"chiselers" poems
in the corner
where giant walls join, he stares
at me, or the painting on the sky
of drywall behind me
if my mate spots him, she
will demand martial action
I am to skulk across the laminate field
and use the mighty broom
then, the dustpan
scooping his carcass up
for the grave, beside the cat
in the yard
squirrels, pestiferously perched
on my fence, teeth sharp courtesy of my
redwood trim, will watch
no, I won't listen to my spouse,
and execute an overgrown mouse
I'll let him squeeze through the planks
and go where royal rodents go
still, I may go hunting yet--my prey?
those furry tailed acorn chiselers, who ravage
my redwood with impunity...
(they think)
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
The road wanderers take is beautiful
There is a dirt path through a shaded wood
The sunlight throws knives through the tree leaves
Piercing the ground, casting beams of radiant light
The buzz of bugs and insects by the bushes
My footsteps crunching in the dry leaves
The soundtrack of the wild
Along this path, there are genuine lapses of time
There is no knowledge to be known
Only the consciousness of mind and present awareness are needed
The tall oaks grow in rows in patterns unknown
Twisting lines of savage undergrowth crawl across the ground
This is no time for lonely feelings
It is time for dance and revolution
We are the chiselers of history in the stone tablets of time
Is it real?
The ever waking vision of the world around us?
We are the decision makers as we travel onward
Tumbling through shiny days and hooded nights.
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC
The road wanderers take is beautiful
There is a dirt path through a shaded wood
The sunlight throws knives through the tree leaves
Piercing the ground, casting beams of radiant light
The buzz of bugs and insects by the bushes
My footsteps crunching in the dry leaves
The soundtrack of the wild
Along this path, there are genuine lapses of time
There is no knowledge to be known
Only the consciousness of mind and present awareness are needed
The tall oaks grow in rows in patterns unknown
Twisting lines of savage undergrowth crawl across the ground
This is no time for lonely feelings
It is time for dance and revolution
We are the chiselers of history in the stone tablets of time
Is it real?
The ever waking vision of the world around us?
We are the decision makers as we travel onward
Tumbling through shiny days and hooded nights.
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
The road wanderers take is beautiful
There is a dirt path through a shaded wood
The sunlight throws knives through the tree leaves
Piercing the ground, casting beams of radiant light
The buzz of bugs and insects by the bushes
My footsteps crunching in the dry leaves
The soundtrack of the wild
Along this path, there are genuine lapses of time
There is no knowledge to be known
Only the consciousness of mind and present awareness are needed
The tall oaks grow in rows in patterns unknown
Twisting lines of savage undergrowth crawl across the ground
This is no time for lonely feelings
It is time for dance and revolution
We are the chiselers of history in the stone tablets of time
Is it real?
The ever waking vision of the world around us?
We are the decision makers as we travel onward
Tumbling through shiny days and hooded nights.
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC