Goats eat and **** the grass of ramparts,
stupefied cannons sit, garrisoned sentries
primed for nights of buccaneers,
seared by centuries of sun. Down shadowed
cobblestoned tunnels fortified shutters
covet rifle forend and barrel,

wresting rumored slave rebellions
from the locker of history,
while languid waves whisper indifferently
a roll call of human cargo,
chattel displaced, cast to the sea.

Here history sways to sounds
of brown skinned children
at play in breakers,
laughing, shrieking, thrashing,
buoyed by time to this vaulted brick
reverberating chamber,

here a window’s light is cast
beckoning vision past the beach,
to seek the horizon Icarus like,
to fly towards beauty in terror where
an azure sky conjoins a turquoise bay.


Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks

Random Sampling

Coughing up a lung,
sticking out my tongue.
Looking up her skirt,
dropped my pencil in the dirt.
Watching movies just for fun,
I will never own a gun.
Cat **** on the floor,
kicked it out the door.
Jake The Snake and The Macho Man,
will forever be a wresting fan.
Heavy metal and hard rock,
Skid Row's singer was Sebastian Bach.
New Jersey's pizza is the best,
it would beat New York's in any taste test.
Slept with girls, I didn't like,
soon after, I made them take a hike.
Never slept with a man,
if the money was right, I guess I can.
Love all my family and friends,
mess with them and I will defends.
Done some killer drugs,
stuck screwdrivers in some plugs.
I love paper, I love pen,
I'm more smart than the Three Wise Men.
Pina Colada's in Margaitaville,
then I take the bitter pill.
I still love eighties music,
it's relaxing and therapeutic.
Baseball is my favorite sport,
the Phillies, I will always support.
The next Super Bowl will be held in San Quentin,
***** girls take it on the chin.
I had a few nervous breakdowns,
I've put on a few to many pounds.
Allen does what Allen wants,
how's that for my final response.

Wood, twisting iron, wresting  
Incumbent wind of an idiom.
Nomenclature learned in
Direct proportion to the
Clicking of clavichords, the
Harmonics of harpsichords, the
Iconoclastic rather than
Memes which disavow the
Etherial. For a breath of air is
S*pirit. Striking the bells of the *SOUL.

SøułSurvivør
(C) 4/19/2017

Rhyme, the rack of finest wits,
That expresseth but by fits
True conceit,
Spoiling senses of their treasure,
Cozening judgment with a measure,
But false weight;
Wresting words from their true calling,
Propping verse for fear of falling
To the ground;
Jointing syllabes, drowning letters,
Fast'ning vowels as with fetters
They were bound!
Soon as lazy thou wert known,
All good poetry hence was flown,
And art banish'd.
For a thousand years together
All Parnassus' green did wither,
And wit vanish'd.
Pegasus did fly away,
At the wells no Muse did stay,
But bewail'd
So to see the fountain dry,
And Apollo's music die,
All light failed!
Starveling rhymes did fill the stage;
Not a poet in an age
Worth crowning;
Not a work deserving bays,
Not a line deserving praise,
Pallas frowning;
Greek was free from rhyme's infection,
Happy Greek by this protection
Was not spoiled.
Whilst the Latin, queen of tongues,
Is not yet free from rhyme's wrongs,
But rests foiled.
Scarce the hill again doth flourish,
Scarce the world a wit doth nourish
To restore
Phœbus to his crown again,
And the Muses to their brain,
As before.
****** languages that want
Words and sweetness, and be scant
Of true measure,
Tyrant rhyme hath so abused,
That they long since have refused
Other cæsure.
He that first invented thee,
May his joints tormented be,
Cramp'd forever.
Still may syllabes jar with time,
Still may reason war with rhyme,
Resting never.
May his sense when it would meet
The cold tumor in his feet,
Grow unsounder;
And his title be long fool,
That in rearing such a school
Was the founder.

