Boys are great
they say what they think
think what they do
say when they want you.
Boys are fun
They risk life and limb
just for a swim
Drink like fish
Eat the whole dish
Boys are interesting
they sit and twiddle
Opposable thumbs were
invented for them.
Yes I think I'll stick with boys

a strange day
it was full of strangers
when I went for a walk
with my spouse by my side


past the junction
a stranger shouted out to me:
“Help me!”
and I said quite readily:
“But I need help myself –
so how can I help you?”
and I continued on my walk
wondering at this strange world


past the 100-year-old tree
an octogenarian stopped me
and he said:
“Son, can you tell me which way
to Harvey’s Street?”
and I said to him:
“I don’t know Harvey
and so I don’t know his street;
and by the way, maybe you don’t know,
but I’m not your son….”

and past Kangaroo Point
a cheery stranger all teeth
he shouted to me:
“Good day!”
“Oh, great!” I shouted back.
“You may be having a good day
but I’m having a strange day,
I’ll tell you that!”

And past the Greehimn River
a helpless old lady said:
“Ah, kind man, could you pick up
that walking stick for me?
it’s mine and a young man
just now kicked it off my right hand”


And I said with no second thought:
“Oh, old woman
pick it up yourself;
your back is already bent
so half the effort is already there -
and you think I walked all the way here
so I can pick up a walking stick
for a strange old woman I don’t even know?”


and I turned to my spouse
who was with me
all the while and I said:
“Hmmm…what a strange day
with all these strangers…”
and my spouse answered speedily:
“Who are you, creepy stranger?
Why do you talk to me?”
And straight my spouse
walked off from me…


Hmmm…and indeed a strange day it was
with all these strangers one meets
and who walks so close beside

Did anyone tell you
that you’re prettier
than the water between
the grooves of the asphalt
after it rains?

with traffic lights glowing
through those tiny lakes

I was standing in an empty pool
while everyone was smoking
and watching the tedious fate
of all the cigarette ashes
soon to be washed away
and murdered by chlorine

Watching smoke elude his light yellow teeth:

he shot dope a lot
dropped too much acid, too young
I’m glad I’m not him

At the end of a rainbow
lies a young girl squatting in a wash
she’ll wake up in a gutter
and harass tourists to the next town

Red hair, punk rock girl
“you are wonderful, can I
buy some ecstasy?”

Waiting for the snow to fall
so you’ll put on that plaid jacket
that I met you in
and I’ll take pictures of you walking
down a street

on the bus, on the way to the sacrifice
you put on your war paint
and I wear that nice shirt my father bought me

you were like a bat
a face with wings
that hovered over my head
while I smelt smoke
acrid smoke
barbarians in the gutter
roasting their enemies

Do you hear that?
The braves are stomping over the embers
metal walls and rocky head collisions
and the promise of sleepless nights out

blazing stars
shot down by the clueless wishing
of the blessed infants and deadly lullabies
plastic bags choke on the cardinal’s throat

Let me stand in the fire pit again
my shoes smelled like smoke and
burnt plastic
for only a week

There are split seconds
of snakes and swines
fighting inside my pupils
waiting for five dollar bills
to show them the light

On the bus ride home
I wait a few minutes
before the last stop
and try to get the spit out
of my throat
so I don’t look
like a fool
(like I do every other day of the week)

AaAH !!!In this ecstatic fusion of
sighs,whispers and breaths
raising to wild decibels
in the aura surrounding US...

lover...
do you fail to just
see how my eyes well up
the instant
your gaze morphs
into that one touch


so what...
if your eyes fail to
see the invisible tear
in my heart as
...I trace those lines
in my silences where your
kiss lingered just a moment ago


How I wish
it was your soul
which lingered there instead...


*in all its vulnerable wholesomeness

The voices in my head they cry for you sweet Natalie. As days
whisper loneliness to visions in my head, like fantasies awakened
from memories I thought were dead.

The warm brush of your hand upon my cheek, a gentle squeeze
as we held hands we walked along, talking about our
love born plans.

Come to me sweet Natalie, enter where my thoughts now live.
Save me from this eternal absurdity; bring me your
unconditional love, and let me show what love I give.

The voices in my head they cry for you sweet Natalie, while
lonely tear drops flow now that you are dead.

Awaken me sweet Natalie, please restore our days of love. It is
hard for me to live my life without you by my side, so walk with
me sweet Natalie like you did when you were alive.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.


Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then ,as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, -
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.


With a thousand pains that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
'Strange friend,' I said, 'here is no cause to mourn.'
'None,' said that other, 'save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil ******, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.


I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now...'