Innocence Poems - Poems For Innocence

Poems about innocence. You can read the best innocence poems. Browse through all innocence poems.


Lost Poems Found - Poem by David McLansky

Monday, December 07,2009

Riff on Ely Funky Boots' Rare Flower

Don't fault me that I have another,
You share me with another lover;
Don't fault yourself, you satisfy,
Still in another's arms I'll lie;
Does all the world lay in your arms?
Do you encompass all it's charms?
Your conversation's entertaining
But is there nothing left remaining?
I do not seek to so encumber
That you be all without a number,
And though I love you on your back
You cannot be all that I lack;
For you be one within this world;
There's such a lovely sum of girls.
9: 05 AM





Monday, December 07,2009
Nightmare


I dreamt that you stole all my books,
Negating all the pains I took;
The summary of all my life,
My history of love and strife;
And dumped them on a used book seller,
The ones undamaged from the cellar;
How empty stood the wood book shelves
Denuded of my several selves;
Empty slots, blank empty places,
Wherein my life had left its traces;
To transport them you used my daughter,
Driving in the car I bought her;
How you smiled at my stunned face,
My life a barren dusty place.
7: 34 AM




Monday, December 07,2009
The Awakening

Birds before the rising dawn,
Twitter out their noisy song,
Even when the dark of night
Maintains its mantle o'er the light;
The hints of grey that clouds the East
Heralds the morning as in a feast:
Bits of fruits and crumbs of breads
Wets the tongue to what's ahead;
So rising in the early morn,
I see the breathing of your form,
The gentle heaving of your breast
Augurs the joy of what comes next:
The sweet awakening of your spirit
That I, a dolt, do hardlly merit;
So I compose this tuneless lay
To welcome the gift you bring each day.
7: 27 AM




Sunday, December 06,2009

Paen to the Three Wyrd Sisters


The Three Wyrd Sisters
By some, the Norn
Draw out our lives
The day we're born;
Our woven Life
One piece of cloth,
Our energy,
Our sins, our sloth;
The first Sister,
Named Clotho
Spins the thread
Our lives to sew;
Oh Fate who twists
The turning spindle,
May your fingers
Be ever nimble
That my thread
Not know your wrath
As it runs
From your distaff;
Let Lachesis with her
Measuring rod,
Who measures out
The Time of Gods,
Apportion me
A lengthy span
That I may know
The mind of Man;
Let Atropos
With dreaded shears
Not cut my thread
In my young years;
Come weavers
Of the Fate of Man,
Bless my life
With your deft hands;
May your woven tapestry
Display a peaceful
Harmony
As it's hung
On castle walls,
The tales of lives
That rise and fall.
9: 34 AM




Saturday, December 05,2009

Henry Higgins Reflects on Modern Life


I'm sad to say civilization has declined
The fault of which is the female mind;
The modern girl in search of human rights
Has gone beserk and put the male to flight;
The modern male has lost his confidence,
To him the modern woman makes no sense;
She wants to be wanted and to be served
And then she becomes a muddle of raw nerves;
She's always running off to see her shrink
She does so leaving dishes in the sink;
Her social worker tells her she's abused,
She comes home more uncertain and confused;
The male is told he's always doing wrong,
That why he doesn't stay around too long;
No longer will a woman pour your tea,
Or put your slippers on at bended knee,
Or bring you buttered toast upon a tray
Or let you have the final word and say;
No wonder men are shunning marriage,
Who wants to be a horse yoked to a carriage;
Or in the winter shackled to a sleigh,
No wonder all the men are turning gay.
8: 07 PM


Saturday, December 05,2009
Riff on Blackbird’s Causality


Restless for the face of God,
Self-conscious of our rise from sod;
Life cannot be so cold, perverse,
Mere pond scum on the fractious earth;
Life cannot be so demeaning
That we awake without meaning;
We hear the echo of our thoughts
Back from space probes we have wrought;
An empty ping that we've contrived
In search of someone else alive;
In the bubble universe
That inflates without reverse,
As all the blazing stars burn out,
We're left in darkness with our doubts?
6: 23 AM




Saturday, December 05,2009
Riff on Hope at the Dentiist

Open wide,
Wider Dear
My oh my,
What have we here?
Oh it's bad,
Just as I feared;
Don't you brush?
Don't you floss?
Root canal
Can really cost;
How good are you
At standing pain?
It's extra for
The Novacaine.
6: 20 AM



Friday, December 04,2009
The Christmas Gift

How strange to hear
My history,
To me
A clouded mystery;
A random act,
Some idle words
Fresh, seen alive,
By her
Still heard;
How long ago
I do forget,
I bought my child
A large bracelet;
A gem encrusted
Silver band,
I draped it in
Her little hand:
A ring of garnets,
And amethysts,
I fastened it
To her small wrist;
Not knowing
She would never tire
To stroke
The topaz and sapphires;
This was to her
A treasured gift,
'I'll never lose it, '
She still insists.
5: 10 PM


Friday, December 04,2009

My Mental Hospital Advisor

Why do you care?
They're human trash.
You want to help;
Why be so rash?
They're junkies, pimps, and prostitutes,
You're educated, quite astute;
You think you'll even make a dent?
Their craziness won't relent,
They'll play you like a common John,
They see a sucker when you're fond;
They're jaded, warped, and desperate losers;
Abused as children and child abusers;
Your kindness to them is misplaced,
In the end it leaves no trace;
You think the battererd and the bruised
Don't see you as someone to be used?
They're mean and callous and have thick hides,
In they themselves they have no pride;
Don't waste your time to be of service,
Don't turn your back, I'd be nervous;
Fill out their charts and watch your rear;
They're human garbage, it's your career.
9: 04 A


Friday, December 04,2009
Interview with a Personal Assisant


I suppose it really is my job
To keep him safe from the mob,
The riff-raff and the vile canaille,
The sordid and the snobs banal;
Of course the problem with his drinking
Shows he's apt to not be thinking;
He has a pension for the rabble,
In low class scenes he tends to dabble;
And then it's frantic calls to me,
He did not come home, where can he be?
And then I'm called to hunt him down,
To retrace his steps through haunts downtown:
The bars, the dens, the beer-stained joints,
The drinks, the fights, the ill-timed taunts,
The recreation of the night,
I connect the dots of boozy flight;
The Hotel Dick of cheap motels,
The darkened alleys where he fell;
It's like to end in some apartment,
Some dolly trollop, the vile assortment,
Vain wanna-be's who act the clown
To share his spot-light, the hang arounds;
Who accept the privilege of his kisses,
Blithely forgetting he has a Mrs.
I find him slumped within their beds,
Oh the failed attempts to give him head;
I clean him up in their bathroom,
The noble friend of bride and groom,
The Best Man at the bachelor party
Who retrieves the groom when he is tardy;
The Best Man fits my job description,
The antidote to dissipation;
The mop and pail who cleans up vomit;
The pervasive tail to His comet,
The Butler, Personal Assistant
Interference for the too persistent;
The fixer, bag man, go-between,
The silent witness to unwitnessed scenes;
I never imagined it as a career
My other choices disappeared;
Around the world I follow him,
The foaming cleanser for his sins;
The great man you see upon the stage,
Hardly pays a living wage.


Thursday, December 03,2009
A Shrewdness of Apes
Category: Writing and Poetry
I am an old silverback,
It''s not attention that I lack;
I have this problem with young apes,
How frequently they want 'a date; '
I'm just content to sleep and eat,
I avoid the hills that are too steep,
They hit me with a playful slap,
They charge me as I take a nap;
I try to hide up in a tree,
But the limbs bend down under me;
And then they find me on the ground,
And whack, they pummel me and pound;
Once I too was quite rambunctious,
Every female I found scrumptious,
We'd roll around the forest floor,
Now all my joints are stiff and sore;
What irony to have a harem
Now that I can hardly bare them.
4: 54 PM

Transl

Thursday, December 03,2009
Hespere II
Category: Writing and Poetry

There was a boy,
A farmer's son,
Who over heard her plight,
And pledged to rescue
The lovely nymph
And deliver her that night;
For he reasoned
A monster must
Close its eyes and sleep,
He understood
His love for her
For too his heart did leap;
Hespere turned her perfect eyes
And whispered gratitude
And promised him her full regard,
His courage was renewed;
That night he took a honied wine
And soaked in it Nightshade,
And poured it in a giant stein
And placed it in the glade;
Ladon drank and smacked his lips,
His eyes closed in his heads,
And in the morn still sealed his lids,
For Ladon eyes were dead;
The farmers son ran to Hespere
And told her she was free
Then called her his 'Lady fair, '
Dropping on one knee;
'i did not mean to change my guard
But to live and to breathe free,
I may hold you in high regard,
But love won't imprison me.'
That night the lonely farmer's boy
Hung himself inside his shed,
Thinking of the jealousy
Felt in a hundred heads.
6: 15 AM
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Thursday, December 03,2009
Hespere
Category: Writing and Poetry

I sing of the Hesperides,
Those lovely nymphs of yore,
Who tended carefully the trees
By Oceania's shores;
Who crafted such a restful shade
Where the sun sank in the West
Where the golden apples blazed,
For Heracles, a quest.
Of Atlas' daughters, who all were fair
In beauty one ranked highest,
She was his daughter Hespere;
Even Aphrodite would not deny it;
But she was loved by one Ladon
A hundred-headed guard
A monster set to watch upon
The fruits grown in the yard;
Hespere cried both night and day
To be freed from his obsession,
Her sisters turned their eyes away,
Both glad of her possession;
For beauty is an ornament
That cripples as it augments
And leaves its owner in torment
Confused that it does rent;
Two hundred eyes watched her walk
Beneath the apple boughs,
And if she dared to stop and talk
His jealousy aroused;
Stopping by the waters edge
She asked the ceaseless tide
Could He hide her in its wedge
Safe from prying eyes;
The ceaseless sea expressed regret
He could not safely keep
Hespere from the monster's fret,
Not even in its deep;
Two hundred eyes followed her
To the mountains high
Where she asked the god Zephyr
For a gentle ride,
To carry her to distant lands
Beyond Ladon's unblinking sight,
But Zephyr breath could not command
For it blew too light; ;
6: 13 AM
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Thursday, December 03,2009
Angel in The Morning
Category: Writing and Poetry

You are a blessing without disguise,
And yet you take me by surprise;
Your radiant goodness lights my day,
Your sparkling eyes, two lights at play;
Your smile, the sweetness of a child,
A kindly look, so soft and mild;
I stop and look, I hesitate,
What with your face can I equate? -
A DaVinci Angel, half turned away,
Innocence, gently portrayed.
6: 08 AM
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Wednesday, December 02,2009
A Cougar's Lament
Category: Writing and Poetry
Oh foolish boy, go find another,
I am too old to be your lover;
All these desperate false alarms
You wear me out with your young charms;
At first I thought it simple kindness,
Now I think it simple mindness,
These riotious acts of true devotion,
You spin my head with all this motion;
Taking me in every room,
My dresses have become a broom;
These urgent acts of proven ardor,
We've even done it in the parlor;
My wrinkles daunt not but excite,
You mount me at all times of night,
I say my body's gone to seed,
My words only excite your need,
To prove to me I am still young,
You rip my pins, my hair undone,
And work me to a lathered sweat,
(I find that you're not finished yet!)
Your jealousy exceeds all reason,
You bristle at all men in season,
Grey headed men who smile at me
Arouses you to tyranny;
At every smile you feel a slight
Which urges you to stand and fight;
And when we're walking arm in arm,
Your paranoia loses charm;
Bar room boys grin and leer,
'Does your mother want a beer? '
I'm terrified to see you fight
For my honor every night;
I know that cougars are the fashion,
But I''ve aged ten years with all this passion!
Friday, December 04,2009
My Mental Hospital Advisor
Category: Writing and Poetry
Why do you care?
They're human trash.
You want to help;
Why be so rash?
They're junkies, pimps, and prostitutes,
You're educated, quite astute;
You think you'll even make a dent?
Their craziness won't relent,
They'll play you like a common John,
They see a sucker when you're fond;
They're jaded, warped, and desperate losers;
Abused as children and child abusers;
Your kindness to them is misplaced,
In the end it leaves no trace;
You think the battererd and the bruised
Don't see you as someone to be used?
They're mean and callous and have thick hides,
In they themselves they have no pride;
Don't waste your time to be of service,
Don't turn your back, I'd be nervous;
Fill out their charts and watch your rear;
They're human garbage, it's your career.
9: 04 AM
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Ed

Friday, December 04,2009
Interview with a Personal Assisant


I suppose it really is my job
To keep him safe from the mob,
The riff-raff and the vile canaille,
The sordid and the snobs banal;
Of course the problem with his drinking
Shows he's apt to not be thinking;
He has a pension for the rabble,
In low class scenes he tends to dabble;
And then it's frantic calls to me,
He did not come home, where can he be?
And then I'm called to hunt him down,
To retrace his steps through haunts downtown:
The bars, the dens, the beer-stained joints,
The drinks, the fights, the ill-timed taunts,
The recreation of the night,
I connect the dots of boozy flight;
The Hotel Dick of cheap motels,
The darkened alleys where he fell;
It's like to end in some apartment,
Some dolly trollop, the vile assortment,
Vain wanna-be's who act the clown
To share his spot-light, the hang arounds;
Who accept the privilege of his kisses,
Blithely forgetting he has a Mrs.
I find him slumped within their beds,
Oh the failed attempts to give him head;
I clean him up in their bathroom,
The noble friend of bride and groom,
The Best Man at the bachelor party
Who retrieves the groom when he is tardy;
The Best Man fits my job description,
The antidote to dissipation;
The mop and pail who cleans up vomit;
The pervasive tail to His comet,
The Butler, Personal Assistant
Interference for the too persistent;
The fixer, bag man, go-between,
The silent witness to unwitnessed scenes;
I never imagined it as a career
My other choices disappeared;
Around the world I follow him,
The foaming cleanser for his sins;
The great man you see upon the stage,
Hardly pays a living wage.
5: 59 AM
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Thursday, December 03,2009
A Shrewdness of Apes
Category: Writing and Poetry
I am an old silverback,
It''s not attention that I lack;
I have this problem with young apes,
How frequently they want 'a date; '
I'm just content to sleep and eat,
I avoid the hills that are too steep,
They hit me with a playful slap,
They charge me as I take a nap;
I try to hide up in a tree,
But the limbs bend down under me;
And then they find me on the ground,
And whack, they pummel me and pound;
Once I too was quite rambunctious,
Every female I found scrumptious,
We'd roll around the forest floor,
Now all my joints are stiff and sore;
What irony to have a harem
Now that I can hardly bare them.




Thursday, December 03,2009
Hespere II
Category: Writing and Poetry

There was a boy,
A farmer's son,
Who over heard her plight,
And pledged to rescue
The lovely nymph
And deliver her that night;
For he reasoned
A monster must
Close its eyes and sleep,
He understood
His love for her
For too his heart did leap;
Hespere turned her perfect eyes
And whispered gratitude
And promised him her full regard,
His courage was renewed;
That night he took a honeyed wine
And soaked in it Nightshade,
And poured it in a giant stein
And placed it in the glade;
Ladon drank and smacked his lips,
His eyes closed in his heads,
And in the morn still sealed his lids,
For Ladon eyes were dead;
The farmers son ran to Hespere
And told her she was free
Then called her his 'Lady fair, '
Dropping on one knee;
'i did not mean to change my guard
But to live and to breathe free,
I may hold you in high regard,
But love won't imprison me.'
That night the lonely farmer's boy
Hung himself inside his shed,
Thinking of the jealousy
Felt in a hundred heads.
6: 15 AM
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Thursday, December 03,2009
Hespere
Category: Writing and Poetry

I sing of the Hesperides,
Those lovely nymphs of yore,
Who tended carefully the trees
By Oceania's shores;
Who crafted such a restful shade
Where the sun sank in the West
Where the golden apples blazed,
For Heracles, a quest.
Of Atlas' daughters, who all were fair
In beauty one ranked highest,
She was his daughter Hespere;
Even Aphrodite would not deny it;
But she was loved by one Ladon
A hundred-headed guard
A monster set to watch upon
The fruits grown in the yard;
Hespere cried both night and day
To be freed from his obsession,
Her sisters turned their eyes away,
Both glad of her possession;
For beauty is an ornament
That cripples as it augments
And leaves its owner in torment
Confused that it does rent;
Two hundred eyes watched her walk
Beneath the apple boughs,
And if she dared to stop and talk
His jealousy aroused;
Stopping by the waters edge
She asked the ceaseless tide
Could He hide her in its wedge
Safe from prying eyes;
The ceaseless sea expressed regret
He could not safely keep
Hespere from the monster's fret,
Not even in its deep;
Two hundred eyes followed her
To the mountains high
Where she asked the god Zephyr
For a gentle ride,
To carry her to distant lands
Beyond Ladon's unblinking sight,
But Zephyr breath could not command
For it blew too light; ;
6: 13 AM
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Thursday, December 03,2009
Angel in The Morning
Category: Writing and Poetry

You are a blessing without disguise,
And yet you take me by surprise;
Your radiant goodness lights my day,
Your sparkling eyes, two lights at play;
Your smile, the sweetness of a child,
A kindly look, so soft and mild;
I stop and look, I hesitate,
What with your face can I equate? -
A DaVinci Angel, half turned away,
Innocence, gently portrayed.
6: 08 AM
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Wednesday, December 02,2009
A Cougar's Lament
Category: Writing and Poetry
Oh foolish boy, go find another,
I am too old for such a lover;
All these desperate false alarms
You weary me with your young charms;
At first I thought it simple kindness,
Now I think it simple mindness,
These riotous acts of true devotion,
You spin my head with all this motion;
Taking me in every room,
My dresses have become a broom;
These urgent acts of proven ardor,
We've even done it in the parlor;
My wrinkles daunt not but excite,
You mount me at all times of night,
I say my body's gone to seed,
My words only excite your need,
To prove to me I am still young,
You rip my pins, my hair undone,
And work me to a lathered sweat,
(I find that you're not finished yet!)
Your jealousy exceeds all reason,
You bristle at all men in season,
Grey headed men who smile at me
Arouses you to tyranny;
At every smile you feel a slight
Which urges you to stand and fight;
And when we're walking arm in arm,
Your paranoia loses charm;
Bar room boys grin and leer,
And ask, 'Does your mother want a beer? '
I'm terrified to see you fight
For my honor every night;
I know that cougars are the fashion,
But I’ve aged ten years with all this passion!


3: 02 PM
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Wednesday, December 02,2009
Riff on Blackbird's The Lovers
Category: Writing and Poetry
I never know just what you mean,
It's silly to ask you to explain;
You stare off looking cold, indifferent,
The sky turns grey at your insistence;

We're lovers with a different mind,
We struggle with our words to find
That easy frission when we're conjoined;
We lack the rhythm of our loins;

We sit in silence and temporalise,
What is the truth behind your eyes;
I never know just when to go,
Am I abrupt, do I move too slow?

We only harmonize in bed,
Our words trail off with things unsaid;
The air turns grey and chilly cold
As I release you from my hold.

I pause to smoke a cigarette,
Did I say something I'll regret,
You reach to pull the covers up,
You overturn a coffee cup;

And silently I move on,
No wisdom in the light of dawn;
Two strangers fearing to offend,
Two lovers lost, not even friends.
9: 36 AM
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Wednesday, December 02,2009
Mind Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry

What she feels about herself,
She projects on me, her 'someone else; '
Thus I always know her mind,
Most clearly when she is unkind.
7: 24 AM
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Wednesday, December 02,2009
Birthday Wishes to Olive Oil
Category: Writing and Poetry


I'm glad you left
The porch light on;
It must be nice
To live on a farm;
All those moths
Swirling round the lamp,
What's this here?
A steel railed ramp.
Gosh it's dark here
Late at night;
I'm moving in the dark
With fright;
You never said
You were so well endowed;
You stepped on my foot,
Well Holy Cow!
7: 21 AM
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Tuesday, December 01,2009
Memo From a Passionate Undertaker
Category: Writing and Poetry

I come out as a necrophilliac,
And right away, I'm under attack;
That's why I prefer the dead to living;
The dead are so much more forgiving;
The living are so difficult,
They're oh so ready to find fault;
I prefer the quiet life,
Free of all that mortal strife.

