We cannot tread
Paths of righteousness
Till Someone soothes
Our blistered feet.

Afterglow

I thought I'd post the poems that I rewrote for reading last Wednesdy.

(Untitled)

I'm sorry.
It was another life.
And it was
Another dream.
And I was
All but asleep in your arms.

Hear it,
That breathing
Soft
And even.
I am
Out of control.

Denial
Is the first sign
Of inconstance.
We are
Two pods in a pea
We can never be.

But,

You smiled.
To transform the world.
Stars settled
In the pools of your eyes
Universes dangle
From a new center.

I'm sorry
It was another life,
And I was
All but asleep in your arms.



Dry Eyed Terror

The quiet children on my floor
With bovine eyes. They shut the door,
And leave me on my own once more.

Inside TV news enspells by view
Almost old and almost new
Hiding from the naked truth.

But through the kitchen dusts a thud
Neighbours screaming out for blood.
My fragile peace is churned to mud.

Out the lift and down the street,
Gutters cleanse my sinful feet
But leav my conscience seared complete.

Trecking through filled parking lots
Through a veil of heavan's drops
I cannot find what I have lost.

Till in halls of home once more
I confront that silent door.
Freed by pity kept in store
For the quiet children on my floor.



Acidity

You're not a ship
To carry me
When the weather's rough
And raging.
You're not a dream
To fade away
Soon as I came
To waking,
Like the morning fog.
But you are gone.

This is not a day
For tears,
Not a night for
Goodbyes.
You are not the one
Who broke my world.
You're not the one
To set it to rights.
You are my daylight
As I hold you in my arms,
And gently let you go.



The Ballad of Dwight Fry

A simple man sits there
By himself. Alone
But for the frantic screaming
Scratching from his phone.
As time itself drips slowly
And wetly from the roof
Of the overhanging overhead
Onto his polished boots.
He shudders small and frightened
With each indrawing breath
Steeling a wailing spirit,
To the icy call of death.

Till by and by
He makes reply:
"Mister, won't you reconcider?
My fortunes on the stakes
And it's time to make or break!"

Into the barren sunlight
And crunching of his feet,
Down a garden path, at once
Too spartan and too neat.
A shiver peirces his vacant thoughts,
The alien breath of breeze
Stirs him to despairing
As it whiskers through the trees.
Till even birds ring futile
As they patch their fragile nests,
They can but fuel his sorrows
At the icy touch of death.

Defeated on a park-side bench
Hollow smiles ride his lips
Curling into jagged snarls
To launch a thousand ships.
"Are you lost?" probed a stranger
Passing through the morn-cloaked grounds,
With eyes of tranquil saphire
"Or waiting to be found?"
"Sir", he breathed so hoarsely,
That man too doomed to die:
"Can there be tomorrows
For a lost soul such as I?"
Spoke that stranger softely:
"Sir tis plain to me,
Tomorrows come for all men
Just you wait and see."





And also, one poem which I sadly neglected to read, harrowed as I was by the intellectual stares of those before me:



I think I lost myself
In a pocket of the past,
Or in my other pants.

OK. Did my first poetry-type recital as of yesterdy evening. I thought it went OK. Didn't get booed off or anything. Still much room for improvement.

On another possitive note, on Tuesday I found myself playing the piano from sheet music without the constant need to refer each note back to C to find where it was. Most satisfying.

We tried but there was nothing we could do.

Trapsing about
Bumping together
Like buirds of a feather,
Never fret my little one,
Pierce the trees and make them bleed
Do not hog all the fun.
Till the earth runs out of blood,
We'll sift the mud
And ransack what remains
Of our proud domains.

Remind us of what we once were
Proud and glorious
Victorious
Towering over us now
Life is a blurr
Not to worry
They'll swing by soon
And pick us up
Take us to the moon
My alien friends
They know best
Forget the rest
And follow.

Jack be nimble
Thyme and thimble
Tear the symbol
Of the world
Take an aspirin
Wake up gasping
Pull the piston
Till tires squeal.
We'll turn the wheel
Jack be quick
We haven't much time
At the wrong end
Of that stick.

Stairways and Fire Escapes

He walked down the hallway to himself
With just a flashlight and destiny
Clutched in his shaking fist
As he willed then not to breathe
But the trail of footprints
Just lead back where he'd already been

As he stared into the darkened mirror
He saw himself as he really was
One foot over the edge
Playing with poisoned pictures
Of ragdolls and giants.

Tribute to a Sad Friend.

I don't suppose you could shake this bloody stick
I'm at the wrong end.
When the logjam traffic finally lifts
I'll visit you again.
Your gran always had that spark in her eyes
Dreaming of the past
With her glasses half empty. I'll bet that she died
Before you even asked.
Anything you want, everything you own
She'd been there before
But if her smile was anything to go on
They'll be closing the lid
While you're still reaching for the door
But don't fear the end,
When the grass has grown once more
I'll visit you again.