people never care
but always say they do
everyone thinks about themselves
their priorities racked up on shelves
I'm on the ground
sounds echoing around my lifeless figure
like poor raggedy ann
i cannot stand

i'm motionless and lie there
robotic expression, stitched smile that's fixed
but my emotions are mixed
their erosion eluding to my mind's disintegration
the segregation between mind and body
so pronounced.
thoughts constantly bounce about
while i lay helpless without direction
intermittent reflection
due to others deception
i wish i could perform inception
plant ideas in their heads
setting the seed, of not greed but the idea of needing ME;
it sets me free.

raggedy ann's legs seem to gain strength
she stands on command
and finally sees the only thing she needs
is the courage in herself to keep her up right
the insecurities and disappointments shut tight inside raggedy anndora's box
not to be opened
she stands tall even on the floor
takes a step ready to unfurl
what's yet to be discovered and take on the world.

Lying on my bed watching the fan move the skeletons around in my closet
I look over to the TV where my Raggedy Ann sits
A pretty little thing, but she's missing an arm
Can't help but think, like me a few parts are gone
Yet some how here we both still remain
Still existing, but never to be the same
The one that gave her to me never noticed what was wrong
She over looked Raggedy Ann's missing arm
I can only hope, most see me like my friend did Raggedy
Not for what I am, a crushed broken tragedy

<>

with raggedy old words, this is how I write,
in a raggedy old navy t-shirt,
upon a ragged edged old chair,
whose splinters will soon enough,
seed themselves in poet's unreceptive,
but just asking-to-be-barbed
flesh bared

splinters asking with the phony politeness ,
in the manner of a steady, but  minor irritating
would-be-a-friend, annoyingly, but cloyingly

"am I not a poem, yet Father?"

Poet has no answer,
mixed words
deemed satisfying suitable but unusable,
unconvicted upon the hard hearted
mixed wood

poet waits for the ragged clotted cumulus
of old grey ladies shaped clouds
to dissipate

clouds shaped like the
puffed up shopping bags
that the old ladies clutch
while crossing mid-street
making the traffic play
"dodge'r the codgers"

bags fill with the odd things
that old ladies treasure,
objet d'art of empty
Oil of Olay Ole! and mindless dribble,
mementoes of completed containers
of emptied out hopes

expired coupons,
that they refuse to surrender
even under threat
by sour faced bossy
supermarket manager dictators,
who hate their lives and  
in the deepening creases
of the elderly clientele,
foresee their own fate inevitable

poet's waits for them,
these images,
these clotted bursts of sourpuss,
to depart his skin, sky's.
yes, his sky's

wits and wilts while he waits,
for he always has much to say,
of what lies above,
the unseen,
hid behind the bland uniform of  the overhanging
one-no-color sky
of blanched meh and feh crinolines

thinking to no one now,

this is how I write, this is who I am,

waiting for insight inspiration foam to form,
from the multi-variable model that predicts
with a high degree of confidence,
failure with tainted certainty,
even as clouds are shuffled along,
a new poem will pass
that haha, no one will read

but nonetheless, arguing among his several selves,
better to be more fulfilled by the emptying of himself
upon padded cell of paper, of his staining,
the piece of him now
un-chambered & un-containered
thru magma fissures, steaming & cleaning,
providing a penny's penance
for his disparate gloomy idiocies

the gray ladies always smile at him,
always so nice and gentlemanly like, that poet,
underneath his cowardly disdain,
against his pretense's  grain,
contempt for old grey ladies
with old lady odors emanating

is this who you are, is this how you write?

*with raggedy old words, that splinter our delight?

You are quite a gifted surgeon.
In fact you cut me so clean and sharp
I barely even knew it at the time.
Waking the next day in my hospital bed
was where I met my pain.
Being with you was like anesthesia:
I was so grateful for you to help me.
You were the one who weakened me.
My senses failed: your scalpel cut
clean to the core, and then I just let you
sew me back together. The nurses say
I am very lucky, that I had a good doctor.
I know better. I was once a person and
now I am Sally Stitches, or better yet, Raggedy Ann.
I am no one's operation game.
Letting you in brings only stitches and needles,
and it was I who checked myself in.
I need to learn to stitch myself at home.
Consider this my checking out.

Raggedy Mules

Ghosts of the past
     on their raggedy mules,

Clichéd and typecast
     as infidels and fools,

Travelling nearby
     in their caravans of woe

And in the blink of an eye
     know what we know.

All that we fear
     and all that we yearn,

They see and hear
     as they twist and turn,

Through love and hate,
     beyond life or death,

The journey of fate
     lies on laboured breath.

On a wing and a prayer
     we wallow in doubt,

Grasping at thin air
     trying to get out,

But how pitiful we are
     with our ifs and buts,

Never getting very far
     as each door shuts.

Stranded in the void
     between Heaven and Earth

We seek out the paranoid
     to confirm our birth,

And they stand in line
     pretending to be friends,

And on our souls they dine
     when our journey ends.

Foolishly, we follow
     with all emotion spent,

In perpetual sorrow,
     waiting to be sent

To the archives of insanity
     dressed as ghouls,

Where we escape humanity
     on raggedy mules.

© RJVHorton2015

1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…

an all purpose cleaner response to the

how-ya-doing-question,

as my vibe unmistakable;
the hatred in the world directed at
MY PEOPLE,
is inexplicable, beyond reason,
a hatred raw and pure in the
tiny places we humans hide it, lest
our ancient linkage to an unreasoned,
embarrassing emotion, be revealed

but now revealed it is reveled,
as the freedom to despise is a
valued thing

is an ancient scar, now freshly wounded
and the two thousand year old accumulated, callused,
surrounding wafer thin, layered upon layer of
tissue,
wiped away
in utter disbelief
cleansed,
a different kind of impure clean,
“like” an ethnic cleansing,
traceless, whisked away in a wink of moment,
a goner.

like hope, prior sentient optimism
sentenced to life imprisonment and
this sentence, and this very sentence!
written finally understanding that it is
a punishment
far worse than the quick relief of death.

c’mon, how about a few “fukk you jew”
cri de coeur, heartfelt, genuine, pointless
hate

no, not I, no, not me,
spare me the pithy comments,
the pointless sympathy, glistening
like evaporating water droplets
before disappearing, I ask myself,
not
why they hate, why it persists,
for this I understand and accept
the foulness of what we are capable of is,

beloved,

as a secret pleasure, now secreted in torrents.

no, I ask myself,

why do I write poetry,

for it is as pointless as
the hatred directed at me,
from birth, till death,
and ever after,
the humanity of poetry
just another fraud

another reason
why this man cries in the bathroom,^
not from any shape of shame,

because poetry is pointless
in times of hatred, and now we
know, recognize, it is always
somewhere, nearby, always
present and prescient,
pointless hatred,
itching to be pointed at me,
makes for
pointless poetry.


To whom shall I point my poetry?

I'm just a Raggedy Ann doll in a Barbie doll world
And sadly I'm starting to become unfurled
Into this wounded life I was hurled
And the lines are becoming blurred
It's all becoming so very much twirled
And this mind of mine is so very much swirled
So in the corner you'll find me curled

It was always going to be black and white
that's the typeface on my preference of late
defining day and night with your choice of tights
those fine dividing lines on your partnered limbs
wrapped tall in belts daring as a Lara Croft climb
a silky striped raggedy ann gone neat sensuous
tight strapped to a two striking sinuous princess
committed to lodge sins inside my Loveland challenge
hemmed in round towers together to never-never unhinge

at home we horse around and rub along together
boosted by the interplay between cotton twill gathered
pulled low one side then canter balance riding high
as you level up to a line up of outbound thigh
saddled with a lovely leg stirrup over here
and a lean waist wobble to match up there
eyebrow lifts to starch arrowroot attention
over the swings and sway of every action
so swift I play catch-up each morning
delayed by fumbling for ones gone matching
it's a wonder you don't just wander away
in a daze from my one legged hopping display

then I would travel far as a bee
long-legged as stilts could be
to sing to your nails and feet
and be spun free flaunting
our google
a red white and blue
pair of giggles unfurled like flags
in your slim line dancers' legs
dangling ideas like fair weather socks
to goggle one direction behind your back
unique like nobody else contains within
thin licked then rolled back ciggie skins
so I pinch holes in the bacci parts
sinking into slats like leaky wooden boats
your avoiding tiptoes gadfly and curl in return
my feet undoing knits with swats and swirls
toeing tinkling notes like piano keys
undertones pink tinged with tingling knees
and when a jukebox plays
my coins are there always
for I've got your pop socks in motion
your vox populi's united under my skin
with impressive pulled tight bands
embedding imprint elastic rings
inky red slinking down
leaving parallel links


ignore my pins and needles
alone in dead of night
longing for your leggings
luminous stripe tights
today it's all me put on the spot
today it's music you might hate
biographies of people you don't like
subtitled movies too deep to bother
blue jeans dull dyed against your garter belt
a one man team can't DIY a drill majorette
spiralling shafts that come to a threaded point
enthralling with alternating knee bend bit pants
so pretty poly soft I'm pulled up like a fool
fully mixed up by your weaving cotton wool
wave me down in your way of sweet patter feet
a patterned cakewalk for you to catwalk sock it
to me in a stand in posey kind of way
this way to stand outs knitted to fancy
uncross your legs and cross-stitch
my path with gaited kisses
closely

There was a raggedy man who wore tattered clothes. He walked down the main street and could wiggle his nose. He did simple magic tricks, the children he did amuse, but he was at his best, when he tapped danced and sang the blues. No one knows where he came from, no one can really say. He simply showed up and began to entertain passers by one day. He never asked for any money, no he would not take a dime. He just smiled and enjoyed the laughter of the people he entertained as they walked by. For years I watched him perform and then one day he was gone. No one knows where he went, but we all missed dancing and his songs and even the odd magic trick, that would sometimes go a little wrong. So where go in your travels, if you happen to pass by a dancing blues singing raggedy man, please tell him I said hi.

And if they space out for just a little while longer,
he'll start to see her shapes and colors.
Pouring in through the peripherals.
Until he's captivated by her memory.
Existent in an envelope of time most don't have.
An unimaginable perspective to the blind blade.

Twisted and stuck further to add reason in red.
A Raggedy Ann doll future at the bottom of the bed.

briano alliano at saturn club rings


hi dudes and welcome to my show, the first song is born to PARTY

you see i was born to PARTY, on a sarturday night

i don’t care what the oldies say, i will just party anyway

you see i have a reason, everything is going well



so i will just party hardy, yeah i feel so cool

i want to be like the young dudes of this land

and get into the party spirit every way i can

i don’t really need a reason, no, i am cool anyway

you see i was born to party, so i will do it anyway

i will sink into the ground man, wearing high heel shoes

i will go to my mates house, with dreams of moving in

he was a bit mental, as he couldn’t understand

that i was born to party, and that is what i do

you see we will grab a methane and squirt it everywhere

and then grab a beer or two, yeah that is quite yobboish

you see we get drunk which means we are high on life

every day of the yeah, so we were born to party

like the young dudes do, ya see don’t spike my drink, man

i am too cool for you, you see i have a point in life, to never

unattend my drink, you see i know the tablet will make you drowsy

so he could kidnap you, bu i am too cool for that

you see i was born to party, and that is what i do

i was born to party, fun for me and you

hi dudes and now here is rock the party

you see i feel like i am having fun rock the party rock the party

i wanna party while the night is young, rock the party rock the party

i cheer for the ACT brumbies, well, they lost well, they lost

you see the bar is a open a open a open, and the party is turning on all the party going dudes

and the beer is selling quickly along with the gassy methane, man

ready to tip the methane on us, man, we will party

you see i saw a house which was great, and my mate wanted me to move in

so i thought about it, it’ll be fun to party, fun to party fun to party on

moving on up and moving on down and marilyin monroe put on a broadway show on neptune so cool

then sam kinison sang wild thing, and i liked his add lib, you know my heart is longing for you dude

making you wanna scream, rock the party rock the party

then i ate some cheese and bacon *****, and gusted them down with coke

the party started to form in my mouth and making me feel so cool

before i went to sleep i listened to kiss, bon jovi and a broadway show, called spiderman

and i ate mars bars and drink juice, yeah that sounds so radical

saturday night is the night to rock the party rock the party

and i opened a keg of methane and tipped it all over adam walsh and brett

to improve the quality of the olsen twins, to make them PARTY again

so really we are getting into a great rock the party rock the party

and we’ll party all saturday night long

hi dudes and now here is another tune called my life is a stinker

you see last night i was wondering why i haven’t performed on stage

could it be that i was too **** shy, or was it i was just not ready

i really want it all so ****** much, to show the world how to party party

but this is how i just relax, and let my life pass me by

you see my life is a stinker, every day and night

i want to party, but it’s a secret just between you and me

you see i spend my money on fun and games, mainly done with alcohol

i buy my girl some raggedy old fashioned sort or doll

she yelled at me from 10 to 10, it was hard for me to cope

and the only way to get past this, is switch on the TV to hear the pope

my life is a stinker, every day and night, i wish you would leave me alone, please mate yeah alright