Give me a girl who will lie still,
Who lets me all my whims fulfill,
Who doesn't squirm, who doesn't quibble
If I bite and take a nibble;
Who doesn't moan or complain,
Who doesn't groan and confuse my name;
Who gives me time to appreciate
Who doesn't stall and make me wait;


The living are just too frenetic,
Their lame excuses are pathetic,
'Not tonight, I have a headache; '
The headless never make you wait!

Of course I prefer a girl intact
Fully prepared to perform the act,
Sometime of course they lack a limb
But...
To reject the disabled is a corporal sin.
9: 15 AM
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Tuesday, December 01,2009
Old Rockers
Category: Writing and Poetry

What has become
Of all those rockers?
They've all turned into
Alter kockers*
Old men standing on the stage
A geriatric day trip parade;
Wispy haired, oddly dressed,
Droopy lipped, their skin all stretched,
Chicken necked, belly potted,
Drooling, lost, at best besotted;
Baldly pated, skinny armed,
Wheezy, dazed, devoid of charm;
Dionysus looks quite haggard,
He doesn't strut, he limps and staggers;
Bacchus should die while still young;
Your false teeth don't fit your gums.

* Yiddish, for old men.
9: 11 AM
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Monday, November 30,2009
Riff on Laurel's Turning the Pages
Category: Writing and Poetry

To see ourselves in our young
Is to understand
From where we've sprung;
We forgive ourselves
In their faults
Their obligations
In default;
And so with
A wiser hand
We sympathize
And understand
And condemn them not
For their mistakes
For in Heaven's lot
They partake.
12: 39 PM
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Monday, November 30,2009
To Laurel
Category: Writing and Poetry
Come my love
Let me be heard
Let me immortalize
You with words;
Speak to me
Undress your soul
Your naked glory
To be told;
For my pen
Inks from your lips
From where
My inspiration sips;
Tell me of your
Tale of woe
That my pen
Might run and flow.

Be not tardy
And demure,
My doctor visit
Then can cure;
Spare me not
Your subtle feeling
For these in you
Are most appealling;
A Muse doth bare
Her breast with heart;
It''s from thy chest
I nurse my Art.
10: 32 AM
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Monday, November 30,2009
Riff on Lainey's Undercurrent
Category: Writing and Poetry
Your crimson blush
Your oceans flow
Resembles not
An undertow,
For you are honest
Sweet and frank
Your emotions tide
Laps at your banks;
You are the seasons
Ebb and flow,
Sometimes you wane,
You swell and grow;
Your face is like
A looking glass
Where every thought
Is seen to pass;
And yet this lack
Of subtlety,
Does not at all
Diminish thee;
Your blush invites
Men to advance
When they are captured
By your glance.



9: 53 AM
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Monday, November 30,2009
The Embalmer’s Kiss - A Riff
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Embalmer’s Kiss - A Riff

As a bashful necrophilliac,
I blush to say

You have quite a rack, 

In fact, I'll say it, 

You are quite stacked, 

Although it's movement

That you lack.


I realized early
I was not a charmer, 

That's why I chose

To be an embalmer; 

Those lively pretty

Flighty girls

While they were living

Were beyond my world; 


But as they lay upon my slab, 

They do not move

Even when I jab, 

I peel them gently like a grape, 

And while they lay, 

I probe and gape; 


There's no rejection

Of my hand, 

I sit them up

As they would stand; 

I dare to steal

A cold cold kiss; 

They don't kiss me back, 

But they don't resist! 


I'm glad that God invented death, 

Without it I'd be quite depressed; 

Oh the pleasure of a frozen corpse, 

Oh the love I've known without remorse.

Happy the man who loves his trade, 

It's the only way I can get layed, 

When it comes to lively honey lovin, 

I am a furnace, a cremation oven; 

I've been praised for how alive they look, 

Oh the pleasure in the pains I took, 

To make them pretty with a dab of paint, 

My kisses make the ladies faint; 

I put the roses back in their cheeks, 

If I get them before they start to reek; 

Sometimes, I swear, I can hear them moaning, 

Yet none get jealous for all my roaming; 

I've had my face slapped real hard, 

Some trouble with a leotard; 

I even brought one back to life! 

How glad I hadn't yet used the knife; 

I was thrusting her while on a guerney, 

A fine young thing, a tax attorney; 

When all of sudden she opened her eyes! 

Boy, were both of us surprised! 

She wasn't sure what was happening, 

Her arms and legs, jogging. flapping; 

I hadn't pumped her with formaldehyde; 

Embalmed girls give an awful ride; 

You can say my passion saved her life, 

And all because of my odd love-life.
Alive she owed me at least one date;
The living are such total ingrates!
10: 09 AM
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7: 32 AM
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Sunday, November 29,2009
Mis-Cue On e-harmony.com 

Category: Writing and Poetry

With your whips and chains
And spiked high heels,
With your dull refrain,
'How does it feel? '

With your leather ties

And your steel handcuffs, 

Are you a girl who likes it rough? 



I know I'm early for our date; 

I saw your ad and couldn't wait; 

'Sin-filled girl, shy disposition, 

Seeks expert on The Inquisition.'



As you can see, I brought my tools, 

An instruction book from De Sade's Prep school, 

Whips and chains and my own rack, 

... The studded nails I forgot to pack; 



Maybe I can borrow yours? 

I see you have a small chain saw; 

My favorite is the old thumb screw.

Mike Torquemada, from Bellevue.
7: 02 AM
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Sunday, November 29,2009
The Seducer to His Mistress
Category: Writing and Poetry

Curiousity made me stray,
A random look, a chance to play,
To see a body, another form,
I didn't mean to cause you harm;
Another torso, to undress,
A thigh, a stomach, and two breasts;
Another bared configuration,
Another act, mere penetration;
A chance to hear a stranger's tale,
Their life events, how they travailed,
Laying naked chest to chest,
To hear them quibble and confess;
This act was not a true communion,
Not the love found in our union;
It was a tid-bit, a lietmontif.
A passing fancy that was brief.
Saturday, November 28,2009
Late Morning Dream
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the world of upside down
I was a master, a giddy-clown;
Reversing all not fixed down,
Making up stick to the ground.

Thus my art did well disrupt
The normal world of right-side up,
Making normal seemed reversed,
My willful Art was called perverse;

I made the ceiling, the domed vault
Seem the floor, our feet at fault;
People strained their soon bent necks
To remedy this false prospect.

At weddings I reversed the room,
Down was up to bride and groom;
In restaurants waiters climbed the walls
Trying to prevent their fall;

My art was thus a grand illusion
That only led to small confusions;
Making upright men to bend
Their gravity poled at wrong end.

This useless art cast life awry
Confusing earth with the sky;
Causing mechanics to disparage
What was the roof and under-carriage.

Now that my life nears its end,
What did I purpose, did I intend?
To make men stand upon their heads?
There is no up and down when dead.

7: 27 AM
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Friday, November 27,2009
Riff on Elly’s Dot
Category: Writing and Poetry

May I suggest
That you not
Superglue
The lips of Dot;
For fear her nostrils
May get clogged,
And your next write be
A prison blog.
7: 59 AM
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Friday, November 27,2009
The Oaten Bride VII
Category: Writing and Poetry

The liquid spells of the Earth
Are chanted in the dark with mirth;
Naked round the jagged stone
In the moonlight on the loam,
The dancers, silver, sparkling, wet
Make the shadows pirouette;
Leaping, stomping, joy-inspired,
They circle round the fresh fed fires;
And though the night is cold with mist,
They leap with sparks and spin and twist;
Glistening wet with perspiration,
Possessed by songs in celebration;
For by this Rite of Sacrifice,
The village pays the Oat God price;

The Maiden decked in purple flowers,
Awaits the Oat God's swelling power;
For when the shadow of the moon
Cast by Blade Rock in the gloom
Does touch the polished grinding stone,
All will know the time is shown
To pierce her with the Oat Stalk Knife
To bring the Plant God back to life.

The singing mounts in celebration,
The Maiden shows no hesitation;
Honored, feted, filled with pride,
Sacred lays the Oat God's Bride:
A Goddess in the shredded mists,
An oat stalk rope bound round her wrists.
7: 55 AM
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Thursday, November 26,2009
Thanksgiving
Category: Writing and Poetry
From the kitchen window
We can see the stream:
A dappled brook,
A silvered sheen;
The does step slowly
On the lawn
And from the high grass
A woobly fawn;
This house has been so good to us,
Filled wih love and marveled trust;
For here in you
I found my mate,
My one complaint
You came so late;
For you arrived
Late in the Fall,
You almost didn't
Come at all,
But you did come
And I survived,
To my surprise
We both did thrive;
Across the stream,
A cemetary
The prickly thorns
Of matted raspberry;
Some day I know
We'll cross that river,
I hug you now
Though warm, I shiver



7: 26 AM
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Thursday, November 26,2009
La Charite Sur Loire- For Christiane 1963
Category: Writing and Poetry

It was hot and sterile, the streets were dusty;
The sun burned white in the barren square;
Hot water from a pipe was rusty;
The bar man shrugged, he didn't care;
A blond woman in a shawl did scurry;
No children's voices in the cobbled street;
An old man shuffled and tried to hurry;
The white walls reflecting the Summer's heat;
I sat among the empty tables;
A foreigner, not part of village life,
The table rocked, iron legs unstable,
I without a friend or wife;
I decided then I should go home,
And then remembered, I lived alone.
6: 53 AM
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Thursday, November 26,2009
James Madison’s Love Poem to Dolly
Category: Writing and Poetry

In the Congress of the soul,
The arguments take their toll,
Everyone has an opinion,
Each desires to have dominion;
Each and every have their Art,
And risking all be torn apart,
Insist their valid point of view;
What's a person gonna do?
But if we are the voice of many,
In one thing there's no argument, not any,
We all agree without dissention,
Without you there is no 'I' to mention;
For in our nightly Bill of Rights,
We conjoin and see thy light.
6: 50 AM
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Thursday, November 26,2009
Lillian Runs
Category: Writing and Poetry

Lillian runs
Into the breathlessness of night,
Then alits;
A Moravian Jewess
Madly earnest in Bohemia,
The thin chest
Coughing up creativity
As the earrings bangle
And the bangles
Beat about her throat;
All white her young neck
And arched;
Her Gypsy clothes
Frail against her frame,
Her thin-lidded eyes widened with fright,
Her matte of orange hair
Burning red with flame;
Lillian seeking fame,
To be,
To be,
And
To be more famous
Than herself;
She imparts
Her wild streaming thoughts
Then departs;
Fearing defeat,
Running
Out again into the City night streets,
A child in retreat
Running on
Jeweled
Bedroom-slippered
Feet.
6: 47 AM
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Wednesday, November 25,2009
The Pantheon of Gods Looked Down
Category: Writing and Poetry
Even now I am dismayed
The cunning cruelty you displayed
Though this is now a past event
Its mortal sting does not relent;
Robbed of my authority
Sunk alone in misery
I sat a helpless speechless witness
As you taunted my unfitness;
Providing me with hinted clues
(How greatly did this you amuse)
That you transgressed our marriage bands,
I was discounted as a man;
The Pantheon of Gods looked down
In anger with a furrowed frown
And shrewdly turned the joke on you,
For you were betrayed without a clue;
For They a Heaven's Angel sent
To me a man both ill and spent,
And she revived my spark of life,
And we eloped as man and wife;
How odd that your infidelity
Became a writ that set me free,
For I was loyal to my vows,
The Gods saw this with puzzled brow;
And counting on my discretion
Set my course with new direction
And They to Whom I humbly pray
I still give thanks upon this day.
9: 17 AM
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Wednesday, November 25,2009
On Sale This Week: Poems in the Supermarket
Category: Writing and Poetry

Poems by the canteloupes,
The yearning look, the seller's hope,
Offering an eager autograph
To the shoppers as they pass;
'Buy my rants, my art, my craft, '
They look at me as if I'm daft;
They pause to see that Coke's on sale,
The do not see me wan and pale;
Sitting near the plum tomatoes,
Between the chard and red potatoes,
'Sonnets, free verse, epic rhymes, '
Beside the peaches and the limes,
'Special offer, special sale'
Between the spinach and the kale,
'Buy one poem, get one free, '
Puzzled shoppers stare at me;
I'm glad the Manager's Assistant,
Did not insist at my resistence,
To put me by the butcher's stand,
Between the bacon, pork, and ham.
7: 41 AM
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Wednesday, November 25,2009
Riff on Laurel’s Heads Will Roll
Category: Writing and Poetry

It's really a question
Of life science,
On folk lore there is
No self-reliance;
When a person's
Guillotined,
Do they yet live?
To some it seems
They lift their head,
Although from the neck
They're dripping red;
They linger on
And see the mob,
Head held aloft
Or kicked or lobbed;
What did the Queen
Marie Antoinette
Think guillotined
Was she upset
When they held her head
Before the crowd,
Was she regal then
Did she feel proud?
Or did she feel
Quite horrified,
She still could hear
She had not died
The roaring crowd
Heard them cheer
Even though
Cut ear to ear?
To answer this,
They proposed a test
I placed my neck
In the head rest
I'll know the truth
Any second now;
I'm still alive,
Well Holy Cow!
7: 38 AM
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Tuesday, November 24,2009
So You Want to Be a Rock Star
Category: Writing and Poetry
All that glitter
All that stress
All that noise
That hungry press;
All those faces
Those microphones
Those loud EmCees
As they intone;
All those hands
Those tearing claws,
All those scams,
Those snarling jaws;
Those roaring cheers
That shout your name,
Those sudden jeers,
The price of fame..
9: 04 AM
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Tuesday, November 24,2009
Ah, the French; On The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Category: Writing and Poetry

He has his wife
Transmit the call
From his mistress,
She is appalled,
While he lays in
His hospital bed;
She has to repeat
What he said;
Dutifully she leaves
The room,
A loving wife
One assumes,
So she can say
That she can't come
Comme admirable! ;
Quel aplomb!



7: 12 AM
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Tuesday, November 24,2009
Riff on Eusthacia’s Steam Cycle to PJ
Category: Writing and Poetry

That Alaskan bear that she shot
Clearly thinks that's she is not
Some Chinese lantern on the water,
This flying cowgirl, Calamity's daughter;
That she's mad she leaves no doubt,
She twists and turns and moves about
Dropping art like last week's clothes,
She often squats and picks her toes;
I agree she's like a pomegranate,
Filled with seeds of juicy rants;
Unless that fruit is some code word,
Don't ask, don't tell, unless you've heard.
7: 07 AM
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Monday, November 23,2009
What's in a Name
The wings that held you up aloft,
So feathery, so tactile soft,
Bore your weight in updraft swell,
That heat rose from Hinnom's Hell;

Thus as you floated, as you hovered
In circled dance with your lover,
Defying heaven with your weight
You wafted o'er Gehenna's Gate;

Sustained upon it's Hellish fire
Which rose aloft as you gyred;
Little did your lover know
That he was caught in Sheol's tow.

And what began in high romance
As you soared on wings that chanced
Saw you plummet to your Fate
As you plunged down Gehenna's Gate.

10: 06 AM
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Monday, November 23,2009
Riff on Laurel’s Pompeii
Category: Writing and Poetry

What is a city but a mound,
A compilation of many towns,
A base of different soil striations,
Blessed by many poured libations;
A heap of bones, a cemetary,
Burnt cups and scrolls and statuary;
A proof that life has come before;
This too shall pass, and be no more.
9: 34 AM
1 Comments
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Where Are the Loves
Category: Writing and Poetry

Where are the loves of days gone by,
Those lovely faces that made me cry,
Whose beauty, wit, and personality
Reduced my Art to banality?

Where are the loves of yesterday,
Who left me speechless on the day
When first I saw their charming form,
And left me living so forlorn?

Where are the loves of long ago,
Who seized and caught my heart in tow,
Who left me gaping on my knees,
Oh pride where is thy 'Pretty please? '

Time has turned them into hags,
They limp and jerk with shopping bags,
Moving awkward down the street,
Proving time is cruel and sweet.
9: 28 AM
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Monday, November 23,2009
The Loves of Yesteryear
Category: Writing and Poetry

Where are those loves of yesteryear,
Who departed angry, some in fear,
Who found my loving quite deficient,
Not realizing they were insuffucient;
For I loved with ardent heart,
Pledging I would ne'er depart
From my home which was their soul;
Such passion takes a heavy toll;
They shook their head at 'what's-his-name, '
A wild lad, for sure insane,
Who clearly loved above his station,
They left bewildered, in desperation;
Now safe in distance from those years,
They must look back with lessened fears,
And wonder at that handsome lad,
Who loved them so, and now feel sad.
9: 23 AM
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Monday, November 23,2009
Riff on Gehenna's Silence
Category: Writing and Poetry
I write my name,
I stir the sand,
Upon the beach
With just my hand;
A gust of wind,
The seas embrace,
Floods the grains
As I'm erased.
9: 15 AM
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Sunday, November 22,2009
Remembering Debra
Category: Writing and Poetry
You expected much
For your beauty,
Devotion, slavery
A eunuch's duty,
And all for
That patient quest:
To lay my head
Upon your breast;
And there in rapture
Quite profound
To enjoy the freedom
Of that mound;
You look down
And coyly smile
Contemptuous
In your guile;
Whilst I think this
A kind of rape
And silently
Plot my escape.
7: 27 AM
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Sunday, November 22,2009
Riff on Lainey’s The Calling
Category: Writing and Poetry

The drummer boy who died alone
On this forgotten hill,
Bore no name, far from home,
His crying, weak, then shrill;
His uniform, gathered rags,
His boots, a double size,
On his cap, a Yankee flag,
And groaning, here he died;
He wandered wounded from the field
Trying to get home,
The bullet's pain all he could feel,
Lost, his name unknown;
We buried him beside this sprig
Of fragile budding oak
With this stone that we rigged;
His name he never spoke.
7: 10 AM
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Sunday, November 22,2009
The Not Allowed
Category: Writing and Poetry

She self-destructs
And burns her bridges;
What once was sweet,
Is stark and rigid;
She looks down
With pity, sorrow;
But she'll do the same
Upon the morrow.
7: 07 AM
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Sunday, November 22,2009
The East
Category: Writing and Poetry

Oh let us not make a cult of death:
The valiant warrior's smoking breath
In the reeds and bamboo shoots
The circling bird, the discord flute;
Stepping through the tall marsh grass,
His glistening sword about to slash;
Sweat drips from his heavy helmet,
How carefully he weighs each step;
Hunched and stooped in his rice field,
The weathered farmer starts to kneel,
Then he hears the bamboo part,
A sword runs through his beating heart.
7: 03 AM
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Saturday, November 21,2009
Another Dream
Category: Writing and Poetry
I dreamt that he had used my books,
The ones I banned by all to look;
Now my books were passed around;
I couldn't talk or make a sound;
For now I was a case, a reference,
I didn't seem to make a difference;
For I was subject, analyzed,
I saw no deference in their eyes;
All I aroused was jealousy;
That was plain for me to see;
But there I sat, a grinning tool,
Being used like chalk at school;
Used by my grinning mentor;
I didn't like to be the center;
Ignored as I was coolly discussed;
It's hard to find someone to trust.

