Always thinking
what am I thinking?
lets start writing
should be sleeping
why am I thinking?
I need to sleep now
bored of sheep, lets try cows
maybe I should count the spots
or connect the dots
of my thoughts....

Dalmatians are the cow canine
ten, eleven, twelve
deeper I delve
sleeper I'm not
wide awake, no
half baked dough
money makes the world go round
funny how it doesn't make a sound
yet people are so loud
it's not needed
nod your head when greeted
nod your head when agreeing
or leaving, deceiving, grieving
maybe thats bowing
bow your head when grieving
Robin Hood had merry men
and they were thieving
still need to be sleeping
dreaming........

If only I could dream of you
as we sail the ocean blue
you would get sea sick
and I would drown quick
this is how my dreams end
much like our relationship
conscious thoughts
maligned with nonsense fraughts
I fraught of you today
tonight, this night
every night
you my light
my darkness
my rainbow
tied around your neck
so delicate
a pretty little thing
no tongue ring yet
butterflies
toast lands sunny side
glass half empty
I'm half fool
a joker in the pack
Batman that's a fact
I only come out at night
your caped crusader
I tried to save her
but the current dragged her under
she now resides in the depths of my mind
a shipwreck
my Mary Rose
how I loved your eyes and nose
and everything attached
did I remember to put the door on the latch?
turn off the oven
come give me loving
and affection
Marvin Gaye, Joan Armatrading
sing to me so I can sleep
sheep, cow, dalmatian, sheep..........

Snorers all
scattered world-wide
in offices and homes
in boardrooms
and bedrooms;
O Snorers all
loud and clear
low and shrill -
listen ye
to the loud wake-up call
as from Rip Van Winkle's Snore

stand up united
and drown the howl of protests
against snoring that is surely no less divine
than the Chorus of Angels in Heaven -
for the great God who made the Aurora
no doubt also conceived of the Divine Snore!


and so, stand up, ye sonorous Snorers!
unite! I call unto ye!
unite against the detractors
and the critics
and the complainants
and those of low culture
who cannot
lie still and listen to Snoring
as one rightly would at a concert hall
listening to the delightful play
of a quartet of violins


O how long will you take it lying down,
ye blessed Snorers of the World?
let the world know
the first divine music was indeed the Snore;
and the very height of human communication
is the unabashed snore
for all other modes of communication
lead to mis-communication
but the language of the snore is always exact and crisp!
the message of the Snore always precise!
the meaning always loud and clear!
and the very height of the snore
(let us declare to the world)
is the couple in bed
snoring away together
beside each other
making such divine music
making love with the rolling thunder of snores
so that one might say:
do we have a couple of wild boars
copulating in the next room?



stand up, O Snorers of the World -
and defy the mockers
and those who seek divorce
on grounds of insufferable Snoring;
stand up against those who sue
for loss of sleep from
friendly, neighborly Snorers;
stand up now
against these losers, these whingeing nags
uncouth and untutored
in the mysteries of the art of the Snore!
stand up and with one loud blast of
a universal Snore,
with one melodious Snore
let us
drown their dissenting voices,
their unprovoked cacophonous complaints!
stand up, Snorers young and old!
unite, Snorers black, white and gold!
defy the world! O ye Snorers
of quite nights and of lazy days:
let us overwhelm the world
with the pleasing symphony of Snores;
let us bless the ears of the world
with the dulcet streams of varied notes and arias!
stand up! unite! - O much-maligned Snorers of the World!
with one voice raised
in a triumphant Snore
let us declare:
*No longer will we be silent!
Our voices will be heard!

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Silence. Solvent. Substituted;
subsidised
then marginalised
instituted and muted.
And, often
persecuted.

Rationanalised
by abstraction:
every minuscule
interaction dissected.
All that is left is convoluted,
misconstrued
and rejected.

The lucid bewildered.
The disillusioned bejeweled:
rooted in their state of mind.

Effortlessly self-proclaiming
restraining
and refraining
purging the imagination:
the waning of maligned mankind.

And all of his
illuminated limitations.

A mob boss for president…
Yikes! That's what we've got--
One who profits from crime
Without a second thought;

Who keeps his family close by;
Who's close to each paisano;
Who looks less like a Lincoln,
And more like Tony Soprano;

Who praises convicted felons,
And pardons them as well;
Who cares less about country
And more about his cartel.

Loyalty is his mantra.
His underlings owe him all.
He sounds like a mobster when
His back's against the wall.

He'll rip you a new one if
You ever decide to flip
And prove that you're a rat,
Or try to give him the slip.

"Flipping should be illegal,"
He brazenly repeats.
Without it he knows there'd be
More crooks on the streets.

A power-hungry bully:
It's his goal to be one.
Listen to his rhetoric:
"I know a rat when I see one."

His fixer threatens reporters
And does the boss's bidding.
But when he seeks revenge,
The boss isn't kidding!

Driven by ambition,
Egomania and greed,
He lets mob ethics guide him
To always take the lead.

He's the kind of guy
You read about in books.
Watch how he surrounds
Himself with other crooks.

Those who cooperate
With law enforcement will find
That he retaliates
If ever he's maligned.

Top decision maker,
He gets such a thrill
Promoting or demoting
Anyone at will.

Having a no-good mob boss
As leader strikes a nerve
Because it's hard to accept
That that's what we deserve.

