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546 · Jan 2015
thank you, Tree
Sam Temple Jan 2015
monkey DNA rules the landside
multitudes of dudes
rally around the ranch hands
planning to take stands
against stands of trees
standing tall
light refracts
bending ever so
giving the low lying foliage
full spectrum—
apelike in their motions
and communicating only in grunts
suspendered stewards stake claims
on the Sycamore
for more money
moreover,
eyes shine on the falling pine –
mannish flexing
droplets of sweat
stack rack of sweet smelling fir slats
binge drinking between filling bins
train cars destined for ports
shipping the soil's children
to the impoverished and underdeveloped –
aged tycoons
rest scabby elbows
on traditional oak armrests
seated near the mahogany footed desk lamp
just to the left of a little cedar box containing cigars –
Sam Temple Mar 2015
standing in the pre-dawn glow
I raise my arms to the last great god of men
and wonder why no one
praises Venus
when they crossed the sea
it was Venus who parted the waves
when they looked around at calamity
it was Venus they cursed
when they wrote calendars
it was the variation in the great comet
that influenced days, months, and years
we have forgotten –
a bright spot on the horizon
is all that remains
of the horned beast
that nearly wiped humanity from existence
the massive upheaval documentation
either verbally in the native tribes
or physically as with the Chinese or Hindu
state clearly the reality
natural destruction
in the eyes of those who came before
was placed on an invisible all-knowing god
while today,
news agents would explain
an incoming comet
is about to destroy all life as we know it
get ready –
looking up at the star filled night sky in wonder
and amazement
as I now understand why
these were the gods
and their movements and actions so carefully notated
sadly, we will not get to relive this sight
it will be our own actions
that bring about the new age of man –
no longer is a planetary body required
when we can build nuclear reactors and dump waste into the oceans
there is no real necessity for god to send
agents from heaven
to smite unholy cities
we drone bomb the innocents daily
long past are the days in which a vengeful lord
would take actions against those who would deny
Monsanto and BP have completely poisoned
any and all available land that was once
suited for inhabitation or food production
engineered salmon swim through
plastic islands
in a quest to bash their mutated brains
into man made dams
that no longer do anything but
stop the natural flow of the rivers –
broken promises of a returning savior
have the masses crying out
while refusing personal responsibility for anything
when they burn in the fires of neglected industrialization
I will sit atop a lonely mountain peak
and enjoy natural hand-made marshmallows
with those who would listen
and take heed --
Sam Temple Jan 2016
there are many misconceptions about Obama
from the origin of his birth to his right to his address
regardless, he is our president
and the leader, for a time, of my union
and this year will be his final
before he must go reside in a new state

always speaking in such a confident state
as he gives the house and senate his address
this one was to be his final
no longer will he be my President
as much as I have enjoyed Mr. Obama
it is time that we end our union

so I watched, again, as he gave his state of the union
going over the past with an air of finality
discussing the greatness of each state
and the importance of each individual address
this is the way with Obama
my favorite President

now he steps aside to make way for a new president
Is Michele already looking for a new address?
I can only hope the best for Obama
as he begins to build a new union
in his home state
after a trip to the NBA finals

even though this does feel final
as I listen the final State
I think about the current state of our union…
I have always been a fan of this president
I never gave credence to the Kenyan Obama
or worried a minute about his birth address

#SOTU State of the Union Address
one of the last speeches for this President
a tear falls as I think about the future of my union
and the conspiracy about this being our final
I can only pray for the safety of my state
and for the life of Mr. Barack Hussain Obama

thinking back at Obama and his time at this address
as the president of my union
a final though passes as I consider his state…….
543 · Jan 2015
foot Dr
Sam Temple Jan 2015
drunken podiatrist
face full of feet
seated at the reapers’
keep
pleated sneakers
freak seekers
weaker than peeking tweekers
needing respite a quiet pine cove beacons
alone with disorganized thoughts,
sleep evades capture
melancholy and fidgety
***** fingers fumble in the needles
absentmindedly truffle hunting
little piggy, sad and introspective –
well-wishers fish for the perfect dish
the combination of flavors that will remove pain
while creating pleasant inconsequential conversation
as no one wants to look at reality
even in times of loss
…but at what cost?
mossy lip gloss tossed
plausible pauses cause
raw nerve sawing –
bunion burns and yellowed toenails curl
once again seated in front of the lonely *******
red eyes hide nights of lies to wives
despising the rising bile
fruit flies dive against spore covered windows
cluttered floor acts as a shore against poor ******
and he has the audacity to charge my insurance –
Sam Temple May 2015
slight ache in my right shoulder blade
let’s me know stressors have been mounting
building slowly, at first
with a struggling child in college algebra
a wife irritated with her perfect job
an old dog leaving a tinge of red behind
when he pees on leaves
I absorb –
late payment
and a new billing statement
showing disregard for salaried employees
direct deposit on the last day of each month
means the last week of each month I do my best
poverty impression
complete with meatless spaghetti and dry oatmeal –
slipping back
I put on my hustla hat
and try slinging the cure
for pennies and a greater credit score
but the flooded market has everybody sitting
with slit eyelids and orange fingertips --
nothing to do now,
but wait
541 · Aug 2014
outcry at the public
Sam Temple Aug 2014
violence begets violence
as is seen almost daily
when the US drone bombs school children
in some 3rd world *******
our children
shoot up the school while
******* on pharmaceuticals
wife beaters as a fashion statement
lifestyle choice for the ******
red necks
bed bugs bite lice infested
abusers
to infinity –
shamelessly flaunting the blackest of eyes
from the whitest of clansmen
for freedom
corporal punishment for the masses
spank everyone
“beat on the brat
with a baseball bat”
the only road to salvation
is paved with spent ammo cartridges
and the blood of the non-believers
regardless of the doctrine –
atheist pacifist placating the masses
hands out, palms up
no threat
smiles
and bedroom eyes –
hate incarnate regulating the land
under the name ‘Republican”
seeking to starve babies
while forcing births
killing gays
for having more fun in bed
just ask her for ****
stop the hashtagging
and focus on what is truly important
…… surviving radiation poisoning
as fukushima still rules the world
and no bullets can stop hot particles –
Sam Temple Jun 2015
the sun shown scarlet on the shore
and the day faded away
small feet sunk slow into wet sand
as they too seemed to fade
wavy hair tossed playfully
in the cool evening breeze
and the last moment of sunlight hit her eyes
I stood transfixed –
with seeming deliberateness, she turned her gaze
and I felt pieces of my heart crumble
falling within my chest cavity
finding rest only in the soles of my worn shoes
a word caught in my throat
bringing moisture to my eyes
it was then she looked back at my face –
wishing there were words to descried the beauty
I could only smile and extend my hand
placing her tiny pale fingers
into my rough and calloused hands
a love filled me
that I thought was reserved for fairy tales –
Each new day I remember
thirteen years of these moments
and as the sun shines brightly through my window
I smile knowingly
as there are so many more to come –
Sam Temple Sep 2015
inflamed, red with ****
capped in a snow white helmet
harboring a hair

