Oh words, a vile pit of clay to be formed for each guest they meet.
Shall our digits press upon them in this way or that as a creaght
Of thoughtless claws within a lying dainty love of the gravest making.
Let not these words be the reason that we are forsaken.

I form out of the clay a form of an empty skull.
Yet has not this skull a tongue in its hull
Like a politician who drowns out the emptiness of its head?
One whose reach would circumvent God himself - as if the almighty were dead.

But my skull says NO! Good morning my sweet Lord!
Thou, my most highest idea, have mercy on this – my gourd
And tell us how to oust these screeching clowns.
I see the good book inside this face, tubes of you and other pointless nouns.

A Politicians’ speech - as empty as an empty skull full of worms
Whose bone is worthless to all but its breeding.
Watch them – never listen – watch their tongue as it squirms.
These people only see words as how they can be used to be misleading.

How absolute this knave is who speaks from a card.
An invocation made not by pure thoughts but infiltrated by lard
Greasing the mind into inclusion with nothing but simple sounds.
With hair and makeup and clothing – and the empty skull - they are the clowns.

Having summoned an Uber I walked
Into the Remise to await for its arrival.
Unusual, the owners of this 1750’s building
Had refused to knock down the Remise
And as it was snowing and cold it sure was
A comforting place to wait out of the weather.

I imagined how it must of looked in its heyday
Full of fine coaches and horse tack.
For a moment I could smell a horse all bridled
And strapped with new leather – something which
Stirred up an agreeable sensation within me;
I could feel the churlish beast chomping at the bit.

Twiddling my thumbs as I waited I wondered if
There were anyone left to construct such an ancient
Horse drawn carriage or was there even anyone left
Who could ever think of using it.
But as oft I do I let my mind wander to
Those good old days, though not one of which I knew.

Closing my eyes, I swear that I could smell the oak fire
Of a blacksmith’s furnace and I could hear the
Gent solidly hammering out a new set of gaited horseshoes.
In my minds eye I could see the Remise all
Full of carriages, each hooked to a fine stead -
What a grand sight it must of truly been.

It was then that I felt a hand in mine and when I
Turned toward the hand – to my wandering eye -
I had a hold on the most intriguing creature that God
Had ever given a man to hold, I dared not open my eyes.
She looked into my soul and asked me,
“Sir, which carriage?”

At about 8 paces in front of us was what I suppose
Was the best equipped of the lot and as its driver
Stepped down and made his way toward me/us
I noticed the lady was as taken with it as myself.
So Monsieur De La Dessein – the driver – or at
Least that was how he introduced himself,

Then he asked me if we cared to take the Grand Tour.
He led us up to the door of the chaise and as he opened
The door I said, “This one will not do,
It is hardly big enough for one.”
The lady, without hesitation, pushed me toward the
Door whispering, “Get in.”

Upon her insistence I climbed aboard taking up
All but about 4 inches of the seat cushion
When the lady put her head and foot in the
Carriage saying, “Move over.”
With no place to move I tilted up on one cheek
With my legs – one atop of the other.

Now my lady was climbing in full bodied and all
To find that she too must sit on one cheek facing me
With our knees knocking against each other.
The driver shut the door as the lady said, “Abarth.”
The horse sprang to life as the “La Grand Tour” began.
Face to face, body to body this buggy ride was …

How should I say it ….

Wonderful….

And then I did the stupidest thing that I’d ever done.
I opened my eyes to find the Remise empty -
No carriages, no horses, no blacksmith and no ravishing beauty.
Just an empty place to get in out of the weather.
My heart sank lower than it had ever been before.
What mind is this that can wander so ****** far from reality?

A little tiny car whipped into the Remise and right in front of me
It turned a half moon pulling up to me.
I noticed the labeling on the front of the car – Fiat.
The back windows were all blacked out.
The driver got out coming toward me on the passenger side.
As he opened the back door I asked him what kind of car this was.

