Snapdragons are one of those
flowers that wilt in springtime, not
because there is
anything wrong, it's just
that their season is over.

I wonder whether
snapdragons ever fall
in love with the hawthorns,
though I really shouldn't
have to.

I know all too well the
feeling of having to love
someone perennially as
you both alternate dying,
for lack of rain,
for want of sun.

I'm terrified to say it out loud to say that I have fallen for your deep eyes and deeper thoughts.
Because I know that you can never hold onto me.
I know that something in my soul
will never let me rest.

I am pushed forward
away towards anything and everything.

You haven't noticed, love, that my heart doesn't stay one place for long?You haven't noticed, darling,that there is too much air in my veins,
pulling me off of the ground,
away from more than a few short moments?

I'm terrified to say that you can stay until the sun rises
because once you start seeing me next to you in a messy bed,
it will be impossible to not see me there
even after months have passed.

Have you not noticed, love,
that I don't plant roots?
That I can't hold onto much more than
a photograph and a dream?
That I can't help myself from becoming something new every **** second?
That one day, maybe soon,
I will pack up my bags and leave before you have opened your eyes in the morning and I will be gone.

On to the next life.
Not because I have to, because I carry my heart in my legs,
not in the ground.

You say I am a sunflower.
Yours to keep, yours to kiss and hold up to the daylight.

Don't you know, sweetheart,
that sunflowers only last a few months?

Freedom’s Citadel
Independence Hall you are the gateway to the past you are one of our greatest symbols of freedom
Mortals stepped over the threshold into the annuals of history, they entered colonist of the British
Crown emerged as a fledgling nation. By this single act ownership of any kind was dissolved for an ideal
So uncommon they would pledge not only their property and wealth but for this dream, their very lives
and good names were the asking price and they gladly paid the price. The cost was to bear the name
Traitor from fine clothes to the honorable costly cloth of patriotism. The thread would have to be one of
Endurance and courage, tyranny yields to none but the determined and the unconquerable. A great
Upheaval proceeded the birth of this nation farmers, merchants, shop keepers would step in to the
Ranks. Shoulder to shoulder they formed a wall of impregnable force which arrayed to the dismay of
British forces, the Union Jack flew over many conquered lands. This was bigger than a single government
This was the rights of individuals to govern themselves not any would have authority without their
Consent
Liberty and freedom were perused down through the centuries many false starts had been encountered
Along the way some who showed a lot promise stopped short, like the case of Confucius, for his
Culture it was the perfect answer obligation and duty, twins perfectly wed to the Chinese mind set.
Ancient Greece were the first to embrace democracy, but politics and war were their blight and a
Affliction that would consume them and their civilization history would continue conquers as Alexander
the great would rise and fall the world wouldn’t forget but afforded little by their passing then would
Come the European monarchs that followed the contemptible path of divine right of kings.
The brightest light to shine for liberty and freedom was the French, without their help as our allies
We wouldn’t have been able to defeat the British.
The seeds of revolt were planted in the mixed soil of a people who spoke the same language
But had difference of opinion on the future course they were to take as a people.
Into this contest would rush the fresh wind of liberty and freedom. Finally human dignity
Would wear a crown befitting the human race God’s creation taking root in this rich soil now to
Bloom with all possibilities he had envisioned for them.
First would come the crucible of war, pressure and heat purification, those produced would have the
soundness to be the foundation for the building of a great nation. A center piece of government
for the whole world to follow its lofty example. Diamonds in the rough despised misjudged but they
were chosen for an uncommon destiny, true brother hood would be their guiding spirit and in
this fortification. Peace and prosperity would know new heights the only structure that would surpass
The wealth and tranquility of this free people would be the edifice rising off of the plain flat ground of
previous disproportionate history an edifice crowned with nobility a beacon of blazing light striking the
Sky with the power of a thousand lightning bolts, creating an energy source that would sustain a
People into the next millennia America thou great citadel of freedom may God keep you and may you
continue to reflect his glorious light.
We need to look at ourselves as a people and understand our birthright we are perilously close to
dividing our land even more dangerously than they did in the Civil war we cannot long endure
Under the crippling circumstances of the majority of people being sold under the ******* of sin
The ancient enemy of all people has sent forth this plague to render us helpless and return the
Earth back to barbarism of the foulest kind you don’t see the deep implication of your actions they seem
minor so small without God you house will be left to you desolate. Thomas Jefferson said that ‘’God who
gave us life gave us liberty, can the liberties of a nation be secure when we removed a conviction that
these liberties are the gift of God? Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just that
his justice cannot sleep forever.”
We are the forks of a mighty river ancient large and small have faced this dilemma which course do we
follow they chose foolishly and brought inhalation upon themselves the only difference
Will be they had less to lose and we will stand in greater judgment. We have surpassed all who came
before us in all areas, with this great blessing comes responsibility first of all to do less than our
Forefathers and recognize the source of the blessings and pay him the profound thanks he deserves.
These thoughts of God and country are dedicated to our grandparents that bequeathed this country to us.
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haldenton › Portfolio › Freedom's Citadel
Freedom's Citadel by haldenton
The song says this is your country then dedicate your self to it.