the infected zone
irritates and bothers me
flea bite out of reach

adolescence marred
mountain ranges across cheeks
geographic ***

pimple head blues song
way down south the bayou bump
stands at attention

impressions, winter
so many flakes cascading
zit in a white-out

shoulder boil lanced
now the shirt fits me better
but I miss my friend…

little wart all wet
rain falls on imperfections
making them shiny
536 · Dec 2015
a large mammal no more
Sam Temple Dec 2015
I find myself
playing the United States
favorite home game
as I watch what I eat
and leave obesity behind –
moving towards a 75 percent, 25
percent ratio…
plant based with animal condiments
excommunicating dairy, processed sugar,
wheat, and anything from a box or can
in order to be the best me
the world has ever seen –
driving by fast food hell holes
feeling myself try to justify
fighting the good fight
for a healthy and long life
but the mind **** lingers…
encouraging me to have just a little
once in a while can’t hurt
denial of one’s desires is downright
un-American –
still, the pounds fall away
and my demeanor improves
finally feeling as good inside my body
as I feel about the things this body does
and is involved in…
internal peace
to match my external happiness
so worth less pie –
533 · Sep 2014
9/30 ... a Tuesday
Sam Temple Sep 2014
sweeping winds
spreading change
across a barren landscape
void of hope
morality
lacking comradery
unity
conscious co-creation –
micro-particulates
throwing the status quo into fits
as the poor unite
against the “Right”
replacing oppression
optimistically
lightly dusted
cosmic radiation meets
karmic justice
revolution battle royal –
sidelined with enhanced spectacles
the view distorts
as capitalism
invades
social reform
seeking to place monetary value
on human life –
alternative air
fills the lungs of the awake
eyes open to the horror
of destroyers
convoyed
far away independent states
wait
for air-raid sirens
and the endless project
clearing rubble
and burying children
for freedom –
feverishly seeking fools
willing to go to the front lines
civil unrest
is placated with modified corn
and fluoridated water
we argue about a ****
and morality issues
while in our (American civilians) name
empire is built
and maintained
“one nation
under god”
means
global superpower in full control
of resources
energy
water
media
and what you think and eat
once again
based on freedom and democracy –
I may see the end yet
at least to this way of life
‘cause if nothing else
one day death will take me
altering my perception of reality
changing me
into a new wind –
533 · Apr 2016
tale of stale bread
Sam Temple Apr 2016
rudely intruding on my stellar mood
the thought occurs I need some food
at the risk of coming across mean or crude
the entire process feels to me lewd
as if I were a wild horse forced to be shoed
or stuck in a clown suit living fancy dude
I hope to make this clear and not be too *****
there are few things in life I despise like food

the very idea I am forced to stop and eat
you might as well tell me they are going to cut off my feet
in modern society there’s no way to be discrete
and in all actuality it’s the only way to be complete
whether vegan for life or a lover of meat
salted pork sandwich or a bite from a beet
both can be smothered in a sauce of mesquite
and with the right olives you can be transported to Crete

yes, the woes are so great when stuffing one’s face
like a hog you slop food all over the place
sit there grinning what a total disgrace
I bet you’d eat dog **** covered in mace
if deep fried and plated with a creamy white glaze
eating so fast you can’t even taste
no thought for the starving with flies on their face
you throw scraps away like there’s no such thing as waste

gaining and sweating getting terribly fat
eating mayonnaise straight from the vat
got too excited in the kitchen and swallowed the cat
one time on vacation you ate two whole rats
imagine the horror of something like that
so fat that when sleeping you need a C-pap
machine on your face to keep open the flap
you need for breathing because you got so ****** fat