He said it was a Fiat Abarth and he hoped that
I didn’t mind sharing the ride.
As I bent over peering inside the driver said his name
“Monsieur De La Desein” and sitting on
One cheek in the back of this mutant automobile
Was – that intriguing creature that I had just dreamed about.

Carefully – more expertly this time – I crawled into
The back – on one cheek – face to face
As the Uber driver asked me, “Where to.”
In perfect unison – we in the back replied
“La Grand Tour please.”

God, please don't make me open my eyes...

The grand wind blows as it hums along –
This dark and grey velvet morning - the sun barely risen.
A well dressed classy drunk smears her finger across
The doorman’s lips and whispers, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
She stumbles along while someone in her way curses -
A garbage truck outside stops and reverses -
– beep – beep – beep.

Standing there in her favorite long coat
The desk clerk seems to gloat -
Gloat over every marvelous thing she ever wanted.
In this, the one day when she is thinner -
Outside a siren shrieks repeating the tormented,
Is she a saint or a sinner?

Finally the quiet idles up there eternal
Inside her blessed Penthouse suite.
From her barred window she watches a crosswalk signal
Still standing in her long winter coat.
Across the alley she sees someone on a fire escape,
As they wrap around and disappear down the funnel.

In the serenity of the street below a Cupid like boy
Salutes his mother at the bus stop.
The mother stoops to pat him on his noggin.
Then mommy makes a sculpture of her packages,
As the boy salutes again.
Up there behind her bars the drunk thinks she is different somehow.

Taking off her coat she opens a book entitled “Value”
Finding a written sentence that ends with “come back to me now.”
She gives her legacy a second look
And thinks how absolutely - positively - wondrously dear -
If only she could believe what she had just read -

And then she disappears.

Do you hear the music?
Does it give you ease?
Hold my hands and lean far back
Look up into the trees.
The answers there
That no one sees,
Imaginings to anyone who believes.
That magic
Can’t be deceived,
Open arms to be relieved.
Move with me
And be believed,
Cherished, loved
And well received.
Just dancing with the trees.

Sunlight flickering through a canopy of incandescent leaves
A gentle cool wind blowing to a background of confident blue.
All around me are the dancing trees.
Rejoicing it seems in their bright prancing hues.
Oak, hemlock, cottonwood, spruce and pine
All swaying together in perfect time.
I walk the path in awe of it all
Listening to the spreading news.
The earth it seems
Has reached the dawning of a new day
Reproducing itself along the way.
I wonder if that’s really true
A year – can it be just a day?
If it is then I’m a part and so are you.
As we pass through this earthly delight
Another day of romance is on the way.
All the trees are out dancing tonight
Having put on their Sunday best.
Tonight they too can find this life's zest.

(Now move your body with the rhythm of the wind blown trees)

Let’s dance with them just for a little while.
Listen to the music of the air.
You move right – I’ll follow with a smile.
Then move left – the movement in your hair.
Living life with but one care
Taking this time to be aware.
Open your heart – no fear to share
Should or shouldn’t we dare?
This wonderful evening we are there.
Move again, I’ll take your hand
To and fro we say – isn’t it grand?
Waltzing – can you feel the breeze
In with a troop of trees?
I bow straight to my knees,
You follow and begin to see
Life and love and harmony
Peace of mind be seized.
Now holding on tight – still on your knees
Still moving to and fro I ask you please
Do you hear the music – does it give you ease?
Hold my hands and lean far back
And look up into the trees.
The answers there that no one sees
Imaginings to anyone who believes
That magic can’t be deceived
Open arms to be relieved
Move with me and be believed,
Cherished, loved and well received

Just dancing with the trees.

