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It was a hot summer night
Still nearly ninety, I'd say
When out back of Giovannis
The Bluesman sat down to play
He pulled up his crate
Took a sip from his flask
"This here's my med-cin"
"In case someone happens to ask"

He started a story
That we'd never heard
We're the folks of the street
And we followed each word
It's a tale of James Withers
A man in need of a hand
But to us on the street
He was the Sand Castle Man

The bluesman strummed gently
He didn't want the words to be lost
For this was a story
That had a hell of a cost
You see, James the sand man
Lost a life to the sea
His grandson, young James
Drowned and died ...only three

Each day James went down
With his grandson in tow
They'd make castles together
They'd make some fast and some slow
One day the pair
were out at the end of the pier
when a rogue wave hit hard
And took what James held most dear

His grandson was swept out
Lost at sea ....never found
They searched for three weeks
But the poor boy was drowned
James kept a vigil
Every day on the beach
He'd look out on the water
His heart out of reach

He kept making sand castles
As he did with young James
With shells and old driftwood
And he gave each castle names
He'd have non-existent armies
Fight non existent wars
In his hard packed sand castles
He carved windows and doors

There was nonexistent dragons
In pools by the sea
Guarding nonexistent princesses
Who no one could see
There were turrets and moats
And each day he'd build one
To be lost to the tide
As the days work was done

Each day a new castle
Each day a new war
But , nobody knew
What he was building them for
The tide would come in
And would sweep it away
All that hard work
Gone at the end of the day

But, next morning he'd show up
Build one more for the tide
With armies nonexistent
To flow away for a ride
People would watch him
Make the castles of sand
With imaginary soldiers
In imaginary lands

The bluesman sang soft
Took a sip once again
From the flask on his hip
It's just med-cin
The crowd didn't stir
We were like moths to the flame
As we heard the bluesman
finish his tale about James

I asked him one morning
If he ever would end
Building castles of sand
He said, Bluesman, my friend
I know that each castle
Will be washed out to see
And I hope that my grandson
Gets a message from me

I make each sand castle
Like we both used to do
I come back every day
And start another anew
It helps with the closure
I send my soul to the sea
And I hope that my grandson
Knows their for him made by me

He finished and thanked us
And we went on our way
All of us changed some
From what the bluesman did play
Next time I'm out wandering
And see the castles of sand
I'll know what he's building
Now...that I understand
From grey plaster dwellin’s they come to us
fer enough sun t’ melt their lollies but
after sun-burnt migrations, some remain
as they can choose our shacks fer their castles
and their spawn breaks the spines on each weaver
and fer their red-faced fuss ‘e is broken.

The ‘ermit crab too takes ‘is leave broken.
The ‘ome ‘e made now closed to all of us
Not passed by ta’ooed ‘ands o' net weavers.
The painted shells still litter these streets but
suited slugs paint gray on our small castles
till only mockin’ shades of age remain.

“Shave off, *******’ll pick till none o’ yer remain”
screamed mad John as relaters “fixed ‘im” broken
into some plastic ‘ouse from ‘is castle.
‘ow ‘e used t’ tell those old tales to us
'o the deep places and the things there but
they ‘ad ‘im by the gills, poor old weaver.

Spines down, in nets made by ‘is own weavin.
we did it to ourselves, we can’t remain
Wi’ nets o’ money, o’ *****, o’ smokes, but
black flags still fly, bein’ bent never broken.
Cross-bone attractions will be left as us
‘eld by those who took away our castles

Stormin’ beaches to kick down our castles
the sandy ‘oles and ‘ides of those weavers.
Sellin’ our anger like lug, dear to us
cast from the sea of us that will remain
‘ook lipped, ring-eared, ink-stained and not broken
nothin’ t’ be fixed and no-one changed but

In come those nets, I ‘aint been caught yet but
that gray, that London gray sweeps my castle
away where the concrete can’t be broken
t’ reach lug beneath dried surface weavers
as gulls break beaks t’ peck at the remains.
yes, we’ll eat each-other if they take us.

Take enough of us, and leave shell castles
no ‘ands to ‘old jolly Rodgers and sing
‘appily swear, or dance on tables but
**** that.
A sestina, using phonetic language, on the immigration of Londoners on my seaside home (a weaver is both a spiny fish and a fishing net maker).
Steve Mar 2019
Mountains and dreams
Castles and Rainbows
Flashing eyes
Lightning bolts
Warm smiles
Rowing boats
Cushioned by clouds over
Castles and rainbows
Deep breaths
Angel lips
Sharp nails
Honey sips
Lost in the moment beside
Castles and rainbows
Heart beats
Smoke rings
Chocolate treats
A robin sings
Feeling you rise seeing
Castles and rainbows
Blue sky
Hot sun
Moving waves
Double fun
Castles and rainbows
Mountains and dreams
Tassels and hedgerows
Fountains and queens
winter Jan 2014
Castles in the sky
Overtake my vision for miles
They seem so close
Yet they climb still higher
Pieces fall off, come to the Earth
Bless us sweet castle, your bricks bring birth

Castles in the sky
Dark and non inviting
May bring young children nightmares
But over life are more enticing
Floating high above the wars
Inhaling sunshine through their doors

Castles in the sky
Filled with life and destruction
I open my heart to thee
My lungs fill with obstruction
Closest to me, this form of it
Soul- leaving body in a blue, endless pit
Midnight Beech Nov 2015
I found a strand of hair in the sand
from yesterday or maybe the day before
or before that, it's hard to remember anymore
the days suffocated by the rememberance of the waves
ourselves buried in the sand