that one night where we both hung over. from that unforgetable night when it was only me and you.
i have the feeling like i just need to start running on the beach with the waves crashing behind me. i cant stop laughing when i read your text you sent me.
every night i get waked out  on the energy drinks i cant live with out.
i set a huge fire spelling your name out pouring gasoline all over it.
every othere day i wach the world go bye.  i lay on the beach looing up at the blue sky day wondering will i have to live alone in this world. no matter ill just walk the nigh sky following every shooting star that fly's by. that one night we both had so much fun that i wish i could have again. i never knew you moved where i lived in this quiet sleepy littel town.

i listen the the wases crashing down making littel pools drown the small ***** that scurry to not posible drown.
the wet sand feels soft and makes my mind run lose with not fear of what will come to me next.

i never slept with out seeing the night sky with all the pondering memories that drive me crazy.
day or night the beach makes my heart skip abeat seeing every one frolik with energy  that never last with out a couples date.

i run every night i adopted a fluffy husky names shelby. every night the sky plays a great light show.
i set the fire on the ****** with drinks and my  guitar. every not i played touched your heart when you were finally moved in.

the song i wrote played out for any one to run out my heart.
i take my lighter and light the lantern that shows the way back to our small cozy house.
my dog has a big heart with no lilits to swimm across the oceans with me if i was stranded getting swept out the see.

that one night i finally feel asleep with sweet dreams making my frown turn in to a smile not a plaster fake.
i sprung up in the morning my phone started ringing out.
the caller id i read out was your name.
the day grew long with the most pretties sun set with red pink skys.
every fire i make in the night i set the fires to show no hate.

i went out at night with my husky shelby taking off running threw the crashing waves the water is cold but its all worth it.
i thought i saw you checking me out.
i dont think im going crazy.
my dog and me wresting.
i started looking right in your big kristsl clear safire blue eyes light my heart on fire.
when we meet again after years apart.you moved in with me and we started our lives to gather.

i gathered my bag with my guitar my pen and note book. with my mind open with thoughts.


i looked up and saw the dark side of the moon.

ill never walk this deslet world along.

evey night me you and our dog shelby light a fire and undress in to our comfei clothes.
we drink the night away dancing away threw the night.
with the full night sky with every star shining.
the night light show we run and dance till we both feel sick and fall down.
i had a feeling deep down ill be with you again some day when i saw you name id on my cell phonee.

that night where i was just wresting around with my husky i  never thought i would live life with out your warm heart exitment.

that night your text i read out loud has brought both our worlds to gather

i never knew when you told me you were searching for me.
now we are happily to gather till time runs out

i never knew that we both cross echotere  that bright starty night with shooting stars.

i never knew i would ever see you agin to be crazy.

i knew my future would be this amazing with tears of love.

i never knew we would pass echoter on a beach with waves crashing all over the shore line

i never knew if i would ever see you again

i live life with exitement .

i will break the limits to have fun weather were all wacked out on somthing

i never knew my wish i made on the shooting stars would make that night crossing us by

To write
Is to live
To know
to exist

Nothing is simple
But it is
The truth is simple

Reading in the night
By candle light
Stories flashed out
A hero
A ******

A twist
A fall
And we dance on
Different directions
Respect is payment
For the injustices
A bill that will never be filled
By you
But another

Wresting with myself
I was with a chameleon
a lizard, brother to a snake
What was I thinking?
I was crazy in pain
From my last over dose

To take more pills
or not?
I deserve to feel this sting

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain,
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so,
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know.
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee,
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believèd be.
    That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
    Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.

Yes, everything here changes.
Again the wheel is turning
wresting with iron fingers
out of my heart steaming blood.
But You, I will not sell You
for thirty silver coins.
The dead ones do not change
neither do the not born,
the newly risen don’t – do not change!
May the changing ones eat
the dust of days, in order to survive.
After Fridays Good,
I know,
The Sundays rise!

