do we have thought and care for the future here?



we do, though we never know how long we have.



now look away, this is a warning, content may upset.



i had a cat named prudence, she had some kittens. mum

drowned those in a bucket, and i saw. she put a lid on top,

with stones. i have a                       bucket just the same for

boiling clothes. never used.         i have a washing machine.



prudence died,                rumours of poisoning, who knows?



now look away.



one saved kitty george was mine, i loved him. he died sudden.



rumours abound.



things were different then.



sbm.

in the whims of a minute
the song of one bluebird
the falling limbs of one
crying willow tree

come visions longing
for long past loves
and the depths of
empty hearts

the sudden expectations
of love that turned into
one

rain clasps her thunder
like smoke around lightning
the clouds disappear

as I declare decry how
many loves are too much
under her limbs

the crying leaves falling down
to cover my fire
the twilight glows

an ember will
always remain

yesterday's barely gone
been only
like ten minutes and I
am wanting more of her
glory

we both glazed over but
her nakedness makes
it all stir again
I reach over
touch her ******

kiss the nape of her neck
grasp her fine *** cheeks
in both hands  she gasps
half closed eyes
I see

her melt again and me splash like
the crest of waves on the shore
arm in back arm around my neck legs
entangled  in wet bed sheets

the dawn arises bangs yellow brightness
on two naked bodies
trying to become one

Heard a voice made the sun come up in
the middle of a dark night
a guitar that closed the Dow Jones
made us all just mortal in
comparison
saw on YouTube  no one plussed it
and I was not
tripping yet
tried to share it round
then woke up
it was me
and EmmyLou in her prime
in my dream
and as always
I woke up too soon

And she was lost
she didn't know what she felt anymore,
She was both happy and sad at the same time.

She would never tell
how she felt,
she would stay quiet
and keep it for herself.

She had lost so much
and gained so little,
she would laugh
and she would smile,
she would act like everything was fine
but she new
she was living a lie,
behind her smile
she held a broken heart.

She would forgive over and over again
just because she was afraid to lose
someone who never saw her real worth.

She expected too much
and never learned to let go.
she got attached too fast
and when time came,
a part of her was gone too.

And all those promises
in which she believed
flew away just like the wind

And she waited,
and waited,
but he never came.

All she ever wants
is to never feel again
because every time she feels,
all she feels is pain.

Some nights you still
cast your shadow like
dice, always coming up
snake eyes, and I dream
I am watching you stare
at the camp fire, the moon
parting your hair, high
in the mountains growing
silent and thirsty not saying
a word until a bird comes
from nowhere, and lighting  
on your wrist to drink from
your palm while you stroked
its throat; I could have sworn
your finger was on a trigger.

in the river of good company

I dedicate this poem to
Mr. Harlon Rivers,
one of the best poets (here)
and from his good company,
i could drink all day and
never be quenched

~

Preface

sometime, the heart wants it wants,
denial, temporarily from your vocabulary, excised

sometimes, beauty keelhauls you, gets you
awestruck inspired, then arrogance overcomes
the brilliance of common sense and you go ahead and
mess with perfection despite every sensor flashing
uh oh, duh, oh no, fool on the premises, lockdown needed!

do believe this condition can be found in the medical books
under I, for Inspiration, Incantation, or S for Stupidifacation

my heart wants to write a poem,
cause I was a witness, sitting twenty feet
from the heavenly crime scene,
and every intonation swept my brain into that secret place,
when I heard KD Lang singing "The Valley"^

~~~

in the river of good company**

simple sentiment but good god
all I ever wanted and so oft lacked
such was my fate, one I made,
had plenty good words for boon companions,
the occasional touch of a woman rippling waves
cross my face, a love lapping slapping
of concentric pebble rings,
till like most good things
gone good goes bad,
it just happens to evaporate and
you think someday, maybe,
you will walk again in good company

the brain says quit right here
but the heart brooks no damning tantrum of sanity imposition,
for those handful of deepest, not quite six feet under
palpitations of insensible, cutting glimpses of that word I hate so,
memories,
of when
you walked in good company

men women no different - it is that heated aura
tween bodies that confirms that you are once again
a human being, just a being, temporarily
enhanced, elevated, by good company

so go ahead sweet talks ya, that devil id a/k/a desire, says -
one more for the road can't hurt ya,
write that poem -
and perhaps one good man, glory hallelujah, a good woman,
will read it and you can stop weeping you idiot,
do it so you will be back, nuttier but nurtured,
drinking from the river of good company,
mouthing not even dare whispering,
satisfied satiated, loving and loved
~
all reposts greatly and  grateful appreciated!



4/2/17 9:24am