7: 01 AM
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Saturday, November 21,2009
Dream
Category: Writing and Poetry

The window rattled in the sash,
Violent, the storm blew past;
Shaking house, and frame, and limb
Which made me pause and think of him;
Alexsi climbed out of his hole
Wondering at the weather's toll;
The wheat was down, the barn was rent,
The water tower on one side bent;
The German Panzer's 1st Divsion,
Made a hasty.....
6: 57 AM
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Saturday, November 21,2009
Huang Xiang
Category: Writing and Poetry

I am the silence in the crowd,
The unheard voice that speaks aloud,
The muzzled voice led off to prison,
The mocked voice, the guard's derision;
I am the voice that shouts 'I am.'
The fervent voice born of woman
That claims a rightful place on earth,
A right to sing, condemn and curse,
All of those who would deny my voice;
I am the soul who has no choice;
I paint the walls with my words;
I paint my house to be heard;
I am the demon in the street
Who shouts at Power's Wild Beasts;
I am the poet who dares to sing
Borne on the love of Xiang Ling.
6: 52 AM
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Friday, November 20,2009
Riff on Eusthacia & The Babylonions
Category: Writing and Poetry

'Our future's written in the stars, '
Is just a line in pickup bars;
A boozey line to break the ice,
Fate is just a false device;
We reify the mythical
When love is just statistical;
When you figure out the odds,
It vaporizes all the Gods;
Successful love is one in ten,
An argument to keep on trying.
7: 02 AM
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Friday, November 20,2009
Riff on Lainey’s Regrets
Category: Writing and Poetry

I am expert in regrets,
The unending worlds of might-have beens;
Of sleepless nights of pain and fret
Wherein I reckoned up my sins;
Where I've re-summed my foolish choices,
Where I've reviewed my wasteful past,
Where I've been hounded by the voices
That have rightly taken me to task;
Yet these misteps advanced my journey
That have taken me along to you
That acting as my own attorney
Defends my choices though miscued;
For though I'm chastized by decisions
That hurt my cause in finding you,
Those fruitless bonds and sad divisions
Brought me into to your purview;
In fear of death and black despair,
Each step I take with studied care.
6: 58 AM
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Friday, November 20,2009
My Fear
Category: Writing and Poetry

Let me fade away in sleep,
Be spared that vision as you weep;
Avoid the desperation of your eyes,
For as I die I will deprive;

I'll take from you your girlish smile,
The daily banter of your wiles;
The occupation of your care,
Which I'll repay with cruel despair;

I'd see the anguish in your eyes
As I fall away, a speck, subside,
Feeling powerless to assuage
Your sorrow, you beside my grave;

Death is but a breath away
Which can arrive on any day;
I see your fear in hovering eyes
Without my love will you survive?

Thus daily do I live in fear
That I will simply disappear
And leave you bereft to grieve alone
In what was once our happy home;

I no longer live just for me,
I struggle on to keep you free
Of that grief which I'll bestow
On you my love when forced to go.
6: 53 AM
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Friday, November 20,2009
The Visit
Category: Writing and Poetry
What pleasure it is to watch them grow;
To find them certain of what you know;
To see them shoulder chores alone;
What pleasure it is to find them grown.
6: 33 AM
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Thursday, November 19,2009
As You Approach
Category: Writing and Poetry
As you approach I fade away
I am a shadow at pre-day,
Shimmering in the night obscure
Fragile and so insecure;
Prefigured in the creeping dawn
A startled bird upon the lawn
Who leaps into the forest firs,
A whisp, a ghost, a flight, a blur.
Maine 1996
Category: Writing and Poetry
A place is only for a time.
A happy place, felt sublime,
When beauty, health come together,
Perfect friends, delightful weather;
Such was our cabin up in Maine,
Mr. Berry, his daughter Jane;
Local friends who lived year round
Who welcomed us to their compound;
The children fishing on the lake,
Sun filled days without a break;
We walked the dirt road as we pleased
The trees would shimmer in the breeze;
'Carry me, ' each child would plead,
I'd stagger on with drunken knees,
Which made the children laugh and scream,
Up-raised arms, a smile that beamed;
Now Mr. Berry is long past;
Such perfect times do not last,
Jane found him dead upon his floor,
His famous jokes forgotten lore;
Our cabin porch has rotted boards
Vandals kicked in the front door;
Our possessions picked and rudely looted;
Our right to stay, scorned, refuted;
Happy times do not last,
The good lives on in our past;
As long as memory leaves a trace,
Then time remembered is a place.
6: 28 AM
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Thursday, November 19,2009
Old Age
Category: Writing and Poetry
Time itself does compact
Melding fiction into fact;
What does it matter if its real
When days are shuffled then congeal?
6: 22 AM
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Wednesday, November 18,2009
Mohammed Ali
Category: Writing and Poetry
Once I floated like a bee, no, a butterfly,
Now I stumble as I try to simply shuffle by;
Once I danced up on my toes,
Flickering out my punches,
I side-stepped many mighty blows
And always threw in bunches;
Now I stagger on my feet, and can't get out a word,
How I clammored to be heard
At all those press-time lunches;
The Mafia and those Great White Hopes
Could not defeat my soul,
I foiled them with my ropa-dopes
Though the pounding took its toll;
While age has made a ghost of me,
A quavering shaking hand,
I hardly recognize myself
As I stagger up to stand;
But in my prime I was sublime
A credit to my race,
And through the blows and punches thrown
I've kept a pretty face.


9: 21 AM
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Wednesday, November 18,2009
On 'Tea with Mussolini'
Category: Writing and Poetry
This little kindness saves the world,
A courageous act as madness swirls;
This gentle act of sanity
While evil shames humanity,
Restores my faith in my own kind
When most are cruel and hard and blind.
This kindness forms a human bridge
That carries us from ridge to ridge;
Saving us in times of starkness,
Cold and shaking in the darkness:
A stranger gives a crust of bread,
Although a gun is at her head;
I accept the cruelty of mankind,
But why should a stranger be so kind?
7: 36 AM
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Wednesday, November 18,2009
Riff on Julie’s Moo Shoo Beef
Category: Writing and Poetry


What you'll find is writ below
Are from the journals of one Polo
Written in his travel log,
Is his recipe for Hong Shu dog:
Skin and clean the fresh killed meat,
Marinate in sugar beets;
Sprinkle ginger, salt, and thyme,
(Italians add a dash of wine) :
Place it on a roasting spit,
Stab it so the fat will drip;
Don't forget to baste all sides,
Stuff an onion deep inside;
Serve with garlic and fried rice;
Raise a dog is my advice.
7: 31 AM
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Tuesday, November 17,2009
The Coldenham Disaster
Category: Writing and Poetry
The wall came down
On heads and hands,
Some children stood,
Some children ran;
Trapped by falling cinder blocks
In the rubble golden locks;
Little arms and little legs
Crudely locked and cruelly wedged;
The lunch room wall
Just tumbled down
In a dusty pile and mound;
Innocence died on that day
When the wall began to sway,
A wind not common in those parts
Broke the wall and parents hearts;
Milk boxes and broken trays
Scattered in the screaming fray;
Firemen, teachers, and Police,
Found that childhood could be brief,
Crushed limbs beneath the dusty mound,
Grown men cried and rooted 'round;
God Himself died on that day
When the wall began to sway;
He shattered innocence, He shattered faith,
When He forgot that care-free place..
11: 31 AM
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Tuesday, November 17,2009
Lainey and the Aluminum Siding Martian Salesforce
Category: Writing and Poetry

A silver man knocked on my door,
He was selling something,
I was sure,
He had a big enormous head,
'Hi, I'm from the planet Red;
I was passing through your
Neighborhood
And I noticed
That your house of wood
Badly needed a new paint job, '
At this he seized the brass door knob;
He had scary eyes
Like a raccoon,
Behind him stood a whole platoon,
And behind them piled
Aluminum siding,
Ill-concealed, not really hiding.
I was just about
To let out a scream
When I perchanced to think
This was a dream,
Silver men beneath the moon
With scary eyes
Like a racoon's;
When the Martian on
My front porch stoop
Assisted by his alien troop,
Transported me to the Mother Ship,
Me in my bra and silk half-slip;
I cried and pleaded,
But all in vain,
'At last we found you,
Sweet Elaine! '
Said a voice within my head,
Then I was stretched out
On a bed.
'We intend to make a hybrid race, '
Said a big-eyed alien face,
'A mixture of your lovely form
And our brains, ' he so informed.
I choose to skip the sordid details,
(How I squeezed those aluminum side-rails!)
And before I knew it
There were forty Laineys
Looking sassy and very brainy;
'With these eggs we'll seed the earth,
They'll be a renaisance, a New Re-Birth,
New Leonardos and Michaelangelos,
New Inventions, Diet Jello! '
7: 08 AM
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Monday, November 16,2009
Familiar Eyes in the SuperMarket
Category: Writing and Poetry

While walking in the cereal aisle,
I paused to look at you awhile;
It is not my habit to be impolite
But something roused me at your sight;
In a former early life
Were we friends, (not man and wife) ,
Were we consumed by heated passion,
Dressed in silks with laces fastened;
Did we walk in marble halls,
Hear the echoes of foot falls,
Stealing kisses, ardent rendered,
In the garden did you surrender,
Breaking customed modesty
Did we love imprudently,
That our love did scandalize
So that we both were stigmatized
Which led to my imprisonment
And exiled you in bannishment?
I watched you wheel your cart away,
We pass as strangers, what's there to say?
6: 20 AM
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Monday, November 16,2009
An Old Eskimo Afloat
Category: Writing and Poetry

I am an old Eskimo
Set out on the icy flow;
A hunter who no longer sees,
Squatting numbly on his knees;

My bones are dry, of little meat,
For Father Bear, a minor treat;
I, who speared the Great White Bear,
Return his bounty with this poor share;

I couldn't hold the sewing needle;
I've gown too old and weak and feeble;
My pain denied me sleep at night,
I'd sit before the oil lamp light;

In the igloo, by the wall
I'd sit wherever I could crawl;
No teeth to chew the walrus meat,
Too cold to rub my children's feet;

I saw their looks, they looked away;
A chore, a burden on their day:
A cracked and useless narwhale hook,
Resented for the space I took;

I tried to joke and tell of hunts;
They answered with begrudging grunts;
The children soon ignored my presents;
I lived a ghost for all intents;

All agreed I had to go;
They put me on the early flow;
A little fire set at my feet
To warm me as I fell asleep;

Cracks and groans all about,
A seal sniffed me with his snout;
Had I a club or strength of arm...
He swam away without alarm;

In the fog I wait for death,
The air too cold to take full breath;
I've lived full out my seasoned span;
I see too clear the worth of man.
6: 15 AM
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Sunday, November 15,2009
The Pilgrim Road (54)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Pilgrim Road (54) ....
....
There moved a speck upon the road, 
....
A cart top-heavy with its load, 
....
Followed by a troop of men
....
And there behind a group of women; 
....
On the bench sat the Pilgrim, 
....
Gaunt, and pale and deadly thin; 
....
A resurrection from the grave, 
....
The prisoner that Death had saved; 
....
Beside him sat the woman Ann, 
....
She drove the horse with reins in hand; 
....
And in the cart the little child
....
Who laughed and sang mile after mile.
....


The End
6: 20 AM
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Saturday, November 14,2009
The Pilgrim Road (53)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Empty Land (53) ....
....
A plague of death spread ‘cross the land
....
Consuming woman, child, and man; 
....
God spread the fingers of His hand, 
....
Good and Evil within His span; 
....
The Good were taken unaware, 
....
They rose to Heaven and were spared; 
....
The Evil fell to their surprise, 
....
Despite the pleading in their eyes; 
....
In town and village, no man was seen, 
....
Stately clouds crossed village greens; 
....
Homes stood empty, a land of tombs; 
....
Doors creaked open, silent rooms; 
....
The rooster crowed in the sparkling sun; 
....
Spindles still, the wool not spun; 
....
Horses neighed to unanswered calls, 
....
And stamped their hoofs in unswept stalls; 
....
Sheep complained loudly in their pens, 
....
Geese honked rudely to guinea hens; 
....
The cows stepped slowly in green fields, 
....
The wheat waved freely, no church bell peeled; 
....
The dead lay sprawled everywhere, 
....
Their hopes and dreams beyond mortal care; 
....
A look of astonishment in their eyes, 
....
They did not blink in the buzz of flies.....

....
....
7: 14 AM
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Friday, November 13,2009
The Pilgrim Road (52)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Miracle (52) ....
....
The greedy farmer, Frank Barone
....
Was standing in his barn alone, 
....
When a swelling at his throat, 
....
Made him stumble, gasp, and choke; 
....
He felt a pressure in each arm pit, 
....
Then in his groin which made him sit; 
....
He saw his sacred, most precious blood
....
Drip to the muck and yellow mud; 
....
They found him covered with black sores, 
....
Blood trickling out of every pore; 
....


....
....
Judge Bivona sitting in his bath
....
Saw his skin color with a rash; 
....
It turned him red, then dark brown; 
....
He tried to rise and turn around, 
....
But then sores broke out upon his back, 
....
His arms grew weak and then fell slack; 
....
He tried to call out for his maid, 
....
But his thickened tongue would not obey; 
....
His swollen tongue made him choke, 
....
He tried to rise, but his grip broke; 
....
And falling back into his bath, 
....
There he drowned struggling to the last; ....




....
....
The sun turned red in the West, 
....
Deacon Drian seated at his desk; 
....
He felt a pressure in his groin, 
....
That at first was just annoying; 
....
But then the pressure grew and grew, 
....
He then threw up and as he spewed, 
....
He saw he had splattered specks of blood, 
....
On his papers and his rug; 
....
He staggered to his office door, 
....
Then fell full face upon the floor; 
....
He was a man who lived alone, 
....
'For all my sins I do atone, '
....
He cried out, and as he did, 
....
His eyes rolled lifeless in his head; ....



....
....
Prioress Slobod was at her prayers, 
....
When she saw a strand of hair, 
....
Fall from her forehead to her knees, ....
Then
slowly float within the breeze; 
....
Then she noticed that her hands
....
Were covered with her own hair strands; 
....
She felt an itching in her cowl, 
....
Threw it back with silent howl; 
....
Her hair came off in giant clumps, 
....
As in shearing sheep along the rump; 
....
She grasped her bald and pimpled head; 
....
And then she saw that she had bled; 
....
Blood was running from her nose, 
....
It dripped all over her black robes; 
....
She looked at Jesus, tried to speak, 
....
Then spat out two bloody teeth; 
....
She tried to rise from off her knees, 
....
But as she did she began to wheeze; 
....
Something was stuck within her throat, 
....
Blood and mucous made her choke, 
....
'May God have mercy on my soul, '
....
She grasped the Holy Water bowl; 
....
But then she fell down on her side, 
....
And reaching out, there she died.
....




Father John, son of McGrath
....
Ate heartily and very fast, 
....
His evening meal, his last repast, 
....
Fearing he'd be late for Mass; 
....
He felt a pain within his bowels, 
....
And as it rose he began to howl; 
....
He soiled himself falling to the floor; 
....
Vespers he would say no more.....


....
5: 26 AM
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Friday, November 13,2009
The Roads of Erin (1976)
Category: Writing and Poetry

Oh my heart is softly roaming
Over roads I've left behind
And my eye is filled with longiing
For the long lost friends of time.

I left them lonely standing
On a road that ran unending

Now my heart is sore with yearning
And the pledge within me burning
But the wind it drives before me
On a road of no return
5: 24 AM
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Friday, November 13,2009
The Pantheon
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the pantheon of sad histories
There really are no mysteries,
The gods looks down in misery
Aware of their own frailities.

Their sins sadly repeated
Their faces hang defeated;
Their chastened pride ill-seated
Their triumphs are deleted.
5: 06 AM
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Thursday, November 12,2009
The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past
Category: Writing and Poetry
I was often drawn
To troubled lasses,
To placate them
I oft' skipped classses;
And walked with them
In the quad,
Telling them
Of Marx and God;
I was often charmed
By their querks,
'All men are evil...
All men are jerks! '
I carefully removed
Their shirts,
I had more trouble
With their skirts;
They moved on...,
But I won't disparage,
Their elaborate airs
In tearful marriage;
Oh where are all those
Fierce neurotics
That I found so charming
And exotic.
Sweet Reflection: An Unbalanced View (1974)
Category: Writing and Poetry

Time was ever she'd seek my face;
Our eyes would meet across a sea of bobbing heads;
Now, we studiously avoid each other's gaze,
And greet adjacent friends with loud hellos.

Time was when an idle hour was left to pass,
I would call her on the phone,
Chew on pen, swaying back and forth in my chair
And while away a friendly aftenoon;
Now I sit alone and stare.

Time was when I woke groggy in the dawning light,
I'd seek out her sweet head on her white pillow
And enter her warm glowing arms under a puffy cover,
And sleep the peace known as security;
Now I sleep alone or in the arms of strangers.

Time was a golden head of silk
Was a good reason to breathe,
When sighs were love,
Time was, time was, time was.
8: 29 AM
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Thursday, November 12,2009
Wherein the Poet Joins with His Critics
Category: Writing and Poetry

I've tied my hands,
Clothes-pinned my tongue,
I've reduced my air
To just one lung;
And still I rhyme,
Even in my dreams;
I finished Kubla Kahn
It seems;
I cannot sleep
Without creating Art;
It never stops
When did it start;
My second word
Rhymed with the first;
I've never known
What's called Free Verse;
And now I see
My disease has spread;
It has even infected
Rusilev the Red,
Who can only get
To sleep at night
By repeating words
That I recite.
8: 27 AM
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Thursday, November 12,2009
The Pilgrim Road (51)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Prison (51) ....
....
Two came to the Pilgrim's cell, 
....
They touched their nose at the smell, 
....
For it was dark, and cold, and dank, 
....
And deep within, how it stank; 
....
'We've brought you food, ' said Sister Ruth, 
....
'We sympathize, to tell the truth; 
....
My partner here is one of your band, 
....
She's known to you as Betty Ann; '
....
The Pilgrim's face pressed against the bars, 
....
The candle flame made him see stars, 
....
'The Deacon has postponed your trial; 
....
It seems you'll be here for awhile.'
....
They handed him a bundled cloth, 
....
Around the flame there flew a moth, 
....
'They may keep you here a year; 
....
‘Till you're forgot or disappear.'
....
'And how's the child, ' they heard him ask, 
....
His voice a squeak that had a rasp, 
....
'She's not in a cell like this? '
....
By candle light they saw caked lips; 
....
'With the Warden's wife she stays, 
....
That is as long as she behaves; 
....
They watch her closely like a hawk, 
....
They don't let her sing or even talk; 
....
They fear she'll raise her Devil husband, 
....
That she'll bring sickness on the land; 
....
I pray no cow falls down and dies, 
....
No piglets sicken in their sty; '
....

....
....
And as she spoke she knelt right down, 
....
'Please God no plague infect the town; '
....
Betty Ann stood in the dark, 
....
Lit by the candle's errant spark, 
....
'Here is a blanket for you Pilgrim, '
....
Her face was set, stark, and grim; 
....
He took the blanket through the bars, 
....
She touched his hand with one of hers; 
....
'Blessing for what you have done, 
....
In the name of the Father and the Son, 
....
And the Holy Spirit, I might add, '
....
She withdrew her hand looking sad; 
....
They left him in his black hole cell, 
....
With the rats, the fetid smell, 
....
How hastily he ate his bread, 
....
He felt them scurry at his tread.....
8: 16 AM
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Wednesday, November 11,2009
Apocalypse
Category: Writing and Poetry
Everything just fell apart,
First the motors wouldn't start;
Then all the plasma tvs died,
And then the men began to cry;

The hardest part, no explanation,
The wars began, obliteration;
Was it a virus, a solar flare?
People just seemed not to care;

There were bodies laying in the street,
The fallen were just mongrel meat;
The living just milled about,
Then came the storms, and then the drought;

People sat awaiting death,
Drugs were tried, cocaine and meth,
To put the people back on their feet;
The trash formed dust bowls in the street;

The sun grew hotter in the sky,
The trees turned brown and slowly died;
Fire rained, the seas did rise;
I sadly watched my children die;

I hold them in the chilly dawn,
My tremblind doe, my quaking faun,
All my strength is sucked and drawn,
I'll leave them crying before too long.