I am dead.
Cloven flesh, spirit
hiding shadows, some place, no place, sow
below the flow of thought -
amiable calamity on the part of the
lethargic.
That sense faded west
tasting living sweat and I
can’t even feel the uncaring
caress of ill ideals seeping through
green-blue, all eyes gray through prismatic
roots.
Wheels touch paper wedges,
circlets adorning colored names to
beats and lengths of waves, crystalline
wrists intact but
can’t my legs catch the
drift?
The day fades salty
across my brow, spit up
gentrified goodbyes dancing the fine line
catching boldly to dusk,
webs of light casting Terra’s abortions into
night.
I feel adrift atop
bending winds soaring,
grasping at the sky;
I’m laughing crawling forward, snatching
feelings named in my self-absorbed
ways.
Oh! how it bursts forth!
Explosions off in the distance
tuning eyes to white and back again,
heaving ribs spitting venom,
ideas ***** abominations, I feel at home at
last.
I cry at simplicities
feet, todays imagined forays into
Death again foiled by a common
sense which refuses neglect, wresting
forever rest from out my chest, a wasted
breath.
And what to do with
indulgent Death?  What of
her bright eyes catching mine,
shaken thoughts grow cold
inside, so cold she warms my flesh for
tomorrows.

Copper bees on earings
or wresting on flowers
smoking a cigarette, disheveled
outside the bar after hours
Maybe I've been selfish
and rushing like a manic
into many different spaces
all draped with potential
Just trying to find a light in
a very dark tumble
And the more I've become
aware of my cyclic mechanics
was where I felt hopeful
What is your dream like?
The less I fear I'll ever be content
He's like a quite lake a
mountain of sturdy grace
His buttons all in place
Sometimes I feel shapeless and
drifting
But he's an anchor in drizzled
mornings
I'm trying to find the gap
where God and I coalesce
It's hard to express
It's a titillating quiver
To make peace with the remnants
of a stranger
In my head
the voice still there
Memories of bee stings
from throwing rocks
at hives.

I have taken you already,
my love - many times;
my heedless husband surrogate.

His (your) teeth at my breast,
drunking my head,
my belly close to –

lungs coursing in time
with his (your) tongue;
yet wresting (just)

his name
from sodden summer sheets.
Breathlessly my

eyes slam closed
as he preens pretended prowess.
Hollow, but composed, I smile;

reach out (to you, to you…) to him
and speak the wooden line
the scene demands.

Saint Valentine's cards of cherubs wrapped
In red ribbons
Wresting In pockets Of a trench-coat lying removed.
Pulsating street lamps revealing glittering
Flecks of snowflakes lining tired streets
With skyscrapers.
We covet empty bottles thrown with the intention to shatter;
Watering up the lawns.
I'm dreaming of palm trees rough,
Sun-kissed, and swollen
Like bumblebees had stung them.

Shifting iris' from corner to corner,
Not missing any pleasurable encounter;
Sinking in ***** and choking In smoke.
Lines cut with maxed out credit cards and
Tokes from glass pipes shaped like octopi;
There's single roses and small
Teddy bears
Red hearts hanging from strings from the ceiling.

The wallflower with no significant other In particular,
Seems peculiar in
Contrast to a sparkling demeanor;
Apprehensive to be present, and trying to disguise It.
Everyone is stumbling, dropping their cigarettes;
Howling at the Moon and
Laughing wildly!

O little bird, why dost thou flit so,
Filling the skies with they song of woe?

Knowest thou not that a storm doth come?
Hearest thou not the thunder’s celestial drum?

It thrashes and thrums with such terrible din,
Wresting away thy song as though t’was but a sin.

Fly, little bird, fly away swift and true,
‘Til the heavens are once again swathed only in blue.

Beneath the boughs
lay a broken sword once more relinquished
to the Earth to claim
that which belonged to her,
so long ago, as
tangled vines take hold
of a pommel and hilt long rusted through.

"Away," whisper the clovers
as he tramps about,
and wresting the rusted blade
from its slumber,
turned and cut the Stag's throat,
while Artemis looked on,
disgusted.

Sanguine silver painted marigolds
and mums now shamefully stained
on ruined earth,
with naught but a rusted shard returned
while willows wept.

Beneath the boughs
lay a broken sword once more relinquished
to Earth, to claim
that which belonged to her
so long ago, as
tangled vines take hold
of a pommel and hilt long rusted through.

Chains of smoke for lessons learned
Eyes to cry where eagles flit and fly
I stand alone again yet burned
Wondering on wanderings mote

Slipping inside, I notice
This was all, and ever wrote
Hereby I, to numb away
How didn't I notice frost?

