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There's a full moon risin'
in a blackened sky
there's a full moon
sittin' huge
on the horizon sky.

There's someone standin'
on top of that hill
could it be I?
Hearin' music coming thru the trees
dancing
an old soft shoe
arms held high
silhouetted
by
that big full moon sky.

There's a shadow bein' cast
long thin and lean
stretchin' out creating darkness,
while illuminating light
all around
the shadow movin' ahead
a thin strip of darkness
and callin' it my life.

Illumination
darkness
a small pin light
flashin'
on
memories
possibilities
metaphors
allegories
waterfalls
in
all­ those
exquisite present moments
the poetry
our flash light lightenin'

And of course
there's a soul
could it be I?
Dancin' that old soft shoe
on top of that hill
a moment's delighting
in a full moon's night sky a risin'...
There’s a place up the avenue
Where lovers come to fail
Look at each other with dispute
And hate is all they feel.

When they check in they always say
“I tried so hard, where do I sign my name.”
They always complain about the investment they have made
Does the room, have a place to change?
The credit card’s declined
The Hotel never seems to mind
The key is in the shape of a broken arrow
right to the heart.
The desk clerk smirks
Gets your name exactly right,
Even though you’ve never met
until this night.

The concierge will give you directions to the local graveyards
The bell hop only dances and never says a word
When you give him a tip, he’ll only throw out your words
The elevator only goes down
The only music heard is the sound
Of a solitary heart beating in rhyme
Singing the song
“You will never be mine”.

The hall way corridor goes on forever backwards in time
The lonesome sounds of whales singing
Echoes through the halls, coming through the walls
And from beneath every door.

The rooms offer amenities
The devil dancing in the pain
On the head of a pin
The walls have one function
That’s to close on in.

The ribbon of blood
That seeps through the mirror
Dances in inkblots all the way
To the sink
Which drips tears of
Frustration
Resignation
Isolation
Recriminations.

The bathtub waters
Only run too hot
or
Too cold.

There is a bed of nails
Inviting ruminations
The images of her with him
Him with her
Strobes on the ceiling in endless loops
Of anguish’s fatal tunes.

Room service offers a variety of suicide utensils
The mini-bar contains a row of empty bottles
and a syringe without a needle.

The garbage men are always out side
Garbage cans crashing through the endless night sky
The windows open to brick walls
While couples in bliss dance cheek to cheek
In the bar across the street
Sometimes they look up at you and smile
That smile.

This nightly room has become a weekly
The weekly a monthly
And if you are not careful
Stay too long
Once you check in
The check out will always be closed
At the Hotel Heartbreak
Just down the road.
"Heartbreak Hotel"
Well since my baby left me
I found a new place to dwell
It's down at the end of lonely street
at Heartbreak Hotel

You make me so lonely baby
I get so lonely
I get so lonely I could die

And although it's always crowded
you still can find some room
Where broken hearted lovers
do cry away their gloom

Chorus

Well the Bell hop's tears keep flowing
and the desk clerk's dressed in black
Well they've been so long on lonely street
They ain't never going back

Chorus

Hey now if your baby leave you
and you got a tale to tell.
Just take a walk down lonely street
to  Heartbreak Hotel.


Tommy Durden, Elvis Presley, Mae Axton, Arthur Crudup
The first comment
I received
a "*******"
with a smiley face
I laughed off
wouldn't you?
Kind of crazy
kind of creepy
put it away as some one
we all know.

The second comment
came
with the usual language refrain
I was a "hack"
my words were "dreck".
The disparaging words about
my dead mother
gave me pause to reflect.

The third comment and more
began to recall
information of past
faux pas
secret affairs
one or two personal pecadillos
never mentioned beyond
the
dialogues in my mind.
Embarrassing I know.

I, of course,
went to the home page
to see
if it was someone
known to me.

No identifying data
but a picture I remembered vaguely
from a past I didn't know.

The trolling continued
relentless I would say
pulled the plug
put up a block
but
wouldn't you know

The comments continued
to come into my dreams
brutal criticism
of
every move I made
the day finally arrived
when I realized

Alter personalities were shedding off of me
like
psychological psoriasis
They were
hitting the ground running
I was
finding poems
I didn't remember writing
clothes I never bought
People kept hugging me
I had never met before
they
knew me far to well
called me many names
none of which were mine.

The silence of my nights were broken
when I found myself
in my car on Highway 101
returning from where I did not know
with a smile on my face
illegal drugs in my pocket.

How did I get here?
How did we get there?
Where are we now?

Another account opened
on Hello Poetry
with an anagram of my name.

I find my days
getting shorter and shorter
it became clear
I had become the dream
The others
had become me.
The dawn was no longer coming
The earth was no longer spinning
The horizon frozen.
We had moved into the deep chill
of our lives
The deep chill of our love.
Stone cold granite silence
Dancing around each other in
slow motion rotation
eyes like arrows
eyes like mirrors
words silent daggers
breath like icicles
held and panting,
volcanic eruptions seething
beneath the surface,
choreographed
hurt and rage
posing
feigning
covering up,
boiling blood
in
this frozen silence

civil, constrained, polite.

We turned around
walked away again,
alone
again,
with nothing changed
and
nothing said.
The burden of all
these lives
is bringing me down to
size
buried in the
sorrows of others
I must confide, my dear
My dreams are
filled with
dread of another day
But my work is never
done - the walking wounded
an endless line,
a samba line
dancing to a thousand
individual tunes
all of which
wind up echoing
in my mind as I listen
for those common themes
search for any magic words
I can bring back to
you, my dear
as you sit in that
four white walled
room
Speaking to a
random sound
and I with all
those questions
all that experience
all those answers
helpless in
my divide
the professional
the personal
both in total heartbreak, my dear
both only left with that
long lost loving sigh.
Heading up to the Sierras be back later.
We've become a
civilization of diseases
we build
monuments
statues
institutions
thinking death won't ever find
us here.

Our minds are scrambled
our bodies are damaged
our food is poisoned
our skies are toxic
our vices
are forces of processes
beyond our
control.

When we are not humbled
by nature's power
we inflict our wounds
upon ourselves in
the names of greed
and self protection
and no one knows
what it really means.

Fearful of the silence
we fill our skies with
endless noise
babbling on in endless
monotones, droning
while traffic stalls
at a hot stand still
idling engines
idling souls
depletion of every last glimpse
of the past.
Jam packed
in the stench
I am lost today
in
this vitriol
as anxiety, death and desperation
from every corner
screams my name.

That's why I came
to these woods
where the illusion of
peace remains
as
wild fires burn
just down the lane
as you know
as you say
its always been this way
when bodies hung
at every cross-roads
hunger, power, ignorance
and strength
all ran
the show.

I'm sick with
every disease I
know.

I float upon these tranquil
blue waters
and
we are reminded of the peace we all
really can know.
I think that I shall never see
A leaf as lovely without a tree
When it falls upon the ground
So gently placed to be found.
A child gathers it in her hands
Carefully places it on the sands
Hoping to grow a brand new tree
For all the world new life to see.
The last four lines had many interruptions (5 year old). Changed direction at least three times. Could not remember where it was going. The child was driving this one.
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