10: 10 AM
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Wednesday, November 11,2009
The Pilgrim Road (50)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (50) ....
....
The Deacon spat and then he hissed, 
....
'You show him mercy and see how he resists
....
Your kind appeal to his intellect, 
....
He answers you with disrespect! '
....
The Bishop frowned and then agreed, 
....
'The trial goes on, you’ll not be freed; 
....
I thought we'd make of you a friend, 
....
You know well enough how this will end; 
....
You'll be burnt, auto de fire, 
....
Now please excuse me, I must retire.'
....
The Pilgrim stretched out his hand, 
....
The Bishop stopped as if on command; 
....
'You know the child is not a witch, 
....
Why persecute her, why persist? '
....
The Bishop stroked his golden robes, 
....
And caressed the silk within its folds; 
....
'These things have there own momentum, 
....
There's no way that you can prevent them; 
....
Sometime we need to burn a witch, 
....
You have to scratch when you feel an itch; 
....
It's you who bare the greatest blame, 
....
You defied the Priest, you lit the flame; 
....
I could have saved her from the auto-de-fey, 
....
But you put drama in the way; 
....
Now the Church must defend its position, 
....
It cannot be challenged on Inquisition; 
....
You both shall die and it's a shame; 
....
The Church must protect its Holy Name.'....

....
....
The Pilgrim again held up his hand, 
....
And eyed the Bishop, man to man, 
....
'One more question before you go, 
....
This is a sin you surely know; 
....
You who've studied so deeply Christ, 
....
Show little benefit from His advice.'
....
The Bishop looked him in the eye, 
....
And then let out a heavy sigh; 
....
'The Papacy must protect its power, 
....
It stands a gleaming, shimmering tower
....
Against confusion and chaos, 
....
I would have voted with Caiiphus.'....

6: 39 AM
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Tuesday, November 10,2009
Upon Watching The Taming of the Shrew With My Wife
Category: Writing and Poetry
She offered me her hand
To place beneath my foot
Lest that she a shrew
Be false by me mistook.


10: 14 PM
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Tuesday, November 10,2009
Advice to a Poet
Category: Writing and Poetry
But be less private in your grief
Your Art will provide some relief;
Howl your thoughts like driving rain
And it will wash away the pain;
Fear not the scandal of exposure,
The indifferent world is your enclosure;
Be pure in pain as is your heart,
And it will temper pure your Art..
11: 33 AM
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Tuesday, November 10,2009
1989
Category: Writing and Poetry
It's been twenty years since they gave the order:
Open up the East German Border,
Let those seeking to be free,
Let them escape from tyranny;
And did the world come to an end?
What joy united guard and men;
The guards stood firm and resolute
They all decided not to shoot;
And so along the Berlin wall
The young all partied in the fall,
Chipping, pounding, knocking down
As they sang and danced around;
The leaders all garnered honor,
They did nothing that would them dishonor
Being servents of the State
The were resigned to their fate;
But not so the oppressed Chinese,
They were beaten to their knees;
Shot and trampled by steel tanks
By rural soldiers in the ranks;
Those ruthless leaders still rule today,
They still insist it be their way;
Tianamen Square is not forgot,
Dishonor stains that blood scrubbed spot.
10: 55 AM
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Tuesday, November 10,2009
To My IT Mistress
Category: Writing and Poetry

Ah darling, you fill me with regret;
At my passing you'll get so upset!
We two who've often bantered words.
And reduced our queries to the absurd
Across this electronic track,
Trading quips forth and back;
I being the older of the two,
Your share will be the greater rue;
Now I sit and for you mourn,
For well you'll mourn me when I am gone;
Who will board your dulcid craft
And barb your words with grappling shafts?
Who will play the lovers part
With keyboard touches bestowed in Art?
Oh well loved widow, drive the hearse
To a bar of poets versed
In all the frantic rites of Art
And drown your sorrow with other hearts;
But should you predecease and so decamp
And leave me alone, you faithless scamp,
I promise in the time I've left
To be so hopeless as to welcome death;
But enough, cast off these gloomy thoughts;
Let's enjoy the love that we have sought;
I promise to daily with you converse,
And praise your beauty in timeless verse.
8: 25 AM
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Deanna




aww, thats sweet.... love it much!
faithless scamp *giggles* was fun....

Posted by Deanna on Friday, May 09,2008 - 9: 04 AM
[Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]Lainey




Oh I do not like this talk
I would prefer, with you to walk
Along a wooded park so green
To share your words and all you've seen.
I'd softly ask for you to read
Your favorite poem, verse or creed.
To tell me all your tales of past
Your lifetime stage where you were cast.
To hear your voice, and see your face
A gift of time I would embrace.
Then you would see my smile appear
This moment shared, my love sincere.
I drift within your thoughts in word,
And feed from them, a tame night bird.
Every day that I can share with you
Is my walk in the park, my morning dew.
Each poem written, each offered day
A treasured moment on your path to play.
I admire the beauty on this bench I will rest.
Each day that we walk, my heart has been blessed.


LOVE YOU...
xoxoxo
Elaine

Posted by Lainey on Friday, May 09,2008 - 10: 13 AM
[Reply to this] [Remove] [Block User]David




Imagine then a canoply
Of leaf green limbs, a panoply,
An archway o'er a bulrush path
Where we may stroll and careless, laugh;
Where we may walk and you may chide
Me for those things I wish to hide;
Where I may gently take your hand
Where I may boast of my failed plans
To be a poet of life and whim
And confess to you my chagrin
That the world heard not of me
I who wrote in Innisfree;
And by the shores of Lough Gill,
Where streams do rush and overspill
Into waves of lush clear water
We might sit and gently loiter;
Thus may a poet of failed ambition
Hand to you a First Edition
Of a book that is his last
And recite to you his storied past.

10: 02 AM


Tuesday, November 10,2009
Emily - An Old Poem


Never love a crazy lady;
Crazy lady's reason's lazy;
They hurt you with their lack of logic,
Then try to put you in their pocket;
And their pocket's full of old gum wrappers,
Milk cartoon tops and green frog snappers,
Pea coat buttons and chewed band aids,
Loose thread and wool and old night shades;
And in this jungle of old fish hooks,
One can grow old
And lose one's looks.

So never love a crazy lady;
Crazy lady's vision's hazy;
They hurt you with their want of logic,
They haunt you with their worn out topics;
And loose the vipers of their soul
And cast you in confirming roles;
You grow to fit their weird meant whimsy,
And your self-command waves weak and flimsy;

Emily is such a lady;
Her heart blows fierce but like a baby's;
I followed her on apron strings,
And tried to pacify her with rings,
And beads and earrings and pocket watches,
And hid my fears in closet notches;
Until my reason was driven out;
And that's what this poem is all about.
9: 59 AM
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Tuesday, November 10,2009
The Pilgrim Road (49)
Category: Writing and Poetry


....
The Pilgrim looked at them awhile, ....
And then his lips curled in a smile, 
....
'By the logic to which you ascribe, 
....
I should address you as, 'Grand Rabbi.''


7: 26 AM
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Monday, November 09,2009
The Thinking Man's Nightmare
Category: Writing and Poetry
What precautions the mind does take
To guard itself from its mistakes;
Thirty years have since passed by
And I wake and start to cry;
As if you stood within my room,
A shadow in the dark and gloom,
A cold discerning distant eye
The value of my love denied;
And now I see the madness sent
The random damage of that event
The small betrayal, the wanton flame
That you transgressed but spared to name;
Oh the smallness of your soul,
Your lack of ethics took its toll,
But I wonder in the depth of night
Do you awake and bolt upright
And think of me and your transgression
And mourn aloud in mute confession.
8: 54 AM
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Monday, November 09,2009
The Pilgrim Road (48)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (48) ....
....
'The sin the Church can't abide
....
Is the sin of human pride; 
....
The church requires true submission
....
To participate in God's Holy mission; 
....
'Jesus' human sin was pride, 
....
This from his mortal side derived, 
....
He knew that He'd be crucified, 
....
Yet chose the colt on which to ride; 
....
He should have joined the Sanhedrin
....
And reformed the Temple from within
....
If He found it so defective, 
....
His self-destruction was elective; 
....
So too young man you stand apart
....
From that which is the Church's heart, 
....
Faith in it's timeless institutions, 
....
Obedience is the solution.'....
8: 21 AM
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Sunday, November 08,2009
Laugh Lines
Category: Writing and Poetry
How precious is the time we share
Framed and hallowed by despair,
Not for us the endless horizon,
That death will come is not surprising;
Not for us a world of health
Guarenteed liked bankers wealth;
Not for us those careless days
So fearless that we forget to pray;
I treasure each and every smile
And glory that it lasts awhile;
I marvel at our sudden laughter,
We know the silence of disaster;
I laughed when you layed out my clothes,
The colors even matched my hose,
And walking to the near drugstore
I confessed to you I wasn't sure
That your clothes matched up with mine,
I feared you were a fashion crime,
I in browns and you in reds,
We didn't blend, I shook my head;
You laughed as if we both were young
We forgot the rumbling in our lungs,
I so gay, well-dressed and witty,
You so charming and so pretty;
The laughter didn't long endure,
We were swallowed by pneumatic doors
That opened to the pharmacy
And stilled our truant gaiety.





6: 06 AM
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Sunday, November 08,2009
The Pilgrim Road (47)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (47) ....
....
'But what of Christ's crucifixion? 
....
Our salvation in His resurrection? 
....
Had He not died for our sins, 
....
What state would our poor souls be in? '
....
And here the clever Bishop smiled, 
....
'In Christ we'd all be reconciled, 
....
For by what act can we be purged
....
Of that great sin that mankind urged: 
....
The murder of God's only Son, 
....
Oh had that act not been done! 
....
We killed the rightful Heir to Heaven, 
....
Of He who built the earth in seven; 
....
What fast or act of contrition
....
Can ameliorate that act’s sedition; 
....
How many blows of the whip, 
....
How many prayers murmured by our lips, 
....
Can wash away our awful guilt
....
His Perfect Son, His Blood we spilt.
....
We refused to pay the vineyard rent, 
....
Then killed His Son who God had sent.'....
aturday, November 07,2009
Fort Hood Tragedy 2
As you lay there paralyzed
With movement just within your eyes
Now imprisoned and despised;
Tended by those you've deprived

Each minute long you may reflect
The evil that you've done;
And the Staff called in to chart, inspect,
May not always come...

The sponge that wipes your wounded chest,
Is driven by a hand
That thinks it may be better yet
To violate command;

For you did betray your oath -
To service and protect,
And though many would be surely loath
One lapse could cause your death;

What desperation you must know
Dependent on the Infidel,
Your gratitude you cannot show
In a world of Don't ask, Don't tell.
10: 24 AM
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Saturday, November 07,2009
The Pilgrim Road (46)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (46) ....
....
The Pilgrim stood amazed, aghast, 
....
Was this the man who led the Mass, 
....
Who offered up the blood of Christ
....
In memory of His sacrifice? 
....
'Let me be clear in what you've said, 
....
I stand alarmed in fear and dread, 
....
My eyes and ears ope' amazed
....
I doubt my senses on such days; 
....
Had Jesus submitted to the Priests
....
And been a servant in His own fief, 
....
He might have risen to be Chief, 
....
Not crucified for His beliefs? 
....
Had He not engaged in monologues
....
But risen in the synagogue, 
....
He would've changed our human course, 
....
And we'd have known far less remorse? '
....
The Bishop smiled, 'You get my point, 
....
His only error, He did Self-anoint; 
....
Oh, He had the blessing of wild man John
....
Who roused Herod with false alarm, 
....
A desert rat who lived on locusts, 
....
A man whose mind was out of focus; 
....
A man who had no Authority, 
....
From Temple in his ministry; 
....
Had Jesus been the Chief Rabbi
....
So many Jews would have survived; 
....
The Temple Curtain would've not been rent; 
....
The Roman siege a non-event; 
....

....
....
The Zealots would not have rebelled; 
....
The city's towers would have not been felled; ....
The Jews and Romans reconciled
....
Within His beatific Holy smile; 
....
Jerusalem would stand today
....
And so would Rome, I dare to say! 
....
Caesar would have talked to Christ
....
And benefited from His advice.'....
8: 49 AM
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Saturday, November 07,2009
Clever Girl
Category: Writing and Poetry
You attack me at my one point weak:
My dwindling lack of time;
They're silent, not allowed to speak,
Your swindle is your crime;

Your cunning has to be admired,
You deprive me as you take,
And when I die and have expired
It will be their mistake.
8: 34 AM
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Friday, November 06,2009
Fort Hood Tragedy
Category: Writing and Poetry
What arrogance to take their lives,
To impose one's private hell
On the children, husbands, and the wives
Of the comrades where you dwell;

And all because you couldn't cope
And you a therapist,
Could you not just use a rope
Or bathe and slash your wrist?

But no you had to share your pain
You couldn't die alone;
Good people had to die in vain
To make your crisis known.

8: 17 PM
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Friday, November 06,2009
The Pilgrim Road (45)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (45) ....
....
That very Sunday afternoon....
The Pilgrim was led to a private room, 
....
There stood the Bishop in his golden vestments
....
Having just performed the Sacraments; 
....
'Tell me something of yourself, 
....
What do you seek, power, wealth? 
....
Why do you disturb Holy Mother Church? 
....
Tell me Pilgrim, for what do you search? '
....
He answered standing in tattered clothes, ....
His sandals broken at the toes: ....
“Like Christ I put no faith in possessions, 
....
The pursuit of power is not my obsession, 
....
I simply seek to do the good, 
....
In fellowship and brotherhood.'
....
The Bishop smiled and called him 'Son, 
....
You walk the path as Christ has done; 
....
Commendable, but a pain-filled route, 
....
What He could have done being more astute? 
....
Had He chosen to take the well trod path, 
....
He would have aroused far less wrath; 
....
Had He aimed to become a Temple Priest
....
He might have then assured the peace; 
....
But He chose to preach outside the fold
....
And what was worse, His betters scold; 
....
Had He been more patient and circumspect, 
....
Had He stuck to parables and been less direct, 
....

....
....
He might have risen to be High Priest, 
....
No Last Supper but a Passover feast, 
....
We could've all sat down and joined hands, 
....
Without sacrificing The Son of Man.'....

9: 40 AM
3


Thursday, November 05,2009
Message in a Bottle
Category: Writing and Poetry
Walking on the morning beach
The herons cry, the sea gulls screech,
In the graying light of dawn
I come upon a sandy form;
....
And reaching down I almost toddle,
Grasping it, it is a bottle,
Caked with sea weed and with sand,
It feels so cold within my hand;
....
I brush the sand off the green glass,
I almost drop it from my grasp;
But seeing there’s a note within,
I am intrigued by such a whim;
....
I work the cork to pull it out,
It’s glued within the tapered spout,
I hold the bottle by the stock
And smash it on a sea side rock;
....
I lift the paper from the shards,
And open it, it is a card;
It’s damp with algae and sea stained,
It bears a cry, “Forsake not Elaine.”
....
For who on what isle so remote
Would send this vague and desperate note;
To whom there’d be such chanced appeal;
Above the sea gulls cry and wheel;

For who on what isle so remote
Would use a bottle as a boat
To whom there'd be such chanced appeal;
Above the sea gulls cry and wheel'
....
From what sandy strand or distant cove
Did she cast this cry to move,
An urgent call from out the heart,
But where to find her, where to start?
....
And so I’m on the internet,
As a path a better bet;
To find the soul far out of reach,
Whose cry I found upon the beach.
10: 31 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
Night Bird
Category: Writing and Poetry

Nightly she sings
This bird of fire
Deep within the park,
Her warbled song
Of fierce desire
A spark within the dark;
A song of urgent majesty
The lilt of coming tragedy;
Nightly she sings
Her heart exposed
As if her breast
Had burst enclosed;
Her song a clarion in the night
That breaks upon the coming light;
So mad and wicked in her passion,
Her honesty, odd, and out of fashion;
It pierces hearts grown hard with age,
The barred look upward in their cage;
This howling music of the senses
Indifferent to its consequences,
Stirs the weary mind to wake
Condemning sleep, to still, partake.
9: 52 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
The Old Priest
Category: Writing and Poetry

Kindness has no earthly pension;
They shake your hand with hesitation;
(Who is this fool who gave so much,
Lacking carfare for the bus?)
They watch you limping, off you go,
Then its back to business, rightly so;
They reset their minds to accumulation,
Not for them such humiliation:
A cup of tea by poor-stoked coals;
An army blanket full of holes;
A hard backed chair in a drafty room,
And silent prayers youll be taken soon.
9: 48 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
You, the Object of My Art
Category: Writing and Poetry

You, the object of my art,
Laugh at praise from out my heart;
Call me crazy, a fool obsessed
When I tell you how, with you, I'm blessed.

My love, herself, thus does disprize
The beauty I hold in my eyes;
The aching wonder that I feel
Is painted common, called unreal.

By artless grace, you tantalize,
To so disgrace that which I prize;
You augment as you mesmerize
The beauty that your lips deny.
9: 47 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
The Pilgrim Road (44)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Sacristy (44) ....
....
The Bishop Judge was much displeased, 
....
'A canker sore, a vile disease, 
....
Can broadly spread its foul infection, 
....
If we don’t act at it’s first detection; 
....
The body of Our Holy Mother, 
....
The Virgin Sisters, the Holy Brothers, 
....
Will wear the badge of pestilence
....
If we don't act in their defense; 
....
A demon horde stands at our gates....
With beating swords, their lust to sate, ....
With catapults and battering rams, 
....
The pagan dead, the living damned, 
....
To invade the precincts of our city, 
....
To rape and rob, devoid of pity, 
....
To overthrow all law and order
....
To sow the seeds of gross disorder; 
....
They'll hold aloft upon their pikes
....
The ciborium and the pyx; 
....
They'll pry the jewels from the chalice, 
....
With greedy eyes intent on malice; 
....
They'll defile the Consecrated Host, 
....
With Holy Wine they'll drink and boast; 
....
They'll celebrate their pagan rites
....
On the sacred altar of Jesus Christ! 
....
Anarchy will rudely reign, 
....
All our work will be in vain, 
....
Every garden over-grown, 
....
With wanton weeds, disorder sown! '....


....
....
The astounded Deacon looked askance
....
As the Judge raged on in his rant
....
For he felt this burden weight
....
Lay on his shoulders, confounding Fate.....
9: 37 AM
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Wednesday, November 04,2009
On Julie’s Latest Rejection Letter
Category: Writing and Poetry

I must have no mind at all;
You a poet on whom I call
Daily in my peregrinations
In comfort and high expectations;
And you do not disappoint!
My aesthetics must be out of joint;
Surely I must be lacking wit
To marvel after every visit;
My sense of humor must be bent
To laugh at what you do invent;
Your dry wit, so droll, so sardonic;
That guy must need a high colonic.
6: 25 AM
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Tuesday, November 03,2009
The Espionage of Everyday Life
Category: Writing and Poetry
I do not tell them what I know,
My grave discomfort do not show;
I ignore the hurt of their reports,
I do not answer or retort;
But I urge them on to blasphemy
The life-styles of my enemies,
Betraying as they do beguile,
Dismayed while all I do is smile;
And thus I see the totality,
The byproduct of mixed loyalities,
And so maintain my fragile ties
With those besieged by sordid lies.

10: 11 AM
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Tuesday, November 03,2009
The Consolation of Poetry
Category: Writing and Poetry
In my prison,
My padded lair,
In solitary
With my despair,
I write upon
The yellowed page,
Conscious of
A Coming Age;

Resigned to my
Daily defeat,
Shackled
Hourly growing weak,
There'll come a time
When I cannot speak,
Yet I'm not resigned
To my defeat;

For I've put myself
In a book,
Where future friends
May come and look;
And marvel at
My wit and pain,
They'll steal a peak,
My heirs to gain.

And then my heirs
Will be befuddled,
My fame will put
Then in a muddle:
To claim the profits
Of my name
Will test the limits
Of their shame.