Oh, the endless grains of sand!
of this chilly lonely Mexican beach
it's hard to un-remember what we built
what has now whithered in the autumn gusts
the castles have crumbled

we built them from sand, from scratch, from hand
added sweat-salt-water to strengthen the palaces
placed them near the shore or else it was no fun
let waves ride the moats and brush against the walls
prayed the castles would last the night

as we danced through the smokey fog
bathed in crimson candlelight
and sang until our harmony
resonated with the crash of the waves
and the constant being of the beach

we slept to remember and woke to forget
buried our regrets in the sand
and washed our hands in the water
and then ran to our castles
and prayed they had lasted the night

and sometimes they had, and sometimes they crashed
but now I see it didn't matter in the end
because none of them lasted forever
and no one remembered anything anyway
and beaches are only for vacations

though I am not a man who forgets ecstasy
or sees any need in leaving the beach
or likes the way the leaves look during autumn
or wonders what else there is but the sun
or needs to love the way most people love

so I lie on this beach, alone, sand to my knees
watching the waves graze over castle graves
finding seventy degrees to be too cold
carving my name in the shore
and watching the ocean erase what I've made

as I wrap this blondish strand around my finger
and try to remember who you might have been
and who you might be now
and if I met you in the sand
and if we will ever meet again

though, surely, we will not
because of course I am not still in the sand
a man needs to feed his family doesn't he?
as he wonders if he'll ever come back
or if the castle walls will last

it's too easy to daydream these days
office walls cloud ambition
and coffee cups burn my tongue
and early mornings swallow all my beliefs
they don't let me sleep, but I still dream

of a time when only waves tell time
as they curl in and out, but stay in the same place
so that we never age and only dance
make castles of sand with our fragile hands
watch them last, watch them crash

burn our memories in bonfire pits
but know that since time does not exist
each moment can be lived just like the sand
endless and amorphous and warm
and our harmonies will match the sound of the waves

and love everything but need only the sun
and sleep to dream and wake to love
and pray the castles last the night
but care not if they do
because there will always be another day

as I bang my claws into the walls
of this ******* cubicle, my head
aching from all this ******* coffee
my chest in a butterfly knot
my skull in a maze

it's hard to breathe here
the air isn't as fresh
and my lungs don't want to much
and my heart doesn't want to pump
my blood, which has gone stale now too

as I clench my fists, squeeze out my rage
knowing this is it
un-remembering the waves
praying the castle walls will last the night
but knowing my place

because beaches are only for vacations
and after all, it was only sand
and after all, these are only hands
and after all, I am only man
and after all, I am only sand
Sibyl Vane Dec 2013
Mountain peaks, city streets
More nomadic wanderings
Airplanes' flights to far away
You are gone but it all stays

Kisses goodnight and goodbye
Oceans deep and dark and wide
Singing sweet lullabies
As headlights fade into the night

Like sweet dreams that haunt your sleep
Chased away by morning rays
Broken glass glinting in the dawn
Spoiling all of our sweet dreams

Sand castles that wash away
Ocean's rapture steals them day by
Day by day by day
All gone and washed away.

Day by day by day

Traffic lights and drunken fights
The tick ticking of every clock
Spin away as the music plays
Build your castles that wash away.

Like sweet dreams that haunt your sleep
Chased away by morning rays
Broken glass glinting in the dawn
Spoiling all of our sweet dreams

Sand castles that wash away
Ocean's rapture steals them day by
Day by day by day
All gone and washed away.

Tomorrow as today

Watch the clouds passing in the sky
As we sing more lullabies
The moon and stars are oh so bright
But we forget to shine.

Day by day by day.

Sweet dreams of sand castles
As everything washes away

Day by day by day
Tomorrow just like today
st64 Aug 2013
sweet-dreamin'
a whole life
the world's a stuffy place
keepin'
lv...away




Down the street you can hear her scream, you're a disgrace
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?

Against the door, he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green

And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually

A little Indian brave who before he was ten,
Played war games in the woods with his Indian friends
And he built up a dream that when he grew up
He would be a fearless warrior Indian Chief
Many moons past and more the dream grew strong until
Tomorrow he would sing his first war song and fight his first battle
But something went wrong, surprise attack killed him in his sleep that night

And so castles made of sand melt into the sea, eventually

There was a young girl, whose heart was a frown
cause she was crippled for life,
And she couldn't speak a sound
And she wished and prayed she could stop living,
So she decided to die
She drew her wheelchair to the edge of the shore
And to her legs she smiled, you won't hurt me no more
But then a sight she'd never seen made, her jump and say
Look, a golden winged ship is passing my way

And it really didn't have to stop, it just kept on going...

And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, eventually*





st64, 24 augussy 2013 ... a mild ole (still-time ...) saturn-day
smasher-lyrics...cool song!

James Marshall "Jimi" Hendrix (born Johnny Allen Hendrix; November 27, 1942 – September 18, 1970) was an American musician, singer and songwriter. Despite a limited mainstream exposure of four years, he is widely considered one of the most influential electric guitarists in the history of popular music and one of the most celebrated musicians of the 20th century.
In 1961, Hendrix enlisted in the US Army; he was granted an honourable discharge the following year. In 1963, he moved to Clarksville, Tennessee, where he played numerous gigs on the chitlin' circuit.

