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

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...

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...

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

I walk this dismal dark and damp dungeon
  Long dark the phantom am i;
Strolling I now take icy breaths;
  Mystery lies within my realm;
Far faint foot echoes announce my impending doom
  I embark upon my midnight
Echoeing chamber room
  It's chains that puppeted victims that had
Screamed for their end and at last,
  I had giggled laughed and touched their quivering chest
And felt their fading warmth
  Then into oblivion casted they were by me

This dark stone its chilling floor
  Where rodents squeek and scurry about,
My only pets and friends I know

Suddenly I hear as HEAVY VOICES of my approaching DOOM
  POUNDING FISTS and swinging logs against my dungeon door and room

I curse the empending light by
Their torches casting beams
Bound from hell and its slithering horrid beam fingers
  Under my dungeon door

I curse my end by angered pounding fists
  Hell bound to see my end to be

What cursed blackened night just lies
  A distant short,
A breathless world my oblivian beckons me by hounds
  Of DOOM,
My parts be scattered h e l t e r  s k e l t e r
  My inners thrown upon old wooden beams above

Soon i will leave this loveless world i made,
  i foretell and kiss only an empty space goodbye,  
Waiting first ****** deep within my flesh to be

Bugle call in cadence be
spread your deep sincerity

Reverberate its call
within our minds
of good deeds done
for better times

Heroes of every walk of life
remembered by bugle sounds
into vesper night
It's sounding love of mankind
and sacrifice
About everyday people
like you and me
About brass sounds that triumph liberty
It's sounding our land, not laid bare,
by the right to speak
It's sounding about lives laid down
that freedoms seek
And through that bugle call we see
in taps that sound great dignity

We must fight
not to relinquish
our hard earned truth
in bugle calls of our youth

Now i lay my bugle
down to sleep
And still i hear that
sound
that haunting sound
forever be
that ushers forth
our dignity

Hey you, the enchanted
nights for us
Hey you, in the kettle is your witch's kissing-brew

In magical moments
I pretend to spend
suspended moments
entwined in mystical
thoughts and lovingly
clasping you

So close to my heart
I drink of your
sparkling bubbly
witch's kissing-brew

So close to my
heart I dream
of enchanted all-night-love-rocking,
and just plain loving you...

GOD IS ENERGY

Energy moves

Movement is life

Life is God

GOD IS ENERGY...


RW Dennen

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...

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.

I realize the ripple effect that monstrous attack in Paris
caused by Isis. But no matter what, do not let these events
make us prisioners from freedom. Ben Franklin himself warned that to seek so much security is to give up our freedom; so here goes...

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

Life is a fighter's ring
        your opponent
is life's most downs
        with all its fury
forever challenging us most prevalent surely...

What type glory
         do you choose
when failing your fighter's round?
Do you pick yourself up
            after crashing
                           to the ground?

What glory in rising
          your situation
                   newly found?
What invention
              of yourself
in your up and coming round?

Do your cheering crowds please you
               your real friends know
your need?
Will you rise yourself up
          in a thunderous quickened speed?

So, your fighter's glory in rising
       each bout that you take
Will you rise yourself up
      for your honor is at stake...

-This is why i think that most average are heroes no matter what country-
RW Dennen

The HUM-BUZZIN' 0f a newspaper flywheel-press
What jarred up BUZZIN' slanders will these stories hold?
On Newspaper traps where tortured minds are stuck and sold!
Where lowered human beings are treated less

On almost every city corner news is sought
Those ugly outhouse lookin' shacks disperse,
Smelly rotten things not found in beauty verse
The sensation of broken wing-ged offical caught

Garbage boy, toss my garbage at my door,
maggot level I will bend,
And claw-fetch the news of bitter end
And saaaavoooor the nasty things in store

Found out I'm suppose to be
an "Aries leader"...