No Glen beck found in Freedom’s Citadel or Fertile Ground but Lincoln said our liberty and form of government should be spoken in every public place in Schools the pulpit any where people gather. People are coming to this great country but they don’t respect what’s here our country is not what they want they want another place like they left but with all the good that America offers. We seem to have lost our back bone to stand up for what’s right Keep laying down and you won’t know what others died to preserve.

January- chilly sad and hungover
she distorts what she can get her hands on
but behind glazed over eyes, she laughs
she becomes frostbite
IN THE BATHROOM CARVING HOLIDAY DESIGNS

February- he tries to write you a song
but runs out of inspiration
he hides from the answers to his unasked questions
he learns not to dare the cold anymore
WHEN LOVE IS GONE, WHERE DOES IT GO

March- strong as a lion and as modest as a lamb,
she spends her time in the waiting room
WE MUST GET OLDER NOW (please) WAKE UP

April- watering the flowers with her tears
she knows her current misery will bring beauty one day
HOPE THAT SOMETHING PURE CAN LAST

May- our ray of light
smiling listening and unique
she is the sweetest thing we await
WHAT A BEAUTIFUL FACE WE HAVE FOUND IN THIS PLACE (and be gone from me)

June-he's silent and observant
his presence feels like a dream
he drinks your beer
stomps out a song and peacefully sleeps on your kitchen floor
THIS IS THE ROOM ONE AFTERNOON I KNEW I COULD LOVE YOU

July- she is bloated and hot
with sticky watermelon lips
lost in a ridiculous obsession with love and books and hammocks
she drunkenly whispers her secrets to the woods
AS I RECALL OUR SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT IN THE SUMMERTIME

August- she is warm loyal and reckless
you love her Sunday presence
but fear when she has to leave
she is meant for bigger things
PLEASE REMEMBER ME (happily, fondly, mistakenly)

September-  August's silent shadow
He loves her so
but can't find the courage to tell her
He never had a voice
He lives his life beautifully and tragically unannounced
HER LAUGHTER ECHOED THROUGH THE EMPTY STREETS

October- he is the perfect fall picnic
swinging from trees and supporting the year with his humor
he tells us the end is almost here and we shouldn't take life too seriously
he lights the flame and he couldn't be happier
I AM YOUNG AND I AM NAIVE TELL ME SOMETHING I WILL BELIEVE

November- a tall and gangly memory from a time before
looking for oblivious love to defend
at this point in the year
he deserves someone to call a family
he takes a nap and doesn't care to awaken
NOT MUCH HAIR LEFT ON HIS HEAD, ATE A SLICE OF WONDERBREAD (i loved you first)

December- ghosts float in bulbs and holiday punch
the empty buzz of the heater reminds us that we may never know true silence
RETURN TO SISTER WINTER (i apologize)

You saw Judy on the south wing
of the old folks nursing home
near to Mr Atkinson’s room
carrying towels in her arms

I need to speak to you
you said
what about?
she asked

you playfully bundled her
into Bob Atkinson’s room
(he was either
in the lounge

or out down town
hobbling along
for small items of shopping
or at the second-hand

book shop looking
for boy’s annuals
of yesteryear
which he read

from cover to cover
before cutting out
the pictures
and sticking them

in albums)
what are you doing?
she said
what if Bob comes in?

he won’t
he’s out
you said
but what if he does?