In 1967, Hendrix earned three UK top ten hits with the Jimi Hendrix Experience: "Hey Joe", "Purple Haze", and "The Wind Cries Mary". Later that year, he achieved fame in the US after his performance at the Monterey Pop Festival. The world's highest paid performer, he headlined the Woodstock Festival in 1969 and the Isle of Wight Festival in 1970 before dying from barbiturate-related asphyxia at the age of 27.
Inspired musically by American rock and roll and electric blues, Hendrix favoured overdriven amplifiers with high volume and gain, and was instrumental in developing the previously undesirable technique of guitar amplifier feedback. He helped to popularize the use of a wah-wah pedal in mainstream rock, and pioneered experimentation with stereophonic phasing effects in music recordings.



sumtime-entry: gonna come cryin'

playin' you my mean ole axe
gonna be whippin' up a crackin' storm
come on, you sweet thang
hand 'em smiles to me
hackin' them steamin' strings with me teeth
and rakin' these nails 'cross your back...ooh

you gonna come cryin' to me, sweetheart o' mine
and layin' your body over me
my flickin' fingers gonna find you
yeh..mind your hidin' away

(hey, fry me up some brinjals...while I make some coffee)

oh, I gonna be wipin' them tears away
and you're gonna come flyin' my way
don't cry none
don't you fret none
world, she is crazy

we gonna go ridin' em purfling-waves, too
'cos I'm-a madly in love with you!






Jimi Hendrix - Once I Had A Woman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVUlzNXxljg&list;=RD02W3JsuWz4xWc
Olivia Kent Sep 2015
Castles in sandpits.
Feet that wander.
Seaward as seawater meanders.
Buckets of plastic.
Containing fresh water.
Probably not.
Forks with spikes on Tyne side.
Professing weird knowledge.
Bending round edges.
Breaking down hedges.
Crumbling castles made of tactical fairy steps and freaky dreams.
Huge construction.
Rubbed together butter and flour.
Carefully, even lovingly, put into ramekins.
Everyone's named Paul or George.
When creating castles made of sand,remember always.
Pride always comes before a fall.
Ready for baking.
And the ball flattened the castles,
Squashed like malleable putty.
Sandcastle in sandpits.
Paul was a self destructive shot.
George, well now, he is not.
Just in case, both be forgot.
(c)Livvi
September Roses May 2018
Once we were on fire
Young    rebeliouse   free
We stormed the castles and took to the skies we flew we dreamed
We were ablaze our light setting raging screaming fire to the world around us
When our thoughts could not sit in silence any longer
When the kids were engulfed by a wave of fury of the injustice done by this world before we were even here
We screamed and demanded
OUR VOICES WOULD BE HEARD
But now it rains
Now the cold heavy water blankets the restless
The fire has been drenched in worry and stress
The brutal downpour has distracted all with false life or death
The blaze once 100 feet high now nothing but a charred soul

And all the ones put out by the rain
to tired to fight again,
pray on the generation next
That their fire is enough to best the storm
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Castles in the sky, our lives are spent in search for castles in the sky
Dreams whispering in our ear, hinting of secrets we all long to hear
Peering up through the hazy sky, as we make our way to that far off cry
Hoping some day to see the magic behind those fortress walls.

Slowly we climb up through the sky in search of the dreams that will let us fly
Blown off course as we ascend through relentless storms that never end
Falling once more upon our paths as precious days struggle past
Looking ahead, just hoping to find our way.

Many have turned without a sound as their hopes and dreams crash to the ground
Frozen souls by dreams’ last fall, hopelessly dieing inside us all
Still others continue to gaze upon the magical life until it’s found
At last they gaze back from the sky for one last look before they die.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Encased castles wouldn’t hear
what might have been
or a promise of immediate loss.  
When thank you becomes like raindrops
falling from the cost.

So I will say
the sun forever rises
because it was torn away
from the bones of an amber moon.
Until the day my face is woven
into what is mine, just not too soon.

Just think about what you do
when you want to be alone,
of course not because
you are broken.  
Let it go and become framed
with the tears of a family unspoken.

Reflect what is understood
and let it go
like a language of chills
contained in every second of surprise.
Then thunder from those encased castles
can be seen in my eyes.
Copyright @2015 - Neva Flores Varga-Changefulstorm
Miss Saitwal Jul 2018
That workaholic lady who's always on call,
keeping up with the market fall.
That newly married lady with chunky red bangles,
returning to her father's big castles.

That person who's scared to get lapse,
so stays active on the google maps.
That person who swings like a kid at the back door,
Or the one who perform calisthenics on an empty floor.

That next door girl with a red lipstick,
flicking her shinny hair & gossiping with her clique,

That dreamer gazing outside the window,
That overworked soul dozing on his elbow.

That 21st century kid,
listening to Eminem & playing video games.
Or That 90’s kid,
listening to Jenga Boys & playing outdoor games.

That banker with a big fat stomach,
filled with his beautiful wife’s love.
That lady who eats like a thief,
in her big fat bag hiding a beef.

That old man who can’t stand Bombay's winding turns.
That granny spotting & criticing  every fashion trends.
That man who has Raju Rastogi’s concerns,
thinking & chanting for earns & returns.

Those kids who believe their job is to fill the voids in a battlefield,
in the still crowd surpassing like electrons into a magnetic field.

That lady sitting under cold seat like a glacial,
than standing with 7kgs in a crowded central,
& tryna stay sane listening to George Michael.

That geek who switchs from Linkedin to Arjun Reddy,
when the masses flee into the scenery.
That trader crunching numbers so rapidly,
when the stock prices go down hourly.