-by Bob B (8-25-18)

The warden’s bewildered, the keeper’s amazed
as the gate gapes behind us, a hole in the haze.
Our steps seem uncertain, the cobblestones crazed,
pearly stars burn above us like pinwheels ablaze.
Though lanterns hang vacant in streets staring blind,
broken paths paved in puzzles compel me to roam,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The cannons keep calling, the piccolos shriek
and the druids drift, drumming, while pale pagans speak.
They’re urging me forward, my senses they’ve mined,
and the trail is erupting, come hie to the hills
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The looking glass glistens, a firefly glows,
and the brownies leap lightly on tiny tip toes
for the twilight’s collapsing, which serves to remind
that as dusk turns to dust, with no time for farewells,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The ponies of plunder prance, passing nearby,
as crusaders on stallions cast stones from the sky.
The figments they’re facing have paid them no mind,
but our broncos are bolting. Corral what you need,
                                        I’ll not leave you behind.

My visions are swirling, they flash from the crown,
from the rainbows of summer, the tinsel in town.
While the compass wheel’s spinning, the minutes unwind
inside evening’s auroras – so cling to my cape,  
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

Drooping droplets of wax adorn pinched candle wicks
while the vampire steeple’s cathedral clock ticks
of the terrors in tombs where ****** flames lie reclined
with their flickers fast fading – abandon the glim,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The orphans and widows lean into the breeze
watching horrified hangmen descend to their knees
for the angel of mercy’s no longer inclined
to forgive vengeful  phantoms (oh Furies of night!) ,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The bandits are brazen, the highwaymen lurk,
some imbibing dark brews of a hag’s handiwork,
mostly gulping from goblets like goblins maligned.
Woman! Widen your wings, catching wisps of the wind
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The lepers laugh, leaping from tombstones of steel
chasing rollaway caskets on luminous wheels;
while their shadows shake, shrouded, twixt trees intertwined,
twisted time melts at midnight, take hold of my hand,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The gremlins *****, grinning face down in the dust,
while the sprites and the pixies are watching nonplussed.
They sling bolted arrows at spectres enshrined
within winds somewhat flustered, just fly from your fears
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The tattered toy teddies and raggedy Anns
have escaped to the skyways in kid caravans
but now, spellbound by fancies, know not that they’ll find
their parade’s evanesced into echoes of dawn –
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The wind’s my enchantress, beguiles and commands
me to search for my fortune in faraway lands
and whispers her mysteries of passions entwined,
for the wind is Isolde – unfurling my sails
                                        I’ll not leave you behind.

I’ll not take your time, beyond what the need,
To relate to you a story and deed
As there’s no one else to plea this decree …
For just I survived, don’t you see.

I’m an old man, with a mind full of mist
But details of that night in my mind still exist
As vivid and clear, both sharp and exact
No, no mist there – all of it’s fact!

When I was young, and adventure routine,
With excitement and newness still unforeseen
I was eager to spread my wings to the world
And seek more adventures as those wings unfurled

Within my long travels I happened to meet
Two other men, with friendships replete
One was named Beckett, the other one Flynn
And better friends there never have been.

Beckett was tall – an athletic type
While Flynn, the scholar, more of pinstripe
Pinstripe or athlete – it mattered not
It was our essence together and that which it wrought.

Engaged were we in all daring do
High on the mountains, and under seas, too,
We crossed dry deserts, and jungles of green
And other adventures there in between.

We’d been together, t’was our sixth year,
And still our adventures made us cohere
To every madness – to every rave …
Until we decided to enter The Cave.

We discussed the encounter and planning for weeks
And assembled equipment – some new, some antiques
Until at last the day it arrived …
And our excitement?  It still there survived.

The map we used, was bought from a guide
Who told my friend, Flynn: “Don’t go inside”
When he had learned of our journey’s intent:
To enter The Cave, and begin our descent.

The guides’ words, had given us pause
We had thought: What was his reason or cause?
But … dismissed were his words of advice
We had each other … and that would suffice.

With ropes and lantern-hats and other such gear
It was into The Cave we then disappeared.
The light from our lanterns speared into the dark
We spoke very little - made no remark.

Onward, downward, in blackness we went
Placing out markers for our later ascent
The sounds of our footsteps, and scraping of walls
Reverberated ‘round us – as echoed recalls

In about six hours, or maybe ‘twas more
We encountered water upon The Cave floor
And there all around were beautiful shapes
Never were seen such gorgeous landscapes

Stalactites, stalagmites and mineral mounds
And dripping water with its’ “plopping” sounds
Pinks, violets and shades of green hues
And small salamanders made their debuts

We found a small dry spot and then we assessed
This was a place we could stop now to rest.
I turned up my lantern, and took off my hat,
When Beckett said: “Hey.  Did you just hear that?”

I moved not a muscle, and my ears went to strain.
All I could hear were the droplets, like rain.
Then from The Cave’s bowels came a loud din
I continued to listen – then heard it again.

We looked at each other, but said not a word
Confused and startled by what we’d just heard
It wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a gasp
But more rather like a guttural rasp

One thing was certain, it wasn’t of stone
That could create sounds while standing alone
T’was our discussion, from which to derive:
The source of the sound was something … alive.

Then from The Cave’s deepened black hole
Came again sounds from a source with no soul
The sound was menacing, and one I despise,
I watched the fear grow within my friends’ eyes.

