The two-thirty train
Sweeps beside the river
I spent this moment in silent meditation
So many nights
So much of Spring
So much of Summer

This train is beautiful ambient noise
accompanying every thought filling this room
a soundtrack of clarity
I thought of laying awake with you
from a distance
I thought of laying awake alone somewhere else
missing the two-thirty train

It's starting to smell like Spring
It's starting to smell like Summer
It makes me think closeness
It makes me think of distance
Its a sick sweetness
I fondly remember moments far from fond

We stayed up talking on a school night
Youthful indiscretion
Half asleep giving anything to stay up
Wanting to see inside of what you thought you were
Wanting to hush your mind
What you thought you should be but weren't

Some nights I vividly recall shallow breathing right beside me
Inside my ears
You were as much here as you were there
I fall asleep with your breath tucked away in my brain
If I close my eyes you're beside me
But unable to embraced

Some nights I wouldn't dare sleep
Busy big hands with a little screen
Clicking touch-pad letters
Giving you a thousand reasons to stick around
A thousand resolutions
A thousand promises
And my thousands hours at your disposal

It's noon the next morning
You've yet to wake
I questioned if you would
In my mind we stayed up till dawn
Nursing you with what I have at my disposal
Sweet words
Every one true

The night before, I had heard the train
I was slumped into my pillow
Observing you from a distance
Asking that anything salvage you
Asking to carry your burdens
I begin to bargin
That you stick around longer with me

I lay here
Where I laid then
The train is beautiful ambient noise
I slip away from these memories
In time to hear the train depart
Its been a year and I think about that night
You woke up
I always want to make sure you do

Narrator 1: Sweet children of pure honesty, Hansel and Gretel
Narrator 2: Really aren’t nice ones, they’re weeds like stinging nettles
Narrator 1: And that evil little missus
Cooked that poor witch, and that does not distress us
Narrator 2: So here is our story
And perhaps, purposefully, it’s a little bit gory
Both: Of Hansel and Gretel,
The annoying children like stinging nettles…

Narrator 1: There was a family of four
Who lived in a house with a rotting floor
In the middle of the woods,
With no money for basic goods
Narrator 2: A little boy lived there, his name
was Hansel
He was always forcing his father to cancel
His trips to the village in effort of food
Which did no good
Narrator 1: Then there was his sister, her name was Gretel
Always mistaken for being gentle
Rather, though, she was a spoilt brat
Always scoffing any food and becoming fat
Narrator 2: Their father, desperately weak,
Told by his children he was a freak
Narrator 1: Married a woman, perfectly strict,
Who had perfect legs for a mean kick
Both: You must remember now, these children are brats,
And need to have their heads chopped off with an axe
Narrator 1: Of course as you would expect,
Their step-mother wanted their severed necks
She taught them well, and she tried hard,
But their minds always seemed afar
Narrator 2: One day, she had had enough
Sent them off into the woods, she felt rough
But she told herself, you to me
This had to be done to the banshees
Narrator 1: The children, chubby and rude
Were sent off into the wood
Narrator 2:After a while, Gretel moaned
Gretel: ‘Where is all the food?’
Narrator 2: she groaned
Narrator 1: Of course you see she was greedy
So didn’t care about the needy
Both: And…...****! Just like that
A gingerbread house appeared with a snap
Narrator 1: Gretel always wanted to boast
And she felt she was the foodie host
Narrator 2: Hansel ran forward, teeth sunk into the ginger
No idea of the injure
He was causing to the house
And the occupant; a little mouse
Narrator 1: The mouse came out, shaking with fear
And said to the boy
Mouse: “Now look ‘ere!
You have no right to come bargin’ in
I just finished decoratin’!”
Narrator 1: Gretel sniggered, and winked at her brother
Narrator 2: Something that would’ve scared off their mother
Both: The turned their bottoms to the mouse
And let rip a **** that blew her back to the house!
Now these atrocious children
Needed to learn a very good lesson
Narrator 1: The mouse scampered away and awoke the witch
Who for some strange reason loved to stitch
Narrator 2:The witch was kind, her name was Brooke,
As you can see she loved to cook
Narrator 1: She loved gingerbread, for her village was made of it
If anyone ate her houses then she would throw a fit
Both: These children were no exception,
And Brooke was a witch of deception
Narrator 1:She lay on the floor in a fit of temper
The mouse feared she could not help her
Narrator 2: Brooke got up and slowly grinned
Witch: ‘I’ve a plan, it’ll make them run out of wind!’
Narrator 2: She whispered carefully to the mouse
Witch: ‘Bring them in the house,
I’ll give them lots of food,
And teach those brats for being rude!’
Narrator 1: The two children continued to munch,
The mouse came out and said
Mouse: ‘Come in! Have some sweets for lunch!’
Narrator 2: As soon as they were in, the trap fell
Trapping young Hansel, but it was too small for Gretel
Witch: Nevermind,
We’ll make a maid out of the girl with a big behind!
Narrator 1: Gretel slaved around, but slowly began to eat the walls
The mouse knew this but only said,
Mouse: ‘The fools!’
Narrator 2: After a while Hansel also got big,
He, like Gretel, was such a pig
Both: The children simply got fatter and fatter
Whilst the witch continued making her batter
Narrator 1: One day Gretel awoke to the smell of delicious food,
And rolled over to find she couldn’t move!
Narrator 2: Hansel was in a similar position
But still the witch hadn’t completed her mission
Both: She brought the greedy children more food so sweet
Which Hansel and Gretel couldn’t help but eat
Narrator 1: The witch wandered down the steps and whispered to the mouse
Witch: ‘Quick! Evacuate the house!’
Narrator 1: The witch and the mouse ran far away,
knowing about the end of the children’s days
Narrator 2: The children munched on and on
But at one point on the beds where they lay upon,
Narrator 1: Gretel moaned,
Gretel: I’m so full I could pop!
Narrator 1: And pop she did! There was no stop
Narrator 2: Hansel followed not long after
Both: And that is their Happy Ever After
That is the true story of Hansel and Gretel
The incredibly annoying and greedy children like stinging nettles.