ooooooh cosmos

my way of entertainment is the poetry slam, and bad slam no biscuit yeah

i entertain everyone oh yeah, i shake their ****** boogie, yes my dear

then my name is called and i enter the stage and slam

my poetry like it’s a good thing, dude, every day and night

my life is a stinker, every day and night

you see we will party hardy every night, no i say no to fights

cause my life is a stinker, take me away from the psych ward

that isn’t the place for me, i am too nice for that place

hi dudes, and here is another song called fly burgers

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato and have so much fun

now at the footy, the flies are cooking on the plate

they are saying, momma, you are stopping up too late

just catch a well cooked blowie, and throw him in the bowl

where you have the burger mix, yeah that is so cold

fly burgers, are good enough to eat

fly burgers, are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato

and have so much fun

in a restaurant a fly comes in and parks on the griller

you feel like honking like dharma’s old yeller

but instead you get two buttered buns and lettuce and tomato

get the fly and serve him up, tasty as gelato

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato’'

and have so much fun

in the summer friends drop round to enjoy the atmosphere

some bring coke some bring wine

and most of them brought beer

the bbq man noticed a fly upon his back

he gets the fly and serves him up, OH HERE JACK

fly burgers, are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato

and have so much fun

the hospital has been busy this year since fly burgers were on the menu

people say fly burgers put germs right in you

an old man and a young boy, both died of food poisoning

but nobody knows if it was the fly burgers that did them in

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato, my dray

and have some and have so and have so much fun

hi dudes, this is a song called i am a family party dude

i am a family person who is looking everywhere for a party

at the club on grand final daY, and on poetry slam day

where we yell out bad slam no biscuit bad slam no biscuit

all the ****** day, we could be celebrating your daughters graduation

from a school she so adored

then we drag out the old songs, and the young dudes get bored

you see partying is so much fun, no matter how hard you try

you see you try and be a fun loving guy like who really loves to p a r t y

oooh, i wanna rock and roll all night, and party every day

how much coffee do you drink to whisk the hangover away

i used to go to the blind beggars inn, to really let my hair down

now, i party at home with youtube, yeah that sounds so rad

you see i am a family party dude, who wants to have some fun

i want music and sport, yeah alrighty, that sounds like my type of fun

cool man, cool you, i say cool me, i am a family party dude

the man of the party is here, last night i went to the club to watch the brumbies they lost i won

the chance to go home and party in front of youtube, with bon jovi and kiss as well as spiderman the musical, pretty rad

then i fell asleep on the couch, ready to come to you, and show you how to party hardy, yeah that is true blue

hey true blue, don’t say the party’s over, just because you go home, doesn’t mean you can’t party

you see i used to go to night clubs and swing with the cool dudes there, hey true blue

you see i am a family party dude, i party everywhere

i am getting younger by the minute, and i still love life, so party on dudes, no fear

i get up late on sunday morning, after this great party in the stars

and after this, i will go to jupiter and neptune to muck around in bars

tipping methane all over everyone, yeah that sounds radical dude

PARTY PARTY PARTY on saturday night, yeah i am so cool

cool you, yeah cool me, the coolest dude of the cosmic realm

ready to party yeah we will

I got a rainforest full of tears
without you
Thought that after all these years
I'd have you
But you found out I was dumb
dudn't matter how I'm hung
I got a rainforest full of tears
without you

Ashley, Ashley all fall down
ring around the rosey
The whole **** world just brings me down
I got a rainforest full of tears

Open wide and 'wirl around
I love my midnight floozie
I hope you're here-You're not around
I got a rainforest full of tears

Kung fu Raggedy Andy war/s
got sent back to China
Salmonella on his brain
I got a rainforest full of tears

Little Susie was eager to go to the toy store.
Her mother was buying her the newest doll
“Charming Cherry”. She had to have one.
All of her friends had one. She was already
dressed in mixed match clothing. Proudly,
shaking her mother, modeling her new look.
However, mother was tired and scolded
Little Susie for awakening her so early in
the morning. Oh, Susie was so anxious
as she went in and out of the house, irritating
the neighbors with her frequent hellos and goodbyes.
Finally, her mother was ready. Susie was to eager
to eat breakfast. “Let's go mother, someone may
buy them all up.” Hurry... As they arrived at
the toy store,  she nicely asked the clerk, “where are
the Charming Cherry dolls?” She raced down aisle
number five. Her mother so tired from working
the graveyard shift could barely keep pace.
Susie big brown eyes, looked fearlessly as a
hunter stalking its prey. She looked and looked until
her eagerness started to fade. “Where are they, she
asked her mother?” Her mother went and got a
stock boy to help look for the doll. It appeared to
be sold out. Susie couldn't believe it. Now what
was she going to show her best friend Barbie.
Her emotions ran along side her flushed red face.
She was very upset , to the point she went into a tantrum.
Susie began knocking other dolls off the shelves.
She reached high as her short legs could to do damage.
Not much considering her fist was about as big as a  
golf ball. However, she hit hard enough to cause a
seen in the store. She and her mother were politely
asked to leave. When Susie got home, her mother
threatened to punish her by not allowing any play time.
Susie slammed the room door, kicking the walls, leaving
shoe prints. Screaming, it's all your fault repeatedly.!
All of a sudden , she took the Raggedy Ann doll and
beat it until the seams started to loose. She beat the doll
against her dresser, walls, even stomped on it.
As the poor, innocent Raggedy Ann laid on the bed; the
stuffing coming out from around her head. Susie, screamed
one more time, “ it's all your fault!” When her mother
entered the room, she found Susie in the corner just staring.
“The manager said a new shipment of Charming Cherry
will be in tomorrow.”  “You see, never give up my Little Susie.”
(I'm sorry Raggedy Ann)

