Once A Year

Snow.
Another foot or so.
And after you have shoveled
The winds begin to blow.
But night has overwhelmed you and so to sleep you go.

Cradled in your bed, fits of dreams begin
Until the nightmare shakes you
And wide awake you scream.
For all your work has come to naught, nay sorry this I say
The foot of snow that yesterday was cleared with force so fierce
Has come to haunt your every joint
And break you piece by piece.

post peace train, #2

I’m going slowly, slowly on the peace train, peace train, ride in
The stations are filled at Grand Central, Grand Central station, New York City
But we won’t forget
When we hop that train peace train
The pain and the terror that does prevail
The longing the fear, the sadness, the tears
the endless hours, the days of fears.

I’m here waiting, waiting the peace train, New York station.

I’d rather sleep in, but I do not dare, for here it comes, the peace train.

You all forget that Carter was hot
A man of superior intellect
Who honored our values and sought to return
To democracy the way it deserved.

But now I’m afraid, afraid that the peace train, the peace train will never arrive.
We’ve used all our luck and a little beside, the peace train sent adrift to collide

I’m down on my knees, ready to concede, we’ve lost the greatest peace to succeed
The one where we realize that truth and thought can be attuned
To a new life, just and viable too…
Where we never fear our next meal
Or the cold of winter or the searing heat.

I’ve been thinking, thinking it’s a long battle, long battle, long battle
Never resolved in my years on earth, too long, it’ll outlast us.
So I look around and think to me, whatever can make us free,
It’s the love of life, family and friends, our neighbors, pets and in the end
Relinquishing thoughts that only “us” are right, correct and only just to fight…
That our neighbors have valid ways to live
Even though not like us
And our children play…
Our earth may survive our trip to hell.
On the peace train, the peace train.

I’m looking forward to a peace train, worldwide, a peace train.

Addendum:

Runningwithellen, long napping, sends his best!

can you stop the tears?

i cry
eternally I cry
deep inside of you
tears flow
tears I know
long each one wept
we wept, through heartache
through life’s end
now we cry
past these
past every event
we cry for our end
finality it brings, loss eternally.

Homage to the blogs I follow

On the way to Mount Snowdon
I met a Slate Quarry.
Though not the one to err
Yet I found deep thought
In the passing of memory
Far under a tree
So Dark,
and dog-nab-it,
in the trolley garage.
Then as we retreat
you may vent, as you please–
But not to neglect,
to Canada we photo
And while Easy does it,
He’s my favorite by far!
But do not ignore
Doggystyle, yes, there’s more–
Thundering Herd, not absurd;
And we speak of adopting a little bit more!
So here’s to my minions–
In them I do reckon, with Brevity, tis true,
A soul’s walk will do,
So splash a little paint–
my words shall remain
with Margo’s Notebook,
and Sage’s misadventures
a source of real pride,
at night by my side–
Love those dogs, I confess,
Can’t get enough of you, I guess!

Stanza #2
It should so please me, if you would just see,
My newest companion–
It’s Zack, he flies free!

Oh no!

Oh! Très bien! Très bien!
Uno or dos
I seem not to know
Whom I like most.
I count on my fingers
Five – up to ten
And then I begin
To count them again.
This is quite fun
Having you here
To read all my gibberish
When it appears
And though I do know
You’re all very busy
I can’t stop myself
From making us dizzy!

Food!

oops whoops
oh boy
whoa
not so
oy vey
I swear
I might have had a fright
oh my
I looked around until I found
a pair of Starlings flying low
and other birds aloft, you know
that birds in flight
can tell a lot
of things to come
and things undone
of dreams inside your pretty head
and silly words to stop you dead
of vegetables that rot in hell
and others that divinely make
your day a wondrous place to dwell
and fill your tummy till it swells.
And then there’s dips and chips and such
that fill you up, and up, and up
with calories and fat and more
that in the end will make you swear
to reassess your food affairs!

Missing a Life

To say “miss” is to imply there once was, but I assure you there was not.
Growing up in a morass of mediocrity, accomplishments were relegated to others, and ours was a life marked by others’ needs, a turning of the lamp before dawn, a turning off at night. What happened between was of no consequence.
Nor did it provide satisfaction or mere contentment.
It was but a passing of time till sleep. Sleep, less and less each day, and time grows burdensome.
Fragments of contentment appear and disappear, so subtle that their remembrance lasts not long, insufficient to be recorded.
Which yesterday revealed a moment with the possibility of renewal, satisfaction, meaning, continuity? If there was, it is lost, intangible.

Blue skies, look’n at me, only blue skies, do I see…

If I had a nickel for all the eaten pickles

And a dime for every cone

I’d hop aboard a plane

And fly to the Ivory Coast.

And then I’d board the largest ship

That sailed the ocean blue

And float and float in circles

As long as the sky was blue.