I
We are made of wood, we
rot from the inside out,
for men of STONE went extinct years ago.
We are the trees
our a  r  m  s and    l
                                 e
                                 g
                                 s
                                     are branches
Our fingers
twigs and leaves
our hearts easily set     a         l            z
                                              b   ­       a           e         by emotions carved on
our trunks
We burn for one another
like a forest fire,
but if we all fall to the flame
we will soon be men of  a  s   h    e     s ....

II
Where are the golden halos?
the jeweled crowns of the gods?
have they tumbled from the h e a v e n s
down below the sea
pass hell's gate
and into your hands?

They're looking for them,
they'll find you.
But not until April,
because Persephone will be back by then,
and hell will be less tense.
Until then, guard them.
You know the demons come out at night,
ready to bargin,
but dont make the deal.
Wait for April.
Wait for the flowers to bloom,
and the rain to fall,
before you return the crowns.

III
They came on horses
in gold and red.
My father and his friends stared at them
in the way only arrogant American men can.
They trotted on by with their horses
that wore blindfolds
and gold horseshoes.  
They did not say a word.
They did not look at anyone.
They
          did
                  nothing
            ­                     wrong.
My father sleeps with the blindfold on at night
and carries one of the horseshoes in his pocket.
I haven't seen the gold and red horse riders since they came
that one day
with no words to say
                                      and no eyes to be met
                                                             ­                  on their blinded stallions.
My father says we're not allowed to talk about them.
He doesn't let me wear red and gold anymore.

... the host waylaid!

I knew a woman on the street
Terrified and weary.
She had no place to go
Her prospects were dreary...

I took her in my home,
First checking with my folks.
She had a desire to help me
I knew this was no hoax...

But she had a brother
And his common-law wife
I was talked into helping THEM
The decision caused much strife...

They parked their car behind our house - and they slept inside it
I would have done more
But my folks decide it...

They never stole a thing
He helped in the garden
The ladies helped inside
It was a good bargin...

Until I found the couple
Had a penchant for SPICE.
A designer drug
Its effects far from nice...

I was put out totally
And asked them all to LEAVE
But I've been friends with the sister
And so my spirit grieves!

The lady I had helped out at first
Uses no drugs nor drinks
I have to decide...
... I ask you what you think.

Should i take her BACK?
Allow her to stay?
I'm not sure what to do...

... and continue to PRAY!!!



SoulSurvivor

Follow me, I'll show you
I'll walk along the roads with you
And stones they cast at you
Are cast at me too.

Branded outcast, forbidden
There is no place we haven't hidden
Left smitten, in the sake
I **** in.