That person on the last seat,
diagressing from work & gazing around,
soaking in her pashmina, with a career newfound.
zebra Jul 2018
like cellophane wraps hard candy
like ink loves to dry
like hot sauce drenches noodles
like sunrise casts shadows
like band-aids sooth cut flesh
like irons crease linens
like origami folds paper
like water floats boats
like a tempest loves a teapot
like syrup and bananas drench waffles
like spoons love soup
like cats love fish
like french fries love ketchup
like wild girls dance
like a crow loves road ****
like eyes love beauty
like a circle loves a square
like buttered buns fit a bikini
like a kissed mouth hungers for wet lips
like moths love a flame
like dogs love *******
and like ******* hug butts

like howling ******* pulse hearts
like vampires love blood and castles
like dark grapes ferment in bubbling cauldrons
like white loves rice
like madness loves a straight jacket
like a ***** loves a ****
and music gets you dancing

like suns fall through cobalt night all smashing diamonds
  
that's
how i love you
love
takitak Jun 2016
Like the sands on the beach,
we play with it, we make with it
into sand castles and moats

As we mold each grain into place,
we think no more of it, and let the sand
slip through our fingers

Now the castle stands on
the most crumbly of bricks
Standing tall in its glory,
but at the mercy of the waves

the sands may be timeless
...but our time is not countless
Srishty Mittal Nov 2014
At the break of dawn,
I turn, mumble, wake and yawn;
And turn to see
You, in our blanket castle.

The dainty sunshine bathes your face;
Of your matted hair, the breeze makes a menace.
I play with shadows of you-
And them I hold captive, in our blanket castle.

Now, the garden swallows twitter on the sill
A familiar longing, in me they instill.
The pillow feathers, the tickling toes, the warm giggles-
I realize- are but memories of you- in our blanket castle.
Suggestions are welcome!
CK Baker Mar 2017
lady craighead played the blues
on a stand-up samick
in the ***** room
along side the parsons project
and squabbling dogs
and night moves

stairs creek
up the mezzanine trek
wool sheets slide
on finished floors
little angels
play late into the seventh
(a closing match nearing
the midnight hour)

croaking toads and cicada
sing in the blue moon
musty smells and mothballs
settle deep in the vault
the kettle boils
and cat coils
as the pump house rolls
its heavy drawl

the red phone rings
and bird clock sings
(behind the ruddy stall)
a sleeman variation of the ruy lopez
employed heartily
by the incomparable master jack
marble toast burning
wringer wash churning
chris craft running
near the old carp canoe

rooster calls
and west wind squalls
rustle through the porch screen door
chicken *** pies
and rogue flies linger
a rocker chair placed
near the  sepia face
(softened by the intricate frame)

donkey in tow
(with a fastened ***)
maggie in her dreams
of green tambourines
the nocturnes
reflections
and whispering gospel bells

tractors pull on
the grinder stone
horses lay still
in the mid-day sun
a trump card is fingered
at the furnace click
(crosswords and puzzles are next!)
while the sparrow
and that **** rabid fox
are drowning
deep in castles well
kirklefrance Feb 2013
sitting in the background of my backyard reminiscing of my past year
thinking about **** that was said gat me like smt yeah
****** dont get down but they wanna act here
life is just a show and we gat ya tickets in the back there
main eventing on some ******* stunting on some hoes
where my **** smoke blows "hell' aint nobody knows
cutting off ya air supply you starring in my shows
the irony in life makes us all grow
where we headed from here?
not even god knows
so im packing all my clothes saying goodbye to you *******
taking extra packs of back getting faded on you snitches
and where I end up only God can tell
where ever it gone be is what it is
nothings worst than hell
this is a farewell ******* PIGS **** the haters and the hassles
searching for life at midnight on the beach smoking **** building sand castles
PJ Aug 2018
Why do I write
When my castles fall
And every time it takes its toll
I tried to protect it
By guarding the shore
For tides take
What ever I make


My castles are sand
I know its bland
But like my poems
I know its dry
But I always try
To make it glorious
Though  my words are not luxurious
For my words are true
No matter how plain


I will protect my castle
No matter what
Even if the tide takes It back
Cause if it falls
I will make it again
Like my poems
Will continue no matter
How much I'm in Pain
I will continue to write no matter how hard it is.
Ignatius Hosiana Mar 2017
Build castles with the stones they throw at you,
so that the pebbles are rather stepping stones to
a much more ambient skyline of your life...
grow a wild flower out the dirt they throw at you
of such a flamboyant bloom rather than gloom,
construct a bridge with the stumbling blocks they create
then match ahead like there wasn't a speck ahead of you
and of the **** they put you through make manure
to boost the crop of your seemingly impossible dreams...
It's about you, words hurt, people hurt, dreams fail
hearts break apart and folks throw dirt
but none of these will ever affect you as long as you
never let them do, stumbling blocks are tinted bridges
pebbles are great foundations, wild flowers are as scented
as roses if only you look on the brighter side...
Build castles with the stones they throw at you and
they'll come asking how you managed to achieve
great success unaware that in breaking you they made you...
Marian Feb 2014
Castles in the air
Made of the cool beige sand
Is where my princess
Is going to live today
She is a princess
And all her gowns are silver
Her crowns are made of rubies and jades
She wears long emerald necklaces
Her slippers are made of crystal glass
And bless her golden heart
For she's going to soar
Upon dusty pink gossamer wings
With swirls made of glitter
To her castles of sand
Built in the sapphire sky