Instinctively, we three then moved as one
In that instant – our re-ascent had begun
I had been last in the line coming down
Now I’d be the first to reach the “above-ground”.

Quickly my feet in the lead, lead the way
Flynn, right behind had nothing to say
My friend Beckett, brought up the rear
And in that position had the greatest to fear

The lamp on my hat pierced through the black
And I looked for our markers to lead us back
To save our strength, nothing was said
Again - the loud sound that filled me with dread.

The sound became louder and closer it be
And I moved faster through the black before me
I could hear Flynn’s breathing, so close behind
I tried to concentrate on the markers to find

Somewhere behind me, then snarls I heard
Loud and vicious, run together and blurred
Close … so close … the beast was so near
Adrenalin rushed through me to react to my fear

T’was then I was hit with an overpowering stench
The smell caused my stomach to turn and to wrench
The odor blew past me, and I knew t’was the breath
Of the Beast of The Cave – its’ oder of death.

I was near running, but down on all fours
Sweat was streaming from all of my pores.
Then I heard those terrible screams
The ones I keep hearing in all of my dreams

It was Beckett I knew in his shocked agony
Midst the snarled snapping of jaws I can’t see
I heard bones cracking and squishing of flesh
And the fear within me gave new strength afresh

My fingers were raw from grabbing the rock
But on moving forward my mind had its’ lock
My stomach still queasy from the stench of the beast
I knew it was finishing its’ beastly feast

I knew, too, t’was only a matter of time
When the beast would return - I had to climb!
I heard Flynn say: “IT’S COMING AGAIN!”
Again was a surge of my fear deep within.

I heard once more the beast from behind
And fought the panic taking over my mind
Something heavy struck against The Cave’s walls
The kind of sounds that ghastly appalls:

A scraping of talons of heavy clawed feet
Caused my heart to double its’ beat
I had the feeling that Flynn lagged behind
I screamed my urgings loud and maligned:

“Flynn!  Flynn!  Catch up to me!”
But took not the time to look back and see
For the beasts’ crashing against The Cave’s face
Told me it neared – and was re-gaining the race

My knee hit a rock, and my balance was lost!
I fell to the ground, and then feared the cost
In losing the time in scrambling free
Again sheer panic stabbed into me.

In less than an instant, Flynn was there too,
His face in my light was of a strange hue
And as he helped me get back to my feet …
Flynn turned around – t’was The Beast there to meet.

The stench overwhelming, but the sight was much worse
There standing before us: The beastly curse
Of overlapping scales in shades of dark gray
The rest of its’ body concealed in umbrae

But its’ eyes … its’ eyes … I’ll never forget
Rheumatoid yellow, and deeply inset
Its’ reptilian lids blinked just one time
‘Fore its’ lips peeled back - revealing the slime

Glistening yellow over dagger-like teeth
Then oozed from its’ mouth to fall there beneath.
The beast reared up, then we saw its’ claws
Sharp and deadly within its’ forepaws

Towering above us, no sound the beast made
On beams of our light had his gaze stayed.
Unexpectedly Flynn then turned and faced me
… With less blinding light, the beast could again see

Why Flynn had turned I never will know
For the beast bit him in two, at his torso
And I was looking at Flynn – direct in his face
When the beasts’ bite his life did erase.

I screamed, and instantly away did I run
Away from the beast, and dead companion
Through the price of Flynn’s life, more time had been bought
To reach The Cave’s entrance – the goal that I sought

Running wildly, several times did I fall
Toppling did not my mission forestall
The beast I knew still somewhere behind
Drove me on forward with my frantic mind

I heard its’ clawed talons scraping the wall
And prayed I’d not again stumble and fall
Then, up ahead, a small opening I viewed
And I saw my chance, with hope there exude

Twelve feet … six feet … then it was three
But the beast and its’ stench was there behind me
I dove through the rock opening, scraping my head
But better that injury than ending up dead

I was elated, and about to rejoice
I then heard a scream – it was my own voice!
In my leg erupted intense blinding pain
Looking down I saw the bloodstain

My leg, through the opening, still was stuck out
There was but split-seconds, before I’d lose it no doubt
I pulled my leg back, and in but a flash
My shoe was removed by a clawed talon slash

I crawled back from the opening, then I could see
My wound was deep, from ankle to knee
Then suddenly through the opening came
A clawed talon whose aim was to maim

I quickly withdrew out of its’ reach
As claws shot through the openings’ breech
The opening too small, for continued rampage
And the beast began then to voice its’ outrage

It’s deafening roars assaulted my ears
Echoed Cave chambers and in my mind did adhere
I began attending unto my grave wound
Knowing I now was no longer marooned.

T’was another hour ‘fore I crawled out The Cave
But many days ‘fore I’d shed the shockwave
Of what had transpired, and what I had seen
And my damaged leg was lost to gangrene.

Now sleep evades me, for my horrible dreams
Show beams of light, and unearthly screams
Of Beckett and Flynn and The Cave we were in
I know tonight, I’ll re-live it again.

So, now you’ve the story, you’ve heard the deed
I swear is the truth I’ve herein decreed
And Beckett and Flynn are enslaved in their grave
And I lost my leg to the Beast of The Cave.

Tonight,
Like lambs to the slaughter,
You're drowning in water,
Because you're mine.

Consuming,
I'm filling the spaces,
And all the safe places,
Of your mind.

Tonight,
Crawl on back to your circus,
Yeah you've lost your purpose,
Now you're mine.