9: 38 AM
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Tuesday, November 03,2009
The Pilgrim Road (43)
Examining the Witness (43) ....
....
The laughter echoed down the pews, 
....
A raucous laugh as in the stews, 
....
For this audience knew well the witness, 
....
Their laughter registered his fitness; 
....
He was the farmer who's land adjoined, 
....
The child's parents, now purloined, 
....
For if the charge of witchcraft stuck, 
....
The Court's enjoinder would be struck; 
....
He was a wild and burly man, 
....
Huge of girth, his hands like hams
....
Of florid face, protruding teeth, 
....
A vulgar man of intemperate speech; 
....
As Farmer Brown was sworn in, 
....
He cursed the girl and all her kin, 
....
The Deacon smiled at this report
....
And reminded him he was in Court; 
....
'She's a witch, the Judas pig, 
....
I saw her dance the Devil's jig, 
....
I heard her curse a cross of sheaves, 
....
Held upside down, by Your Lord's leave.
....
I heard her mumble foreign words
....
Words of the Mass, mixed up, disturbed; 
....
I saw her mix mare's milk with wine
....
And mark my cattle seven times.' 
....
The Deacon smiled and asked no more, 
....
He motioned the Pilgrim to take the floor; 
....
The farmer bellowed and stuck out his chin, 
....
'I'll have no truck with the likes of him! 
....

....
....
He's of the cohort of the beast! 
....
A Devil worshipper, at the very least.'
....
The Pilgrim smiled and bowed his head, 
....
'Do you see horns upon my head? 
....
Perhaps I should remove my hose
....
So you can see my heel and toes? 
....
But of this, really, no matter
....
I see the golden calf would grow fatter, 
....
I'm informed that you're a Latin scholar, 
....
A Docent at the collegium Colmar
....
'Qui invidet minor est*
....
I'm surely you're likely to attest.
....
At this the farmer began to sweat, 
....
He wrung his hands and looked upset, 
....
He began to shout, spewing phlegm
....
The Pilgrim said, compesce mentem**
....
The Deacon rose, 'This is absurd, 
....
It doesn't mean he knows every word, 
....
It's best to say he recognizes Latin, 
....
He sat down again with satisfaction; 
....
The Pilgrim circled round the farmer, 
....
He smiled at him like a snake charmer, 
....
'What you heard, did it sound like this? 
....
‘Je suis un homme des ivresse.’'
....
'Yes, ' said the farmer with uncertain frown; 
....
It was very like that … a swishy sound; '
....
'Very good, I am impressed, '
....
Said the Pilgrim to the witness.
....
'Backward Latin, did it have this refrain? 
....
‘Je suis mal homme, un vrai vilain.’'
....

....
....
'Yes, yes, that's what it seemed, '
....
Said the farmer, his face agleam; 
....
'Very good, ' said Zechariah, 
....
'And heard you the girl in smoke and fire
....
Say, ‘Monsignor, Je suis menteur! ’
....
Did it sound like that, are you sure? '
....
'Yes, ' said the farmer, growing bolder, 
....
Smiling now, as he rolled his shoulders, 
....
His face flushed from his excess, 
....
Please with himself at his success.
....
The Pilgrim turned round to face the bench, 
....
'Then by Brown, the witness, the Devil's French! '....
....
7: 24 AM
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Monday, November 02,2009
The Legacy
Category: Writing and Poetry
Can the sum of all experience
Be all for naught, mere dalliance
To which no wisdom does accrue
To educate in its review?

A waste of time, all mere indulgence
No value to my children hence,
A wild parade of vain pretense,
A sojourn of no consequence?

Yet I record my acts, my whims,
Retell my course and trace my sins
In hope the record of my routs
Will spark some questions and raise some doubts.
aturday, November 07,2009
Fort Hood Tragedy 2
As you lay there paralyzed
With movement just within your eyes
Now imprisoned and despised;
Tended by those you've deprived

Each minute long you may reflect
The evil that you've done;
And the Staff called in to chart, inspect,
May not always come...

The sponge that wipes your wounded chest,
Is driven by a hand
That thinks it may be better yet
To violate command;

For you did betray your oath -
To service and protect,
And though many would be surely loath
One lapse could cause your death;

What desperation you must know
Dependent on the Infidel,
Your gratitude you cannot show
In a world of Don't ask, Don't tell.
10: 24 AM
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Saturday, November 07,2009
The Pilgrim Road (46)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (46) ....
....
The Pilgrim stood amazed, aghast, 
....
Was this the man who led the Mass, 
....
Who offered up the blood of Christ
....
In memory of His sacrifice? 
....
'Let me be clear in what you've said, 
....
I stand alarmed in fear and dread, 
....
My eyes and ears ope' amazed
....
I doubt my senses on such days; 
....
Had Jesus submitted to the Priests
....
And been a servant in His own fief, 
....
He might have risen to be Chief, 
....
Not crucified for His beliefs? 
....
Had He not engaged in monologues
....
But risen in the synagogue, 
....
He would've changed our human course, 
....
And we'd have known far less remorse? '
....
The Bishop smiled, 'You get my point, 
....
His only error, He did Self-anoint; 
....
Oh, He had the blessing of wild man John
....
Who roused Herod with false alarm, 
....
A desert rat who lived on locusts, 
....
A man whose mind was out of focus; 
....
A man who had no Authority, 
....
From Temple in his ministry; 
....
Had Jesus been the Chief Rabbi
....
So many Jews would have survived; 
....
The Temple Curtain would've not been rent; 
....
The Roman siege a non-event; 
....

....
....
The Zealots would not have rebelled; 
....
The city's towers would have not been felled; ....
The Jews and Romans reconciled
....
Within His beatific Holy smile; 
....
Jerusalem would stand today
....
And so would Rome, I dare to say! 
....
Caesar would have talked to Christ
....
And benefited from His advice.'....
8: 49 AM
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Saturday, November 07,2009
Clever Girl
Category: Writing and Poetry
You attack me at my one point weak:
My dwindling lack of time;
They're silent, not allowed to speak,
Your swindle is your crime;

Your cunning has to be admired,
You deprive me as you take,
And when I die and have expired
It will be their mistake.
8: 34 AM
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Friday, November 06,2009
Fort Hood Tragedy
Category: Writing and Poetry
What arrogance to take their lives,
To impose one's private hell
On the children, husbands, and the wives
Of the comrades where you dwell;

And all because you couldn't cope
And you a therapist,
Could you not just use a rope
Or bathe and slash your wrist?

But no you had to share your pain
You couldn't die alone;
Good people had to die in vain
To make your crisis known.

8: 17 PM
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Friday, November 06,2009
The Pilgrim Road (45)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Vestry (45) ....
....
That very Sunday afternoon....
The Pilgrim was led to a private room, 
....
There stood the Bishop in his golden vestments
....
Having just performed the Sacraments; 
....
'Tell me something of yourself, 
....
What do you seek, power, wealth? 
....
Why do you disturb Holy Mother Church? 
....
Tell me Pilgrim, for what do you search? '
....
He answered standing in tattered clothes, ....
His sandals broken at the toes: ....
“Like Christ I put no faith in possessions, 
....
The pursuit of power is not my obsession, 
....
I simply seek to do the good, 
....
In fellowship and brotherhood.'
....
The Bishop smiled and called him 'Son, 
....
You walk the path as Christ has done; 
....
Commendable, but a pain-filled route, 
....
What He could have done being more astute? 
....
Had He chosen to take the well trod path, 
....
He would have aroused far less wrath; 
....
Had He aimed to become a Temple Priest
....
He might have then assured the peace; 
....
But He chose to preach outside the fold
....
And what was worse, His betters scold; 
....
Had He been more patient and circumspect, 
....
Had He stuck to parables and been less direct, 
....

....
....
He might have risen to be High Priest, 
....
No Last Supper but a Passover feast, 
....
We could've all sat down and joined hands, 
....
Without sacrificing The Son of Man.'....

9: 40 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
Message in a Bottle
Category: Writing and Poetry
Walking on the morning beach
The herons cry, the sea gulls screech,
In the graying light of dawn
I come upon a sandy form;
....
And reaching down I almost toddle,
Grasping it, it is a bottle,
Caked with sea weed and with sand,
It feels so cold within my hand;
....
I brush the sand off the green glass,
I almost drop it from my grasp;
But seeing there’s a note within,
I am intrigued by such a whim;
....
I work the cork to pull it out,
It’s glued within the tapered spout,
I hold the bottle by the stock
And smash it on a sea side rock;
....
I lift the paper from the shards,
And open it, it is a card;
It’s damp with algae and sea stained,
It bears a cry, “Forsake not Elaine.”
....
For who on what isle so remote
Would send this vague and desperate note;
To whom there’d be such chanced appeal;
Above the sea gulls cry and wheel;

For who on what isle so remote
Would use a bottle as a boat
To whom there'd be such chanced appeal;
Above the sea gulls cry and wheel'
....
From what sandy strand or distant cove
Did she cast this cry to move,
An urgent call from out the heart,
But where to find her, where to start?
....
And so I’m on the internet,
As a path a better bet;
To find the soul far out of reach,
Whose cry I found upon the beach.
10: 31 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
Night Bird
Category: Writing and Poetry

Nightly she sings
This bird of fire
Deep within the park,
Her warbled song
Of fierce desire
A spark within the dark;
A song of urgent majesty
The lilt of coming tragedy;
Nightly she sings
Her heart exposed
As if her breast
Had burst enclosed;
Her song a clarion in the night
That breaks upon the coming light;
So mad and wicked in her passion,
Her honesty, odd, and out of fashion;
It pierces hearts grown hard with age,
The barred look upward in their cage;
This howling music of the senses
Indifferent to its consequences,
Stirs the weary mind to wake
Condemning sleep, to still, partake.
9: 52 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
The Old Priest
Category: Writing and Poetry

Kindness has no earthly pension;
They shake your hand with hesitation;
(Who is this fool who gave so much,
Lacking carfare for the bus?)
They watch you limping, off you go,
Then its back to business, rightly so;
They reset their minds to accumulation,
Not for them such humiliation:
A cup of tea by poor-stoked coals;
An army blanket full of holes;
A hard backed chair in a drafty room,
And silent prayers youll be taken soon.
9: 48 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
You, the Object of My Art
Category: Writing and Poetry

You, the object of my art,
Laugh at praise from out my heart;
Call me crazy, a fool obsessed
When I tell you how, with you, I'm blessed.

My love, herself, thus does disprize
The beauty I hold in my eyes;
The aching wonder that I feel
Is painted common, called unreal.

By artless grace, you tantalize,
To so disgrace that which I prize;
You augment as you mesmerize
The beauty that your lips deny.
9: 47 AM
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Thursday, November 05,2009
The Pilgrim Road (44)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Sacristy (44) ....
....
The Bishop Judge was much displeased, 
....
'A canker sore, a vile disease, 
....
Can broadly spread its foul infection, 
....
If we don’t act at it’s first detection; 
....
The body of Our Holy Mother, 
....
The Virgin Sisters, the Holy Brothers, 
....
Will wear the badge of pestilence
....
If we don't act in their defense; 
....
A demon horde stands at our gates....
With beating swords, their lust to sate, ....
With catapults and battering rams, 
....
The pagan dead, the living damned, 
....
To invade the precincts of our city, 
....
To rape and rob, devoid of pity, 
....
To overthrow all law and order
....
To sow the seeds of gross disorder; 
....
They'll hold aloft upon their pikes
....
The ciborium and the pyx; 
....
They'll pry the jewels from the chalice, 
....
With greedy eyes intent on malice; 
....
They'll defile the Consecrated Host, 
....
With Holy Wine they'll drink and boast; 
....
They'll celebrate their pagan rites
....
On the sacred altar of Jesus Christ! 
....
Anarchy will rudely reign, 
....
All our work will be in vain, 
....
Every garden over-grown, 
....
With wanton weeds, disorder sown! '....


....
....
The astounded Deacon looked askance
....
As the Judge raged on in his rant
....
For he felt this burden weight
....
Lay on his shoulders, confounding Fate.....
9: 37 AM
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Wednesday, November 04,2009
On Julie’s Latest Rejection Letter
Category: Writing and Poetry

I must have no mind at all;
You a poet on whom I call
Daily in my peregrinations
In comfort and high expectations;
And you do not disappoint!
My aesthetics must be out of joint;
Surely I must be lacking wit
To marvel after every visit;
My sense of humor must be bent
To laugh at what you do invent;
Your dry wit, so droll, so sardonic;
That guy must need a high colonic.
6: 25 AM
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Tuesday, November 03,2009
The Espionage of Everyday Life
Category: Writing and Poetry
I do not tell them what I know,
My grave discomfort do not show;
I ignore the hurt of their reports,
I do not answer or retort;
But I urge them on to blasphemy
The life-styles of my enemies,
Betraying as they do beguile,
Dismayed while all I do is smile;
And thus I see the totality,
The byproduct of mixed loyalities,
And so maintain my fragile ties
With those besieged by sordid lies.

10: 11 AM
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Tuesday, November 03,2009
The Consolation of Poetry
Category: Writing and Poetry
In my prison,
My padded lair,
In solitary
With my despair,
I write upon
The yellowed page,
Conscious of
A Coming Age;

Resigned to my
Daily defeat,
Shackled
Hourly growing weak,
There'll come a time
When I cannot speak,
Yet I'm not resigned
To my defeat;

For I've put myself
In a book,
Where future friends
May come and look;
And marvel at
My wit and pain,
They'll steal a peak,
My heirs to gain.

And then my heirs
Will be befuddled,
My fame will put
Then in a muddle:
To claim the profits
Of my name
Will test the limits
Of their shame.


9: 38 AM
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Tuesday, November 03,2009
The Pilgrim Road (43)
Examining the Witness (43) ....
....
The laughter echoed down the pews, 
....
A raucous laugh as in the stews, 
....
For this audience knew well the witness, 
....
Their laughter registered his fitness; 
....
He was the farmer who's land adjoined, 
....
The child's parents, now purloined, 
....
For if the charge of witchcraft stuck, 
....
The Court's enjoinder would be struck; 
....
He was a wild and burly man, 
....
Huge of girth, his hands like hams
....
Of florid face, protruding teeth, 
....
A vulgar man of intemperate speech; 
....
As Farmer Brown was sworn in, 
....
He cursed the girl and all her kin, 
....
The Deacon smiled at this report
....
And reminded him he was in Court; 
....
'She's a witch, the Judas pig, 
....
I saw her dance the Devil's jig, 
....
I heard her curse a cross of sheaves, 
....
Held upside down, by Your Lord's leave.
....
I heard her mumble foreign words
....
Words of the Mass, mixed up, disturbed; 
....
I saw her mix mare's milk with wine
....
And mark my cattle seven times.' 
....
The Deacon smiled and asked no more, 
....
He motioned the Pilgrim to take the floor; 
....
The farmer bellowed and stuck out his chin, 
....
'I'll have no truck with the likes of him! 
....

....
....
He's of the cohort of the beast! 
....
A Devil worshipper, at the very least.'
....
The Pilgrim smiled and bowed his head, 
....
'Do you see horns upon my head? 
....
Perhaps I should remove my hose
....
So you can see my heel and toes? 
....
But of this, really, no matter
....
I see the golden calf would grow fatter, 
....
I'm informed that you're a Latin scholar, 
....
A Docent at the collegium Colmar
....
'Qui invidet minor est*
....
I'm surely you're likely to attest.
....
At this the farmer began to sweat, 
....
He wrung his hands and looked upset, 
....
He began to shout, spewing phlegm
....
The Pilgrim said, compesce mentem**
....
The Deacon rose, 'This is absurd, 
....
It doesn't mean he knows every word, 
....
It's best to say he recognizes Latin, 
....
He sat down again with satisfaction; 
....
The Pilgrim circled round the farmer, 
....
He smiled at him like a snake charmer, 
....
'What you heard, did it sound like this? 
....
‘Je suis un homme des ivresse.’'
....
'Yes, ' said the farmer with uncertain frown; 
....
It was very like that … a swishy sound; '
....
'Very good, I am impressed, '
....
Said the Pilgrim to the witness.
....
'Backward Latin, did it have this refrain? 
....
‘Je suis mal homme, un vrai vilain.’'
....

....
....
'Yes, yes, that's what it seemed, '
....
Said the farmer, his face agleam; 
....
'Very good, ' said Zechariah, 
....
'And heard you the girl in smoke and fire
....
Say, ‘Monsignor, Je suis menteur! ’
....
Did it sound like that, are you sure? '
....
'Yes, ' said the farmer, growing bolder, 
....
Smiling now, as he rolled his shoulders, 
....
His face flushed from his excess, 
....
Please with himself at his success.
....
The Pilgrim turned round to face the bench, 
....
'Then by Brown, the witness, the Devil's French! '....
....
7: 24 AM
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Monday, November 02,2009
The Legacy
Category: Writing and Poetry
Can the sum of all experience
Be all for naught, mere dalliance
To which no wisdom does accrue
To educate in its review?

A waste of time, all mere indulgence
No value to my children hence,
A wild parade of vain pretense,
A sojourn of no consequence?

Yet I record my acts, my whims,
Retell my course and trace my sins
In hope the record of my routs
Will spark some questions and raise some doubts.
Monday, November 02,2009
The Pilgrim Road (42)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Trial (42) ....
....
And so the Pilgrim and the child
....
Stood co-defendants at the trial, 
....
He waved to her which made her smile
....
A breech of courtly Canon style; 
....
The Deacon rose and looked with scorn
....
At the defendants and he warned
....
That people of surrounding lands
....
Will be alarmed at what was planned; 
....
'Be not misled by her girlish look, 
....
Innocence can easily be mistook
....
For what looks to you as a child
....
Is a demon laughing all the while; 
....
She was seen drawing pentagrams, 
....
Using the blood of fresh-killed lambs
....
She dripped gore at the five points
....
Which mocks the wounds that we anoint; 
....
In the darkest time of night
....
She was observed by candle light
....
To utter chants and wave her arms
....
(The Court room stirred in some alarm) 
....
Pronouncing Latin in reverse
....
To cast her spells and lay her curse; 
....
Then from the star scratched dirty floor
....
Came a clank from a trap door
....
And rose a yellow smoking glow
....
That arced red sparks in its flow, 
....
Which blazed with light and sudden heat, 
....
Then rose the beast with cloven feet; 
....