Can’t sleep…

2:11
This isn’t heaven
2:12
The clock says
2:13
I’m slowly fading
Yet here I wait for 2:14.

Now its come
And now its gone
2:15
The clock still runs.
To be precise
I cannot last
2:16
And now I crash.

No doubt at 3:22
You are dreaming the whole night through
Yet here I sit, you see
The clock displays 3:23
And should I think to wait some more
I’m sure it will say 3:24.

By now my mind is wandering
A half hour I’ve been pondering
So with surprise I find I’m vexed
It only says 3:26!

Oh my, sigh…

Brought to tears

my heart does cheer

and thoughts of how you  appear

to mellow my response

in ways I may enhance

a quality of life

so often rife

with war and woe

though this I think you  know

my feelings are sincere

I must reply

I am not tied

by land or sea or sky

and will admit

with fitting wit

I’d rather live than die.

End of life

What happens when you lose all reasons for living, when existence seems meaningless?
Why does this happen?
Is it simply the result of a set of circumstances, or is it inherent in the person, something that was always there and only needed a trigger to be set free?
And when you begin to go over the things you want to put in order so that your death will not put others in distress over the things you may have left unattended?
And when you solidly believe that even though you maintain the ability to laugh and enjoy certain aspects of this world, that your existence is worthless and noncontributory to the betterment of the community, in such a way that you feel there will be no loss, but surely a gain for others, as you leave space and resources for others to make better use of?
And even when you formulate these feelings, a part of you remembers something you truly wanted to do, and already you want to postpone your end in order to accomplish this one thing.
The result, though, is no less sad, for the depression remains, and joy is only fragmentary.
Ending seems so more fulfilling than constant mediocrity.

A thousand cuts

Death by a thousand cuts.
A sweet and gentle wish that you would soon reply
to worried inquiries about your health and happiness.
No one would write as you have done without a fearsome demon lapping at mind, souls’ edge.
Take care, and know that someone waits to wrest those demons, ease a heart constrained by hands unseen, by misconceptions of a life’s reward, of waiting for release from things you were always free from
And so you know I wish to hear your plaintive tones against the winds of nature spread so softly that I would even tread to heaven to release you.

Life, filled with discord

Oh Jane.
Your life, filled with discord, rolls by
A paranoia unprotected
Your life
So convoluted you cannot know
What pain is real and what is not.

Jane, you are a true and beauteous moment
Of god’s own glory and nature’s bliss
Of loves’ lost and loves’ awaiting mist
Of minds beliefs and minds believing grist

You can surrender, though you would not admit
What your own mind tricked to assist
The venomous regions
Of life’s beguiling twists
That you alone have seen the coming end
Of wife and husband
No love, I can assure.

Your name, insane!

Oh Jane!
Insane!
Each time he writes your name
His heart beats out a flame!

A fire in his loin
A flutter that doth spawn
A rare a beauteous morn
Awakening of dawn
A veritable display
Of nature’s way to say
Good day!

But lo!
The day draws quick
The spirits unrestrained
Return to rue the day
That turns itself to night,
And man’s abode abides
With heartfelt feelings more.
This day we have adored!

Your Pain is Sorrowful

How is your life, by the way?
I hear your anger in the way you write
Your life filled with fear and doubt you cannot figure out
Are those around neglecting what you need?
As blindly you subject
Those who know you not and never see your face,
With mindless rantings, cannot assuage your
body or your mind, as slowly laid to waste.

for love

I long for love to linger on the breath I take, take swept away, swept under and around, through limbs and branches, fallen as the leaves of autumn, woven through the white of winter.

Oh, Work!

It’s four o’clock

And I’m awake

I run and run before dawn breaks.

The coffee’s made

The dog is out

My body sighs “Shall we not nap?”

 

But on I strive to ready lunch

What’s there to eat? Have you no hunch?

I look and look, nothing I see

I fear that I may starve, poor me

For error grave, I have succumbed

And cupboards bare, I am undone!

 

Ah well, all cheery, smiley me I am

A grand adventure is in store

For me and several others more

Notes to take

Lives to unfold

Tales of winter to be told

Those who found the southern sun

The rest who waited till snow and sun became as one.

 

I know the calendar still says Spring

But just this morn it was declared

September’s date would soon appear

And so I do begin to wonder

Where did I put my scarf, my hat, my gloves from last December

That casually I tossed aside while dreaming

Of August’s heat and swimming pools

Of days where gin-and-tonics rule.

Every breath is petrifying.

As your end nears
my loneliness increases.

Where am I. One day you will die.
And I will be alone.
This understanding is not yours.
Perhaps you understand how limited time is
Perhaps you understand life is ebbing.

And accept it.
To accept end of life.

Every breath is petrifying.

Wasted

Oh, how I have wasted my life
How ordinary I became
How readily I accepted it
Doomed to a life not worth living
Buried in disappointments
Shame upon shame
A life not lived
Dreams never dreamt
Years piled on years
Doomed to disgrace
Disgrace to dishevelment
Broken bones, broken minds
Awaiting nothing
Save end upon end.