It's that trembling threshold,
the standpoints in between time
where the seconds line up
one by one,
and the dread...
trickles in with a devilish delight,

so just build a sturdy
enveloping enclosed towering wall,
made with shimmering colors
and the so- called goodness
of your world
make it shine so that
whatever you do, you
won't ever see your reflection,

Pour the state of mind
into the so- called
success of your kind,
your age, your society, your time,
even though it might hurt
to tread on a thousand glistening knives
all the way towards something
you never really cared for,
just do it,

Speak as if with
renewed strength, passion, liveliness,
paint your face beautiful
for the world to see,
although each smile of yours
may cost a thousand diamond night skies
a twinkle in the eye may cost
a fortune of the gods',
give them away to world
as if they had all been free from the start,

why do all this,
why put yourself through this,
because the little girls may see
the value behind raggedy kind dolls
but grownups, the know-it-all(s) don't
and they won't ever be able to get over
the missing buttons,
the lopsided care free smile,
the tangled loose hair,

So put on a show for them,
give them what they want
stitched back up together
stripped of worse
put on display for the world to see,
because the hardest part is not
only changing the world,
but having to change yourself in the process
to even receive recognition from it.

To the man who made me who I am

Being with you was like learning without a textbook
I just watched and copied and made it my own
From gardening to maths
You made me my own genius

I didn't have to speak for you to know what was wrong
You didn't judge me for the silly things I said
Or how I never learnt at school
You taught me to teach my self

You were my Mr Miyagi
With less riddles more jokes
I learnt that laughter can flood rooms like tidal waves
And we were leaves to float in it

And now you're gone I wont mourn
You would tell me to stop crying and cut my hair
I will use laughter to put a smile on raggedy dolls
And the stories to keep the dark days down

Thank you for being the Godfather of giggles
Making Sunday dinners not the day to fear Mondays
Having gardening not be a chore but a way to think
Rest well Granddad.

      'You said,  
     "Someday I'm gonna break your heart",
      the first time that we met--

     Were you warning me..

     ..or just seeing how close I'd get?'

If you didn't want to exist  in the heart
of a man like me, then you shouldn't have
allowed your scrapper little spirit  
    to write the way you do.

And I was so naughty--  so very intentioned  
in all of my obscenely-truthful lies..
I told you it was all your  fault
        that you got in so quickly

         --and   it  was.

I got you back, though
I knew it the moment you let on
that you had fallen  deeply  in love..   not with me..
but with the love that had so deeply  fallen
for every-thing about you

And so,  it increased..  but at such a strange distance.
But even then,  the years only perfected  

   and strengthened..

   until lately..  
                      until lately..

     'We lay down in a lover's sigh
     As a million years of time rolled by
     How can I be hoping that it's not over yet?'

     I wasn't done, young Andi..
     no..   no..   far from it

You see.. there's this shame-thing
I wanted to flood  with light.
I'm getting so close  to finding the words
     that have never been heard  
     in this world before

    (And now.. and now.. and now..)

     'I can't hold on to the night
     Things change, ain't nothin' ever stays the same
     You're gone as far as I can see

     If you feel like letting go
     Honey, I don't wanna be the last to know

    ( I wanna hold on tight to the sweet memory
        of you loving  me)'

Serendipity.
You ******* what!
What you saying, pal?
Serendipity, oh aye, all right,
Aye, seren-******-dipity; whatever!
Tell it to the raggedy soaked-wino,
Look into his rheumy eyes, really look,
Want to kiss his toothless grin, eh? Do you?
Feel his sore-ridden tongue searching you out,
Nay, I thought not, anyway, he hears nothing,
Nothing except the rattle of change.

Tell it to the punctured ******, go on,
Cold body on a cold linoleum floor,
He can’t hear you either, maybe though,
Maybe, slipping away on the last tide of life,
Do-gooder, maybe he will hear you call,
‘Serendipity’ and wonder: what the ****?
Until blackness closes in, blanking the stars.