I am too guilty of being a fat ****
I have lost 70 pounds and some pants still don’t fit
look at my chest and see hairy man ***
makes me so ******* mad I start throwing a fit
but it can only be my fault when really looking at it
is eating too many sweets really worth all this ****
making me feel such an ****** drooling cross-eyed old ***
falling and floundering in a self-pity pit

but I broke free and took control of the food
no longer eat gravy which used to be glued
to my ribs and my gut while growing me *****
and fell out of my bowels each time I pooed
too much sugar creating bad attitude
and helping me to stay locked in my room
a room on the inside of my body that cooed
for the release from the trap of over processed food
poetry month prompt 6
531 · Nov 2015
coy encounter
Sam Temple Nov 2015
flashing tail fins
darting under and behind
Lilli pad leaves
white and orange coy
circle beneath the bamboo –
undefined spots
blend
giving a swirling kaleidoscope
to tiny fish bodies
Heron camouflage –
sitting on a hand crafted wooden bench
I toss flakes into the water
enjoying the quick surfacing
and instantaneous dive
of my scaly entertainers
another few flakes
another whirlpool –
a large orange and brown fishy
swims precariously close to me
gently I dangle ******* into the drink
six inch coy barely mouths
and nudges my fingertips
I think I just got to pet
my pet fish –
530 · Aug 2016
Dragonfly Dream
Sam Temple Aug 2016
what message do you bring
blue and gold dragonfly
taking my attention
as you dart and turn
where are we going
my eyes travel with you
over and under
around and through
we buzz flower tops
seeking feast or rest /

it is your quiet song that sooths me
on lonely cloud filled evenings
endlessly circumnavigating the pond’s edge
only ever stopping momentarily /

breathing deepens
your wings engulf me
sinking into a soft and inviting
exoskeleton
you transport me /

flashing neon laser architecture
silhouetted pyramids pass
increasing speed
as we careen
multidimensional beings
statuesque
gaze through me
looking deep into a subconscious
imprinting designs and rhythms
asking me to carry something back /

the alarm buzzes and I am reminded
on the windowsill
a perched dragonfly twitches a wing
dial turns twice to a 9 a.m. position
and fly’s off into the morning sun……

my mind reels trying to remember
fading dreams carry the
idea of a message into the ether

I sit on the edge
contemplating /
530 · Jun 2015
time to get new furniture
Sam Temple Jun 2015
wood-grain finish, extra varnish
tarnished button tipped to the right.
fighting urges surging through blue
undoing years of misdirection
unprotected table top dulled sits dusty
rusted nails protruding slightly
nightly visits from the drunken
stunk up pressboard with cigar and beer
nearly every inch a memory
chemistry to delivery
eating so many family meals
dealing cards and outlining plans
landing strip for wayward model airplanes
painfully, I carry it out to the burn pile
smiling slightly as a piece of history
mysteriously drifts away as smoke –
Sam Temple Jan 2016
I thought I knew the way
But it was not the case
I felt lost the whole day

Looking out the window in dismay
Trapped in my head-space
I thought I knew the way

Clasping hands, pretending to pray
Slapping my own ugly face
I felt lost the whole day

Accused of acting overly gay
Just trying to keep pace
I thought I knew the way

Is there anything left to say
I have abandoned the race
I felt lost the whole day

Perhaps things will get better in May
Fleeting hope, there is a trace
I thought I knew the way
I felt lost the whole day
529 · Nov 2014
anniversary memories
Sam Temple Nov 2014
inadequate,
feeling that there is no way to express
12 years of love and devotion
to her –
granting gifts daily,
I sit enamored by grace
caught up in her eyes
longing to just quietly sit close
reach over and touch gently
the sexiest leg ever birthed –
whirling sentence fragments
spin endlessly
no longer attached to Kansas
I find myself with shiny new slippers
in a land I didn’t know existed –

stepping back I realize I am still unable to create for myself

completed
better than before
whole
soul mate
ect
ect
words…trite and inconsequential
when seeking to transcend
and elevate ideologies –
she is what I never deserved
but lived to experience
her blessing as part of my life
brings peace and balance
to a half burnt jig-saw puzzle
stunned, I can only weep
she truly loves me –
12 years ago in a dim living room
stranger expressing vows for eternity
three small children watched quietly
as their mother married a ******
in pajamas
only to spend the rest of their lives
with a father they could count on—
flash back to Tina
profile backed by the Arizona desert
a picture I return to often
moonlit body
exposed by the tent flap
perfection in memory
angry eyes flicker
as a 1984 15” flies from the stand
never a dull moment
when married to a Lion –
12 years ago today, at around 6 p.m. Pacific standard, Tina Lyn Temple became my wife, and I could be no more thankful or blessed.
Sam Temple May 2015
hurtful words and sarcasm
are given freely to facebook and twitter
an attempt to combat lunacy
becoming the purveyor of crazy
in a land of madmen
my crown cuts deeper than any ole thorn –
self-righteousness oozing from open sores and oil clogged pores
tis a snore
for the ******
they gather in droves, old ***’s lost in blow
both ******* and **** *******
I watch sickened, unable to curb my stare –
wave after wave of useless children
forgotten by the culture that forced their births
adorn sidewalks greedily holding out ***** fingers
begging for patriotic flavored candy
brightly packaged
hiding the poisons
brilliantly –
the brain dead society at large shuffles worn shoes
across roadways littered with magazine advertisements
and perfume samples
blind to their arrogance
building new homes on yesterday’s landfills
tearing down school houses of the past
for robotic manufacturing canters
….. I’ll not be riding the eternal hamster wheel without a fight –
526 · Apr 2016
southland singing
Sam Temple Apr 2016
in the mindset
of an ole ***** spiritual
plantation style
when the long hot days
could only be battled
by singing what would one day
be called the blues
travel with me, all ya’ll
to a humid crop
circa 1837
with the hippest pickers
in all the region….
a little taste:

the foreman, a blue black
towering figure
bag slung
sweat dripping
starts quiet and low
but soon all join in:

masssa gonna whip up good
***** gonna whip us bad
***** gonna whip us smiling
***** gonna whip us sad
***** loves he whip

***** gonna whip us eatin
masssa gonna whip us starved
masssa gonna whip us easy
masssa gonna whip us hard
***** loves he whip

-----The field seems to move in unison now
as each member of the crew
feel the rhythm and sing along in time -----

***** gonna whip my woman
***** gonna whip my chile
***** gonna get a splinter
wont whip me for a while
***** loves he whip

masssa gonnna whip my skin raw
***** gonna turn me red
masssa gonna whip me so hard
make me wish that I was dead
***** love he whip