....
....
Brown and dark with straggled hair
....
A bull like face, a red-eyed stare, 
....
His snarling teeth, bright fangs from Hell, 
....
And from the mist a sulfurous smell; 
....
He growled, and stretched, and finally roared, 
....
Then bent the child upon the floor
....
And there he sated his foul lust, 
....
And as he rammed the child did thrust; 
....
Yes, good Christians, be not deceived, 
....
She’s not the innocent you perceive, 
....
This is the mate of Anti-Christ, 
....
Who spawned with him until first light.'
....
Stunned and silent sat the Court, 
....
The Deacon handed up his report; 
....
The Judge looked sullen and quite grave, 
....
A woman howled and several prayed; 
....
Until the Pilgrim rose at last, 
....
And then gave off a monstrous laugh, 
....
'Who is this witness so well versed
....
That he knows Latin spoke in reverse! '....
....
9: 14 AM
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Sunday, November 01,2009
Searching For Love in the Sugar Bowl Luncheonette
Category: Writing and Poetry
T'is where I spent my wayward youth
Laughing in a ruby booth;
Seeking wisdom from fresh strangers
Careless of the endless dangers;
For it stood at the crossroads;
Where students dropped their text-book loads
On the long formica benches
To stare at all the coated wenches,
And to eat some eggs with french fries,
I lingered like a German spy;
T'is where I met so many girls,
Self invited to their world;
More than once was broken-hearted;
It seemed over as soon as I started;
For love is just a rebel's choice,
It speaks as it must with tri-part voice:
The voice of the father and the mother,
And with the dulcid voice of lover;
But the mother's voice wins in the end,
My enemies were once my friends;
It seems I easily offend;
They were as constant as the wind.
I stood up, shouldered my knapsack;
I left without once looking back;
I myself stayed much too long;
All I got were these few songs;
Which no one bothers now to read,
Yet in the work my self was freed
To wander life's eternal roads
Until I found my loves abode;
If you go try the Greek salad,
It's truly worth a Pindar ballad;
I lived there on Cokes and fries,
It fills you up, I can testify.
7: 33 AM
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Sunday, November 01,2009
The Pilgrim Road (41)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Preparing the Witness (41) ....
....
The Deacon spoke to the waif, 
....
'In body we know that you are chaste, 
....
But admit that you've had sinful thoughts
....
With vengeful feelings you are wroth, 
....
And if you do you'll soon discover
....
That we'll unite you with your mother, 
....
Mother and child will be restored
....
You cannot cut the sylvan cord; 
....
When I ask you, were you disturbed
....
By a neighbor or his herd, 
....
If you answer quickly 'yes, '
....
It will bring such happiness; 
....
If you say you married Satan
....
Without the least bit hesitation, 
....
Why that very afternoon, 
....
You'll be back in bed in your own room.'
....
'But that would be a sinful lie, '
....
And here the girl began to cry.....
5: 50 AM
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Saturday, October 31,2009
In Defense of Indolence
Category: Writing and Poetry
In this work-a-world
It's hard to convince
The virtues of
Limp indolence;
But I have known
Such pleasured hours
As engineers
In high spun towers;
To lay upon
My unmade bed,
To cast aside
A book I've read,
To dream and doze
Upon the covers
The world I've chose
Lays undiscovered;
For ambition leads
To many labors
To obligations,
To returning favors,
While I while-away
The listless day
And follow thoughts
As they stray.
6: 15 AM
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Saturday, October 31,2009
The Pilgrim Road (40)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Ex Parte (40) ....
....
The Deacon smiled at Zechariah
....
Though in his eyes there burned such fire; 
....
'It such a small, a minor concession
....
That's remedied by contrite confession; '
....
And as he spoke he licked his lips, 
....
Then he rubbed his finger tips, 
....
“Well, I really don't have all day; 
....
As to my proposal, what do you say? '
....
The Pilgrim smiled then in his turn, 
....
'When will Evil ever learn, 
....
It is by slow degrees we burn.”
....
The Deacon looked annoyed and stern; ....
“You want me to confess a lie
....
Upon Our Savior who chose to die
....
Then admit He was the Son of God
....
To those on whom His neck would trod? 
....
Against the Spirit you commit sedition, 
....
As the Church you forget your mission: 
....
To husband to the good in men, 
....
Not foster rot, decay, and sin.'
....
The Deacon looked on him with scorn, 
....
'You dare to lecture one high born? 
....
What are you, but a vagrant, 
....
Without a pulpit and unlearnt; 
....
You dare to teach morals to me, 
....
An Officer of the Holy See? 
....
God pre-anoints those who've risen, '
....
The Deacon sneered with such derision.....
5: 57 AM
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Friday, October 30,2009
Riff on Halloween Spider Queen's Masquerade Ball
Category: Writing and Poetry
Excuse me for my over-learning,
But it's not wise to admit 'my loins are burning'
To a lady in a mask
Unless you pay her for the task;
The wiser and the more astute
Approach the glittering prostitute
With a more discreet inquire,
'What do you cost? Are you for hire? '
Or, 'Are you looking for a date?
What do you charge? ' And 'What's your rate? '
The working woman who works for coins
Is alarmed to hear of 'burning loins.'
It's best to put her at her ease
And deny you have a social disease.



7: 13 PM
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Friday, October 30,2009
A Poet's Fable
Category: Writing and Poetry
'So you're a poet, ' said Donald Trump,
He gave my back a pound, a thump,
'Is that why they gave you this good table?
Look! It doesn't rock, it's nice and stable.
This table's mine, ' he continued,
A man of wealth and beefy sinew,
'This table is reserved for me.
They know I tip quite generously.
The restaurant even bares my name;
The hotel signifies my fame;
But they showed you to my special place
Where I can watch each famous face
Stuff their mouths with Haute Cuisine,
Look where I'm sitting in this magazine.
You see you're sitting in my spot,
What's a poet, what's he got?
And yet that smarmy Maitre D,
Gave you preference over me;
Look at your watch, it is a Timex;
How long it's been since you've had sex?
And your clothes they look a bit thread bare,
But the Maitre'D didn't care;
You see he's crouching out of sight;
I'll fire his ass for sure tonight;
And all because you wrote some lines
That sometimes does and doesn't rhyme;
You know I've got a billion dollars;
And you got ring around the collar;
And you're sitting with my wife!
Who carves your steak with fork and knife;
And look how she smiles and stares at you!
Melania Knause, I'm done with you.
Do you have the cash to pay this meal?
Mr. Poet, Mr. No Big Deal.
Well you know what pal, the meals on me;
Just include my name in your poetry.'






10: 54 AM
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Friday, October 30,2009
Thinking of Keats (Pronounced Kits)
Category: Writing and Poetry
When my Art surges in lapse and fits
Barren of theme yet urging a line,
I pause to remind myself of Keats,
His brief spark murmuring soul divine;

Unknown, unpraised for what was his obsession
To transcribe his teeming brain of rhyming thoughts
Unrecognized in what was his true profession,
His valiant works rejected and unbought;

I further pause to dream and brief reflect
What is my reward for all my labor?
The flurry of the regard that I detect
How few my readers who briefly savor;

But how good is Art launched to seek a name?
How good is Art to earn a living wage?
I cast my words not for living fame
But in hope of writing one immortal page.





9: 31 AM
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Friday, October 30,2009
The Pilgrim Road (39)
Category: Writing and Poetry
A Compromise (39) ....
....
The Judge looked pensive at the sky, 
....
He checked his plants, they all seemed dry; 
....
He blessed his plants in Gesthemane, 
....
And asked his aide to pray for rain.
....
'And by the way, by and by, 
....
Here's one thing else you should try: 
....
Lets ask them both to make a deal, 
....
Once they confess, there's no Appeal; 
....
Let them confess to 'lack of faith, '
....
A venial sin in the waif; 
....
As to the Pilgrim, an act of contrition, 
....
We'll send him on a Holy Mission: 
....
Far away, a distant span, 
....
We'll send him to the Holy Land
....
To do penance at Ste. Catherine's Shrine, 
....
That will take him quite some time; 
....
A doubter bears a heavy load
....
And may get lost along the road; ... 
....
You'd prefer to break him on her wheel; 
....
Confession and there's no Appeal! '
7: 20 AM
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Thursday, October 29,2009
Rosemary
Category: Writing and Poetry
Weave a crown of rosemary
And place it on your head,
And the man who's fancy free
Will be the one you've wed.
9: 11 AM
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Thursday, October 29,2009
The Pilgrim Road (38)
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the Garden of Gethsemane (38) ....
....
'I propose we merge their trials, '
....
The Deacon said with leering guile, 
....
'They know not enough not to speak, 
....
The Pilgrim has a martyr's streak; 
....
We'll say that both of them connive
....
To blasphemy and to deny
....
The Divinity of Jesus Christ; '
....
Said the Judge, 'That's sage advice.'
....
They continued down the garden path, 
....
They watched two sparrows at their bath, 
....
On a fluted ancient stone, 
....
Splashing as if all alone; 
....
'Should we have the Pilgrim stripped, 
....
Flogged and beaten with a whip, 
....
Lashed and scourged, beaten down, 
....
Then paraded through the town? '
....
'You'd make him walk 'The Path of Sorrows? '
....
We'll think of this on the morrow, 
....
Let's not make of him a Christian martyr, 
....
He has his bent and foolish ardor; 
....
Let them ascend their own bonfire
....
By their own efforts as we desire; 
....
Let their quest for martyrdom
....
Proceed as if it naturally come.'....
8: 07 AM
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Wednesday, October 28,2009
The Pilgrim Road (37)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Case Conference (37) ....
....
'I liken it to Gethsemane, ' 
....
Said the Judge in the lane; ....

'My garden is my only sin, 
....
Be so good as to walk within.'
....
With the Deacon, he walked about, 
....
In measured steps, he was quite stout, 
....
Pausing at his favorite flowers, 
....
Noting their medicinal powers.
....
'The asphodelus is for regret, 
....
The pheasant's eye helps me forget, 
....
The rosemary gives me healing balm
....
The virginica helps keep me calm.
....
'I'm afraid to say your case is weak, 
....
I didn't think the girl would speak, 
....
Who would have thought this little peasant
....
Would have been so charming and so pleasant? 
....
The arum vulgare gives you strength, '
....
And here the churchman paused at length, 
....
'Let's not let this thing get out of hand, 
....
Involve the Archbishop or Metropolitan; 
....
We want the proof to be plain as day, 
....
They should convict themselves by what they say; 
....
Really I'm surprised at you, 
....
Confounded by these bumpkins, too! '....
8: 32 AM
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Tuesday, October 27,2009
An Irish Halloween
Category: Writing and Poetry
Father Kelly, grim of face,
Called these children,
'A disgrace,
They fornicate
On Holy Ground,
While we Martyrs
Stand around;
They hide behind
The graveyard wall,
While the steers
Come
To our calls,
Here upon this
Sacred Isle,
They fornicate
And defile;
Have children
No longer fear of ghosts?
This an act
Of which they'll boast,
When they recall
Their sojourn,
A thousand years,
Man hasn't learned.'':

Said Father Thomas,
'They're like the Norse,
Vulgar, rude, UnGodly
Coarse,
We tried to hide
In beehive huts,
But they stabbed
Mid stones,
And poked and cut;
They dragged us out,
To steal our chains,
They laughed and smashed
Our weathered brains,
And all for want
Of silver crosses,
Attacking us
Cost them no losses;
What did they lose
But their souls,
May they burn in Hell
Fierce as the cold.'

Said Brother Andrew,
'Such sacrilege!
May they be bit
By fly and midge;
They writhe and sin
Upon our stones,
We who sought
A world alone.
We who sought
To sing our prayers
Far from men,
World unaware,
We're now a well plowed
Tourist spot;
They roist on us,
We are forgot.'

In shimmering air grieved Bishop Tyrone,
A man of brine and icy bones;
They seemed to favor his head stone;
They harmonized disparate moans;
'The living may think this quite diverting,
But I find this most disconcerting;
The Devil rides within the flesh;
Purge me with sea-salt and air that's fresh; '
(He was famous for his cold salt baths,
But the sea did not dilute his wrath) ,
'They beseam my bed with fetid musk;
They befoul my plot with oozing lust;
They crack my stone with surge and thrust;
They spawn upon my virgin dust.'

Said Brother Otly
To Brother Seamus,
'Ordinarily,
I'm not so squeamish,
'But the sight of naked
Coupling flesh,
Distracts my eye
I must confess;
Call in the cows, '
He called quite hotly,
To the ghost
Known as Otly,
'Call in the cows
And make them groan;
Block out their thrusting
And their moans;
I need peace
And isolation;
They can't atone
Tthis desecretion.'

The cows did howl
The steers did groan;
They stopped
Their rutting
On the stones;
The lad looked up
And dismounted,
The girl looked round
As she counted,
A herd of steers
With fierce long horns,
Bellowed wildly
With fulsome scorn;
Hastily they donned
Their clothes,
Feeling naked
And exposed;
They felt ired spirits
In the air;
They heard their screams
Of wild despair;
And picking up
Their camping packs,
They ran to the beach
As if attacked,
And hailed a passing
Fishing boat
That neared that island
So remote;
And left the Spirits
Of the Monastery
To pray to God
On that sad promentory.


9: 33 AM
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Tuesday, October 27,2009
Doing More With Less
Category: Writing and Poetry
Each day brings
This fatal chore:
Surviving in duress
As if less was more;
Each day I stand
On this human shore
And do more with less,
As if less was more.

Like a hungry urchin
Upon the street,
I bundle up
And stamp my feet;
Knowing urban life
Is cold and raw;
I have my knife,
It's jungle law.
5: 52 AM
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Tuesday, October 27,2009
The Pilgrim Road (36)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Reasoning with Satan (36) ....
....
The little girl stood mute, confused, 
....
The Deacon suspected this a ruse, 
....
'I'll say it so you understand, 
....
Was Jesus Christ a God or man? '
....
'Jesus Christ was once a was, '
....
In the Courtroom there was a buzz, 
....
'Now Jesus Christ is an is, 
....
He died so that we all may live.'
....
The Deacon shook his mocking head, 
....
'So now you say that Christ is dead! '....
'Oh, you just told a dirty lie, 
....
May Jesus strike you from the sky! '
....
The courtroom tittered with muted laughter, 
....
Some looked up into the rafters, 
....
'The Devil's power is to beguile, 
....
She answers not as a child; 
....
She answers with a subtle mind; 
....
Beware the Devil lurks behind; 
....
She has the power to bewitch; 
....
Ipso facto she is a witch.'
....
The Judge looked down and began to fidget, 
....
'Do you say this ipsit dixit? 
....
For if you do I’m not convinced; ....
The child just speaks mere commonsense.'
Monday, October 26,2009


The Snows of Yesteryear
Category: Writing and Poetry
Where are all off my poetry wives
On whose fame and talent I sweetly thrive?
Where is Laurel, my wild mountain bride,
Hair of sorrel, strong in her stride;
Where is PJ, who once shot a bear?
She's gone on the net and won't reappear;
Where is Anna, a beauty at dusk,
Smelling of passion, dark-hearted with lust;
Where is Julia, sardonic in pain,
Whose goodness of heart she hides with disdain?
But for faithful Deanna and sweet faced Elaine,
I'd live as a Monk in poetic refrain.




8: 48 AM
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Monday, October 26,2009
The Pilgrim Road (35)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Interview with Satan (35) ....
....
The prosecutor was not dismayed, 
....
He knew many tricks in his trade, 
....
He was a man, she was a child, 
....
Innocence is no match for guile; 
....
He gave his lower lip a tug, 
....
And asked, 'Is your savior Beezulbub? 
....
Or do you worship him as Satan? 
....
Answer Demon, we all are waiting.'
....
'I don't know them, ' said the child, 
....
Who looked at the Deacon with a smile, 
....
'You have a funny froggy face: '
....
Laughter broke throughout the place; 
....
'Then who is your Savior, Demon Child? '
....
The Deacon asked, being riled; 
....
'My Lord and Savior is Jesus Christ, 
....
And for my sins He gave His life...'
....
'And what are your sins? ' asked the Deacon, 
....
Interrupting as she was speaking; 
....
'I pulled my sisters Maggie's hair 
....
When she refused to give me my full share
....
Of the apple tart Momma baked, 
....
I pray my soul the Lord to take.'
....
The Deacon hissed, his soul irate, ....
He raised his voice, his voice did shake, ....
'Come, come, foul Demon, confess your crime; 
....
Was God half-human or half-divine; 
....
Did Jesus who died on the cross
....
Feel the pain of human loss, 
....
Or was His flesh but of the Spirit? 
....
Give us your wisdom, we do not fear it.'....

....
7: 18 AM
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Sunday, October 25,2009
The Pilgrim Road ((34)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Doctoring the Evidence (34) ....
....
The Deacon had paid the prison guard
....
To sing a song while in the yard, 
....
A silly song that made no sense
....
That he hoped would have a consequence; 
....
The Deacon had conveyed the words
....
Through a monk which made a third; 
....
But the prison guard had a garbled voice, 
....
This was the Deacon's song of choice: 
....
....
'Mary was the Devil's Dam
....
The Devil's Dam, the Devil's Dam, 
....
Mary was the Devil's Dam, 
....
She blessed his cloven toe.'
....
....
But the song the Deacon tried to foist
....
Was twisted in the garbled voice: ....
....
'Mary had a little lamb, 
....
Little lamb, little lamb, ....
Mary had a little lamb, 
....
His fleece was white as snow.'
....
....
And so when the child was asked to sing, 
....
That was the child's sweet offering.....
5: 16 AM
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Saturday, October 24,2009
The Pilgrim Road (33)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Trial Tactics (33) ....
....
The prosecutor, with cunning guile, 
....
Thought to first convict the child, 
....
For once convicted of witchcraft
....
She’d stoke the mob to fiery wrath; 
....
And the Pilgrim in defending her
....
Against his name would incur a slur
....
For an surely a confirmed heretic
....
By defending her, would himself convict; 
....
And so the child was brought to trial
....
She was dressed in rags, dank and vile; 
....
Her hair uncombed, her face besmudged, 
....
She looked up frightened at the Judge; 
....
The Deacon warned her not to lie, 
....
If she lied she would surely die; 
....
God would send the lightening down, 
....
And burn her, he said with a frown; 
....
The little girl began to cry, 
....
The Deacon warned her not to lie, 
....
And then asked her to sing a song
....
For the Judge and gathered throng;
5: 00 AM
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Friday, October 23,2009
The Pilgrim Road (32)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The New Venue (32) ....
....
And so the village streamed to town
....
How quickly word had spread around, 
....
Formal Charges were writ and brought
....
In the Ecclesiastic Court
....
Against the Pilgrim and the child
....
Who were put in prison until the trial.
....
A dour Deacon of the Court
....
Drew up the charges in a report, 
....
A man of cunning legalese
....
Feared throughout the Diocese; 
....
He was a small and ugly man, 
....
Frog-like faced, who spoke deadpan, 
....
Grim of feature with insinuations, 
....
Lurid in his presentations; 
....
The Bishop himself would adjudicate
....
And render verdict and their fate, 
....
An expert in Church Canon Law
....
A man of wise and subtle saws; 
....
From miles around they streamed to town, 
....
A vacant room could not be found; 
....
The farmer left his ox and plough, 
....
The boatman left his river trow; 
....
Eager to see the great bon-fire
....
That would burn the witch and Zechariah.....
6: 26 AM
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Thursday, October 22,2009
The Pilgrim Road (31)
Category: Writing and Poetry
....
Jurisdiction (31) ....
....
There arose a murmur in the crowd, 
....
An argument that grew more loud; 
....
Then out-stepped the old Prioress, 
....
To contain the spreading group unrest; 
....
She cried, 'Send the child to the Bishop, '
....
And then a smile deformed her lips, 
....
'And put this man under arrest, 
....
He's a heretic, Satan blessed; 
....
Put them both under guard.'
....
A silence fell across the yard; 
....
'Try them both for apostasy
....
Before the Bishop, then we'll see, 
....
Who speaks in the name of Christ, 
....
Who’s God's Ordained or Anti-Christ.' 
....
A silence fell across the crowd, 
....
The Pilgrim stood up straight and proud, 
....
'Like He who shouldered His True Cross, ....
I shoulder her, ' and here he tossed....
The little girl upon his back
....
And walked through the gate not looking back.....

5: 55 AM
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Thursday, October 22,2009
The Pilgrim Road (30)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Zechariah Rebukes the Priest (30) ....
....
'I did not say that I was Christ, 
....
To say that's not exactly right; 
....
The Eucharist gives us each a portion, 
....
Let there be no vile distortion; 
....
In all of us is Jesus Christ, 
....
The Roman who had rolled the dice, 
....
The thief who's place Our Jesus took, 
....
His faithless friends whom Him forsook; 
....
The leaders of the Second Temple, 
....
The leper, Pharisee, the simple, 
....
The blind, the wise, the Doubting Thomas; 
....
Peter who failed to keep his promise; 
....
In all of us is Jesus Christ
....
We bless ourselves not once but thrice, 
....
Proclaiming in His Holy Name
....
That we are One and just the same; 
....
You accuse this child of witchcraft, 
....
Then put your charges in a draft, 
....
Then send them to the Diocese, 
....
And let us see if they agree.....
5: 54 AM
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Wednesday, October 21,2009
The Pilgrim Road (29)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Second Confrontation (29) ....
....
The Priest appeared, out of breath, 
....
A stain of sweat suffused his vest, 
....
'You again! Release that witch! 
....
Or I'l impose an interdict; 
....
I'll forbid to you the Sacraments
....
If you interfere in these events! '
....
The Pilgrim smiled, the Priest perspired, 
....
The child clung to young Zechariah, 
....
He set down the child who held his hand, 
....
'No words can sever God and man.
....
Forbid not the child to come to me.'
....
Sneered the Priest, 'That's blasphemy! '....
6: 05 AM
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Tuesday, October 20,2009
The Pilgrim Road (28)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Prison Break (28) ....