Tell it to the Fourth Bridge jumpers, go on,
Always falling; to them, falling forever,
In hearts and minds, the event horizon of death,
Trapped in limbo, leaving unbearable hurt behind,
Along with serendipity and bad choices.

And the young, oh they need serendipity,
Cruelty of life glittering in furtive wary eyes,
Old already, far beyond halcyon blue-skies,
Used and abused by those closest, the shame,
Erosion of trust and sincerity completed over night,
Christmas ghosts: slovenly laggards by comparison.

Resilient youth! Yep, they ******* need to be,
Grinding machine of town-life hunting them,
Scouring dark corners, gnashing jaws growling,
Crunching down darkened alleys, feeding,
Lapping up the young blood of runaways,
Slavering maw eating them alive; laughing.

With serendipity, they can lie low, maybe hide,
Dream of escape, for they all want out,
Putting misery behind them, quelling cruelty,
After all, they live in a lucky ******* town,
So escape is not impossible, no,
Unlikely, yes, poor wee *******.

Serendipity should shout a loud warning,
Run, scrawny urchins, run if you can,
Run for your lives, the rest of your lives,
Town-life’s grinding machine awaits,
Watches for you, so keep running,
Never stop, never look back,
Not ever, not ever,
Serendipity.

©Paul Chafer 2014

hearing Shakespeare,
my-own-voice
crack'd, stilted,
stuttered-shut by the
mocking silence of still
waters on the brain

poverty exposed,
raggedy verbiage for a
raggedy man's
frayed fringed garments

ashamed of
every word I ever wrote,
not even ten survivors,
not enough to pray collectively
for muse~forgivement

****,
hush me not,
no chairs turned,
the public has not texted,
new tattoo:
write on for audience of one

a necessity, a life sentence

a single topic, a subject,
a life, mine,
still unmastered,
decades of trying

poverty exposed, unmasked
for what it is worth,
or what it is not

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
Little Amelia Pond asleep in her bed, with thoughts of a raggedy doctor
floating through her head.
Outside her window, there came a bright light,
'twas a light so bright that it lit up the night
And the sound of the TARDIS woke her up with a jolt
and with an excited smile she heard the thing halt
She ran through the house, past the mouse, past the tree
and she saw her old friend and greeted him with glee.
He was happy to see her, but there was sadness in his heart.
He brought her rare gifts, like VanGogh art.
They ate fishsticks and custard as the doctor told of tales never heard.
As the night went on the fun wore out little miss pond
The doctor tucked her into bed and told her more stories that danced through her head.

'Twas the morning of christmas
and the best gift of all
was the night full of memories and for years she recalled
her raggedy doctor until they met once more
But thats a story for another time, and then I shall write more.
Have a merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday
From The Doctor And Amy

I long to live in a vintage
world
where the warm, spring wind blows
softly all day long
and the sound of wind chimes are
the only things representing
a calm humanity's
existence
I would like to take pictures of you
behind the lenses of that old-fashioned
vintage camera
you wearing a faded David Bowie shirt
with ripped blue jeans, dusty shoes
displaying your white, crooked
teeth of a smile
can we ride around town together
bikes pulled out from neglected
sheds full of rusty, old tools
leaves twirling through the squeaky wheels
rolling down cracked pavements
with crushed, brown green grass and
white daisies trying their best to
remain upright
can we sit on the raggedy bent steps
of an old abandoned
two story house
and eat melting ice cream with
cold fingers and hot heads from the
sun's yellow white glare
can I hold your hand
intertwining our rough flat palms and
tracing your dusty, worn fingers that
wipe away burning tears
and caress my face as though it were
the most precious thing
in the world  
can we pretend that
life is just an old- fashioned movie
time put on for us
and the setting is my mind expressed as a
hazy yet vivid vintage world.

Driving blind through a flurry of mist
On a road beyond the glare,
I’d left the hurrying city behind
For the peace of who knows where,
There wasn’t a light on the country road
But a glimmer from the stars
Was high ahead where the road had led
To the faint red glow of Mars.

I’d had to get me away that day
Or I thought I’d go insane,
My life was sputtering in the gutter
And all it brought was pain.
I’d had my fill of the diesel fumes,
Of the cold, unloving ways,
The condescending, trivial chatter
That marked and maimed my days.

And she, the light of my underworld
With the flaming, golden hair,
Had gone with one of the chattering kind,
Had turned and left me there.
The lips that had whispered words of love
Way back, when our world was new,
Had now been pursed as my world was cursed
With her eyes, ice cold and blue.