Empty, guiltless, liar

I was a ghost
This emptiness
There is no reason for it
I will love you till my body is ash. From it I came, and to the end I shall be.

Do you love?
Corrupted, you deign to protect
Against my enemies.
You say you would die for love
But you know nothing of love.
You have cheated and lied to four women.

Peace is for the women and the weak.
Agamemnon, Menelaus, victors of Ilium,
Trojans at their feet,
Slavery of their women,
Murderers of the child prince Astyanax,
What humiliation to your soul;
Your mother would deride your actions.
Brought to this world, imbued with humanity, imprinted with morality
Could you but cast aside a parents’ teachings, a worldliness, a decency?
Their’s was a lesson you unlearned, a rightness to your kin, a kindness to womankind
Your needs are not alone the ones to be fulfilled
Others cast off and trodden upon
You are despised and despicable in eyes that thought you better.

Your flesh, a venue of pleasure, is marked and barren of humanity
Ungodly actions, unmanly and no less unwomanly
You are rank, the evil seeping through your pores.

What ails thee?
Lifeless, brainless?
Devoid of conscience?
Guilt is not enough.
Past pleasures mire you in temptation.
Your world is more than you
Yet you deny it, resolved to only satisfy the one.

Long dead your heart, no matter your mighty protestations.

the door that opens and breathes

And so another week is past and with it comes a return to a way of life that was quickly diminishing in reality. Adaptability is so deceiving. A species that can close the mind to pain as well as pleasure, can start from dawn as though none else existed. Who am I that I can toss off one life easily, cavalierly falling into step with another, chasing ghosts and dreams simultaneously? Would I give up everything to be warm? I would. The pain of cold lives in my mind, the door that opens and breathes in the morning air, a chill of October reminiscent of November. Long winters looming, with empty beds and firewood to be hauled. Can I remember being a child? I have dreams of fulfillment, of a life rich with love and meaning. Tears well when I wake. Who is this person whose life in sleep is sweeter than the life awake? Oh to reenter one’s dreams, to live there forever. Are there others of my ilk?

What we do is superfluous, destructive to wellbeing, beyond a genetic need of survival, a crime of humanity, a crime of environment, a crime of God. Belief is unnecessary to comprehend the crimes committed. You understand yourself as criminal, conspirator, rapist and raptor, devourer and devoured.

Flesh laid open, a feast fetid with generations of flys, maggots, larvae, bones of the dead reaching to draw you nearer. Bones of the living, rotten flesh, your nightmare borne of reality. Eaten even as you live, segments wasting away before eyes laid hollow from multitudes of lies, deceit, denials.

How do we fill our lives, and as we fill them, do we deny the existence of others unable to participate in the frivolity of our existence? Even this, even now, even I conspire to forget. I forge an existence made of vapors. Thus I render myself untouchable. But I am made of this place and am dependent for my needs. Were I to fly free, where would I go? Were I to be free, what would I do? Were I to understand that I am already free, would anything change? How am I so useless? Is it by comparison? Can I say, “I did not do that, therefore I am nothing?” Or, “Look at his/her accomplishments—they are not mine—I am nothing.” What I have done, what I can do, I see as being selfish and useless, of no consequence to a world peopled with pain, parented by hunger, housed by the homeless. I am the rain that breaks the dam, flooding the lands, being cursed by the righteous and the damned. I am the mid-day sun, parching the field destroying the crops, killing the inhabitants as I consume the earth. Where is my beauty, the smile of my youth? Buried. Buried six feet, with earth and stone upon my grave, unknown in death as in life. Why do you visit him? You have loved him as did I. But I know it is pointless, this ritual of burial, this memorial of headstone. And so what first I did not do out of confusion, I now will not do out of grief and guilt.

a new day

A new day

He wakes

He looks.

He eats

He sleeps.

He is a dog

Shadows

Savor their warm, sweet breath.
Let not your mind imagine lost happiness.
The dawning of guilt.
Stalked by shadows.

Racing to you. So fast time is nonexistent. So slow I fear I will never reach you. So I am here, a temporary place of rest, biding the eternities till you are in sight.
Willingly I continue, past fields of flowers, pastures of grass, Dresden in ruins, London in flames, Jews’ bones scattered across the earth, gypsies impaled on the cross, Blacks eviscerated. I turn my head.

gnihtoN

Nothing. Into nothing. Out of nothing. See nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, touch nothing and nothing touches you. Is this death? But I am awake. Not alive. Are we still talking nothing? Nothing is knowing, knowing all or nothing. A meaningful cliché. You know it all, I nothing.
I know not who I am nor why I am nor where I am nor by the grace of God I am. Nothing. The word encompasses everything. And nothing. Did you wake to read this as I write?
It is nothing.