*~Marian~
Fifth in my series "Imaginary Adventures"!!! :) ~~~~~<3
I hope that Lady Jane and each of you, my HP friends
Enjoy this poem!!! (: ~~~~~~~<3
Again, this is dedicated to Lady Jane!!! :) ~~~~<3
Austin Mosher Jun 2013
Sand castles
Amber sands
Washed away
By blue hues.
Wake up and smell the lilac bushes.
Drift away beneath the cool shadows-
Tides of the ground,
Waxing, waning
One with the sun.
Let's make way for
Evolution dwelling within my eyes.
Spiritual avarice, feeding the
Comatose giant,
Chained to porous walls
Wolves are almost free,
The moon is calling.
I must heed the celestial communion.
Erogenous tempest raging in the clouds,
Shades of blue swirl with shades
Of emerald and red.
Chromatic souls breeding,
Building new sand castles.
Average Joe Oct 2014
Upon the shore, there lies a marvellous sight
of extravegent castles that cry out to the sky
Structures men have labored over for hours by hand
So delicate are these castles built of nothing but sand
As men stand beneath them, they can't help but feel proud
yet they forget to be thankful for what the sea has allowed
In time, the sea will take back everything she has given
to wash away crumbling castles and reveal treasures hidden
I see dreams in the clouds.
Not just illusions,
but perspectives,
indications.
I touch sand castles in the sky
and let my eyes
look for me inside the walls.
I sink my feet into the sand
where the water draws
that which it erases.
I hold myself in common
prayer moments.
Sending my words to
Jesus, who promised
always to listen.
I hear His reply
in the thousand points
of light that shiver
through my prayers.
I trust in what He promises,
though I fail to
capture His wisdom.
I watch the pictures in
my fingers moving with
the passion of living.
I see dreams in the clouds.
Not just illusions,
but perspectives,
indications.
I touch sand castles in the sky
and let my eyes
look for me inside the walls.
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
Life like sand castles
Wash away so blissfully
Crumbles in your hand
Olivia Kent Apr 2015
PORCELAIN CASTLE.
She lives in a porcelain castle.
She's stuck in a butterfly net.
Forgetting that they ever met.
One another, each other together fighting always.
Ever biting back.
Porcelain's not good for castle building.
Don't you dare to forget, ever, never ever.
Porcelain castles they crack.
Fragile people hide inside.
Regretting things they can't decide.
Of yin and yang and cymbals bang.
Religious sounds of church bell clangers and hangers on.
Earrings of pearls and churlish girls.
Mothers and fathers and buckets of laughter.
Porcelain's not good for castle building.
Don't you dare to forget, ever, never ever
Porcelain castles they crack.
Clairvoyance dispelling of tears, well spent.
Destroying dark rumours over years and years.
She's crying without trying.
There ain't no more lying.
No biting or fighting.
Retrospective viewing the past with regret.
Heading for Dignity,
Luck of Lady Grey Day.
(c) Livvi
thanksgiving,
yellow lemon squares, turkey,
hustle hustle laughing,
bickering,
small blond children
tall dark haired , mild mannered
gathering courage to ask
asking questions
hike , climb, sprint tag,
food,
eating quickly,
murmurs around potato salad,
leaves,
leaves falling,
mothers calling
building castles in leaves and trees behind things
in the back yard
smiling
finally we are all together.

cancer took her.
crying crying and the rain wont stop beating against this old roof.
close walls sullen faces
mild mannered children working in a quiet desperation
to recreate yellow leaves falling
and lemon squares.
standing close
together,
to close
to close
trying to **** the distance between
us
castles crumble
its not our back yard anymore.
one of our mothers makes pecan squares
we cling to new traditions
because lemons do not taste the same,
disenchantment falls into a desperate
sadness  that always  fallows
death
and being homesick
for places that no longer exist for us , tomorrow