....
The little girl turned pale than white, 
....
She struck the Priest with all her might, 
....
He tried to grab her little hands, 
....
She ducked their fanning and then she ran; 
....
And pushing left, she was out the door, 
....
She darted right as he roared, 
....
He called the Nuns to 'Stop that child! '
....
Some Nuns stood still, some Nuns smiled; 
....
Around the corner, down the stairs, 
....
She ran as if pursued by bears, 
....
By foxes and by wild boars, 
....
She saw sunlight streaming through a door; 
....
And as she ran she screamed and screamed, 
....
“The man was cruel, the woman mean; ”
....
She crossed the yard to find the gate, 
....
A Nun tripped her with a rake; 
....
Hands reached down to pull her up, 
....
She bit and pulled just like a pup; 
....
And just when she could not struggle more, 
....
The man who saved her the day before, 
....
Lifted her up off the ground, 
....
And smiled at her and looked around.....
5: 49 AM
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Monday, October 19,2009
The Pilgrim Road (27)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Priest’s Exhortation (27) ....
....
'Confess, confess, ' said the Priest, 
....
'You are possessed by The Beast, 
....
You are the bride of Wicked Baal, 
....
You live to tantalize, enthrall; 
....
I've seen you lying in my bed, 
....
Your naked form above my head, 
....
Floating in the fetid air, 
....
I've seen you drape your sparkling hair; 
....
A lure to turn mens mind to lust, 
....
I've seen you waiver and you thrust, 
....
Enticing men to pollute and sin, 
....
I've seen you mock and laugh at him; 
....
You bring death and pointless strife, 
....
Oh Evil Spawn, Oh Satan's wife, 
....
You are Lilith with her talon claws, 
....
The Souls of men lay in your maws; 
....
At night you hunt, you stalk, connive
....
To turn men from their Christian lives; 
....
You smile and grind your lustful hips, 
....
You grab and squeeze your milkless breasts, 
....
So men will squirm and have no rest; 
....
By the flayed skin of Bartholomew, 
....
I call you out, be done with you!
9: 14 AM
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Sunday, October 18,2009
The Pilgrim Road (26)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Investigation (26) ....

....
The little child woke at dawn
....
And asked the Prioress, 'Where my Mom? '
....
The Prioress sprinkled salt and thyme
....
Around the child with Holy Wine; 
....
The Prioress asked her, 'What is your name? '
....
The child answered just the same; 
....
'My name is Lily, like the flower, 
....
I'm made of water, yeast, and flour; 
....
Mama says I'm like baked bread, 
....
I rise alive with sleepy head.'
....
The Priest squeezed in the tiny cell, 
....
Said, 'You have another name as well; 
....
Lilith is your other name, 
....
Confess it and repent your shame; 
....
At night you are an evil wind, 
....
The screech owl heralds where you've been, 
....
You bring sickness to children in their bed; 
....
Asmodeus is your husband wed.'
....
The child laughed and said, 'You're dumb, 
....
I'm not married, I'm too young; 
....
Little girls can't get married; '
....
'Confess your sins, ' the old Priest parried; 
....
Tears came to the young child's eyes, 
....
They streaked her cheeks as she cried, 
....
'I just want to go back home; 
....
I want my Mommy, leave me alone.'....
10: 49 AM
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Sunday, October 18,2009
The Pilgrim Road (25)
Sister Mary Ruth’s Morning Prayer 
(25) ....
....
'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, 
....
Protect me from this sleeping child
....
Who lies suspected in my bed
....
Of witchcraft, being Satan bred; 
....
God protect me from her Black Arts, 
....
Bind not my hair with Astaroth's, 
....
Let not his demons seize my Soul
....
And cast me down to dark Sheol; 
....
Let not Aamon bite beneath my skin, 
....
Pollute not my flesh with lust and sin; 
....
Bar Pruslas from my tiny cell, 
....
Let innocence and love here dwell; 
....
If Barbatos infects her tongue, 
....
Let in the night no demon come
....
To confuse my dreams and turn me wild
....
To turn my head and so beguile
....
That I like a Viking I wanton sack
....
In the name of Rashaverak; 
....
Gentle Jesus, this is my prayer, 
....
If she's the Devil, my Soul be spared.'....
10: 47 AM
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Sunday, October 18,2009
The Pilgrim Road (24)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Dark Justice (24) ....
....
They come within the mask of night
....
To maximize the sense of fright, 
....
To hide the face of what they've done, 
....
To terrorize, conceal, and stun; 
....
The child was taken while asleep, 
....
The parents told not to speak, 
....
Bundled off within the dark
....
Before the query of the lark
....
Their little act a fait accompli 
....
'You must be tried to be set free......'
10: 44 AM
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Friday, October 16,2009
To My Roselyn
Category: Writing and Poetry
In the blast of your sweet love,
I am singed but cannot move;
Your radiance streams from above,
Yet my state does not improve;

And yet I keenly sense with wonder
Your intent to cheer my mind;
Though illness may dull love's quick thunder,
I glory that you are so kind.


12: 20 PM
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Friday, October 16,2009
The Pilgrim Road (23)
Ann’s Tale (Cont’d) (23)
That pitch black morning so long ago
As I sat carted, jostled slow,
I thanked the Lord for my new life,
I watched the Convent slip from sight;
But the Mummer Chieftain was a knave,
He treated me just like a slave,
I was his mule, his wife, his chore,
I knew little then what lay in store;
We moved around from town to town,
He juggled and he played the clown,
To prove my worth I was passed around,
One night they raped me on the ground;
I was starved and I was beaten,
They fed me leftovers after they had eaten;
Dried turnips and boiled cabbage cores,
I was knocked about and beaten sore;
In one thing was my saving grace,
My baby's smile, his little face;
They swore that they would kill him sure
If I didn't smile and act the whore;
Finally, in a great big city,
I found a Priest who showed me pity,
He agreed to find for him a home;
It broke my heart to leave him alone;
But what else then could I do?
They were a wild and dirty, ruthless crew;
I saw them murder, rob, and steal,
They honed their knives on Satan's wheel;
I told them that the baby died,
They didn't care that I had lied;
They were tired of his yelps and his cries,
They'd have slit his throat by Eastertide;
I moved with them from town to town,
In every town I looked around;
For a face that showed some kindness;
I settled on one that looked mindless;
He wanted a woman to work his farm;
He agreed to keep me safe from harm;
He bought me from the band of thieves;
I watched them leave with such relief;
Their little wagons moved down the road,
I turned to look at my new abode;
It was a hut, a thatched roof shack,
I turned from the road, I did not look back;
I lived the scorn of his family,
I was a slave, that's how they used me;
I worked from early, early morn,
I was their ox, their sheep unshorn;
Finally the old man up and died,
But then I found that I was tied,
To the land the old man owned;
The son worked me to the bone;
One day I just up and walked away;
How long I walked I couldn't say;
I walked through village, town, and city;
Glad I was no longer pretty;
There were years of filth and sweat and grime,
Muddy huts and low-life crime;
Once I was whipped at a market fair
For stealing an apple they couldn't spare;
The years rolled on and on and on,
I worked and begged from farm to farm,
One day I joined this Pilgrim's group,
My bones are old, my back is stooped;
And here we are chatting again,
How long its been I can't say when,
Twenty summers have scorched my face,
Twenty winters have left their trace;
I look at you and see my folly;
You look as when we played with dollies;
You'll laugh to hear that I met D'Artagnan,
The faithless lover, my soul's companion;
A soldier who had lost his legs,
Set out on the road to sing and beg;
I was determined to pass him by,
But as I passed I began to cry;
He said he didn't remember me,
He had lost both legs below the knee:
I had him join our Pilgrim band;
Still he claims he was not the man;
But once when I was washing his old torn clothes,
I found his name sewn in his hose.'
Friday, October 16,2009
The Pilgrim Road (22)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Ann’s Tale (22)

Sister Ruth slipped out of doors
When she had finished her kitchen chores,
To the chickens she fed bread crumbs,
Until the barn door she had come;
There she espied her old friend Ann
Eating oat cakes from a dented pan;
She signaled her to come outside
Where the two of them might safely hide,
To hear the tale of her life story
And relieve her of her current worry;
They sat inside the old goat pen,
Sister Ruth and her old friend;
Ann sat across from Sister Ruth
And saw her face still bloomed with youth;
It was as if the goodness of her life
Had protected her from lines of strife;
For in her smile her goodness showed,
And in her eyes her sweetness glowed;
Her teeth were even and pearly white,
While Ann's few teeth were black as night;
'I'm sorry that we never said goodbye,
After you left, I cried and cried;
Oh Ann, I see life's been hard on you;
What hardships has life put you through? '
7: 21 AM
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Thursday, October 15,2009
The Pilgrim Road (21)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Priest Before the Altar (21)

The Priest stood solemn and long did linger
At the reliquary of St. Boniface's finger,
Encased in silver and in gold,
Concealed behind a curtain fold;
He crossed himself before the altar,
And opened up his ancient psalter,
And reading it, intoned a hymn,
He sang the verses of Te Deum;
Long ago he had lost his Latin,
A subject of dissatisfaction,
And though he no longer knew its meaning,
He sang the verses with wondrous feeling;
High above him, upon His Rood
Stood a statue of painted wood,
The writhing statue of Jesus Christ,
As He paid His mortal price;
'God give me strength, by these gray hairs,
To perform my office without despair,
Give me the wisdom of Winfrid,
That I not be into Evil led;
May I be tireless as he in tasks,
May I be loyal to all You ask,
In the name of Christ and Church Holy Mother,
There is not one without the other.'
5: 26 AM
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Thursday, October 15,2009
The Pilgrim Road (20)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Pre-Dawn Sermon By the Fire (20)

The Pilgrim Chief named Zechariah,
Held a candle to the fire,
And these are the words that he said,
I repeat them often in my head:
'So is this flame to the fire,
So is your Soul to Our Sire,
You Soul is small, a little flame,
Yet it casts light all the same;
When you walk within the yard,
Beneath the sunlight of Our God,
Know your Soul, that little flame,
Though obscured reflects His name;
For when the darkness assumes the world,
When His Flame is cupped and curled,
In the darkness your Soul burns bright
To guide you when He's out of sight;
Protect your Soul, your living flame,
That pale reflection of His Name;
For Evil is like a wild windstorm
It rips the air, it whips all forms,
It tests the candle of your Soul,
Burnt wicks are smoke in dark Sheol;
Protect the wick, protect the taper,
From Our Savior never waiver;
Thus may your flame join to His Light
In Eternal Glory within His Sight.'
5: 23 AM
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Thursday, October 15,2009
The Pilgrim Road (19)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Sister Mary Ruth’s Morning Prayer (19)

Sister Ruth woke in her cell
What time it was she could not tell
Was it time for Morning Prayer?
She heard no hymns mount from the stairs;
She slipped from her hardwood bed
Fell to her knees and bowed her head,
'Gracious Jesus, Lord of Light,
Be forever in my sight,
May your Spirit be my Guide
Ever ready at my side;
Let your Mercy be My Torch
My inspiration, my vital Source,
For without You in the Universe,
Man's a beast and surely cursed;
May this day bring plenitude
Goodness, Kindness, certitude,
May each hour of this day
Inspire my faith, my fears allay,
May I be worthy of the price
The Lord, Our Father's sacrifice
His only Son on earth here born,
Crowned Our King with Bloody Thorns;
In obedience to His Cause,
I submit my Soul with all its flaws.'
5: 19 AM
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Wednesday, October 14,2009
The Pilgrim Road (18)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Reflections in the Heat of the Day....
....
In the sunny mid-day afternoon, 
....
The heat so strong it made you swoon, 
....
It came in waves across the hills, 
....
The yards stood empty, the cattle still; 
....
It rippled across the valley low, 
....
The air did shimmer in the glow; 
....
The trees stood limp in pastures green
....
The colors pale in a fuzzy sheen; 
....
The pilgrims sat beneath an elm
....
Silent in their heated realm
....
Content they had their bellies fed, 
....
Glad of him, their man who led; 
....
The Priest looked out his window pane
....
And searched the sky for signs of rain; 
....
But not a cloud did trace the sky, 
....
No bird took wing to swoop or fly; 
....
The Prioress stood looking grim
....
Behind the Priest, her back to him, 
....
'Who is this man, this vagabond, 
....
What right had he to release her bonds, 
....
To usurp your place, your authority? 
....
What right had he to set her free? 
....
She was brought to you to judge, 
....
But you stood there, you didn't budge, 
....
You allowed this man to false proclaim
....
T’was he who spoke in Jesus' name; 
....
You must act, you must be strong, 
....
To undo this error, to refute this wrong; 
....
The girl set free must be tried, 
....
To find the truth, to see who lied.
....
Without order and authority
....
Our lives are ruled by anarchy, 
....
Every upstart becomes a Prince, 
....
There are no laws, just shrill license.'
8: 20 AM
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Wednesday, October 14,2009
My Old Beech
Category: Writing and Poetry
Its swollen limbs
Beyond my reach,
This elephant,
My mighty beech;
Its mottled trunk
Has pitted bores,
My hooded monk
Diseased with spores;
Its grey thick bark
Has hollow spots,
A fungus marks
Its fatal rot;
It peers at me,
An ogre's eye;
'I die slowly,
But I die.'
5: 47 AM
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Tuesday, October 13,2009
The Pilgrim Road (17)
Every Day Life (17) ....
....
They stood around the grey stone tubs
....
The younger Nuns assigned to scrub
....
The soiled clothes of the Order
....
Washing with the hard grey water; ....
The sun rose brightly in the sky, 
....
Burning hotly with its eye, 
....
They pounded, twisted, and as they wrung
....
They laughed and whispered, hymns were sung; 
....
In the kitchen they baked the bread
....
And marveled at what the Pilgrim said, 
....
'He is so young to be so wise; '
....
'Use more yeast, ' a Nun advised; 
....
The Nuns bent weeding in the fields
....
Some carried baskets, too old to kneel; 
....
Some milked the cows within their stalls, 
....
Some replaced the stones that fell from walls.
....
Some swept the dirt from the cells, 
....
Some carried water from the wells, 
....
The Priest rehearsed his sermon text, 
....
The Prioress walked round to inspect; 
....
When came the hour to stop and pray
....
All agreed that on that day, 
....
Something wondrous had occurred, 
....
Only the Prioress had demurred.....
9: 07 AM
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Monday, October 12,2009
The Pilgrim Road
Category: Writing and Poetry
Every Day Life (16) ....
They stood around the grey stone tubs
....
The younger Nuns assigned to scrub
....
The soiled clothes of the Order
....
Washing with the hard grey water; ....
The sun rose brightly in the sky, 
....
Burning hotly with its eye, 
....
They pounded, twisted, and as they wrung
....
They laughed and whispered, hymns were sung; 
....
In the kitchen they baked the bread
....
And marveled at what the Pilgrim said, 
....
'He is so young to be so wise; '
....
'Use more yeast, ' a Nun advised; 
....
The Nuns bent weeding in the fields
....
Some carried baskets, too old to kneel; 
....
Some milked the cows within their stalls, 
....
Some replaced the stones that fell from walls.
....
Some swept the dirt from the cells, 
....
Some carried water from the wells, 
....
The Priest rehearsed his sermon text, 
....
The Prioress walked round to inspect; 
....
When came the hour to stop and pray
....
All agreed that on that day, 
....
Something wondrous had occurred, 
....
Only the Prioress had demurred.....

7: 06 AM
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Monday, October 12,2009
The Pilgrim Road
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Miracle (15)
....
The Pilgrim Chief moved through the crowd....
His head held high, his eye was proud, 
....
nd as he moved, he spoke these words, 
....
His voice made strong so he was heard; 
....
'Look at the Satan in your hearts, 
....
Cast him out, make him depart; 
....
Your sins are truly magnified
....
By your wrath and foolish pride; 
....
You cast about to point at sins, 
....
I say the evil lies within; ....
You cruelty and brutish style
....
Reflects your acts against this child.'
....
At that he stooped and untied her wrists, 
....
The churl moved forward to resist, 
....
The Pilgrim Chief upturned his head, 
....
The churl stepped back in fear to tread; 
....
He gathered her unto his arms, 
....
She grabbed his neck now safe from harm, 
....
A frail old woman at the back
....
Now pressed forward through the pack; 
....
The girl leaped to her mother’s arms, 
....
'Go back, go back into your farms, ”....
The Pilgrim said and raised his arms, ....
“And pray to Jesus on this day, 
....
For you’ve have one less sin to pay.'
7: 01 AM
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Sunday, October 11,2009
The Pilgrim Road
Category: Writing and Poetry
Satan’s Daughter....
’The crowd milled round and round the Priest
....
They threw the rag doll at his feet, 
....
In truth it was a little child, 
....
Her wrist were tied, her eyes were wild; 
....
A burly man hung over the Priest
....
Sweat running down his florid cheeks, 
....
A local farmer, Barone by name, 
....
His blouse was wet and was mud stained; 
....
'Here is the cause the crops have failed, 
....
Why the milk runs sour in the pail, 
....
Why the grapes have rotted on the vine, 
....
Why the calves have died at birthing time.'
....
The Priest looked down at the girl, 
....
Who had grasped his feet, and clinging, curled; 
....
She looked up at him with frightened eyes, 
....
The crowd around them buzzed like flies; 
....
'We caught her at her Satan Arts, 
....
She is a fiend with Evil heart, 
....
The little songs that she rehearses
....
Are filled with spells and deadly curses, 
....
To make our cows udders dry
....
That makes our sheep and goats to die, 
....
She withers the crops in the field, 
....
Here is the cause of our low yields.'....
....
8: 00 AM
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Sunday, October 11,2009
The Pilgrim Road
Category: Writing and Poetry
A Pounding at the Gate....
There rose a drumming at the gate, 
....
Importunate, the sound of Fate; 
....
It caused a stirring in the yard, 
....
They checked the gate, the gate still bared; 
....
There were wailing cries and shouts without, 
....
The frightened Nuns rushed all about, 
....
Uncertain of a course of action, 
....
They divided into separate factions; ....
Some feared to open up the door, 
....
Hands went to faces, still unsure, 
....
Some searched about to find the Priest, 
....
The Prioress at the very least; 
....
The Priest arrived looking peeved, 
....
'Are we attacked by Viking thieves, '
....
He stood askance in his nightgown, 
....
Those outside continued to pound; 
....
It was the Pilgrim who unbarred the gate
....
To see the crowd who couldn’t wait
....
Until a decent hour of the morn, 
....
The crowd rushed in, a rag-doll borne.
7: 55 AM
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Sunday, October 11,2009
The Pilgrim Road (Insert)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Sister Mary Ruth (10) ....
....
It was the Nun who served the soup....
Who recognized one of the troop; 
....
She nearly dropped the serving bowl, 
....
Her heart beat wildly then turned cold; ....
For within the haggard, wrinkled face, 