My headlights, dim on the road ahead
Formed a short and rounded arc,
I couldn’t peer past my inner fear
That my road ahead was dark.
The wind blew up and the rain came down
And it burst across the screen,
I couldn’t see twenty yards ahead
So I questioned what I’d seen.

A sudden flash on the roadside there
Of a figure draped in rags,
That flapped and fluttered about his form,
A hat with a brim that sagged,
A paltry second I’d seen him there
Then gone, as the car swept by,
I sat in shock, and was taking stock,
Should I stop and help the guy?

I’d travelled almost a mile before
My conscience had got to me,
Then turned around and retraced the ground
Where I thought he’d surely be.
He stood alone in his flapping rags
As I turned the car around,
Glistening wet on the darkened road
He stood, not making a sound.

He wouldn’t sit in the front with me
But sat in the back, and sighed,
‘It’s awful wet on the road tonight,
I thought that you’d like a ride.’
I saw him nod in the mirror then,
He just inclined his head,
But then I saw that his eyes were gone
And I felt a creeping dread.

The things that I thought were rags I saw
Were feathers, tightly sewn,
The feathers of some black, evil bird
That had once both soared and flown.
‘I’m heading North, I can drop you off,
But you’ll need to tell me when.’
He mumbled something I couldn’t hear
And, ‘I won’t tell you again!’

His voice sent shivers all down my spine
For it croaked, just like a crow,
Rumbling up from some deep pit
Nightmares and phantoms know.
I kept one eye on the mirror then
As the sweat formed on my brow,
He seemed to sense I was more than tense,
‘You mustn’t be worried now.’

‘I’m leading you to a future that
You’d possibly never find,
I wouldn’t normally help you, but
You stopped, and were more than kind.’
He said to turn on a track ahead
And I did, but didn’t know why,
Then saw a glimmer of light ahead,
The flames reached up to the sky.

A house was burning, the upper floor
Was bathed in an eerie glow,
I jumped on out of the car and went
To scour the floor below,
A girl lay pale on the kitchen floor
And I scooped her up where she lay,
Carried her out to the waiting car
As she woke, in a mute dismay.

The figure stood in the pouring rain
And rustled his feathered cape,
‘Your future lies in your own hands now,
The past is yours to escape.
Be strong and true, it will come to you
That you’ll never have to atone,’
His feathers fluttered, and then he flew,
Leaving us there alone.

When people ask how we came to meet
I always let out a groan,
While Amity says, ‘That’s a subject
That we think’s best left alone.’
We might tell them of the burning house,
How I scooped her up from the floor,
But never mention the raggedy man,
His flight, or the clothes he wore.

David Lewis Paget

How are you going to tell me about my heart if you've never been in it?

-The lock to your heart is my deep refrain, the path that takes me there may not lead me out again.

Six deadbolts and a wall great like China. Whispering L words while touring my ******. But my heart is not an exhibition. We all seem to love so different, would I just be a sight see should I let you in it?

-Your body is my vacation for exploration, a ticket with no expiration. Head to toe, anywhere on you is my destination. Sight see if thats the thought for you, but to see the sight is what I want to do.  The seductive me wants your toes curled due to warm embrace. My inner dog wants to see your O face.

The wife of a traveler, I print your boarding pass. Cruising along the waves of my saliva; hiking the mountains of my ***. My expedition is one of many, but i think that you should pick it. Theres only one flight departing, and i'm giving you the ticket. The life of an explorer, Oh Captain. The landmarks of my body are for you to conquer and explore. But once you leave your footprint will you set sail from my shore?

-A Brazilian wax or a landing strip, either or it doesnt matter they both point me to your lips. Your shores I see as we watch the sunset, an instinctive kiss, you sigh but its breathless.  As the night falls on this restless traveler, I'll take that one-way red eye ticket; final stop is to have her. I am the Captain of this ship and my journey is unbound, but the question is: when I set sail on your seas will you keep me safe and sound?

Captain, Oh Captain;  I long to be the vessel you navigate. The compass of direction magnetizing towards our fate. All the lonely nights at sea, wont you promise to keep afloat? If you are the propellers, I promise to be the boat. I wish only to fill your soul with warmth and pleasure. I have dived to the bottom of the seven seas, but I have already found my treasure. I want to sail the world with you; full speed until the end of time. But I need to cut your heart out, before I hand you mine.*

-If its yours to replace mine, simultaneously, is a must, because to give you my soul, takes a strong being to entrust, the strongest chess peice, queen to this king, you are my fruit bearer, my last name to follow yours at rear. I'll give you the scissors, but you better cut gently, and if you cut the wrong cord I will not put you down gently.