----The sun is setting now on the plantation
but the song carries late into the eve
as we travel forward in time we hear the faint echoes
from a troubled past ------

***** gonnna whip my po back
***** gonna whip my legs
***** gonna whip my momma
make me scream and make me beg
****** loves he whip
poetry month prompt #26
523 · Jul 2015
Waterfall
Sam Temple Jul 2015
freefall hydrogen particles
cascading without care
blending perfectly
becoming part, once again
of the larger consciousness
individual atoms
magnetically adhered
create an atmosphere
intrinsically suited
for the swimmers,
mammals, insects, fish, and fowl –
This year at the Oregon Country Fair ( hippy/ art fair ...sort of a big deal in these parts), I had this idea related to stealing the concept of "Footprints" ie: take photos and write poems relating and overlay the text on the image; and then hand craft frames in an attempt to become part of the artisan movement at said fair. I can't attach photos on this site so I am unable to give you all the full effect.....so, when you read this, imagine it is on the left side of a picture of a waterfall and trees.
521 · Oct 2016
Farewell to Mother
Sam Temple Oct 2016
~


hard breathing       long night
repeat    repeat

she holds on
and I wait ~

sponge moisture
     cracked tongue
              injected pain meds

still, her will maintains ~

tears stream as I beg
your non-responsive body
   please     let      go

gurgles rise and fall
with slow chest movement

                in the quiet night
                       soft beeping in the distance
I see the truth

fear keeps you ~

bone fingers, cold and veiny
rest in my own

softly, I begin to tell you
not to be afraid

brother will be fine
I will be fine
your pets will be fine
the house
the yard
the tribe….

it was only 10 minutes down the highway
when the phone call came

when you let go

when you were no longer afraid ~



that was the moment I realized

I was afraid


        of       losing      you /
Oct 4 is mom's birthday, she would have been 65.... she passed a bit more than a year ago, but this week has been rough......
521 · Oct 2014
feeling my age
Sam Temple Oct 2014
preemptive comb-over
greying chin whiskers distract
crows-feet stretch along the horizon
fluctuating flatulence
aging
bright eyes shine brown
as a youthful disposition
attempts to fill old space –
spaced-out on the space-heater
I stare into the dimensional riff
where the floor falls away
and my incorporeal energy being
floats
freely –
medicated and meditative
my motivation for misappropriation
magnifies
I mount an attack on Amazon
adding material trash
to my ever-growing carbon footprint
……turns out the American dream
takes VISA –
pinning for Pine trees
I leave the safety of internet shopping
expedition and adventure
in the Cascade wilderness
40 years does not an invalid make
and the lonely mountain trail
gives peace and solace
to my ragged and frayed
emotions –
emoticon laden text
forces me back to civilization
emaciated, but emancipated
I step back into the world
refreshed –
520 · Apr 2016
political hangover......
Sam Temple Apr 2016
it pounds with the fervor
of 100 million idiots
screaming in unison
make America great again…
as if greatness
were so trivial
as to be allowed reentry
into the fattest nation
globally –
making America great again
like in the 1950’s
when racism and bigotry
were right as rain
where white is might
and Jesus stood with the nation….
for shame
make America great again
like when industry had children
working 15 hour days
for pennies
while toxifying the land, air, and rivers
beating the poor into submission
with clubs
and immigrating based on skin color
for shame….
make America great
again…….
like slavery?
manifest destiny?
corporate empire?
world police?
Like Donald Trump as President?


making America great starts by accepting
each other
as equals.
Period.
519 · Apr 2016
one whole day
Sam Temple Apr 2016
que the soft pipe ***** music in the background

dearly beloved
we gather here this day
this day
but 24 short hours
we could go into minutes and seconds
but it trivializes the point
ladies and gentlemen
we give this day
to the earth –
sustainer and bringer forth of all life as we know it
have a day.
every breath
each sip of water
any morsel of nourishment
any of us ever had
throughout all of humankind
have a day
the bacteria in our guts
the viruses in our noses
the plants
the fish and fowl
mammals and reptiles
have a day.
a day…….
tomorrow we **** you again
tomorrow we smash your peaks for metals
tomorrow we gouge into you with spikes
        to draw out your very essence
                 for cars
tomorrow we tear away your covering
      your forests and wet lands
              for materialism
tomorrow we **** on you
tomorrow we fight against you
tomorrow we poison you
but, today, we honor you….
have a day,
earth –
later I will walk through your gift
I will smell spring flowers and think of you
forest paths will come alive with your sounds
and I will smile
I will hold you in my hands
breath you in
and shed a tear
over a day….
earth, we thank you
today
earth, we honor you
today
earth we love you
today
earth
today
a day for you –

someone nudge Martha….she’s got her hearing aid down
shut that **** ***** music off ……


listen people,
gather round close
we are running out of time
and the earth
its gonna need a bit more than a day
like, forever
we are going to have to think a little
about sustainability
our place within the larger ecosystem
we can’t survive without earth
we can’t……
won’t you help me? –
poetry month prompt 22
Sam Temple Jun 2015
promises of commitment
intertwined with feelings of compassion
idiosyncratic moments indelibly imprinted
as love between two humans is expressed
and allowed to flourish –
one ruling by an appointed court
opening judge’s doors’ across the country
giving freedoms to homosexuals
which should have never been in question
another example of the lie
that is “separation of church and state” –
millions of Americans cry out in unison
that God’s will has been wronged
while holy matrimony
uses the same language “Do you take this person”
when children marry stuffed animals –
in a day when twenty Bachelorettes
can battle for the hand of a stranger
on nationally syndicated television
how can people stand up
and argue based on a value system –
ethics, moral standards, belief systems…
these concepts are individually defined
if I think it is o.k. to have a tattoo
of Tom Selleck ******* Omar Gadhafi
that is my business
and it can’t really hurt you…only offend –
if you feel offended
by the Supreme Court decision
to allow the LBGT community marriage equality
I would argue
you have too much time on your hands –
517 · Aug 2016
lost in a desert daydream
Sam Temple Aug 2016
raincloud absenteeism
the scorched earth tendrils heat
mirages of Arabian oasis melt
two tiny quail chicks
seemingly spontaneously combust