Floating into this maddening, tumultuous trance,
Mocking my own fatigue wherever found.
Snatching wide the emptiness
Riding abreast against high silvery clouds of harmonious sound.
My shell – an object to be inwardly consumed -
Standing weakened, balanced 'til the convulsive wind awakes.
There thick hung vestal torches gleamed
'Neath my silvery feet, while placid masks
Sear the senses enlightening the heart of all things.
Unwashed joys share my earthly blooms,
Cheek to cheek un-faded in the thought it brings.
My soul linked to this shell like a common galley slave -
With my nature born with all the love to hold the forms I make.
Yet it crumbles me with each breath with the greatest loving caress.
Golden fruit hides the scathing ache
As pleasure un- hides all that once laid hidden;
I gave all I have hoping my ideas took.
The cloud blooms as the winded music fills the air,
Time stands still buried in my reflective look.
Feeling this flush of pleasure that invades my stare;
My soul shakes loose the burden of my flesh.
Then like a gallant kite flinging high
I chide for it is not vanity nor is it fresh;
It borders on brutish within a vaporous tunneling sight.
Nature's cadency dancing to her joy of strength
With harmonious limits of her enlightened might.
I give all of my impulses to these, my un-minded lengths,
Within the melody’s measure my rapid heart tries best to keep.
The winds of my breath making me a cloud with weightless turns,
Devising me deeper into this place that makes my bodiless soul weep.
Within that prodigal overflow of life that love spurns,
Sweet sounds shed from me like white garments with flowery coronals
Making me holy in the pageantry of my fates.
The beautiful sound, a measure of time in circles
Stirring my heart until I can no longer await.
Then when the dizzy tunnel spins again youth falls from me.
And it blooms once again then shrinks back to its original size -
Then come the many smiles with a glow on their honeycombed faces.
Dream- wondering I fade into the skies
Like an unaccustomed ghost stumbling over my own grave.
For my grave is always just 'neath my feet with its placid face -
But with a melded mind I meditate on my love riding life's waves
Giving that death mask a smile within God’s gentle loving embrace.

Hi Tonto, what’s up?

How Butthead.

Tonto, why do say how?

Why white man say hi?

I don’t know Tonto, maybe it’s slang for hello.

Funny, white man put the word hell in greeting
Then convert to hi, which mean way up there.
Human being say how instead.
Means same thing.
Means, how high is hell.

Oh come on Tonto, you’re pulling my leg.

Tonto no pullem leg, Tonto tellem truth like totem pole.

Speaking of totem pole, Tonto, why do you call it a totem pole?

Cause no matter where human being go
He tote truth and pole with him so remember
From where human being come.

OK, tell me the story of your totem pole.

The lowest level on totem pole about time
When male part of human beings was slave to
The females of tribe.
Male have power but woman have strength.
Strength and power not same thing.
Strength beats power always.
Man have to use power to serve woman’s strength.
Woman was Goddess, ruled supreme over
All human beings.
Time was peaceful, never need warriors.
No one equal but opportunity for all.
Then woman have boy child.
This one boy child was bad seed and not mind.
Before long, boy child drive all crazy.
Strength tell power to take boy child into woods.
Boy child survive and sometimes sneak back into camp.
Boy child steal what he need to survive.
Sometimes, boy child dress like woman,
Sometimes like man.
Strength scared of boy child.
Power see strength afraid.
Power say, man protect woman from devil boy child.
Woman agree.
Man gain power, woman lose strength.
Man see that lie gives him control.
Woman now become servant.
Man continue lie for many moons.
Man appoint another man as shaman
Or religious leader to continue lie.
Male become more powerful as woman
Depend on man’s God to protect her from devil.
Many moons later, woman forget she Goddess.
Male just meant to serve – but now he in charge.

That’s a neat story Tonto.
But I know it isn’t true.

How?

Oh, now I get it, that’s why you say – how.

Yes, men greet other men by saying how
As reminder of how we overcame women’s strength.

But it’s a fairy tale, Tonto.

What make you say that, Butthead?

Ok, if it is true what happened to the child that
Was put out and left in the woods to die.