Found out I'm only a
follower

Found out I must follow myself;
"I must follow the Aries leader"

In this fRaGmEnTeD cage,I hear checkpoint moans;
anticipating our prone-positioned
brothers and sisters held
Prone positions against walls
Prone positions against fences
Prone positions against vehicles
Prone positions against buildings
Prone positions against prone positions
Slam-whacked, bloodied, occupied
like our great nation; like our souls
I remember a prophet's call, " love your neighbor
as yourself "

I hear Palestine weeping from Jenin
to Hebron, from Jerico to Gaza seized
I hear lamentations about blood tales
I see only FrAgMeNtS of our land
I see FrAgMeNtS of our proud people
Lo and behold my Palestine quakes as an earth quake
Doves scatter skyward as a prophetic omen
Blue skies and Sun momentarily claim victory
Then inhumanity's ugly face:
America to its Indians, America to its blacks,
America to women, America to its gays,
America to Mexicans,
America to South and Central America,
America once to Southeast Asia,
America to Islam, America with its war crimes,
America and Israel both innocence died

So, we pray Koran's verses upon our prayer rugs
We gesture all hope
The apartheid surrounds us
The dead talk to us
The smoke surrounds us
Perhaps better days we say
Entwined with bizarre everydayness
we accept sleep with fits
Fits without food;
Fits without crucial welfare
Roads, shelters, mock us
sculptured by missiles and bulldozers
Bully-bombs exploding in a reign of terror
We pray upon our prayer rugs
Bully-bombs exploding in a reign terror
And oooh how those awful missile FrAgMeNtS fly
and Muhammad cries with anguished tears, in this writtened
legacy...in written legacy

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"

This Black African nun in cherished photo
she calls our right to vote
Her kindness in her laughing squinting eyes,
and her kind bow smile to match
The voice of liberty written and etched upon
her kind and brilliant face; all imprinted for years
to come

All hail her bus with her sisters all in one;
a beautiful chariot on busy wheels that run
across our nation to give a helping hand
And lift our thirsty spirits on a dry and desolute land

They hold that lamp of liberty on kind hands
and gentle voice, but strong in truth be known,
to hold our basic right, to close those drapes and
snap a switch, to a voice of our own

They cross our land in valor in gentleness and kind
these nuns of liberty and justice in an unjust time

Their hearts are made from goodness; their strength
so often done, in a land so heavily pillaged, they will
never never succumb. They see a new sun rising over
the distant hill
They know their work of justice never to be still...

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

Those stones I think about everyday
Bill Perry and his posses' never hidden truth, endear each soldier down to rest
He gathers people near and far to plant the seeds of a golden star

A golden star not of shame
A golden star all the same
We watch and see the people cry to touch their loved ones long gone by

On stones these fingers do caress
On stones I feel the emptiness
On stones that should not be
On stones of a written eulogy

A bugle echoes taps to all
A boatswain pipe returns its call
To salute our gone by kindred all...

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

Oooh pleeeaaaseee
society
May I have
just one leaf
even a stump of a tree?

Can you not put your
machinery down just for
a moment or two?

Relax just please think awhile
be that that beautiful child
you really want to be
come romp with me  This I plead

beyond my dignity
upon a bended knee
I'll be with hands clasped upward
you bully ******* you know
you are!

Sorry for the name I said
but you act insane
because we are all to blame
by not reminding you
where your roots are

You're as soupy as
all you ****, all single cells like you,
that once floated in the beginning of all beginnings
Each death's stroke you take
you shake the same boat
you are standing in
How ignorant can your life be
does it not mean much?
But it does to me!

I just want to be
a Duke of a Universe
is this too much to ask?
I could use
The Black Hole as a pool pocket
and the planets as pool-*****
and declare you
Vice Duke inspecting graffiti
on planet restroom walls,
and you report to me
those words of wisdom
of Plato, Nietzsche, Kilroy and cornbread...