skink tongue stretches to the horizon
flowing outward along the contour
rising and falling
fading only to reappear

figment transforms
as silver edges harden
speeding Plymouth breaks the spell

seeing a chrome ******
float off to the east
my plight becomes tangible
red arm stretches out
awaiting the next passing chance
517 · Oct 2016
Seeking a Different Self
Sam Temple Oct 2016
~




attempting   to

                            abandon ego
    



forever on the           patio




my         nudityquakes





storm clouds
                                       pressurize     /
516 · Aug 2015
mid 2000 through Aug. 2002
Sam Temple Aug 2015
course and stubbly moustache whiskers brush against my forehead
sending uncontrollable shivers of discontent
through my narcotic addled body
beginning to rouse from my ****** induced slumber
I catch out of my periphery the chubby cheeks
and balding dome of the man who pays to **** my **** –
days to weeks to months…
18 long, despair filled terror
never a moments rest
or a minute of peaceful sleep
despite half a gram a day black tar
intravenously gifted to a bleak and melancholy  
man-***** –
blue eyes following my every movement
ready to pounce like a rascally kitten
except this is not cute
and boarders on ****
as a sleeping / drug induced coma victim
is really unable to say yes –
the mirror holds no lie
and I see the truth each day as I wash my face
no amount of soap
can ever clean away the filth…
guilt and addiction
what a terrible combination for this poor ole chappy –
516 · Mar 2016
last moments
Sam Temple Mar 2016
confiscated memories
taken to dark rooms
with single 40 watt bulbs
swinging overhead
casting alien shadows
and adding to the air
of uncertainty
grainy photographs
lay haphazard
askew and strewn
as if by a child
or inconsiderate adult
making a symbolic point
children faces
from summer camp
classmates in spandex
eternally living 1991
teased bangs
and hanging wallet chains
the images distort
colors blend and fade
new images arise from the swirl
birth elation
and passing family
lost pets furry snouts
smear into the eclectic
bandaged knees
bees stings and mother’s kisses
slight pressure builds behind one eye
as a strange pull exerts force
indirect
vows and flowers
powerful allies
cash gifts and glass dishes
showered
blank polaroid’s dot the tabletop
washed-out black with lens flares
sun spots
orange hues, circular and non-committal
slowly alter and develop angles
first front porch swing
splinter banister
and sanding the space
currently void of tile
flashing stashes of mix-matched socks
boxes of books
cooking thanksgiving.

they sit quiet, lost in though
when the steady red line matches
the single tone
…sighs escape pursed lips
when the littlest member asks,
“What was he thinking about before he died?”
514 · Jun 2014
passing time
Sam Temple Jun 2014
paid to sit
eggshell walls
projecting into the future
more hours, less responsibility
the slackers dream
complacency corrupting consciousness
closed casket visions hide
plainly explained drainage
as pieces of my soul slip away
silently
only this outlet prevents *******
poetry perfumed with pain
and post-traumatic stress disorder
dresses ordered for the ceremony
pressed flesh distorted corsage
visage presents itself in flowing gowns
drowning victim
foundling
pale skin shedding
forced escapism without intent
only expression
for the sake of itself
512 · Jul 2014
self-depreciating bullshit
Sam Temple Jul 2014
hard-liner approach
half-dead dog
next to a pile of ****
brand new carpet
ruined
bloodied fists still clenched
ache for a new target
something to blame
someone to hurt –
broken tooth tells a tale
of drunken brawling
for the honor of a **** head *****
******* **** for bus fare
in the warm glow of the downtown public restroom –
fluorescents flicker
peeling paint, discolored
stains, upon grime, atop rust and smoke damage
*** sprinkled toilet seat
draped with pale skin and *****
guilt is worse than food poisoning
in the cold hours of the pre-dawn
cool refreshing porcelain
giving pause to a pounding head
momentary reprieve
single drip of sweat travels the long journey
along a stubbed jaw line –
sickened by the visual
moments pass as the scene is etched
mind’s eye holding the image
forgoing the polaroid
sending it straight to the long-term banks
so for all my life
I can look back in clarity
at my shortcomings
and failings as a human –
Sam Temple Nov 2015
evolutionary revisionist
screaming about alien DNA
and the Annunaki
teaching ape-men
on the Sumerian plains –
looking at the southern skies
for the coming of Nibiru
sending red horns across the horizon
bringing back the overlord giants
another round of ****
and zero-point energy –
fallen angles look like greys
travelling from heaven
in shiny silver disks
abducting the impoverished
for genetic manipulation
and artificial insemination
attempted creation
of a hybrid nation
my lament is not taken seriously
and I slip further into the fringe –
cattle mutilation no longer garners
a press release
five million people with similar memories
are all discounted as crazy
so the masses can sleep
believing they are alone
and special
in the universe –
511 · Dec 2014
tra(sh[it]) sandwich
Sam Temple Dec 2014
typecast hero looking for a way out
tired of rushing to the aid of others
so they can once again foolishly find themselves
in need of assistance and realignment
and so on and so on
the story drags
only the ******* fan stays behind
knowing, sweating with anticipation
carrying the understanding within
that patience pays off in the majority
and majorly in the winter months –
lackluster wedding bands
attempt to gleam bright
only to flatly express devotion
marred and grimy, old mechanic fingers twist
reality –
estranged housewives
estimate child care costs
lost in the embossed glow of ceramic vases
chastising lying children for learning to deceive
from the adulterous ***** in charge
angry red hair flying, free of bobby pins
and regular trips to the stylist
sends pointy fingers stabbing into the thick air
accusatory –
her guilt blinding the common folk
trying desperately to sew enough crop fodder
to survive another dire winter
and worst
the oncoming season of misinterpretation
Spring… once signifying rebirth and new life
representing now only more cleverly hidden
deceit
for it is only through the summer
that we may find ourselves again freezing
looking at the despair and desolation
winter always finds its way back –
Sam Temple Apr 2016
they sat in the tray
eagerly awaiting planting day
24 little beauties
of various shapes and sizes –
some, sisters
strains cut from the same mother
others, new to the farm
and new to me
I give them all the love of a doting father
gently and tenderly caressing leaves
and giving soft encouraging words
of success and growth –
today I bring in a Durban and a Rhino
and the set is complete
they join a cornucopia;
a white widow
a Burmese kush
one little stout body
called a Deep Purple
lemon pledge
sits alongside
a lambs breath crossed
with a sour diesel
the gorilla glue #4
looks lovely in the afternoon light….
I smile at the rows of little ladies
thinking about the next 5 months –
sunlight
infused soil
compost tea
giving them only the best
of the organic foods
micro-biotic nutrients
and cool well-water
bending them ever-so-slightly
to encourage a larger canopy…
it’s going to be a good year,
again –
favorite time of year for many reason, not least of which is being an organic outdoor grower in beautiful Oregon!
510 · Jan 2016
Cascade castback (sestina)
Sam Temple Jan 2016
i took a drive up to the mountains
stopped near a dense part of the forest
casting my eyes over the forest floor I noticed the ferns
and even as I sat in the pouring rain
looking around for elusive Chanterelles
i felt at peace and at home