she whispered
well unless I was rogering you
to kingdom come
I don’t think he’d mind

you said
pressing her 5’5’’ body
against the door
and looking into her

grey blue eyes
she gazed
into your eyes
and said

what do you need
to talk to me about?
I think I’m in love with you
you said

she sighed
that’s the umpteen time
you’ve told me that
she said  

she dropped the towels
on Bob’s bed
and put her arms
around your waist

and drew you closer
you moved your left hand
around her back
and your right hand

on her buttocks
and said
that’s because it’s
umpteen times worse

or better depending
how you look at it
she kissed you on the lips
and you sensed

her tongue touch yours
her eyes closed
and you closed yours
the room becoming

a far away place
her perfume blending
into the air about you
the ticktock of Bob’s

old clock on the bedside table
like some metronome
setting the pace
as if it was all part

of some song or some
deep aspect
of a Bruckner symphony
she pushed you away

and said
it’s nearly break time
and people will wonder
why we’re not there

and put one
and one together
ok
you said

removing your hand
from her ****
the warmth still there
her eyes still captured

in your inner self
thank you
for the Chagall postcard
I’ve put it on

my bedside table
along with that photo
you gave me of you
got to go

she said
and opened the door
and walked off
down the passage

you looked around
Bob’s room
at the ticking clock
and the blue

candlewick cover
and the picture
of some boy
cut out of some

old annual
chasing a dog
over a field
and Judy’s lips

and tongue
seemed still
to be there
in your mouth

and her hand enfolding
your waist and back
and Peter in the pants
going all slack.

I’ve got cracks on the inside
From heartbreak
That shook me like an earthquake.
Every freckle you’ve kissed
Burns in the sunlight.
Sometimes storm clouds
Roll into the horizons of my eyes
And pour.
You planted flowers in my skull
And they used to bloom
When I thought of you,
But they must have been annuals
Because they died this fall.
And despite my best efforts,
They won’t come back.

If you aren't looking
you will never see them
hidden in whitewashed caste systems
forced to conform
to federal papers
which fit in a folder
that fits in a file
of an emaciated white guy
who doesn't fit anywhere
checking the boxes and "disorders"
voted on by
a majority of uncaught criminals
who are protecting store front lifestyles
while the real merchandise of their lives
lays in the back storage room
with the rats of their conscience.
They judge sanity
setting rigid walls
and hanging permanent badges on
Salvador Dali dream catchers,
borderless thinkers,
and geniuses
of the things not yet discovered.
Just because the gifted can not
or will not
stop thinking,
they are detained for their
Difference.

State Hospital No. 3
titles every page
framed in frayed edges
and unfrayed passion.
Lions of courage stand
with childlike joy
in traveling circuses
obliterating demons of oppression,
overwhelming reoccurring ECT...ECT...ECT.
An etcetera of living
beyond electroconvulsive therapy
where the spelling of ECTLECTRC is perfect
in its grammar and definition,
standing in banners atop
the wide-eyed portraited guardians
of institutionalism.

Glorious art shuddered on a curb,
lost and intended for *******...

Thank God, beauty beholders come
in all ages of eyes.
14 year olds also find treasure
in garbage piles
clutching dearly to the feeling
that greatness lies in colored pencils
dancing on unusual stationary.
Edward Deeds
comes of age
in the same moment
as the scavenging boy does
opening the binders
on their inter-joined journey
36 annuals after dislodging it
from a leftover ham and rye.

A voice is unmuted
merely by being seen.
Revelation is given
by turning on the light.
Art, music and knowledge is infinite
when boxes are destroyed,
ignorance rebuked,
and courage is embraced.

Let us dare to never be
just what we know.
Let us live to be
what we have never yet seen.

Grievous

I hold you as the chameleon with his spring-trigger bone
Holds his tongue
And I will catch you as a fist
I will lick the stench from your odor sacks
as a skunk

All those creepy little fragments
bugs in the system;glitched codes
they are shackled souls in a microsecond arc-length
of the universal
Prodding the dirt
and the worms
as stars

How about all the spice trees?
The many different species of food glitter
they make the buds sparkle, they are thinking of the taste
of umami, of sour, of patchwork gaze
the cooked vestibules of bone
the marrow, seeping into the stew
The pepper trees are smoked
equinoctial bonfires
You and I are yet to be cooked through


A taxi in the trader joes parking lot
Big repetitive 7's splattered across its paneling
I won't forget when i'm drunk or inebriated somehow
The tree in the center of town is lit up with LEDs
Branches curling like worms

You are Pharos, you are the great celestial beam
you are the crescent moon, thin as a sleeve
and the hot taste of batter on your breath
the way you let my Guinness cool off next to the space-heater
and give me yogurt from the local townsfolk
Everything is creamy, you said.

But i don't like to hear that
It's a steel rod into my brain, that.
I am a simple Vishnu Hare Brahma
I do not have any purpose but to be enlightened
and worshiped for my powerful odors
and a four-chambered bowel
that makes the turn easier for worms.