Devil child became white man. He lose all his color.
You, Butthead, you are truth of human beings’ story.
Human beings no longer live in peace.
Man have power but still have no strength.
Woman give up strength for security and protection.
Earth still in turmoil.
Will always be in turmoil until man learn what
Woman already know.
Might does not equal right.
No two people are equal.
But all human beings deserve equal opportunity.
Your kind, Butthead, you part of bad seed.
You perpetuate the lie that man make good leader.
Only woman have sense enough to lead.
Man too busy beating chest and fighting
For females to know how to lead.
But woman, in her the hope of the next generation lives.
But as long as Butthead on top of totem pole,
Human beings live afraid of devil.
Fear rules, not with strength but with power.
World remain always in heap big mess.
Man beats chest and control females.
All because of the threat of the bad seed
Hidden somewhere out there in the woods.
Boy child should have got **** beat.
Boy child become Butthead instead.

“Let me tell you,” she said as she reached
For her glasses making her eyes to be
At least five times their original size.
“Let me tell you right now, you don’t know anything.
Hard times, these aren’t hard times, why I remember
A time during the great depression when all we had to eat
Were a few soda crackers everyday, I ate so many
Soda crackers I could wipe my backside with
A wisk broom – Now those were hard times.”

“I know Grandma; I know you’ve been through a lot,”
I said as I held her by the arm trying to get her into
My little compact Japanese gas saver car.
I held her from bumping her head on the top of the car
So that she could try to get one leg into the
Floor of the front passenger seat.
“Watch your head Grandma.”

“You look the other way, how in the name of heaven
Do they expect someone do get into these tiny little bugs?
I said for you to look the other way,
Can’t you see I’m in a dress?
Now your Grandpa, rest his poor soul,
That man - at least he knew how to pick a car.
Why, you could put four of these little
Mutant Ninja Turtles in that old Buick we had
And still get two more in the trunk.
Where is that old Buick anyway?”

“Remember Grandma, we sold it to pay
For your adjustable comfort bed,” I answered
As I - with my head turned - lifted her other leg
And eased it into the car.
“Let’s put on your seat belt, Grandma.”

She slapped my hand and stomped the floor saying,
“Stop it, stop it, don’t you put that noose around my head.
I’ve been riding in cars for Nye on sixty years
And I’ve never worn a seat belt and I ain’t about
To start a wearing one now.
Ted, it’s your responsibility not to hit anything -
And if you can’t drive good enough to keep from
Hitting anything in the five miles to Doctor Langston’s
Office then you can just go right back in the house and
Get that shoe horn of mine and come back out here
And wedge me back out of this torture box.”

Caught up in oblivion, shutting the car door carefully,
While shaking my head, I wondered what
Mortal sin I had committed that created these
Circumstances where I had to be subjected to the
Wrath of my Grandmother’s dominance.
Once underway I reminded her,
“I’m not Ted Grandma, I’m *****, remember me?
I’m Ted's son; *****: Ted had to work today so I’m taking
You to the doctor.” She looked at me through
Those thickened glasses and then tightened her grip
On the purse lying in her lap.
Then she turned her head looking out the side
Window as the trees and mailboxes passed by.

All three of the red lights on the way to the doctor’s office
Were green and we made it there it record time.
I pulled into a parking spot and looked towards her
And said, “Here we are safe and sound.”

She turned her head away from the side window and then
She looked oddly at her purse saying, “I have a confession
To make Ted, I mean *****.”
Like a small child caught with her hand in the cookie jar
She continued, “I really don’t have a doctor’s appointment today.”

“What do you mean Grandma?”

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes,” I just get so
Darned lonely sometimes, *****. So lonely that I think
That I’m going out of my mind.” Then she looked back
At her purse as a tear ran off the side of her cheek.

I felt her pain and I knew a little about loneliness.
I reached over with my right hand placing it on her left
And asked, “How would you like to go to the park
Today Grandma?”

She looked up saying, “Only if I can have a hot dog.”