote
You foam at the mouth while
your thumbs and fingers skate across glass
squeeking slightly as you CrAcK your gum
sounding like a miniature WAR
I SHOUT FIRE at you!!
And still the squeeking of the fingers with joining
of CrAkIDY CrACK
I even jump up and down with still tipped boots
and still CrAcKiDY, CrAcKiDy, CrAkIDY, CRACK!!!
SqUeEkIdY, SqUeEkIdY,SqUeEkIdY, SQUEEK, SQUEEK!!!
I grab you by the collar and TOSS YOU OUT OF THE BUS,
in my daydream, as I smile inwardly with a child's giddy laughter
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK AND SLIDE, SLIDE, SLIDE,
SLIDE, SLIDE AND SLIDE!!!!!
He, He, He, He, that's all folkes

Aaaah those remembrances
about those fruitful
days in Autumn
and being absent while still in class
And still seeing through
young eyes...


...So long ...

...for a moment teach...
...cannot reach...
            ...cannot reach...
... your plateau

Must conquer instead
MOUNT EVEREST!!!
Must conquer instead
my arduous striving,
the blinding ravaging snow,
blow, glare in sunlit blinding Sun-lit-air
Those ever deepened GIANT foot tracks,
that shuffling abomnible snowman
wondering
               in
                      my head...
HEY ROBERT WAKE UP!!!  IT'S DETENTION FOR YOU
BOY!!!

                      lions, tigers and bears OH MY!!!

Sometimes we have to
stop long enough;
observe into,
breathe into,
and listen to the silence of the void...

You can splice this WRITING this way, one must read slowly
in order to understand how splicing together stanzas can be read at READINGS involving a spliced stanza is another kind
of  art EXPRESSION on a person's face when reading this
think they are HIGH times will be had by all when reading
THIS will blow MINDS will absolutely shatter after reading
all of this way out NONSENCE can be fun don't you THINK no more, after all of this SPLICING

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 blissfulness and sleep

Ooooh how we dream not that dreaded dream
but dreams of peace at rest

Aaah to return if only within a second and relearn
what nature has to give and only what we are allowed
to take
And listen to the shakers of the earth
growl their pristine craves
And to feel that solemn
rest once
the return to freshness softened
earth
around our barefoot toes
And to regain freedom spatial boundlessness
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...

Have you forgotten
your pristine ways enhanced with giggles?
And you stood by the roadside,
your hair was tossed by winds
that caressed you

You sang yourself a love ballad,
a soliloquy bestowed
by gentleness

Calmness never circumvented
your kind curiosity

Cotton candy was the imagined
clouds that melted
on your palate
as the world sang

Your hurt was
always kissed away
by kind compassionate lips
And strong nurturing arms
that held you tight against worldly stings

You couldn't spell the word  "spaghetti"
but would say, "passketti"

You dreamt dreams of Popeye,
Spiderman and sometimes monsters

You also dreamt no dreams
made of pure restful darkness

You skipped, danced, and screamed
with excitement at the slightest
silly whimsical gesture

Things that were everyday
primitive and mundane
belonged in the "Smithsonian Institute"

And friends were abundant
And baseball cards were abundant
Adult space was never
emotionally measured
because emotional bridges in friendliness
always bridged gaps

You became the hero or ******
after every Saturday matinee
The moon followed you
The sun shone forever
on summer days

After living happily ever after
And many years later
                            And many many years later
                             And lonely now,
                             good-bye my dear sweet prince,
                                          he now belongs to the reaper,
                                         holding back tears
                                        her heart aches
                                         The princess traces back
                                       on spinning mind-reels,
                                                her first kiss encounter,
                                           a flashing, warted-green-streek-
                                         jumping-up!!  Then the kiss

Lactose on the lips
of newly born a fundamental need
we seeked the ***

Comfort in your solitude,
thoughts emerge
in movie thoughts being
much clearer than before
Thoughts of a dear friend
pushed back into your abyss
and ready in need

We seek approval and
sometimes disapproval
We seek gestures from others

To glance in
to your other's
smiling face
feeling the body warmth
on a cold winter night

In ambition, seeking upwards
no matter what
Seeking the upward-spirit that is
still influenced
by your long
gone parents

Searching forever searching
for current realities always in flux

Trying to find that metaphorical
***

And most of all, the screamers for justice
they search for answers
They become the seekers of truth...

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 day of your smiles
vanquish
the night of your frowns

The elevator of your soul
has its ups and downs

The sea of your walk
sways in rhythmic sounds

The breath of your eyes
in fragrance delight

The rose of your lips
so soft, so red, so round

The silk of your skin
your angelic touch

Your heart of love
intwined with mine
vibrates its frequency,
two hearts in rhyme

Immersed in thinking about age
thinking about thinking
shoulders seem to stiffen,
worsen each year. OUCH!

My uninterested moving finger
clicks, pings, crackles away
President Reagan's ******-histeronic-gesture
He shimmers, waivers,shrivals away
into a diminutive BB hole
in the center of my TV screen
until nothing
but a slightly hissing grey tube

Making a paper plane
out of newspaper,
small black letters
spell out S-A-L
which is the beginning of the word Salvador,
that eventually meets the dug-out
paper portion of the cockpit

Looking out the window,
three stories up
between locusts and spruce
on thirteenth street,
watching potential victims
trying awfully hard to find
the right vein with ***** needles,
much too strung out
to fully hide their activities
in half hidden alley ways and small hidden streets

An old transvestite
with sad eyes, pucker lips,
looking like "" Whatever happened to Baby Jane"
with two exaggerated
round ruby painted marks
on both cheeks,
slightly wobbles on skinny ankles and heels to match,
stridently he calls forth, "Hi girlfriend"
to his look alike mirror image
just across the street

"Pop" the old provincial street wino,
trying to act as though
he was still a teenager
wearing an old Afro;
a bit demented, he acts out
his cliche' role, half babbling
half representations of life,
trying to sell almost everything
salavaged from trashday
dumpsters

Then tossing this seemingly innocous
hand folded paper plane out of the window,
a sudden horrible gripping feeling
overwhelms me but yet of relief,
Imagining tossing
this very plane,
that I held in my trembling hand
contained an all
devastating device underneath...
          THEN...BOOM!!!
                MUSHROOM SOUP
                             THE END OF MISERY...

In a semi-dark room,
deep-black-eyed pupils
appeared from darkness;
blazing into my being

And I felt a kind of warmth
burrowing from those
haunted moments

I felt of your kind
gift of pure observation

You spoke unselfishly
not of yourself but me

It was a time
held infinite
where a flash of you
became an eternal memory