Infected,
Stealing your body,
Possession and blackness fill the corners,
Of your mind.

My words,
They wrap around your throat,
Your fractures they denote,
That you're mine.

You're blind,
Lost in the darkness,
You're stolen, you're heartless,
So give me your hand,
And your mind.

Broken,
You'll sleep in the lion's den,
And all of your amen's,
Are maligned.

Tonight,
You'll ask me to love you,
To please take hold of you,

Because you're mine.

sickened
by media lies
legislative disguise
rotting food
attracting flies
beguiled by trite examples
limited poling
and internet trolling
expressionless selfie
apathy as fashion
androgynous culture
manly men are maligned
while supermodels ******
minds
warped youths scramble
attempting to grasp
beauty
through surgery
and consumerism
their tiny orange bodies
reflect social illness
its glare blinding
bound to the taxation system
pre-social security number
these zombie babies
march to Red Bull
FOX news
and social media *******
fluoridated and infected
they reject ideas
not rooted in technology
…mock astrology
believe in genetically altering
living organisms biology
practice unlicensed psychology
and pharmacology
all the while supporting
underground government demonology
…….. my apology
lost in this madness
I feel trapped and isolated
and the irony hits
flattening my preconceptions
“As part of, I am responsible for…”
…..darkness and pain
crash on aging shoulders
realization
and defeat

I watched you today;
I admired your strutting decadence
Unruly, dishevelled bird of jagged honesty
Ruffled, disrespectful feathers that shine
And reflect your begging, squawking call

You and four of your friends,
Dragged down a helpless potato I
Left out for you;
Pinioned it to the ground
With strutted abandon

Oh bird much maligned;
Bird of ungainly beauty
Hobo, derelict, winged, caller
When you murmur the
Shaking stirred skies
With your flocks,

The noise black swirled and reckless
Never fails to make us catch our breath
That such flock - formed beauty could come
From a ragged kingdom call
Makes my own wings;
Take Flight

In a quiet inn
         in an aching world
there was a boy with mind
body and strength
he had the talent
the unyielding bent
to wield his power
to unrelent
he was sometimes cruel
he was often sweet
he was sometimes gentle
his word carried heat
people loved him so
his poise and candor
his mind was a joy
his work was pure splendor

he was asked
         from time to time
if you could lead us
with your mind sublime
what would you do
where would we go?
         beyond, he'd say,
to the stars and depths
to the moons and mountains
to the planets and systems
how long,
         they'd say,
would you lead us, hence?
         "A thousand years and a thousand more
         a thousand thence and evermore."

his rise was swift
his patience deep
to the destitute, favor
to the broken, weep
his gifts were vast
his counsel practical
his word was bond
and ever magical
he trounced the greedy
imprisoned the malicious
righted all the wrongs
seldom vicious
and before long
his rule was secured
a man of justice and principle
tenets of cure
how long,
         they'd say,
will you lead us, hence?
         "A thousand years and a thousand more
         a thousand thence and evermore!"
we wish it so!


trouble gradually
like bubbles passively
breaking the surface
of his grand design
officials profited
underclass maligned
body for profit
"all are mine"
there was danger in the air
ripples in the well
poison in the minds
infirmity with no care
and sickness took hold
people lost their hope
they questioned Great Lord Marra,
how long,
          they'd say,
will you lead us, hence?
          "A thousand years and a thousand more
          don't ask me again
          or there will be
          more..."

Chaos in the streets
desenters rounded
deserters uprooted
populace cowered
education
to the masses
knowledge of rights and potential
traded for respect of rule and power
hour by hour
day by day
toil was spilt
for the grand design
the work of tyranny
is cruel and violent
so was Grand Lord Marra
never certain
never quiet
         he would ask of his subjects,
         how long shall I rule?
they'd say,
         "A thousand years! A thousand years!"
"Never forget it!"
         we shant, our lord

Whispers arose
of a new power rising
someone true
someone firm
someone compassionate
someone alight
he roused the dreams in the soul
he broke the chains in the heart
he walked the roads that were barred
he climbed the mountain forbade
and slowly people turned to him
away from Grand Lord Marra
and that tyrannical father felt it
he felt the waning of his power

Like a dragon in the bowels
of our precious, sacred, love
Marra tightened around that
which the people ever adored
the grand design of toil
the great work of tyranny
the state paid for with blood
that whose edifice was a crypt for the innocent
and that someone who was hero
stepped up to that edifice
with chisel, hammer, pen, and passion,
he carved away that
which held the malice within
he let out all
of the death and destruction
that Grand Lord Marra
had caged in the people
the world played with their shadows
that had been nailed to the edifice and its steeple
and in time they shook free
of Grand Lord Marra's tyranny
for when they learned their freedom once more
the old lord looked old and feeble
not a thousand years
       nor a thousand years more
               nor a thousand years hence
                        and nevermore
just 66 years
it took to break free
of Grand Lord Marra
and his projected
infirmities

The illness left them all
         breaths of relief swept the nation
and the hero who had come
         was crowned the king of freedom
and he taught all who followed
how to wield the power he knew
how to be free as well
and every dragon of delusion slew
        peace would not reign forever
        new chaos would come
stronger than the last
        strong as the world and its evolving sun
but in this age, there was peace
        joy like never before
                 and our hero's name was remembered
evermore
evermore
        he did not live a thousand years
but his stories certainly lived longer
in the hearts of the people
in the hearts that were won

Yet a strange thing occurred
       sure as night conquers day
Grand Marra's visions of the future
       did not decay
                 they became the bedrock
of future design
        for light rests on darkness
the grand design
        two sides of the coin
yours
and mine

darkness for foundation
        light for revealing its depth
pathway into the future
        left and right steps...