not an hour ago I had left my home
and here I was deep in the mountains
never one to be deterred by the rain
i stepped out amongst the ferns
becoming part of the forest
i spotted my first Chanterelles

oh! how I love to pick chanterelles
on the floor of the thick, dark forest
lost in a valley of ferns
with just of touch of cool Oregon rain
no thoughts for the worries of my home
just me, communing with the mountains

from before I could walk I played in these mountains
remembering my youth and vast forests
tucking behind my ear the frawn of a fern
tasting the nutty peppered flavor of fresh Chanterelles
truly, this was my real home
an Oregonian child at peace in the rain

brought back to the present by a large drop of rain
i thought about my family at home
and their connection to these same mountains
and while they did not love Chanterelles
they very much enjoyed playing among the ferns
in this special part of the forest

few things hold a place in my heart like this forest
or the beautiful orange grow of a new Chanterelle
i breathe in deep my home away from home
enjoying each and every drop of falling rain
looking across the range of mountains
sprinkled with soft and gentle ferns

i left my home in search of chanterelles
but was captivated by the mountains and made whole by the rain
in the societal forest, I am but a fern
509 · Nov 2015
a smell on the wind
Sam Temple Nov 2015
this morning
I felt it in a damaged knee
smelled it on the air
watched the clouds with
knowing atici…………pation
winter was coming
and its brutishness
would not easily go unnoticed  --
the steady preparatory ant
the fattened bear
thick with salmon grease
and sedge grass
ole man Barkley
splittin’ cord wood
dark brown chew spit
trickling from the corner of his
downturned mouth…
and the migrating geese –
my skin prickles at the air
and the visions of the season to come
holiday meals and family gatherings
cooking and sharing
little rolling hills for sledding
trimming a tree
in the cozy warmth
of our country home –
508 · Jan 2016
16 bar bullshit take two
Sam Temple Jan 2016
Dropping crops in the hottest bus stops riding in a drop top actin like I’m the Rock
White skin shinning at the shin dig with my dawg Jim, I’m grinning cause I’m winning
and my life is just beginning. Don’t let the grey hair fool ya, I be a cool brah with a tool kit
fix your drain pipe in the rain won’t complain, ****, I don’t even need paid. sound insane?
Then run away, but if you stay you just may see the day when money fades away
Replaced with face to face interpersonal rela –tionships… spinach dip? Kung-Foo grip…
Please don’t trip cause I’m I be ripped like Snoop in the ‘09 coup de ville, I still drive an old ride
But its paid off and is environmentally soft, I mean it don’t pollute unless I have my boot
and sweet  vermouth…  that ain’t the truth I was a drinking youth left that **** back at the booth
now I only smoke on the herb and swerve through the herd not a star wars nerd but I no like the beep
beep beep, **** ain’t cheap gotta work too reap the benefits of this nation rise above your station
and start with contemplation, make a plan and take a stand be the man like the marvel cat Stan
see that’s a little nerdy but we all have those traits I just keep mine at bay saying praying is gay
******* swinging both this and that a-way. Truly do not give one **** bout your luck
of the rims on your truck, more impressed with duck eggs and the ruckus made when a barn gets raised
like I’m an Amish Bruce Wayne. Getting paid in meager wages still rocking a pager never wager on sport
teams and smudge with white sage.
507 · Jan 2016
second hand death
Sam Temple Jan 2016
deep sigh escapes
large white face
ticking slow
less than three
and freedom –
she awaits
with bells on
diamonds in her shoes
anticipating
breath bated
ultimate goal
togetherness—
I pace
recheck time
tap pencils
on faux wooden desks
thumbs twiddle
minute hand dawdles
might piddle
considering swaddling –
her face forms
my mind’s eye retracing
soft curves
delicate features
astrologically charted
freckle pattern
sharp blue eyes
pierce
my heart leaps –
formulating excuses
call it an early day
dash homeward
sweet embrace –
506 · Aug 2015
reality dose....
Sam Temple Aug 2015
today, my darling wife meets a neurosurgeon
it turns out the herniation of a disk
is pressing on the spine
causing numbness, discomfort, and potentially
paralysis…
unable to focus or concentrate
I find myself meditating
on worst case scenarios
perhaps the sullen poet in me
has been waiting for tangible crisis –
brooding dude in a foul mood
not enough sick time to make the trip
I sit in an office
thinking about interstate travel
doctors office magazines
and the sterile smell of the smaller,
more important waiting room
void of reading material
but full of fun tongue depressors and
knobs and dials on the blood pressure cuff –
Inmates surround my tiny desk
asking questions about their degree path
inquiring about next term’s schedule
and can I print for them…
all the while
I am not even in my body…
instead I float
hovering near the mental image of my wife
alone in a waiting room
calmly reading US Weekly
while the fate of the next 40 years
of our lives
lays on a MRI on a desk in an office –
506 · Nov 2014
12 years ago today
Sam Temple Nov 2014
James at the edge of the Queen
“one for old times”
tossed the brand new bag