Your brand name, your fire
Promises to take me higher
Leave me weeping in regret
Your such a clever liar

You know me, you showed me
Should of listened when they told me
Cheap bargin and I sold me
Now only sin consoles me.

My ideal love is a love that catches me by surprise.
The realization of intelligent things and conversations that literally take us anywhere.
My ideal love is a love that expresses ideal.
The ramifications that influence us to be who we really are in front of who we are.
A love that doesn't mind bargin shopping and putting together hundred dollar outfits that really cost $10.
The reality that its the most simplest of things that are most significant.
A spontaneous love that doesn't mind the predictability of living today before exploring the mystery of tomorrow.
Here after the after thought that we exist in the past as well as the present simultaneously.
If ever in need I'll do my best to provide all that I can for an ideal love.
Through these actions I believe the true miracle is achieved.
An ideal love that is beyond ideal.
Who sets the where and how we meet, the institutions of bliss where the masses are limited to love and longing.
To find patience and compassion sitting on the front lawn on the same institution.
As long as she provides a kiss that can send me outside of my own thoughts, and pull me closer to hers.
My ideal love wouldn't be based on a B.E.T movie.
A single expression that summarizes a scorned woman letting go.
A cliff note of lust soon as the next sceen fades to black.
Her ******* pulled down not knowing the dude is secretly abusive.
140 minutes gone by to realize the last 5 mins were the ones that made her truly happy.
The woes of love.
My ideal love is a woman built with ambition but with a heart big enough to understand that without sacrifice nothing is truly accomplished.
A culture made in truth, ripped off by those who ignore that struggle is what makes us who we are.
The courage to walk out in front and be who we really are.
A real woman that doesn't mind lounging around the house that knows whom Budda and Huey Newton was.
This revolution of ideal starts the moment I realize that I never stood a chance.
The surprise of her lips against my cheek.
I drink from this remedy each time you open your lips.
So in silence I gasp.
As you caught me off guard,
My ideal love

My eyes are red like a sunset,
Devils dance.
my end of the bargin has been met.
Welcome to my rainy day
Forces and darkness come out to play
My life ebbs again
At the end of a ball point pen

I bargin for simplicity
Of life
To come and haunt me

Instead of dry
Dusty leaves
Stone temple
Voodoo curses

And late night
Sun rides

what bargin
between
life and death
an alliance
that we
accept but
faith is all
that we
have left

To win you
I would stand naked on a hill
for i am just a man
with no morals
no morals at all
and I call that a bargin
the best i have ever had
so look at me
do not make me feel small
for all i am is man.

CANDIDATES DO A LOT OF TALKIN’

ALSO DID ****-SO, WHEN HE WAS
‘A-STALKIN’

NOW HE’S AN ALSO-RAN, NO-BARGIN,
NON-ENTITY

THIS TIME AROUND, ASK YOURSELF:

‘CAN THESE TALKERS REALLY DO
THE JOB OR JUST CREATE MORE OF A
MESS WHILE THEY’RE IN THE OFFICE.

‘CAUSE I CONFESS, I DON’t KNOW
HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS CRAP
‘WE THE PEOPLE’ CAN INGEST?

OR BE A PATHETIC-SHOVEL TO DIG-
OUT OF ANOTHER’S PERSON’s
FECULENCE!
— Ray Laccetti

SPRING'S FIRST DAY

Spring
didn't know what was wrong.

It turned off the country.
Then turned it on again.

Nothing
doing.

Spring called technical assistance.
Was told there had been

a very virulent
Tory virus.

Blue was now the new red.
Lies were the new truth.

Britain had got a bargin
basement Trump.

Like an Ikea idea
with parts that didn't

go A
into B.

And had a ***** or two
missing.

Oh God
call that a Cabinet!

Nothing pretty
about that Patel.

And a Gove
as toxic as ever.

Spring didn't know
what to do

about
the Tory thing.

What had Britain been
thinking?

Emotional
hari-kari.

Only hope it would run
its course.

Just a fearful chapter
in  a future history book.

"Never has so little
being done by so few!"

Spring made sunlight
and shadow shake hands.

Sprinkled bird song
amongst the hedges.

Did what it had to do.
Got on with the job.

Whatever
the political weather.

"Is there..." Spring pondered
"...more  poets than before?"

I put down my pen.
And cried.