We live a life of invisible lines
Hierarchies and territories
Boundaries and margins
Precincts, frontiers, mainlines
State lines, guidelines,
Air lines, hair lines, color lines, bottom lines,
frontlines, punchlines

But, come on.

Read between the lines

Each border is not designed to remind us of our limitations
Or to define our state of mind
What’s yours what’s mine

All I know is the song
“my heart is…” um… line?

Nevermind.
I am the air
I am the wind that moves seamlessly
Fearlessly across your face, across your race, across your space
Not just because I can but because I cannot stop myself

The only place I belong is everywhere
So get in line
Cross the chasm and engage
Because invisible divisible incipit individuals
Are not the ones you want taking up space

Sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
Root from their heart and branch out in the skies…
Their innocent souls and deceptive eyes…
Their polished shoes and branded ties…

In the beginning they seek your attention…
The next desire is your affection…
By recital of their past and rejection…
Either from them or from other direction…

“Don’t sympathies sweetheart, I am a strong man… Okay”…
“My heart comes free with this ring and bouquet”…
“Say yes, my love, we’ll plan a holiday”…
“Let’s go shopping for your lingerie”…

The candles are lit and the dinner is served…
The charm and chivalry is observed…
His scent and accent leaves you unnerved…
He is definitely the prince you thought you deserved…

Ah! And you fall in the trap and love as well…
Dreaming of him and his tempting propel…
You talk of him and his stories you tell…
Of the vamps he dated and your own love spell …

He has your trust and you are happy high…
His kisses and touch you can’t deny…
“He loves me so much” you amplify…
You light his nights like a firefly…

Now when you feel the bygones are supplanted…
The road gets a little slanted…
When you are more often taken for granted…
His fluctuations show the doldrums are planted…

You inspect the change and the causes aligned…
And come across the love texts enshrined…
You feel shattered and maligned…
The way you are portrayed and opined…

You demotion as ex is celebrated with a raised toast…
With his new flame and he playing host…
You embrace your strength with care utmost…
His vows and love , haunting you like ghosts…

You want to cry till you paralyze…
Blaming thyself for this jeopardize…
The arduous task to analyze, summarize and self sterilize…
From these sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…

~Kathaa Kirti

You made me promises,
And I wrapped myself in them like melodies on a hazy Sunday morning,
I savored them, twisted them and made them into fibers that I wove into my existence.
And then,
Then you broke me.
And I let you.
I let you because I didn’t know better.
Beyond time and tide you were a brilliance, a light, that warmed and coddled me into this desperate oblivion.
A ***** oblivion.
Polluted.
Shards of glass beneath my feet.  Clothes made of extreme anxiety.
And in this moment, I blame you.
But, no longer.
I accept that I allowed your entrance into my life.
I allowed you to be more for me than I ever trusted anyone else to be.
It isn’t my fault that you disappointed me.
I suspect that I am not the first of your disillusionments.
Look at you.
Your physicality is breathtaking.
Every muscle, every nuance of your outward being is a tantalizing treat of enticement and temptation.
I know it isn’t where you end, though.
You had it in you to devise your plan of promises and expectations.
Did you catch what I said there?
Devised.
A negativity.
Not something endearing or stunning.
Maybe I am wrong.
It has been years into this.
And I was wounded well before you.
In consideration of that deep disdain, I must not always believe you to be a fraud.
Surely, not every fraction of your being has set out to malign my heart.
Yet, you have.
Maligned me.
Cast me out into a void that stinks of rot and old.
And so, I float. I linger. I coast along.
Slow-motion.
My own private Hell.
Wondering every time you go out if you will return with the stench of infidelity wafting through the air.
So, I float.
Oil and water, flesh and bone, separate and together.
Endless.
Or, is it?

An ode to the raggedy starling

I watched you today;
I admired your strutting decadence
Unruly, dishevelled bird of jagged honesty
Ruffled, disrespectful feathers that shine
And reflect your begging, squawking call

You and four of your friends,
Dragged down a helpless potato I
Left out for you;
Pinioned it to the ground
With strutted abandon

Oh bird much maligned;
Bird of ungainly beauty
Hobo, derelict, winged, caller
When you murmur the
Shaking stirred skies
With your flocks,

The noise black swirled and reckless
Never fails to make us catch our breath
That such flock - formed beauty could come
From a ragged kingdom call
Makes my own wings;
Take Flight

Just written :-)

I won't write of the "L" word or that I'm feeling sad
This poem is not about the horrible day I had.
I won't try to inspire you with philosophical prose
Or tell you about colors of flowers like a rose.
I want to confuse you
Amuse you
Abuse your mind
your thoughts maligned.

With poetry you undress yourself layer by thin layer
Each word, verse, poem or page reveals who you are,
where you've been, how you've been treated, your reasons for despair.

Birthmarks, bad hair, too fat, too thin
you hide your shy smile, or a big toothy grin.
Eye color, the size of your nose too big for your face
imagined only by you but these thoughts have no base.