Indifference took her,
maybe if i had stayed a little longer,
she would be here same as ever,
clever bright witted
the staple holding together family fibers
distance ,
quite
losing site
literally loosing her site and
missing me
missing her
and them and mild mannered children
trying desperately to recreate yellow fallen leaves,
and banter,
to hear grandchildren squabbling
it was me, i left her castles crumbling
she was only missing places she thought no longer existed for her
shes gone now.
my castles crumbling
like the dry fall leaves
and i'm dreading things
and the lack of things like
thanksgiving
and lemon squares.
To live in Wales is to be conscious
At dusk of the spilled blood
That went into the making of the wild sky,
Dyeing the immaculate rivers
In all their courses.
It is to be aware,
Above the noisy tractor
And hum of the machine
Of strife in the strung woods,
Vibrant with sped arrows.
You cannot live in the present,
At least not in Wales.
There is the language for instance,
The soft consonants
Strange to the ear.
There are cries in the dark at night
As owls answer the moon,
And thick ambush of shadows,
Hushed at the fields' corners.
There is no present in Wales,
And no future;
There is only the past,
Brittle with relics,
Wind-bitten towers and castles
With sham ghosts;
Mouldering quarries and mines;
And an impotent people,
Sick with inbreeding,
Worrying the carcase of an old song. To live in Wales is to be conscious
At dusk of the spilled blood
That went into the making of the wild sky,
Dyeing the immaculate rivers
In all their courses.
It is to be aware,
Above the noisy tractor
And hum of the machine
Of strife in the strung woods,
Vibrant with sped arrows.
You cannot live in the present,
At least not in Wales.
There is the language for instance,
The soft consonants
Strange to the ear.
There are cries in the dark at night
As owls answer the moon,
And thick ambush of shadows,
Hushed at the fields' corners.
There is no present in Wales,
And no future;
There is only the past,
Brittle with relics,
Wind-bitten towers and castles
With sham ghosts;
Mouldering quarries and mines;
And an impotent people,
Sick with inbreeding,
Worrying the carcase of an old song.
1970 Odysseus visits cousin Patsy in New York City she introduces him to her best friend Lauren’s older less attractive more reclusive sister Tanya Mulhaney extremely wealthy family father founded corporation manufactures pinball machines which years later develop to video games then casino empire he favors and spoils Tanya but dies suddenly her envious sisters and mother gang up on Tanya is pale skinny flat-chested copious brown bush Odysseus sits in bathtub with Tanya and he probes in a way they hits it off maybe no boy has ever touched her in that way her complexion is so fragile slightest fluster prompts pink blotches on her cheeks neck chest back he admires her book smarts he’s attracted to her refined strangeness he thinks her bush and flat-chest are **** she laughs shyly offers to take him around the world he accepts Odysseus tells his parents Mom goes crazy yells into telephone what are you a ******? you father and i work like fools to send you to the best schools so you can make something of yourself you’re going to throw everything away to be a ***? i tell you we’ll disown you you won’t have a home to come back to do you hear me? we’ll disown you! she sobs how can you just walk out after all we have done for you? you ******* kid! Odysseus takes leave of absence from art school he and Tanya take Iberia jet 12 hour flight with stopover in Iceland to Belgium Tanya sinks into one of her moods swallows several pills to help her rest sitting on other side of Odysseus is curly haired skinny talkative musician claims he has jammed with Miles Davis and other jazz greats Odysseus says yeah right and i’ve shown with Johns and Twombly where exactly are you heading in Europe? musician answers he is a scientologist on his way to visit L. Ron Hubbard in England Odysseus does not know what Dianetics are and wants explanation he asks many questions and musician talks for hours they enjoy each other’s rapport as jet descends in Brussels they exchange home addresses in the States 9 months later when Odysseus returns to America a friend notices scribbled address while skimming through his travel journals Odys! how did you get Chick Corea’s address? do you know him? do you realize how brilliant he is? he’s a keyboard virtuoso! Odysseus questions Chick Corea? who’s Chick Corea? he looks at journal page then says oh that guy i sat next to him on the jet to Europe so he really is a famous musician huh? wow!

in October 1970 Brussels is damp chilly Tanya wears hip-hugger jeans black turtle-neck top North Face shell she huddles her arms around her chest smokes cigarettes looks through hotel room window out into gray overcast sky speaks in defeatist voice i didn’t bring clothes for this weather she picks at her plate in hotel restaurant glumly vacillates later in bed after refusing *** decides they leave tomorrow fly to Canary Islands for several weeks to get tan before traveling through Morocco during winter months Canary Islands are laden with Swedish tourists including bikini clad young girls many not wearing tops Odysseus is thinking about how to swing some of that Swedish free love once Tanya gets drunk succumbs to Odysseus’s ****** overtures it is good  one day while returning to hotel from beach 2 Spanish police stop and question Tanya and Odysseus police order to see their passports then command them into squad car police bark in Spanish rifle through their daypacks point a finger Odysseus can smell alcohol on their breaths Tanya and Odysseus are terrified police drive off main road to remote location abandoned ruins no one is around police order them to step out police drive off laughing Tanya’s complexion is crimson she sobs they could have murdered us no one would know who we are or where to find us we’re lost where are we? Odysseus looks around replies don’t worry we’ll be all right i watched where the driver was going we’ll retrace their trail

they fly to Tangier travel south by train Tanya is irritable insisting Odysseus carry her backpack Casablanca is ***** 3 men peer from sunglasses act suspicious wear tattered trench coats Tanya and Odysseus snack at cafe which provides hookahs for smoking hashish Odysseus scores several grams Tanya laughs suggests they rent car drive south travel to sandy beaches of Diabet for 6 weeks in the morning she paces around French hotel room with cigarette in one hand ashtray in other like she is sultry 1940’s Hollywood actress she stays in room and devours Penguin Classics Tolstoy Stendhal Proust Huysmans Zola turns out Tanya is sexually frigid she buys Odysseus anything he wants but does not put out they take train Marrakech it is sun drenched with blue skies mountains in distance Odysseus wants to go out explore get ***** with the natives he visits Medina daily witnessing many bizarre scenes he does not understand a woman squatting over an egg a man with no legs dragging himself through marketplace holding up cigarette butts in his hand he meets a professor who is out of work because king of Morocco has closed the universities due to teachers’ strike professor explains woman squatting over egg is fortuneteller and man dragging himself has been offered crutches many times yet makes more money playing off pity of tourists cigarette butts are for sale the professor invites Odysseus to visit Berbers in mountains Odysseus persuades Tanya she reluctantly agrees the 3 travel by bus in first-class front row seats vehicle filled with lively families chickens pig bus driver has assistant who lugs people onto bus or shoves them out door at a midpoint bus stops in little town everyone exits bus then men women children urinate in street local venders sell trinkets snacks Odysseus buys nibbles shish-kabob that later professor informs is roasted cat and dog they reenter bus wait suddenly butchered lamb flank is flung onto Odysseus’s lap a man climbs aboard bus stairs then grabs large carcass and heedlessly walks to back seat Odysseus wipes blood and slime off his jeans Tanya demurely giggles bus climbs mountains arrives at small Berber village professor leads them along narrow winding street of shanty huts sheltering merchants open kitchens professor tastes from various steaming iron kettles finally decides on one they are directed to rickety roof where they sit wait a boy comes up with plastic bowl filled with water and small box of Tide following professor they wash their hands then minutes later proprietor brings up simmering *** of couscous serves it with scratched raw plastic bowls no eating utensils they eat with their fingers Tanya seems bothered declines to partake she withdraws into silence after meal she becomes irritable complains of headache says she needs to return to Marrakech she remains standoffish on bus all the way to French hotel