2

Pitiful

You are the hopeless pod
the many wildebeest, crossing their annuals
through twirling water-crocs,
Lion Prides
Leopards shifting within the brush
Bacterial infections from ***** tusks
Strange metal boxes
No 7's on this side

I want to blow the ******* skulls off of anything
that aims for you, sweet mare
45-70
Will literally send chunks of it into orbit
Lion or Turtle or window or Children
The most godly thing is a bullet
And the streams of blood that will seed a new ravine
and seep the next feed of riverrun

Will you be mine, then?

In the early frosted morning sunshine of our love
we laid the groundwork for a garden
the foundations and the walls, the borders of the beds,
a classical explosion of trusting sturdy boxwoods,
bright perennials, risky annuals
their bulbs entrusted to this fertile soil.

Flowers of exotic derivation
and those of timeless grace flourish
leaf to leaf, petals touching stamens
as we dig, plant, tending, cheek to cheek, our love.

Each new planting an experience, and
each new shared experience the planting,
a new species, a new bright blossom introduced into our garden.

We grow our garden fresh and bright,
encouraging deep roots - they demand less maintenance.
Boundaries and borders so cleanly laid
blur with the comfort of time.
Inevitable weeds blow in, over strong walls.

Even Eden needed weeding, and the
comfortable passage of years proves our garden
no exception.  Still in all,
the rest are out, and we are in.
Each **** our ****, each thorn our thorn;
this is once and always our place,
our space to tend, sacred and secret,
this garden of our love.

I never bought The Twinkle Annuals
Slipping off the eBay page after six
It is one of those days that drizzles
And bedtime gets closer each time.

Love Mary ***

Something about the way this valley
can extend and flit the smokey mist
like the winds that pull gentle heartstrings.

Behind gazing eyes I wish so so badly
mountainous strength to subsist.
This frostbitten face yearns for Spring.

Need not, from any well but of your own,
glossy eyes grazing the mountains to find
that winter makes forests seem less intertwined;
only in frigid air is the true tree shown.

Want not, the annuals that come and go,
dark and shade may intrude on shine.
Dig firm these roots, these ties that bind.
And then so, worry not when leaves are blown.

red berry trees
e.e cumings portrait of blonde woman
walking typing presenting conversing
walking clouds are altocumulus
walking singing aloud
man in orange shoes jogs
woman with grocery bag crosses street
trees always outshine architecture
orange and red in december
hand lovingly touching hat
doodles on papers, all triangles
doodles on hands, all triangles
curved architecture, sheep horns
reading about **** eating goats
environment saving goats
sustainability studying scientists
drinking out of plastic cups
such a thing as malevolent creativity?
wanting to plant annuals
wanting to smell dirt, feel dirt
walking weaving thru whirlpool
strange man smiling outside of bathroom
judging your own judgement
napping in hallways
success
consumerism isn't candy
it used to be sweet, not eating meat
anymore, any more questions?

goodnight

All summer I heard them
rustling in the shrubbery,
outracing me from tier
to tier in my garden,
a whisper among the viburnums,
a signal flashed from the hedgerow,
a shadow pulsing
in the barberry thicket.
Now that the nights are chill
and the annuals spent,
I should have thought them gone,
in a torpor of blood
slipped to the nether world
before the sickle frost.
Not so. In the deceptive balm
of noon, as if defiant of the curse
that spoiled another garden,
these two appear on show
through a narrow slit
in the dense green brocade
of a north-country spruce,
dangling head-down, entwined
in a brazen love-knot.
I put out my hand and stroke
the fine, dry grit of their skins.
After all,
we are partners in this land,
co-signers of a covenant.
At my touch the wild
braid of creation
trembles.

Some things must be allowed to die.
Like pruned branches and withered annuals,
You can’t sustain all of it, nor should you…
So say goodbye to some parts of yourself,
Wrap them up like baby teeth in an old handkerchief,
Fertilize the yard with them,
Watch them decompose and brew beer with them,
But you can’t keep them around.
They’re dead, they’re dying, no matter what,
And holding on can never change that!
Let them hang around too long and one day,
You’ll reach for it,
Some lost piece of yourself,
And only close your hand around soft putrefaction.

Hail to you oh mighty hound
with your nose close to the ground
sniffing out most every grannual
for the scent of mushroom annuals

Up the hills and in the creeks
soaking tail and muddy feet
charging fast through forest fields
undeterred, you will not yield

Loyalty and love of us
you dance around with happy fuss
to find a gift that aims to please
the fungi ours, you'd rather cheese

-cec