To others you are beautiful, funny, amazing,
confident, conceited, smart, loyal, sincere.
Against your own knowledge or impression
all these quirks to you others endear.

It doesn't matter what part of the world you are from on this Earth
Even from thousands of miles away through poetry we can evaluate your great worth.

Thank you for sharing yourselves with us
For enlightening our lives
Thank you for giving us your perspective
and with each word making us realize

For you life is ... something different ... than it is for me.

© 2012

1.
There once was a couple of cats
Who engaged in continuous spats.
          The result was a tie
          When each scratched out an eye –
An old-Biblical *** for a tat!

The cats awoke bleeding and weak
And half-seeing the havoc they'd wreaked
          They discarded their clothes,
          Their backsides to expose –
A new-Biblical turning of cheek!

2.
There once was a man, oh so brave,
Who would sleep in a hole, called a grave ...
          Well, he being the host
          To so many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave

3.
In days of Neanderthal knaves
When the men ruled like kings in their caves
          And not being too keen
          About keeping them clean ...
Often took on some wives, called them slaves

4.
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
          Well, maintaining a grin
          While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave

5.
There once was a monk with a wave
Who desired a head with a shave ...
          Well, the barber was such
          That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave

6.
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave ...
          But they paid him no mind,
          ’Cause his name was maligned,
Being simply a sinner to save

7.
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved ...
          Well, continuous sin
          Ended doing him in –
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved’

8.
Antoine is a Vampire Ghoul,
Quite barbaric, bloodthirsty and cruel,
          With a fang in your throat
          He’ll **** slowly and gloat
With a smile as you whimper and mewl.

9.
There once was a raven haired Shrink
Who had orange Juice Tequilas to drink.
          Well her scarlet souled Beau
          ****** her tinted red Toe
And she paled when he tickled her Pink.

10.
There once was a travelling sage
Who yet lived to a very old age.
          Well, becoming quite senile,
          With problems (yes, ******),
He packed his wee trunk in a rage.

11.
There once was a Nun and a Druid
Exchanging some ****** fluid,
          When along strode the Father
          Who heard all the bother,
Lost stickum while coming  unglu..ed.

Trolls and moles, this way did pass
But they can all, kiss my ***
I’ve neither maligned nor defamed
And am surprised, to be blamed
But, I bear no malice or intent
I’m only left, with this putrid scent
BOEMS BY JA 576

Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble  . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De  . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .

With nothing in mind, on the soft green ground
While gazing around inside of a dream
Squinting of Sun, inhaling of sounds
Relaxed, next to a running river's gleam
Serene and sedated, the rustling of leafs
A lease - eternal, an ease inside
A polished, pure and perplexing peace
I slowly sway into the swallowing sky

Sounds of the gush and the wingless glide
Divided between blue and beautiful bright
A meeting of mountains and stars magnified
Below - a haze. Above - the great light
The delight of the earth, protruding and proud
Shrouded silhouettes and gorges that glow
Maps of the sky, echoers of sound
Transport me down to the wet below

Floating on top of the swirling blue salt.
Exalted beyond the liquid haze.
The deepest doors of this massive vault.
A conversation with the warping waves.
A daze of darkness in this alien waste.
Embraced in unknown - pulling me down.
A captive buoyancy with calm erased.
The essence of life, in which I will drown.

Finally, walls, blank and opaque.
The ache of vast indifferent time.
With a failed past comes a future vague.
Measured only by its dangling decline.
Maligned touches of world-less colour.
The collar of emptiness. The forever nothing.
Blacked out details unnecessarily smothered.
A ruined illusion of caring for something.

Through a petite shimmer
that unravels large
as a blackened rainbow
in this whitened mirage
I glimpsed the thespians
of nature, afar
the romances of whom
always fell apart

Through a petite shimmer
that unravels large
I glimpsed the kiss
of twilight and dawn
the betrothed pair
betrayed at last
by the shadows born
from the womb of fall

Through a petite shimmer
that unravels large
I glimpsed the awaiting
mote of sand
for the single kiss
of a drop of sea
the wetness of which
an embrace to be

The drop was alas!
wrenched away
by the vicious ocean
oarsmen as waves
As the mote of sand
looked on and on
strangled was the drop
by the murderers around
leaving the mote
awaiting in vain
for the single kiss
that will never remain

Through a petite shimmer
that unravels large
I glimpsed the kiss
of the soaring breeze
to the greenish cheeks
of a branch's leaf

The breeze was alas!
brutally deceived
as the odes of peace
from its whispering breath
beheaded the leaf  
chanting words of death
Betrayal O!Breeze
Order of the storm
Your love,a dream
in the years to come.

As birds with feathers
of seconds of the past
lay dead and cold
on my memory's path
as a drop of rain
from the clouds above
paint myriad wrinkles
in the whitened mirage
the petite shimmer
that unraveled large
grows brutally dimmer
and enlightens my last

As the hideous shadow
of the glowing monarch
arose from the seas
with scroungers as drops
the birth of a dawn
as dark as dusk
bloomed the flower
in the aden of death

Blinded was I
to the eternal kiss
of the lips of the shell
that closes in bliss
Blinded was I
to the eternal love
not ever senile,
but remains a bud

A futile beholder
of otiose memories
Iam indeed a rainbow
eclipsed and maligned
by the merciless touch
of the curse of sight
of loves betrayed
and shattered to bits
of flowers that lost
its aroma within.

