I think it’s good to make a post with my latest works every once in a while instead of what I was doing, which was updating an old post everytime I wrote a new poem. So this set covers 12/16/2010 to 3/7/2011, all in reverse order.
The stars glistening
in tears rolling down her cheeks
heavenly sights above.
My lonely bonsai
drinking deep from the rain.
With all the cool looking flashes
you’d think there was a party
but I’m the only one who can see
it’s just another headache for me.
March winds start to blow
kids with cash head to the store
time to fly a kite.
Do you remember slow dancing
with that hot date
during that long fast night?
Women wearing June Cleaver dresses and Betty Davis eyes,
I imagine silk stockings encasing those thighs.
Time to loosen the tie and tilt back the hat,
and go get take out so we can eat in.
You and I are going to jive, we’re going to swing
papa loves his mama and well go on all night,
just so that we get to turn off those city lights.
women in Greta Garbo dresses, with a Katherine Hepburn attitude.
Gangsters hang in dark shadows, waiting to do their Bogart entrance.
and Louis is asking where we got those eyes on the jukebox.
Perfect night to dance and swing.
With my Glenn Miller swing
and your Billie Holliday blues
what beautiful music we could make in our room.
Groovin’ bass and drums
cool piano laying it down
hot summer jazz, man!
Courtyard is cleaned up
hedges have been trimmed
old leaves raked
why isn’t spring here yet?
little did I know it would end
night came upon me, time for bed
music still joyfully plays in my head.
Love, gift of the gods
never to be thrown away
Love, heartache abounds
with fear of being alone
I will never let you go.
A cloud with rain
or sunshine ray
the day is always better
when I’m with my wife.
Divine intervention is what you wished
your shot at heaven has been missed
your long walk into hell
is the path you know so well
for from its depths your were birthed
and ill placed on this earth
just so you can tear out my heart
I am so glad that we can now part.
Lonley bare tree
waiting for spring so it can be a home.
Snow melting into the ground
leaves wrapped themselves tightly, ready to unfurl
birds chirping ready to nest
spring is near.
Bodies in motion
hands clasped, eyes stare, feet move
per chance to tango.
White cat runs across the street
hoping to find a nice place to sleep.
With a million dollar delight
passed away through the night
you should have played that ace
but instead you fell on your face
with your guts filled with dread
they’re going to use you to paint the town red
So ends your life as a wise guy
for ever shall you look over your shoulder and say bye bye.
It pushes from behind my eyes
it pushed from inside my skull
the beast that is my headache
just won’t leave me alone.
running out of air
don’t know if there will be another one
with my black lung
Based on lyrics by Gabe Wilkinson
Beacon in the night
greasy food, a chance to sleep
interstate truck stop
Lonely windmill waits
to pump a dry well.
Old windmill waits
for a gust of wind.
Ancient beasts arise
invading sacred dreams
The fanfare has reverberated
dying against the cold stone walls
promises of peace and life
lay crumbling on the rotting floor.
Darkened is this day
and hell finally has it’s sway
that shall bring you back to my door.
Failed midnight scream
beasts pound at the door
they want to take you to hell
they want you to be the star of their show.
Perfect angel you have been
now that blood was shed
you are now ready to be the thorn
that protrudes from inside my head.
My mind is a jumble
like an old black and white film
scratched and jumping around
with bad narration and too many shadows
and a scream for help in the distance
with a gun shot echo.
Heart shaped box of red
chocolate and mint inside
shared by a warm fire.
My loves sweet kisses
leaves Marks on my cheeks and lips
It’s Valentine’s Day.
We wait for sunset
when dark, the candles are lit
a night just for us.
It’s all dark outside
streelights show snow falling down
late night peace and quiet.
I love sex and sin and everything that has been.
In my mind it’s always night with broken doors and locked windows.
A strange moon glow liquid fills my eyes with dreams of you, where have you been.
Time to go in and shut out the lights and get ready for another restless night.
Another year has passed
I couldn’t have gotten this far
concertina is grown up
tango was it’s dream.
Stepping in cadence
Astor’s music carries them on
It’s always time for tango.
My fear is rising
death grip on the edge
I don’t want to go into the deepend.
Perfect Christmas snow, two weeks too late.
Geese huddled together
there is warmth in numbers
no sun today.
The Choo-choo train
climbs the mountain
slips on the ice.
a young boy plays war
A lone violin calls out, “where are you, why did you leave me?”
Sadness drips from it’s bow, the howling vibrating strings cry out.
In the distance a pulse is heard, bearly a heart beat.
“My love, is that you?”
beat – beat – beat
“Our song is not yet done! We can still create the magic that both our hearts need.”
I push my thoughts into the limelight,
strapped in, I give them a voice, with prayers I hope they fly,
like that eagle I see up in the air,
swooping above our heads, filling us with awe.
Life would be better if it had a mate.
As I look out my window, I see the world covered in a blanket of white ice crystals.
The image fill peoples minds with dread. Too cold, too slippery, frozen, death.
But underneath that cold hard ground lays the seed of our future. It slumbers away, waiting for the life giving water that will soon soak down, beckoning it to grow.
“Push your self up,” says the once frozen snow, “and bring happiness once again to the world. Fill it with your life and let it spread.”
The geese are huddled
to keep warm while the wind blows
they should have flown south.
Pure white snow falls down
sleds carried, hills to be found
Cloud covered moon glows
eerie light darkens, pitch black
the wolves howl no more.
All wisdom is good, whether it comes from the mouth of a child, a martyred saint, a minister, a Jew, a Muslim or a Buddhist. Wisdom is for all beings, and not a select few.