Oh Captain, Dear Captain, but surely your heart still beats true. Surely the blood is still warm and rich, not deprived oxygen blue. You must understand where I'm coming apart, my intent is not to sever your pretty little heart. I present to you my heart, served on a golden medallion token, But I fear your blood will turn cold once you see that it is broken. Let us not use scissors, the pierce will be too sharp. Let us use our fingers to grip each others heart. I will pump my love through your atriums and ventricles as if they were my own, disregarding any glitches...if you will love my raggedy heart, mending it with stitches

-Your words of kindness, your love not sorrow, pumps through my veins, heart beating days beyond tomorrow. My time will remove the stitches, your heart unscathed, no imperfections, no glitches. Turbulent may be the path ahead, yet a steady path this Captain will tread. Along on this voyage, your light makes bliss, and as long as your heart beats, a beat mine won't skip. I do for you as I won't do for others, fly a path so true, only seen by lovers.

*So we fly to the moon and we never come down. Queen, so pristine, lounging afloat my crown. So then I am the locket, and you are the key. The combination to set the spell free. I'll be your wonder woman; make my body your home. Yours entwined with mine; sultry metronome. The sweet steady beating of your heart is evoking; and if you look once again you will see my heart creeping open.

The lyrics float through the air
A song I have heard many times before
An impaled heart on the album cover
Warning of the pain
They will convey through their lyrics
Lyrics that at times may as well have been taken
From the deepest recesses of my head and heart

A song in which the narrator
Finds the one who gives them
Everything they asked for in life
I found not one, but two
Two men like that in my life
Who both refused my affections
And whom I hold little to no animosity toward
Though when I think of it
They're rather different

This first one, we will code him Belase
Is so unabashedly in love with the 'nerdy' things
Things he helped me get into as well
Without him I would not have found a love for the zombie shows
Or for the older classic movies which he adores
Without him I would not have found the raggedy man
Who takes me on adventures through time and space
The raggedy man who in turn helped me find
The medieval sorcerer in Camelot
And the modern-day crime-solving machine
With a doctor of his own

When I was upset I went to him
He helped everything almost immediately
When I told him of my feelings he let me down gently
Too gently, perhaps, as I retain some sliver of hope
Knowing that that hope should have died by now
He made many jokes which lightened my mood
Though sometimes they were mistimed
And only made me irrationally angrier toward him
Not the source of my first wave of sadness or anger
But I always forgave him and talked of nerdy things

His love of the nerdy things hides much of himself
Though it does speak volumes about what he is willing to convey
He hides his slightly skewed views behind these things
He hides his *******
He hides his want of being in charge
His way with words like a serpents' venom through my veins
Makes me agree with what he says
Even if in my heart I know it to be against my own views
And it terrifies me

The second, we will code Silas
The first day we met, was in school
He was alumni come to visit
We spoke very little as I was shy
And in truth I had forgotten him entirely
What is the point of remembering
Someone you only meet once?
When he left I thought I would never see him again
But our mutual friend, coded May, held a sleep-over
Long, long after that first day

This first real night, as I call it
He held me in his arms as those still up
Wound down to sleep
At about four in the morning
And we slept very little, in the two hours before the others became active once more
As summer was almost upon us
The remaining high-school students, that is
I knew at the end he would be back in his second year of college
And I would be in my last year of high school

I told him a bit of how I felt
And he said no, he didn't want the emotional attachment
Of being my first kiss, or first anything as he puts it
Doesn't want emotional attachment, ha!
If he didn't want emotional attachment
Why did he continue to hold and cuddle me
Why did he take things further and practically taunt me
By holding himself over me and brushing his face across mine
All the times we almost kissed...
Though he and everyone who knows him
Says he does this with anyone who is willing

So there we have it
The fluffy serpent with the innocent face
And the man with the visage of a teddy bear
Both have taken over my heart
And even if I could decide
Which one I want more
Neither of them want me
And perhaps that is for the best

A girl who never leaves the house
A girl who had no friends until seventh grade
A girl Belase has known for three years
A girl Silas has known for a few scant months
Who would ever want
Little
Broken
Me?

A raggedy old doll,
all ***** and dusty,
lying on the floor of old cabin.
When snuggled at night,
he sat up and sang,
a verse of the spellbook
of Sabians!

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“My heart warmed of her presence,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Her flowering scents so pleasant,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“My mind about a treasure,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“My fortune is her pleasure,”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Lost I am you see?”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Sun-ray crowned was she!”

“Golden-haired the raven!”

“Oh golden haired my raven!”

Just before dawn,
he sat up in bed,
to look upon his
new little girl.
Shined-up his button eyes,
and tilted his head…
then snuggled back into her curls.