after Marrakech they take boat trip to Italy while onboard Odysseus meets Italian Count who has an eye for him Odysseus wears Jim Morrison beat-up leather jeans Bruce Lee t-shirt scraggly whiskers Count wears thin manicured beard tiny red Speedo swim trunks Tanya grins amused Count offers Odysseus and Tanya to be guests at his villa in Milan city flourishes with stylish clothes loud lively restaurants classical sculptures covered in car pollution following several weeks of aristocratic wining and dining amazing 11 course elegant soiree Odysseus botches compliance with Count’s desires they are asked to leave Tanya laughs hysterically they board train to Germany based on Tanya’s tour book they find historic hotel with wind rattling windows coin operated hot water bath in Munich Tanya stays in room Odysseus goes to dance club meets brown-hared pale skinned German girl neither speak the other’s language he pays for hourly rated room they play German girl in animated gesturing warns him as he is going down on her but he does not understand until several days later scratching beard finds ***** seeks A-200 lice treatment German version leather pants disposed Tanya knows but says nothing she buys Volkswagen they drive through Black Forest Tanya wants to visit King Ludwig’s castles Odysseus does the driving mostly they listen to the Who’s “Who’s Next” and Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” he follows Tanya’s instructions not knowing who King Ludwig was eventually he learns Ludwig was colorful character built extravagant Disney like castles and friends Richard Wagner Bavaria is cold gray brown deep forest green scenic Swiss Alps visible in southern view they drive from Neuschwanstein to Linderhof to Herrenchiemsee then Freiburg lodge in bed and breakfasts Tanya grows restless by all the driving decides to ditch car along road in northern France as Odysseus unscrews car license by road side several cars stop French people concerned they need help Tanya is anxious hoping for clean get away from abandoning vehicle they board train to Paris Tanya speaks a little French in spring of 1971 they are backpacking in search of hotel on Left Bank it rains all morning sky is overcast Tanya reads “Pride and Prejudice” Odysseus draws in sketchbook at sidewalk café sitting next to them are older Parisian couple man detects they are Americans he turns to them expresses in English his contempt why can’t you Americans learn from France’s lessons in Vietnam? Tanya and Odysseus don’t look up they feel like dumb ugly Americans within days they leave Paris

cross English Channel by boat they find temporary apartment in Earl’s Court in London it is overcast almost every day within a month they move to larger place in Chelsea with backyard with run down English garden Odysseus weeds garden plants tomatoes lettuce carrots radishes flowers Tanya stays in her room smokes reads at night they go out to ethnic restaurants one night they visit Indian restaurant a very proper English woman sitting at next table orders exotic fruit for dessert Odysseus asks waiter what kind of fruit waiter answers mango Odysseus has never seen or tasted mango English woman delicately eats the fruit with fork and knife Odysseus orders mango for dessert he attempts to imitate how English lady proceeded fruit slips around on plate finally out of frustration he picks it up in his hands bites into it he is aroused by how luscious mango is sniffing with nose scraping fruit’s skin with front teeth then ******* the seed Tanya makes a face suddenly the seed slides from his grasp shoots across table Tanya’s cheeks neck turn scarlet voice raises stop it Odys! you’re disgusting! are you intentionally trying to embarrass me? why are you doing this? he replies i’m not doing anything to you i’m enjoying the most delicious fruit i’ve ever tasted who cares what it looks like? later she laughs about incident offers to buy more mangos promises to take him shopping at Harrods tomorrow he goes along with their arrangement until it all seems like pretty background scenery to an empty intimacy missing all his friends back at art school he writes about his loneliness he feels trapped in Tanya’s web several times he sneaks English girls into his room when Tanya jealously confronts him he admits he has had enough and wants to go back to Hartford she suggests at the least they fly to Bermuda for several weeks to get tan before returning he declines on June 30 1971 Odysseus returns to Hartford and Tanya moves to San Francisco on July 3 Jim Morrison overdoses in Paris
Terry O'Leary Jan 2014
as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to spare) –
with the world on OUR backs... ah! the burdens WE bear!

being HAVES (not the have-nots) as nature decrees
means WE’re certainly the better (they’re vermin on ******).
if they pray for a lift in their dark fantasies,
WE just kick ’em downstairs, get ’em off of their knees.

yes, WE offer great jobs (much too busy OURSELVES!)
for maintaining the toilets, restacking the shelves,
and WE teach ’em to fear god and play with the elves,
thus dispelling ideas where the dark demon delves.

though they build mighty bridges, twin towers and more,
peddle pizzas and popcorn, sell guns door-to-door,
still they gotta have BOSSES to tell ’em the score
else WE’d never be needed, WE’d thrive nevermore.

when OUR profits are plunging, they do their part too
for they dine on the dole! yes, no hullabaloo!
soon OUR fortunes  redouble, rebound and accrue –
since WE fare well without ’em, WE bid ’em adieu.

