‘impatience is not a virtue, or so i’m told’
hazily penitential for the crazily detrimental
vernal verdigris each time it’s sentimental
crumbling, rust red, no longer galvanic
attack of the panic organically manic
calm down to lark song, no stark wrongs
sometimes.
cavorting countryside sporting lies tacky
expected. all prevaricate like Frank TJ Mackey
vagrant apostles come and go docile
ardently pardon this passion, not hostile
ever.
posing life’s eternal koans, my own
conclusions buried in idle illusion
roaming the unknown in search of home
these eager delusions only beget confusion
always.
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‘global’
sky blue canopies, advance and
pursue insanities. cloud white land,
understands demure impurity.
stark and clean, sun yellow beams,
dreaming scenes mellow not
extreme. attracted to the laid-back.
knowledge always comes after the fact.
too late to debate the sun sets
abated. complications unnecessary,
signals mixed as by an apothecary.
but nary will ever a sun, sky or moon
croon a tune to make the other swoon;
their doom is to orbit, never touching.
forever circularly strewn.
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‘lessons’
spindly spider webs, like wintry minds, descend
unto the floor, threads galore; the assured rapport
of the critter, bitter, makes all the rest skitter away
plight inviting a battle without fighting; right
the way, wrong all along, to say this song belongs
intertwined in the infinite, wary not insidious.
blissful ignorance begets the unwilling indignant;
ensnared elation ensues each item ineludibly,
thus can’t you see naught but loving misanthropy?
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‘travels’
Neither here nor there
The feel of fair air in my hair
On the road mode
Left the abode to compose this ode
One hand-rolled cigarette
Some new music in the tape deck
If I dared to invest then
Perhaps I’d face some regret
So
Connect the dots
Be they friends or robots
Small talk in earnest
The space walking internist
Free fall down the chasm
Insubstantially dark phantasm
Cares and sin to the wind
I’ve been. stayed and left
Thus
I’m traveling on whims
And forgetting the rest.
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‘hide and seek’
run run and hide
just fun fun and besides
minds define and assume
casting doom on all those who presume
this tune, aware, has been sung before
but at a different time, with a different rapport
porous surface seeming oh so whimsical
understand it’s intrinsic to strive for the physical
only once ever done with even a shred of hate
one escape to negate the others that frustrate
unfortunate score that when it rains it pours
don’t ignore the weather, just step out the door
“whatever’s” a lame attitude to claim
wild and untamed even if effort’s in vain
eventually every other just becomes another
tired. desiring of frank talk and supper
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‘avian musings’
Circling not nesting needlessly
Fanciful flights flock flying free
Uncannily unwise never alone in demise
Dandily decide there are others to deride
Some beautiful bright birds belie
The carrion vulture that hides inside
Now great black buzzard wings beat the sky
Scavenging calculated or accidentally
There delicate birds perch ever so gently
Unwise they think the scarecrow friendly
Smiling stock still same spot forever
Ironic now face the Tin Man dilemma
But see the straw hat tipped at every bird that flies
Flannel shirt ripped jeans just a disguise
Button eyes blind for the benefit surely
Only one worm to find and all the birds are early
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‘the forest echoes’
nature’s ceiling shades my eyes
her carpet spread wide beneath my feet
nurtured feelings bade my lies
I forgot dread abides this heath my street
grasping ivy and snagging thorns
infinite intertwining fingers
rasping ire trees sagging shorn
sinfulness maligning the divine lingers
dank darkness pervades afraid
but not I even as owls descend
frank remarks fade away betrayed
I just know I’m lost in the woods again
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‘noom eht fo edis krad’
reality has been
vacuumed up. reeled in like a wriggling
fish, every part must be considered individually
each existence a daunting thought. slippery as if covered in
scales. maintaining them an impossibility. more orange juice and
taboulé. nausea is settling in like an unwelcome house guest, the ceiling
isn’t helping any; why not stay still god damn it? actually that’s kind of cool.
this ought to be somehow recorded. out the window scuttle other existences,
about their merry own ways
blissful in their ignorance
now the wall bubbles at me
i decide who i am through the
choices i make as an individual
the weeds on the hill wave
hope they don’t come inside
reality has been vacuumed up
i let it out slowly creeping
along like so many feeling
tendrils to gradually reconstruct
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the nameless faces of shapeless masses
amidst murmurs hefting plastic glasses
disdainful eyes flit around like insects
collectively finding new mates to impress
time gets murdered ever so thoroughly
never returns let it go unburdening
nothing accomplished just a feeling thereof
easier to be lush than do what you love
but if you don’t let it this feeling won’t hurt
just do what i do and sardonically smirk
then join in becoming yourself faceless
since all seem to be inherently graceless
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