A signal like a spire among Ghouls that beckon
Lore becomes my empire, while I float on again
Wonton desires cause ceaseless wresting
And shallows felt, bring on the wilting

Caught up again in uncertainty,
as shadows wisp by
Nothing left but wanting
And I wonder if it was altruism

Bells that thunder on like heartstrings
And I'm going through the motions
Bellows loud like eruptions underneath
And I am but a mountain singing

Play pain again
I'd love to feel
The echoes from the walls
Teach me what I'm missing

As I laid there once more with your arms
wrapped around my waist, head wresting in my chest,
I whispered,
"something keeps leading me back to you, if only I knew."

You lifted your head, smiled and asked what I said.
I never repeated what I said but
you still grasped a little tighter and said,
"it's always been you, there's something about you."

At that very moment; same thought we had in mind,
I realized its not a "something," but a "someone"
and that someone is happily you--

Until an hour later after you held me,
you held another and that
'happily,' turned quickly to 'sadly.'

--Left to question why; question how,
but simply replied,
"I'm used to it, too many to count."

God speaks with impeccable timing
Lining the mirror with silver
Reflecting even the dimmest lighting
So you notice that glimmer in your eyes...
Inside I'm whirling with questions
My curious mind, wresting with
Indecision and panic at the promises
I meant but might not honestly be able to keep...
I know that I'm intelligent, but still
Doubt clouds my judgement while
Fear of death, or even worse, failure
Drive me into situations I might regret...
It's a miracle I'm still alive today
By the hands of gracious people
I narrowly escaped the legions gaze
Moving out of the steeples vast shadow...
Now, standing in the light, the Truth
Watching my own shade stretch out
Consuming the lovely Sun's warmth
And twisting it with my short sighted ego...
I wish I could understand because
I don't have much faith in humanity
But we're all just doing our best
To try to make ends meet...

my ******* hands
are attached to
restless wrists wresting
control
of this keyboard.

I’ve got to put something down
and I don’t want my fingertips to stop dancing on the keys.

My hands move faster than my mind can think
today. Today,
I am a writer. Yesterday I was a poet
and my hands could not keep up with my words
which could not keep up with my thoughts –
thoughts (n): dreams computed by the mind.

In mid April the evening is an eternal air
Sometimes I can feel you there
Wresting me halfway in mock spring tide
Wresting me back by my locks at my side
I still see you standing in a motted bitter blue
My spartan dying warrior with a spear straight through
And even though I’m facing southward
I can’t help but look at you

Like Picasso you must’ve been born dead
You’re standing still in tableau contrapposto
I stand squinting through an endless April snow
Still dreaming of the acid blue that you call home
And even though I’m facing southward
I can’t help but look for you
You’re graven in the April violence

Just the way you always do,
You’re wading through a fit of silence
Standing in the April blue

4 boys in the pool, wrestling
And beside them a family of three
Dad, mum and girl of about 6

Getting into the raucousness of it
The family are wresting and swimming around
A pink ball between the three

Later the girl is just away from mum and dad, rubbing her eyes
And dad tackles mum a little
Overexcited

And mum says don't hold me like that
And affectionate dad comes round behind her

The 3 unite, mum checks on daughter

Some other mum saw me
As I went daydreaming
"That's what you want!"

I didn't look directly at the family as they left the pool
Just in the corner of my eye
As mum put on her slippers and walked away

I Still Have Ego Left

I still have ego - all its parts.
Is it the ‘smarts’?
Is it the ‘dumbs’?
Something to succumb to?
On the good side ego gives me self-esteem.
On bad, it gives me self-conceit,
Leads me to think sour is sweet,
Leads me on a road that’s wrong:
Vanity, a false self image;
Is that knowledge or mirage?  
Singing a wrong, woeful song?

Do I want to **** it?
Subjugate it?
Maybe, just an itty bit!
Why quash, why squash
Distinctiveness, uniqueness,
And the differentness
That makes us us,

Even when peculiarity,
You are you and I am me.
We do not want to change that, yet
The ego fools us masterfullly.
Wresting honesty from wisdom.