’stead of wishing for welfare and standing in queues
or parading with pickets (look! holes in their shoes!),
they’d be better off scabbing to save union dues.
while WE whistle and warble, they’re singing the blues.

whether heroes or hoboes, like spiders and lice
they just crawl all around us in life’s paradise,
but WE’re patient, big hearted and oft sacrifice,
spewing charity, kindness (though each has its price).

if they’re beaten or punctured or suffer assault,
are unhealthy or crippled or walk with a halt,
or ******* or helpless, it’s all their own fault –
just like US they should worship the DOLLAR exalt’!

protesters and loud mouths, you’ll find ’em aplenty
some older, some younger, the worst not yet twenty.
they’re shameless and brazen (unwashed, soiled and scenty)
impugning the prestige of brave COGNOSCENTI.

if they’ve got clashing colors (or shades in between)
or opposing beliefs in the hidden unseen,
well, WE’ll always exploit it, deflecting their spleen,
for with god on each side, would WE dare intervene?

WE maintain many methods to keep ’em in chains –
daily rags and the tube spin OUR circus campaigns:
“to pretend you’ve a voice”, an announcement explains,
“you can vote and decide on which ONE of US reigns”.

OUR policemen protect US, they stay on the ball
(they arrest ’em, no questions per law’s protocol,
and then jam ’em in jail with their backs to the wall) –
if you’ve lucre for lawyers there’s justice for all.

down the ROYAL road of justice WE march all alone
– WE condemn their defiance, set ways to atone –
since WE’re sinless, unsullied, WE cast the first stone
(while WE cloak REGAL fetor with eau de cologne).

politicians, bald bankers, grand idols galore,
attend meetings, fete banquets in which they explore
how to rid US of rodents (the weak and the poor) –
well, just round up the riff-raff, dispatch ’em to war!

ah! OUR wars are, well, just...... just a thing of the past
........... and the present............... and future... WE sure make them last!
if they frown as they gaze (Armageddon!) aghast,
then WE smile back with pleasure, OUR treasures amassed.

useless ranting and raving (in rags, when they’re clad),
leads to losing their teeth (my! their gums are... egad!).
WE’re unselfish, indulgent, WE’d never be mad
if they drowned in the sounds of themselves feeling sad.

as the paupers are princes in midnight’s domain,
they have pipe dreams to lose, certainly nothing to gain
if they’re hoping OUR fortunes will wither and wane –
for “WE’re here by god’s will” as WE often explain.

yes, they wish to be US, with OUR wisdom and grace,
keeping up with ol’ CROESUS, maintaining the pace.  
but perverseness or rancor? they’ll see not a trace –
for WE hold ’em at bay with a fist in the face.

WE’re la CRÈME de la CRÈME, yes! the proud UPPER CRUST,
and OUR clothes are the finest, OUR hair never mussed –
WE imbue ’em with piety, duty and trust
and they’re fed bread and water (if feed ’em WE must).

but they’re thieving, aggrieved, want a piece of OUR PIE
and request WE endure ’em, see EYE to black eye.
since they live in OUR land where OUR strict rules apply,
they must feast on the crumbs that We cast to the sty.

though OUR largesse and bounty WE don’t mean to flaunt,
yet the pittance WE pay ’em they surely can vaunt –
salty peanuts and pretzels (what more could they want?)
thereby keeping their kiddies so healthily gaunt.

yes, there’s room for the rabble (the back of the bus)
’cause WE treat ’em like equals, so what’s all the fuss?
all can rise to the top (yes! it’s always been thus),
to the suites in OUR penthouse (to sweep up and dust).

while OUR CHILDREN have tutors, the finest of schools
(being bred for the forefront, THEY’re nobody’s fools),
their own school of hard knocks teaches: “follow the rules”,
building brawn ’stead of brains and broad backs strong as mules’.

and to keep ’em in line (to ensure WE prevail)
WE now monitor phone calls and read all their mail
(civil rights? what a notion! at best a detail!)
and if worse comes to worst...... well...... guantanamo jail!

WE’ve OUR quandaries and questions and headaches full blown
(like deciding design and decor of OUR throne...
whether diamonds or rubies... to gemstones WE’re prone) .
when WE deign to appease ’em, WE chuck ’em a bone.

now you know all OUR problems, OUR pains and travails
– like preparing foreclosures, evictions  and sales –
but WE’ve no need for worries or gnawed fingernails,
’cause WE’re sailing OUR yachts through tempestuous gales
(with them bailing OUR banks when OUR stock market fails)
sipping daiquiri sours, champagnes, ginger ales.
:-)
kevin morris Dec 2013
She smiled, awhile I tarried there, fashioned castles out of air. She laughed, set my heart aflame, tis love, or my overactive brain.

I think of her but who is she? A bird encaged longing to be free? Is she content in her cage? Or does she beat the bars with rage? Do I put my thoughts
on her? Building castles in the air? Who am I? who is she? Both are struggling to be free.
Darbi Alise Howe Apr 2013
I see the darkness of the world
in my reflection
a devil in each iris, fire in each pupil
and every intention
I have had in my possession
has been cruel
has been kind
has been fuel
to burn and bind
and every breath of mine
gives to take
takes to live
lives to ache
for twenty years i have hung upon the stake
asking heaven why my creation
is
Perhaps it is His infatuation
with watching unbuilt castles slide
off cliffs into the sea,
swallowed by the tide
of what I'll never be
Cassidy Chambers Jun 2013
We build our castles with planks of secrets,
boards of lies.
Our safety net constructed of rubber bands that have been
snapped a million times.
I am to blame for expelling her from your mind.

Is she still there darling?
Possibly behind our affair? (somewhere?)

I hope when you reminisce our time spent together, you see it so vividly that she can almost taste the dishonesty on your breath.

There should be no room for me, so I've nothing to do but leave.

— The End —