I remember you from the dream
Face wet not with summer's sweat
When I awoke
Didn't think a man could cry

For the softness of a moon beam
Tomorrow's promises unmet
Death of hope
I'd see God in your eye

That day of autumn was to be
Farewell - unplanned and awkward
Two young lovers
Wrestling with goodbye

I tried to understand the need
To move life, career onward
But consoling prize
Under covers, soft thighs...

And you were wrought by accident
Tsar's serf and African queen
Triumphant, WE!
For the moment...

Then dire message from heaven sent
On lost souls' ether carried,
You were buried
And still my dreams you haunt

Post Script
I would like to dedicate this thought to Blaise Brown, poet, who passed away August 2, 2009. I regret he would only read the first two stanzas of the then unfinished work, and hope he would approve of the final form.

shoot the moon
the sky is falling
he doesn’t have a clue
he can’t figure it out
he doesn’t want to
holding on to the past like crutches
punched, choked and slammed
like a Saturday night smackdown
he was his father’s “favorite”
wrestling verbal belittlements of brotherly shame
“Stop crying.  You’re acting like a female.”
his mother escaped the battle cage and sent for him later
abandonment and authority issues
anger internalized and rising to a peak
he dropped out of high school
a crumpled, broken man-child
a stone child
having only dreams left intentionally vague
falling to his addictions and ****** anesthesia
afraid of moving forward
he likes it in limbo
waiting for life to happen for him
expecting others to help
but he won’t help himself
exploiting every excuse
words and actions biting the hands that feed him
pushing people away
assigning blame with pointed fingers
campaigning for sympathy with crocodile tears
tip toeing silently
the years creep up and sneak by
he’s a full step slower
like an aging prize fighter
unable to bob and weave society’s jabs
punch drunk he says, “no más”
withdrawing to the streets
he says, “no más”
“no más”


Del Maximo
© October 8, 2009

The flake of snow on this twig of grass

Reminds me of a little young boy

He would sneak into fridge & stick his head in

And the cool air would soothe his merry mind

The deep blue valley takes me back

To the third storey

From the window of which he would

Watch the birds fluttering

And below, people rushing by

But it’s been long since the time I met him

He sure does stay within

Within the dark abyss of my mind

He can’t feel the joy of little moments anymore

Nor would he smile when I play a tune

They leave him hollow from inside, the memories of her

On a crucifix they nail him every single day

But their strength won’t crush his bones

And their hammers wont hurt him anymore

Coz the soul oozes out from the slit in his heart

The wound she left behind

It soars up in the light of an angelic voice

Leaving me hollow from inside

And here I sit, on this rock

On the edge of it

Thinking what am I without him

Without the merry mind

So I look down, breathe a gush of breeze

And leave along with him.

with an Apple Macintosh
you can't run Radio Shack programs
in its disc drive.
nor can a Commodore 64
drive read a file
you have created on an
IBM Personal Computer.
both Kaypro and Osborne computers use
the CP/M operating system
but can't read each other's
handwriting
for they format (write
on) discs in different
ways.
the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS but
can't use most programs produced for
the IBM Personal Computer
unless certain
bits and bytes are
altered
but the wind still blows over
Savannah
and in the Spring
the turkey buzzard struts and
flounces before his
hens.

it's the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here's a ****
and here's a ****
and here's trouble.

only each time
you think
well now I've learned:
I'll let her do that
and I'll do this,
I no longer want it all,
just some comfort
and some ***
and only a minor
love.

now I'm waiting again
and the years run thin.
I have my radio
and the kitchen walls
are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
and listening
for footsteps.

I hope that death contains
less than this.

this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
with newspapers stuffed into
worn boots.
my plight is just as terrible.
maybe more so.
victory was so close
victory was there.
as she stood before my mirror
younger and more beautiful than
any woman I had ever known
combing yards and yards of red hair
as I watched her.
and when she came to bed
she was more beautiful than ever
and the love was very very good.
eleven months.
now she's gone
gone as they go.

this time has finished me.
it's a long road back
and back to where?
the guy ahead of me
falls.
I step over him.
did she get him too?

It's like a blind man leading a poor man
He sees the cliff coming but he doesn't mind
Grateful to have company on the way down
Thinks the cloud they'll fall through will be silver lined

It's like the teenager who just gave birth to a still born accident
It hurts real bad inside
But she's grateful that if she returns all the diapers everybody bought her
She might have enough money to buy a prom dress
Thinks the pain she feels will be silver lined

It's like the boyfriend of the young girl who just gave birth to the still born child
Grabs his cleats out the closet
Grateful he still has time to get a college scholarship
Dumped her over the phone
Said he didn't like the way her ***** *** whined
Thinks adding another drop to the bucket of pain he will never feel is silver lined

It's like a young man who works at a gas station
With dreams so big he'd have to run the world to accomplish them
Grows up, gets marrieds, gets settled, and settles
Knows the only way he'll make the TV is by beating his wife
Grateful that strangers know who he is
Thinks the jail time he's serving is silver lined

It's like the grown man who has everything the boy at the gas station ever wanted
Doesn't want it, wishes he could give it back, but can't
So he buys houses, clothes, and Cadillacs
Grateful to have enough
Thinks the silver lining on his silver Cadi is silver lined

It's like the overwhelmed twenty something year old who puts a lock on her own knife drawer
Too proud to get help
Grateful that she has a boyfriend willing to take the brunt
Of all the problems she can't see past
Thinks the inconvenience of the knife drawer is silver lined

It's like the boyfriend of the overwhelmed twenty something year old
Who takes the brunt of all the problems she can't see past
Grateful he has a key to the knife drawer
Thinks the blood on the floor will be enough
To show her there's more to the world than the problems she can't see past
Thinks his mama's heartache will be silver lined

It's like the staunch republican who got laid off last year
Now he's so broke he's on unemployment, food stamps, and TANF
Grateful the democrats were in control during the great depression
Still voted for John McCain
Thinks the bumper sticker on the back of his car is silver lined

It's like the young family started by a couple kids
Who insisted on having a couple of their own
Now they're too poor to afford but too rich for assistance
Begging their government to bail them out of something that nursery rhymes got them into
Grateful their truck didn't break down again this month
Thinking raising hungry babies is silver lined

It's like a poor man leading a blind man
Who knows the cliff is coming
Knows they're going over and doesn't really mind
Grateful to finally be in the company of someone just as blind as he is
Thinking the cloud they'll fall through is silver lined.