Benedictine Warlords
Hold ceremonies in ballrooms
Tie knots in dying children’s hair
Demarking havoc to succumb
Red X-es on trees
Placating these
Monsters
These scumbags
These treasons
Against a muck they scoured
A much maligned superfluity
Of words, of thoughts
Of feelings
Of devotion
Sympathy
What of it?
You’ve heard my ideas on living
You’ve killed my attempts
Superavero
Veni
Superavero
Now go, before you learn what life is

War around me, and it's like I've got a ****** at my back
I'm in his gunsights and he follows me around with no
friendliness how I ever could have thought I could be friends
with this person and I need so much the strength within and I
am standing there and there is no me inside and I can't let this happen
because I am in his sightlines and others, too and it's completely different
a battlefield every day and I can't let myself go, the strength has to stay
and he is only my enemy, trying to shoot me down and I can't
I have to stay and fight because there is no choice and this is
so wrong but it doesn't matter things never matter I am a member
of a much maligned group, and it doesn't help but what I can do
is not lose me. I may go down but I will go down with myself intact
my opinions that I know and not believing their lies which come
flying at me every day now a new one.  And I can hear the disrespect
and sarcasm and belittlement and the value on the stupid and I will
stay with my own thoughts this time.  I will not abandon me and what
I know.  I will not let them take over my mind.  What happens on the
outside I can't control.  But my opinion of them, of what they're doing
it will be mine and it will matter to me and I will believe it this time. I swear.

birthed from the roost above the ground
cooing whoooing shuddering sounds of a flock
holding uniting all in its bold thunder
morning doves serenade awakens to day
holding out the clatter the buzz and were
of industrial chimes
my eye hiding in the shadow of night
to remain in the darkness of sleep all knowing
what awaits the losing of peace in morning time
the harsh noise of man made waste
polluting the mind abruptly canceling
the dreams of the divine...
the reach for meaning a vision that sees mystery
hears the sound held in the cooing nature of doves
living life the primeval nature verses man kind
mature maligned by the noise of industry
power and greed to over whelm
the soft strokes of nature to mature
to be to bring forth the glory of day
in natures life of humans and creatures sharing
the morning air waves my eye hidden
in darkness of soul first light glow
to abound in freedom the being reborn
the nature of time to reveal another great mystery
to remain in the darkness once more
to allow nature to dream with me
to set the motion of true love on its ear
to straddle night to  day
oh great being that is life let me lay
in your celestial comfort starlight of night
all winds cooler apree vestin  Earth
revolves to the east rising into the starlight in day
interrupting this tranquil starry night
the to day of starlight
my eyes piercing and rolling still shuttered
in the time of longing for the peace
that holds my world divine this inner light
and belief that love is a real place
that allows the birthing of joy
a serene moment giving life an up lift
resets the Earth into the starlight of day
to know my being is one in time
with living nature I hide in the darkness
awaiting my faerie tail to swish away
the cobwebs that abound in the night
on the thresh hole of first light a reason
to hold back the noise of man made creation
the serene born from darkness to know the truth
light of living life the joy alive
holding my being in the dream of first light
poetry has captured the uttering within my breast
swelling and rising into the starlight of day
the morning doves cooing bodies shuddering at will
to be heard the first light of day
honored for the love giving hope to surrender...
the old that comes before me the memories of time
starlight life rays that birthed the Earth
all these moments honored
the old comes before the rage of man
its industrial noise to heavy
for the morning light disappears squandered
by greed pushing  pulling at the sun
to conform in its man made realm
to mimic creation...   gjmars  6/25/15

“Better than working in a factory.”
Truer words were never spoken while
Smoking a big fat *doobie.
For Doug Clifford & John Fogerty
It was a motto; an anthem.
Creedence always respected &
Loved the workingman.
Working stiffs know--
They know in their bellies--
That Republicans are good for the
Proles, here in Oceania,
Good in particular for the building trades.
I recall a distant mob of
Swarthy plumbers & carpenters,
Electricians & masons,
A toolshed parliament & all-purpose
Construction industry trade show;
So many, many Italian family
Weddings & funerals attended . . .
Sometimes my residual blue-collar instincts
Show up during the most inappropriate,
White-collar times. But I digress.

Which brings us down memory lane
This evening, as in “Good-DEEVE-ning,”
Welcome aboard the Hitchcock Railroad.
(Stage whisper: If I have to explain it,
You’re outside my demographic age cohort,
And a member of a pointless throng of green,
Still-wet-behind-the-ears,
Presumptuous whippersnappers.)

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And now that I have your attention:
Consider the current national stage:
A media circus, a minstrel & medicine show,
H.L. Mencken’s last *******,
Give us our daily bread.
It’s August 27th, 2016.
We’ve survived back-to-back
Republican-Democrat Political Party
U.S. Presidential nominating conventions.
I’ve caught you smack yabba-doo-dabba
In the middle of this Trump-Clinton
Full-press, traveling Reality Show Cavalcade.
In short, I’ve caught you at a good time,
Perhaps receptive, somewhat, for a:
Nixon Retrospective.*

I submit that without doubt,
The most stunningly democratic gesture
Of our generation to wit: replacing the
College deferment loophole with a
Blind, dumb-luck Vietnam Draft Lottery.
You can thank Richard Nixon,
Milhous of that name,
Our much maligned 37th President.
The only RESIGNEE in history,
Run outta town on a rail,
Convicted without bail.
Set adrift without sail.
(How you wish I’d **** this
Wretched rhyme scheme.)