I just want to watch
comets streek across
the heavens
and watch tiny pulsars blink minute rotations,
and newly created stars explode
and belch their heavenly gases
And see masses and masses
of nebulae
stretching outward
like blowy-toy-pinwheels
And I'll take the " Big Dipped"
and dip it in the " Milky Way"
while playing marbles
with tiny asteroids
And use the heavens as my
painter's canvas
and splash on newly Constellations
And use the many Suns
to warm my chilly hands,
The return from farthermost
planets of Sunless Lands

Oh my BOSS!!
I'm getting too serious
as you can easily see
And why worry?
Because I'm already
a Duke of a Universe,
The talk of the playground campus
The talk among every prominent
Neo-Freudian and Neo-Skinnerian
The talk about my wisdom writings
found near almost flushing toilet
at "QUACKSVILLE UNIVERSAL UNIVERSITY"
Here come the med cart
Here come the med cart

That's all folks

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.

i am a small and insignificant person i listen to the negative
"cannot do"unless I become aware of my true abilities
I become empowered and not listen to the i people
you and I can change  The you i person has the great ability
to change into the you I person also We can be great partners
being you I and me I otherwise there remains total confusion
such as:
you i and  me I
or
you I and me i
or
You i and me i
And if we do this right we get..............:) instead of...................:(
I or i
thank you I or you i ,which one do you choose?

I will still love you even if Atlas tripped and
the earth dropped
I would search the heavens find the milky way;
find the "Big Dipper" and milk feed you

I would steal home base and give it to you;
become your double when you're in trouble,
become your alibi no matter what, do your dishes,
shine your shoes, make your bed and only give you
good news.

I would smile for you, cry for you, even lie for you
but should I ever die for you?
I would even smoke *** for you, eat the best food for you,
buy the best for myself for you
And being satisfied lay softly back and whisper to myself, "If I would for you, oooh yeah if I would for you."

Almost round 4:00pm two Asian lover dovers with giggly
laughter took the South Bound subway to South Philly.
Their outward display was so neat and pleasing like a painter with my pen I had to write this...


Watching two Asian school youths;
    frequently there;
every smile every nuance of expressions,
    their soul-mate world
tells about their quiet and giggly adoration

Transformed from their
    hard steel bench
is now a park bench
    Encompassing strident voices fade;
Their happy world is victorious

She sits upon his lap
    And whispers; they faintly laugh
Their entwined thoughts
    cannot be pulled asunder

As I write, I observe;
    I laugh to myself,
the remembrance
    of my soul-mate and myself
many years ago...

Laziness,

taking 1 step forward

then

10 steps backward

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...

I see your song;
feel your melody

Your singing eyes
looking right into me

We feel our peace,
dancing heavenly

To feel your arms
wrapped in rhapsody;
violins beckon,
you to me

We kiss on lips
in rhythmic fantasy

I hear your heart
beat drum-songs to me

Let singing cupids sing so softly,
about our love in symphony

The dancing stars
wink joyfully,
upon two loves,
in melody

The curtain falls,
on cord's romance
to play our song
give love a chance...

What golden hearts
seek other souls of gold
What gentle tears roll down from
weeping eyes of red
For escaping hearts
run against the gauntlet from the past
a trodden road that lingers on to ever last
In sadness rendered, comes the twilight from
the dim
to feel the freedom of brightness light within
Comes the brightness your smiling eyes reveal
a radiant countenance of warming flesh and not of steel
What cherished thoughts
I lay them at your feet
your accepting love
and searching eyes so dearly sweet
It's you and me my radiant dove,
illuminating
a sparkling brightness
of our love...

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"

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...

Give me your mind and talk to me
let us talk my talk
let us walk my walk

Beware because I am
not a gold miner or even a coal miner
but a mind miner, extracting your self-product
lying deep within your deep and dark hidden caverns
I will dig out your most hidden psyche
I will dig out your most deep inner world by my grinding words
Your inner product will be on a talking conveyer belt,
washed polished and dried to perfection
I will then reinvent your freshly dug up social product
and inspect for flaws
If all passes my inspection, that reflects myself,
the stamp will declare, approved by the Good Mind Keepers of "Herd Mentality".

I unscrewed my belly button and my **** fell off