100cc outfits
into my lap
orange cap shinning  --
fine yellowish powder sprinkles
across grandmothers silver
flick of the Bic
sour lemon stank filled room
slow draw through a shirt string
cotton ball of choice
holding 65cc’s of uncut prop-dope
…an impossibility today –
indented  armpit skin
as the nearly clear liquid
takes on a pink tinge
the artery never fails to deliver
plunger plunged plunging impurities –
gag cough from my belly
wave crashes and sweat pours
to amped to sit still
the car calls –
miles out of the way before arrival
at her benefactors home
sweetest of faces snuggled
on a blanket pallet on the living room floor
as I feverishly pencil
bad poetry
until daybreak –
November the fourth
2002
this was the last time
these were the last actions
of a strung out needle freak
breaking new ground
by leaving the past behind –
504 · Dec 2015
a Santa story
Sam Temple Dec 2015
t’was darkly in the winter morn
before the sun’s rays were born
before the sheep were set for shorn
before the maids had milled the corn
I heard a noise from upon the step
reminding me of a traffic wreck
or when ole uncle slipped off the deck
woke in hospital with a broken neck
I jumped on up from my bed
with legs and arms just like lead
a face with anger, colored red
but a sense within akin to dread
t’was just ole Santa on Christmas night
reindeer dancing with delight
the feeling escaped me, the one of fright
and instead I thought, “I must check my sight”
I’m near 40 and of no Christian ilk
there is no tree, nor cookies and milk
yet here I am in pajamas of silk
standing eye to eye with a mythical elf
large red nose and twinkling eyes
just like in the stories I thought full of lies
looked him up and down as if for size
and leaned down placing my hands on my thighs
needing for a moment to catch my breath
thinking I may be quite near death
or that this was some flashback from LSD or ****
when he spoke I could only hold my breath
“you’ve been quite good or so it seems
so here I am to haunt your dreams
and give you gifts with ribbons and strings
but mostly to remind you of other things
like somethings you will never understand
there are concepts that live quite out of hand
and dimensions that exist without air or land
and a cosmic joke with no real plan
you’ve gotten to wrapped up in esoteric visions
forgetting to experience this life you are livin
so this be the best gift I am given
here are the keys, you’ll no longer be driven”
and with that bit of fluff he was gone in a flash
leaving me to quietly stroke my moustache
and tighten the rope on my wintery sash
when it hit me like lightening with a blinding loud crash
I was now free to do what I please
Santa had gifted me the ability to see
I breathed in the ocean and exhaled the trees
and fell to the ground on my hands and my knees
good ole Santa Claus had done showed me the way
a way to live and know just what to say
the ability to leave behind the dismay
and recreate myself anew each day
I went back to bed feeling renewed
no longer needing validation or food
gone was the desire to be sarcastic or rude
truth be told, I was still going to need the food
but the point holds strong and the meaning’s the same
a change took place that altered my brain
taking me from a place unhinged or insane
and leaving me safe with no need to place blame
yes this is the year Santa changed my life
gave me a gift that near matched my wife
offering a change from a place of depression and strife
to one of hope and love, of joy, and of life
oh Santa dear, how could this be true
I was one who never believed in you
like a pagan, a wiccan, Satanist, or Jew
or the little old woman whom lived in the shoe
but from henceforth and on every new day
I will think of the night that you came my way
appearing through the fog and the snow that did spray
changing forever the meaning of Christmas day –
504 · Jun 2015
whining middle-ager
Sam Temple Jun 2015
Ravaged, brittle skin
flaking, and scarred
reflects back,
granting insight into 40 years
abuse and misuse
karmic payback
in the form of arthritis.
Creaking knee pops and snaps
giving substance to movement
beyond simple motion;
creating an ambiance,
a veritable orchestra,
to standing up.
Looking back
gives my neck a tweak
instantly stabbing
and shooting into the back of my skull
for the next few hours
I lay in the dark
with a cool compress
trying to rid myself of
a silly headache.
I think I should try
eating a bit better
and combine that action
with a certain level of physical
activity;
that way,
you don’t have to read any more
of this ****.
Sam Temple Mar 2016
spinning to
     infinity
illuminating
     indiscriminate
gently warning
    ships at sea
by mirrored glow
            on steady tree
an old man sits
  hands worn with polish
       waiting, absentminded
loneliness enhanced
by the quiet night
    lost in thought
and carried away
         by the tone
               of crashing waves–
I have a dear friend who does painting and we are going to do some collaborative work. She will be leaving 2 inch wide, 7 inch long washed-out space on the edges of paintings so I can write a poem to fit with the theme. This is the first of these.
Sam Temple Jul 2017
~
A sliver through leaning elm
lattice branches disguise and distort.
Speckled with yellow, green tree frogs
took the shine as an omen
and sang for lovers with feverous desire.