Yes, you can thank Tricky **** for
Sticking it to the Bush Family
And their inherited-wealth neighbors--
Riparian souls one & all--along the quaint
Long Island Sound, New England seashore.
Surely my Brooklyn working class roots,
Demand I salute and snap to, attention.
Hail to the Chief, Babaloo!
Mr. Nixon still has my vote.
He tackled big problems: nuclear arms,
Diplomacy with China, Vietnam,
The Economy (can you frickin’ believe a
Republican got away with
Wage Freeze & Price Controls?)
Not to mention The Environment:
Slap! BAM! Soupy Sales:
“I told you not to mention *THAT!
But you knee-jerking libs out there,
Must remind yourselves that
President Nixon created the EPA &
Signed the Clean Air Act.
Think about it next time your
Nixon-Watergate gag reflex kicks in.

Oft maligned in
our Newton homes
Where out there
is what Is..
But this Is
is darkening as
our days prolong..
Cries for connection
are arousing
desire for dawn..
a gift forgotten
this lifeline
cord...

Upon those streets the blood did run
children playing having fun.
The soldiers came cold and callous
their hearts filled with malice.
Nobody was immune no mercy shown
seeds of hatred were sown!

That day was but another in their fight
to see the next morning light.
Food a luxury all amenities destroyed
with their lives the army toyed.
Oppression and misery all they knew
surely a reason they were due.

The bombs rained down on the meek
their bodies increasingly weak.
Resistance grew the houses crumbled
and the ground rumbled.
Their faith through adversity not shaken
though many loved ones taken!

This scenario has forever been repeated
their spirit can never be defeated.
Nothing changes in the history of mankind
always the aggressors and maligned.
Centuries have passed the coffins filled
forever the innocent killed!

The Foureyed Poet.

Slow like planets I’ll come,
as certain as glaciers and disease
a lovely plague upon this land
of fungus and food-bearing trees.
There is an age to matricide.
300 million years ago,
a paramecium split
and split again.
That was when we invented death.
It has been several decades since
that formation of the stars
and the felicity of orbits
maligned into recognizable shapes:
a crab, a pair of brothers
sharing a life.
One day I’ll ascend
to where the hydrogen obey me
and the slight edge of this
great earth releases my soul
and falls and falls and falls.

There isn’t a Mountain to High

Written for two hurting grand parents who lost thier ninteen year old grand
son when he lay down in front of a on comming passenger train.

Dear ones He who walked the Delarosa knows your pain His mind catches the smallest sound of
Suffering and that of the highest roar cascading down as burning lava through each membrane that
You possess when your last ounce of strength has been consumed though he staggered through the
Crowds in Jerusalem bearing the marks of the condemned we know He was the fairest lamb slain
Tophet remains the dark black **** that it left in the earth where the Canaanites sacrificed children unto
The god Moloch by fire they practiced their deranged acts took that which was most precious to God
And man and forever dishonored the sacred trust we have to those most precious gifts it speaks to the
Gross conflict that reigns between good and evil the great brooding of God enters scenes and acts such
As these all of His creative goodness maligned by troubling dark currents that rage in fevered minds
All right thinking has suffered its greatest break down the minions of darkness parade as light the
Mind has no reference point to what is truth or lies in this chaotic bewildered state actions arise and
Occur that form the greatest test for comprehension and ultimately any idea of acceptance can there
Be any deeper depth of morbid disillusionment you enter a place where reality has been suspended
And you must try to function bring resolve to the unquestionable that is where you walk into his arms
The greatest peace and love holds you your spinning mind is calmed the inward turmoil faceless
Nameless is rendered harmless because it has met a greater force it will and can only yield to his
Command let go of your grip this little one is my child you have no authority or say here your work
Has been most horrid typical of your brand of being a tyrant now your power is bridled love takes even
The power of deaths sting no matter the tragic events I’ am peace I have no equal the oppression you
Have weaved is torn asunder I crossed over from eternity to this place in time by rights I alone hold
I give freedom my spirit swirls with awesome glory carrying the wounded to heights and vistas that in
Those distilling awesome light brings a knowing show a peaceful reality even in this difficulty it will
By transcending power allow acceptance without understanding because truth and love are stronger
And they encompass and hold earthy bonds in the sweetest tranquil division the same measure that
Causes the glories of a sunset when the light reflects on the bottom of the cloud and then refracts so it
Is so I ‘am covered in a cloud of glory though darkness pervades lives and tries to prey on them this is
Not possible all that beholds me are engulfed in beauty and settings that out shine the dangerous and
Painful plains of this world and the truth ever is stated that darkness will be turned into light.

this maligned soul
speechlessly awaits with lips bound
by butter soft feelings
forever melting on the tip of tongue
with its lies and doubts forever right
there graphic and visceral in minds eye
having reached the edge between this and all other human beings
she asks from the other side how it feels
asks if it would be all right to venture
my emptiness finds no objection
just objectification
pant and release the guttural sounds
where they seem to be heard
wish  it was more
but its just empty push push push push
i cant  feel anything
should that make me sad
she asks how that makes me feel
i just look out at her perfections and softness wares
with a maze of questions
and a thousand lies
to cover the obscenely unclad
to remove the dried stain
in my eyes
don't touch me
don't touch me