So with ego left, the outcome is:
Learn to distinguish real from false;
Take the pulse of life each day
And play the game of authenticity.
I Still Have Ego Left 8.14.2018 Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

Teary eyes, it’s only me who try’s,
I love those eyes but hate your lies,
But even more, I hate goodbyes,

And cutting ties, Cutting loose,
From your tight noose, closing
My windpipe, I think it’s alright
Because you are my life light,

The singular light in my cold life,
Relieving pressure on this cold knife,
Wresting on my wrist, wrestling this,
Dark feeling from all my **** dealings,

Dealing with my pain,
It won’t go away,
I just can’t stay,
Another day.

Evolution or a false illusion
Mirror images of the past
Lost in translations grasp
Visions wresting too
Conquering threw the ticking hand
Half past man
Will this chapter end or continue my friend
Lessons to learn or repeat, return
To canvous your space
Until you resonate

May the wounds of yesterday heal with time,
Something that perhaps we all knew,
For the heart’s matters cast a perfect crime,
Haunting us forever with the memories of you.
Like a scorched heart, scared of being burned,
Again, when we are still wresting past sorrow,
One day, we’ll celebrate the lessons we have learned,
And better ourselves in search for love tomorrow.

Commencement writing this poem
began December 31st: 2:24 PM
ended December 31st: 03:53 PM.

The best geriatric effort I apply
twittering, ushering, and
albeit wheezing Auld Lang Syne
crocodile done deed tear
will yours truly cry
bidding, ****** *******,
issuing, ousting hottest year on record,
where global warming signalled goodbye
annihilating, eradicating, incinerating, et cetera
undiscovered flora and fauna
adieu two thousand twenty three

ululates poet laureate
wannabe of Perkiomen Valley
who utters unfettered fare thee well
similar sentiments also vocalized
from every gal and guy
regarding tragic violent
webbed wide world events
that didst wreak wanton wickedness
sowing universal woebegone yawping
wresting worst warring jilted spirits
jackknifed wuthering heights

begetting horrid wretched mortification,
and killing fields of slain innocent people
transfixing living mortals
into hellacious dystopian nightmares
bumper crop for grim reaper,
who with good cheer well nigh,
gathered lovely bones
meanwhile awesome pyrotechnics
will light up night sky
and blind anesthetized, hypnotized, mesmerized
and paralyzed madding crowd
against brutal capital one genocide.

All across world wide web
hope springs eternal
rocking and rolling creatures
woke out their hibernal
phase, where new year
rings optimism jockeys
to thwart diabolical, infernal
offal, venal... bare beer bellies
race with full bladders
elbowing way to nearest ******.

Infinitesimal metaphorical eye blink
yet,... utopian wishes
transcending personal resolutions,
while champagne glasses clink
***** legitimated, liberated
to quaff another drink
who knows mankind, and
all species may become extinct
climate change if anthropomorphized...,
a party spoiler rat fink
aye bet same phenomena,

that also caused human missing link
wild hypothesis, I admit
yours truly did misthink
merely speculating as
fingers spuriously plink
MacBook keyboard
upon completion, I will uplink
rhyme without reason,
than succumb to zeeland,
where dreams conjured courtesy
rapid eye movement lidded wink.

Though veritable stranger
to thee dear reader,
I read dully admit,
future generations saddled with
detrimental, environmental, governmental
and monumental debit,
nevertheless hope ya summon true grit
threading thru maze of life adhering
to credos, dogma, ethics... mostly legit
yet take to the activist streets
if necessary and ABSOLUTELY vote

if prior to election day,
ye complete eighteenth orbit
cuz, commander in chief,
he will not concede nor quit
trumpeting power monger loathe
to relinquish presidency
crushing, grounding, pulverizing
country into Grade A s*¡t
(use your imagination), and
sure call this mister a twit,
nevertheless exhibits wisdom and wit.

All joking aside,
and predilection to YELL,
yours truly wishes ye well
write and share, cuz
no doubt you got lots to tell
plus the writing process
cathartic, fantastic, therapeutic
to express concerns, emotions,
far out predictions... eke quell
or greater than mine,
a sexagenarian who intimates death knell
of **** sapiens, who created hell
on Earth concerning multitude of life forms
an ordinary garden variety fell
**...**...**... within Schwenksville I dwell.