The goddess of night stirred me also
as I peered deep into the wicker…
I sought a more clear view
but her coyness combined
with the angle of twig
and left my gaze unsatisfied.

Low in a north/ south canyon
barely able to see the sky
I shed a tear for her passing
while wishing for every singing frog
a bright and inquisitive mate.  /
Sam Temple Apr 2016
eternally confronted
each time Autumn slips away
by the ugliness of Christianity
blended perfectly with capitalism
as fat white middle-class *******
push and shove for the best deal –
my eyes recoil at the horror
as parents with the best intentions
place their children on a stranger’s laps
… strangers earning minimum wage
to help propagate a lie
all bent on creating entitlement
and grossly exaggerated expectations
on imaginary friends
both Santa and Jesus –
it’s a cold month in Oregon
for the spiritualist
barterer
sociology major
living December
in a nation of shopaholics
on their national day of rejoice –
I walk the streets witnessing mass consumption
of energy recourses
so thousands of twinkling lights
can show the neighborhood
how you love the savior more than everyone else
nativity in front
santa on top
retards sporting
a holiday mullet –
closing the door I am slapped
by the smell of pine
and hypocrisy
as I too
have a tree, decorated
standing in my living room –
poetry month prompt 4
502 · Jun 2015
realizing my place
Sam Temple Jun 2015
Realizing my emotional connectedness,
I lay, flat backed, on rich dark soil
soaking the energy into myself
of the land that birthed me.
Engorged on unity
the song of the larks
speak openly of insect movements
and hungry and crying children;
the slight rustle of a deer mouse
breaks the trance,
only to send me spiraling
into ***** holes with furry floors
and a pile of babies
nourished on mother’s milk.
Ultra-violet rays penetrate deep
and my reddening skin swells
as the cosmos attempts to infiltrate
and expand me beyond my body…
I explode.
Flashing tree bodies blur
as I, propelled forth, recognize
this is flight…
glancing to the left I see feathered wings
beating frantically
altering ever so gently our trajectory
I settle on a nest edge.
Regaining my senses,
I look atop an old snag
to see the focused eye
of the hawk looking back at me,
we share the moment
as we share the forest.
501 · Mar 2016
Nibiru (limierick series)
Sam Temple Mar 2016
T’was planet X that passed one night
Giving the people awful fright
So bright and red
Knew we’d all be dead
And somehow that’d be alright

It flew with glowing red horns
Early one bright springtime morn
Symbolizing death
Like children on ****
Or married men looking at ****

Sending comets and asteroids to earth
One large one took out ole Perth
So many have died
And the ones left just cried
As if we had all been cursed by Firth

For years we felt the debris
Like in autumn the falling of leaves
But these always burn
And we never learn
To at least try to hide under the eaves

So humanity faded away
Over the course of 200 days
Life came to an end
From the original sin
If only we had known how to pray….
501 · Aug 2017
Feeling a bit Goonie
Sam Temple Aug 2017
~
Overcome with discomfort
like doing the Truffle Shuffle
on a cold day in the rain
belly exposed and wet
frantically jiggling
as if too much Ambrosia salad was
piled on a silver tray –
green Cool Whip slopping over the side
sticky fingers sliding
until it finally drops
and some new access is granted.  /
501 · Apr 2016
this struggle, it's real
Sam Temple Apr 2016
today I have struggled
with the tenements of conservatism
the basic idea
of the sanctity of life
anti-abortion terrorists
picketing in front of wellness centers
screaming that the unborn fetuses
need love, protection, and a chance
a chance to starve in hopeless abject poverty
as these same pro-lifers
desire to end social programs
funded by tax dollars
and the big mean scary federal government
these impoverished babies
forced to be born
will only cry
with hungry bellies
as the neo-cons
laugh all the way to the deregulated banks….
another life held sacred,
the Middle-Eastern Muslim
not the 19 Al Qaeda individuals
who actually crashed into two buildings
killing around 3000 citizens,
no, those living and working
in Iraq,
Afghanistan,
Libya, or Syria
those brown skinned
lives of sanctity
near a million lost souls in 15 years
that you supported drone the bombing of
innocent children and women washing clothes
blown to bits
by the sanctity of the Republican Party…
life, human life,
is no more important
to a fair and just creator
than a flower or a tree
as all creation
is sacred
it must be….
or none is –
I stand in awe of the hypocrisy
****** muscles contort
draw and release
smiles hide frowns
drowning in fearful tears
as I consider the next 20 years
of American life –
501 · Jun 2016
never alone
Sam Temple Jun 2016
we all rise and fall with the calling
long after lives are lived and ambition becomes compost
the vibration continues
energy mingles with the surrounding atmosphere
giving ghostly haunts a place to reside
on the edge of sanity and the shoreline
when the tide is out far enough
and the stars shine without moonlight
from the precipice of an river inlet
one can see the flat earth
and spin infinitely, a cosmic dot
recognizing itself as forever
part of everything –
we lost a poet today, but he is with us still, musing and inspiring
499 · May 2015
meditative property
Sam Temple May 2015
meandering stream of consciousness
flowing this way and that
without substance or context
just fleeting images of fantasy and memory
veritable hodgepodge of indiscriminate
out of the blur solid ideas begin to take shape
formless visions develop hard edges
as I slip deeper into the ether
aided by copious amounts of
ingestible cannabis  
and the belief that I am one
with the universe –
long dead relatives guide me
down pastel paths of cotton
as we float through and past
holographic pyramids
still stained from blood sacrifice
travelling faster and with purpose
tracers elongate
giving the illusion of streaming ribbons of neon
stretching in all directions
geometricizing the skyline
reminding me of the chemtrails
back in reality –
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