Beneath the hair, she saw a trace
....
Of the young friend of her youth; ....
How this staggered Sister Ruth; 
....
Sister Mary Ruth by name
....
Was broken hearted and so ashamed
....
When her fellow Novice had decamped, 
....
Then returned to be called a tramp; 
....
Beneath the scraggily hay loft hair
....
Had been a face once called fair; 
....
But that smooth cheek where bloomed the rose
....
Time had ploughed in craggy rows; 
....
She saw the pleading in her old eyes, 
....
She felt a hand brush against her thigh, 
....
She saw her gently shake her head, 
....
She filled her bowl as she pled; 
....
Sister Ruth moved down the table, 
....
She would escape as soon as able
....
To think about how Novice Ann, 
....
The victim of the lust of man, 
....
Had fallen to this lowly state, 
....
She crossed herself and filled a plate.....
7: 44 AM
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Sunday, October 11,2009
The Pilgrim Road (Insert)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Charity....
....
The Pilgrims group, the caravan, ....
Was led by a preacher, a spare young man, ....
Who sought to teach within the village, ....
To merchants, tradesmen, men of tillage; ....
It was to the Priest he revealed his plan, ....
His followers stepped in his van, ....
Enraptured by his saintly visions....
They followed him without provisions; ....
He asked for shelter from the road, ....
The barn would do as their abode; ....
They relied on God to provide, ....
The Priest, unsure, asked them inside; ....
The Prioress huffed at this decision, ....
She stoked the stoves with much derision; ....
“Last year the harvest had been poor, ....
We can feed ourselves but not much more, ”....
She argued as she told the Priest, ....
'These beggar-saints if they want a feast, ....
Then let them multiply these small loaves; '....
She slammed the bread into the stoves; ....
'Last year the grapes rotted on the vine, ....
Let them turn water into wine, ....
If he wants his companions to be fed, ....
Let him raise the wheat that makes the bread! ....
These righteous men who walk the road....
Unburdened by a harvest load; ....
Unburdened by mere earthly toil, ....
Let them eat the fruits of their own toil.'....
7: 36 AM
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Sunday, October 11,2009
The Pilgrim Road (insert)
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Prioress Reflects....
....
How many years I've viewed this scene: ....
The snow-capped hills melt into green, ....
The cold sharp winds descend the hill....
And lose their strength as daffodils....
Peak from the ground their dancing heads....
As roses bloom in hues of red; ....
How many years I've felt the chill....
Of winter blasts relent their will, ....
Defeated, warm, and calmly fade....
Into the bursting green leaf glade; ....
How many years have these old eyes....
Watched darkness fade as sun did rise, ....
The purple realm of night to pale....
As sun did light and night did fail; ....
How many years did these old bones....
Rise from their bed to tread these stones....
I see my slippered feet have worn....
A path to parapet to pray at dawn; ....
My faith in God is like the sun, ....
That when I sleep, I know He'll come, ....
Releasing me from earthly woe....
To bask within His eternal glow.....
7: 29 AM
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Saturday, October 10,2009
The Pilgrim Road (add)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Twenty years has come and gone,
Twenty summers of blazing dawn,
Twenty years of blowing wheat
Of buzzing bee combs honey sweet;
Twenty years of harvest labor
Where God had shown his bonded favor;
Twenty years of tending vines,
Twenty years of making wine;
Twenty years of Winter blasts,
Where Nuns bent coldly to their tasks;
Twenty years of prayers to heaven,
Of sins confessed, of souls sore shriven;
Twenty years of time gone by,
A falcon circles in the sky.
Saturday, October 10,2009
the Pilgrim Road 8
Category: Writing and Poetry
What the Prioress Saw from the Parapet
How hard she struggled from her knees,
And then she saw what did not please,
Just below the parapet
In the yard to her regret
Stood the Preacher with arms out raised
Praying to the coming day.
'Oh Lord of Light, Sweet Jesus Christ,
Guide me in this garden blight,
The bordered road is filled with thorns
I shed my blood, my skin is torn;
Guide me on this coming day
That though I stumble on my way,
Do not let me fall from Thy path,
Let me not slip and be outcast;
I stumble like a still young child,
Guide me with Your wisdom mild,
Teach me on this borning day
Thy path to step, I fervent pray.'
5: 05 AM
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Saturday, October 10,2009
The Pilgrim Road 7
Category: Writing and Poetry
he Prioress at Her Morning Prayers
In the darkness of early morn
Before the sun had sparked the dawn
Before its mantle had been spread
Over the East it’s golden threads,
The Prioress sank down on her knees
And clasped her hands in fervent plea
And intoned her favorite daily prayer
To the still and velvet air:
'God spare me from all wicked thoughts,
Grant me the peace I long have sought,
Make this day a peaceful one
That I might dote upon your Son;
Grant me now the Peace of Christ
That my hours be free of strife,
That I might labor in sweet contemplation
Of the healing power of His Resurrection.'
5: 02 AM
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Saturday, October 10,2009
The Pigrim Road 6
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Prioress Foreboding (20 Years Later)
In the distance, high on a hill
She heard a cry, both harsh and shrill,
A flock of birds rose from the trees
Ascend the sky, wheel in the breeze;
There on the road, just below,
She saw a group, a cart in tow;
She rubbed her eyes, squinted, peered
A group of pilgrims, still unclear,
Following a man who walked apart,
A donkey pulling, a burdened cart;
This common sight, a familiar scene,
Made her afright as if she'd seen
An army dot the distant hills,
A war-horn heard, wild and shrill
An army set on rape and plunder
Their beating drums producing thunder;
In the tranquil sun of morn
She sensed the coming of a storm
4: 51 AM
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Saturday, October 10,2009
The Pilgrim Road 5
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Hasty Departure
The Prioress learned of Ann's harsh labor,
Heard of the child with much disfavor;
And then she learned this babe had played
Our Soverign Lord upon the stage;
Hastily she gathered round
The troop of actors drunken found
And bid them quickly be on their way
Before the sun rose on that day;
She asked the leader of the band,
A coarse, dishonest sort of man
To take with them the little babe;
To make sure haste, be gone away;
And with the babe the still sore mother
Lest the town folk soon discover
The babe they called by name of Christ
Was a child of sin and vice;
And so when Phoebus' golden crown
Rose in the east to His renown,
The Mummers carts rolled on the road,
Encumbered by two more in their load.
The Mummer chief with a coin of gold
That this scandal not be told;
He looked at Ann sitting on his bench
And thought the girl a comely wench
As she nursed her sleeping child
The rutted road shaking them the while.
4: 44 AM
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Friday, October 09,2009
The Pilgrim Road 4
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Mummers
Pelted by cruel boys with stones,
Hunted, hounded, left alone,
Exhausted by her endless chores,
In her face slammed many doors;
She knew little peace that endless summer,
And in the Fall there came the Mummers
There to enact the birth of Christ
For food and lodging as their price;
It was on the night of Mary's labor,
The night was born Our Hope and Savior
That as the Mummers rehearsed the play
That Ann gave birth 'mid stacks of hay;
It was a tactic of this band
To place a baby of the land
In the crib as Christ portrayed,
An honor for which the rich would pay;
But on the evening of the play,
No babe was found in which to lay
The object of Our Hopes Redeemed
In the crib to play the scene;
But in the barn they heard the groans
As Ann lay birthing all alone,
Upon the hay stained red with blood,
As cows and goats calmly chewed their cud;
And so the leader of the band
Took the babe from Ann's weak hands
And placed it on the scaffold stage
As it whimpered distraught with rage;
The people came from miles around
Farmers, merchants of the town
There to praise Our Lord Reborn
Played by a babe, an object scorned.
To see performed the birth of Christ,
To cross themselves as Priests did thrice.
To feel the presence of The Lord,
Recreated on these crude boards;
To praise Him as He humbly lay
Brought to life within this play;
Their Faith and Hopes again restored,
Christ Our Savior, Our Sacred Lord.

After the play had been performed
They gathered about the child adorned
With rosemary, thyme and cardamom,
There his form to gaze upon;
They knelt and kissed his swaddled feet,
Marveling how his skin smelled sweet;
Asking favors of the Lord,
That health and wealth be reassured;
Little knowing that on that night
The woman they had cursed on sight
Had held within her taunted womb
The very child they Christ assumed.
3: 52 AM
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Thursday, October 08,2009
Prologue to The Pilgrim Road
Category: Writing and Poetry
The road runs thread-like
Through the hills,
Across the valleys
And the rills;
A ribbon tossed
Across the land
A yellow seam,
A dusty band;
Cutting through
The verdant fields,
In azure sky,
A falcon wheels,
The golden sun
Streaks the lawn,
The dusty road
Gold in the dawn
Connects a village
With a town,
A man at tillage
Stops to frown;
Not for him
The road to track,
He cuts his wheat
To stack on racks;
The road is for
Those restless men
Who dare to cross
Both field and glen,
Not rooted to
Stone hut and soil,
Not rendered numb
By heavy toil,
For clever men
Alert to chance,
With lively steps
They tread, advance;
Their burdened carts
Wheel on the road,
The ruts and stones
Jar their load;
But their eyes are always
On the horizon,
What they see
Does not surprise them;
They bring the news
Of distant courts,
Of different views,
Of strange reports;
And in their trail
Walk dusted pilgrims,
Seeking God,
Their faces grim;
Not for them
A merchant's gain,
They walk to ease
Their soul in pain.
8: 09 AM
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Thursday, October 08,2009
The Pilgrim Road 3
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Sign of Sin
And so the Nun who climbed the wall
Beguiled by love, forgetting all,
Returned a beggar to their door
Seeking food and succor;
She moved the very sign of sin,
Deflowered lust a-bloom within,
A swollen belly she could not hide,
She crept in shadows shorn of pride;
She who knelt at evening prayers
Who glided softly on the stairs,
Who crossed the yard, the pride of all,
Became the Eve in Adam's Fall;
She the Virgin Bride of Christ,
The Pure of Heart, the Sacrifice,
Became the object, the very form,
Of dreaded Evil to be scorned;
Once she moved with head downcast,
A pious girl, blessed when passed,
Now became a creature cursed,
The lesson of the very worst;
She who once was isolated
Traveled wide and was berated;
She was the mule sent to town,
The object of a hundred frowns;
There to run the Convents errands,
Mocked by boys and sky borne herons.
6: 06 AM
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Wednesday, October 07,2009
The Pilgrim Road 2
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Priest’s Decision
My dear child, I am bereaved
That in this man you've been deceived;
He robbed you from Our Mother Church
And now he's left you in the lurch;
He left you swelling up with child,
This rough-hewn soldier, this creature wild,
You say he's gone off to his wars,
That take him off to foreign shores;
But can you take him at his word
Have not his actions been absurd?
He steals you from your pious cell
And leaves you with no home to dwell;
He is a rogue, an unbeliever
The vilest kind, a cruel deceiver;
He played upon your innocence,
You are a child who has no sense;
And having no place to turn
You return to us, the place you've spurned;
Confess your sins, abjure your lust,
Do pennance for your broken trust;
The child you bear must be forsaken,
You must give him up, be from you taken,
A mother who's conceived in lust,
Is she in whom God has no trust.
4: 41 AM
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Tuesday, October 06,2009
The Pilgrim Road 1
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Prioress
Yes, I remember Sister Anne,
The Nun who broke her vows and ran
With that soldier, that Muskateer,
She's paid the price, never fear;
When I was young I had my doubts,
I knew then only to be devout,
I felt the yearning of the flesh,
I so young and pure and fresh;
But I did not yield to foul temptation,
My love of God was my salvation;
Why put one's faith in fickle man,
A wanton creature of mortal span,
When Christ Our Lord gives eternal life,
And have on earth His shield from strife,
Seems to me no hard decision,
The Devil tempts and sows division;
I've lived a quiet life of service
Praising Him, may He perserve us;
I've starved myself, denied the flesh,
And felt myself rise up refreshed;
I look across the countryside
And know the Lord is on my side;
These rolling hills, stone walls, and pasture
Have protected me from life's disaster;
In simple obedience to His Will,
My soul's perserved, my life's fulfilled.
9: 12 AM
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Tuesday, October 06,2009
The Prisoner
Category: Writing and Poetry

Castled in your concrete tower
Lightninged by a distant shower
You sat protected from daily chance
A heart at ease without romance.

You fussed and grew more at ease
With bird-like pleasures that only seized
The handle of the cup of life
Which you did not lift for fear of strife.

Into this world I stormed and battered
And dragged you out to the market place
And protecting you from its life embrace
Allowed to you what in dreams did matter.

But was I not life, too?
This I had forgot,
And lost you through
An error with a drop.

Now back you are in your concrete tower
Protected from that fatal hour
When a drop of life was spilt
And the drunken sky began to tilt.
8: 50 AM
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Monday, October 05,2009
Quiet Days of Clichy
Category: Writing and Poetry

We watch TV with nothing wrong,
We laugh, we dance, we get along,
How strange to feel such peace and ease,
How readily we seek to please;

There are no sullen unsaid things,
No bitterness, no arguing;
This lack of conflict and muted strain
Fires the neurons in my brain;

There are no words with purpose crossed,
No defiant acts to see who’s boss,
Just these days of quiet achievement,
Funeral days without bereavement;

So long inured to tense division,
The clash of Egos, the snide derision,
This productive peace seems most strange,
This must be the normal range.
6: 57 AM
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Sunday, October 04,2009
God Head
Category: Writing and Poetry
The distant church
Tolls its bell,
It's haunting call
A marshalling spell;
And yet how odd
It calls not me,
The voice of God
Speaks differently;
I hear His voice
Within my soul,
It echoes in
The clapper's toll:
It's in this voice
That intones psalms,
That gives me peace,
That keeps me calm.
8: 54 AM
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Sunday, October 04,2009
The Serpent’s Tale
Category: Writing and Poetry

I stretch and slither between the leaves,
Mottlled green so to deceive,
A cold and lazy golden eye,
I test the limb and rest and slide;
In the shadows of the leaves,
I dart my tongue as I perceive
My quarry below against the bark
The moon-limbed girl in speckled dark;
On the branch above her head,
I dart my tongue as though I fed
On the silver liquid night,
I coil the limb, just out of sight;
Who is she to be my Queen
She who moves as in a dream,
So innocent below she leans
While above her head I coil and scheme;
Why did He give them dominion
Of all the earth and all its minions,
Whist I creature of keen deception
With cunning Art and deft perception
Must crawl the earth on tiny legs
And on my belly eat its dregs,
While she high-reared strolls the park
Praised by all, the owl, the lark,
In a dream, her mind a daze,
In a fog on sunny days?
I whispered in her lazy ears
From the shadows as she neared,
'Eat of the apple and delight,
Lift the curtain from your sight;
See new wonders to behold
Be not a sheep within the fold;
The sparkle of the universe
Is yours to see and to traverse; '
I slithered down and touched her shoulder,
Her trusting smile made me bolder,
I coiled about her naked arm
Whispered marvels, hissing charm;
She was a silly sleepy creature,
The favorite of His favorite keeper,
As dim of purpose and dull of mind
As she who moved about as blind;
The whole world knows the end of story,
To none of us it brought new glory;
He in a rage made them depart
And took my voice and my leg parts;
But whatever fame they achieve
The descendents of this Adam-Eve;
It was I who caused their mind to stir
Out of that numbing haze and blur;
They built great cities because of me,
I who crawl on my belly
8: 53 AM
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Sunday, October 04,2009
Time is the Thief in Me
Category: Writing and Poetry

Time is the thief in me
Ageless in my ebbing hour
And you his acccomplice
With your fits and doubts
Rolling to me then away
Leaving me to wait
Until the dead certainty
That I won’t wait forever
Seeps into your heart
And makes you rush on me
As I walk out your door
Forever.
That will happen, I’m sure;
Meantime,
I live without,
Without joy
In nourishment or art
Living abstractly
In moods of black and white
Waiting for your love
To refire my world with color
Live the victim
Of your stolen happy days
8: 49 AM
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Saturday, October 03,2009
My E-Award Acceptance Speech at Buddah’s
Category: Writing and Poetry

Dear friends within this Biker Bar
Who’ve arrived on bikes and in side-cars,
Settle down the noise and clamor,
With Biker Babes there’s so much drama!
Sweet Mama hand me up a brew,
And please turn down the jukebox, too;
Is this microphone turned on?
Am I talking to myself alone?
Testing, testing, two, three, four,
Get that drunk up off the floor;
Now Lainey don’t you kick that man,
Just ask him to control his hands;
Thank you for this great award,
Someone pull that Jukebox cord;
Hey, don’t throw bottles at the dais,
You’re apt to start a bloody riot;
Laurel this is not a topless bar!
At least put on those pasty stars;
Thank you Buddah for this award,
Someone cut that Jukebox cord!
I’d like to thank my dear old Mama,
And don’t forget to vote Obama!
Saturday, October 03,2009
Riff on Julie’s If I See the Word Stellar One More Time
Category: Writing and Poetry

The beauty of your stellar eyes,
Affect widened in surprise,
Enrapture as they mesmerize;
Captured, I am stigmatized;

In your cellar I do wait,
Unresolved to my sore fate,
Imprisoned for cupidity,
Clear in my lucidity;

For those wanton wandering eyes,
Alight on others I surmise,
Bestowing on the undeserving;
Blind to those imprisoned, serving
6: 19 AM
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Saturday, October 03,2009
The Poet to His Coy Word Mistress
Category: Writing and Poetry

And I will be your hopping bird,
Commanded by your every word,
Pecking at your trail of crumbs,
Singing sweetly at full lung;
For you but have to cast your words,
(How alertly I observe) ,
And I spring upon the seeds,
So fulfilled in words and deed,
That I leap without concern
And sing you all that I have learned;
To resonate the very air
To those unseeing, unaware,
Of your beauty and good heart,
(I denied the lover’s part) :
But I to proudly you parade,
Your majesty in serenade.
6: 15 AM
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Friday, October 02,2009
A New Awakening
Category: Writing and Poetry

How jealously I guard my days,
Self-conscious of my ungainly sway,
Stepping like a child on stones’
In a raging stream I roam;
So keen aware of my delight
In having slept throughout the night,
Awake, aware with this insight:
Though Time won’t always will abide;
This day I spend beside my bride.

How jealoualy I hoarde my hours,
Conscious of my failing powers,
Grateful for the lack of pain,
A gift that I cannot sustain;
I will my soul into your eyes
And see wherein my future lies;
I see a tear well with surprise;
In memory my life resides.



8: 36 AM
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Thursday, October 01,2009
Hisses Heard Round the Hall
Category: Writing and Poetry
The plethora
That is me
Is a diaspora;
It pours and pours
From distant shores
From times of
Clay amphora;
From long lost worlds
Of saints and churls
It demands that it be heard;
I am just its voice,
I have no choice,
I rattle off their words;
But sometimes
These sparks divine
Let me sing
My own weak song;
Then these Viking Lords,
And their Asgard whores,
Complain I go on too long.
8: 27 AM
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Thursday, October 01,2009
Rejectable Rabbit
Category: Writing and Poetry

Rejectable Rabbit
Got into the habit
Of being no baby’s Ba-Ba;
In sib after sib,
When placed in the crib
Each baby would say, 'Eh-eh.'

So he went to a shrink,
What do you think
A Rejectable Rabbit should do?
Who said, ''Please lie down,
I’m new in this town,
Don't leave me my patients are few.'
8: 24 AM
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Thursday, October 01,2009
Riff on Julie’s The History Channel
Category: Writing and Poetry

As of late,
Personally,
I’ve been swamped
By history;
Caligula, the Medici,
The flooding
Of the Zuider zee;
Themistocles and Darius,
The slave rebellion
Of Sparticus;
The Lollards
And the North Koreans,
The skeletons
Of human beings;
The Death Camps
And The Inquisition,
The Trail of Tears,
Trials of Sedition;
Mad Kings and Queens
And Bonaparte,
Whole generations
Torn apart;
The pyramids,
Men on the moon,
A species swept
By raging lunes;
My added history
When assessed,
Has been just as stupid,
I confess.
8: 20 AM
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Thursday, October 01,2009
Give All to Love Or Not At All
Category: Writing and Poetry
Give all to love
Or not at all;
Love will answer
When it's called;
It doesn't pause
It doesn't stall;
It doesn't need
A request to call.
It doesn't rise,
It doesn't fall.
Give all to love
Or not at all.
6: 01 AM
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Thursday, October 01,2009
Faithful Love
Category: Writing and Poetry
Does faithful love
Love just a day?
Does it come
And go away?
Does it suddenly appear
Rear its head
Then disappear?
Faithful love
Loves for itself;
Belief insured
Beyond all wealth;
Faithful love
Will stay each day;
It never drifts
And goes away.
5: 40 AM
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Wednesday, September 30,2009
Winter
Category: Writing and Poetry
My love remarks
The trees are turning
From emerald green
To burnished gold;
The mountain trees
Their leaves like feathers
Hint of cold
And changing weather;

Life drops off
Like withered leaves,
The covered grass
A shaggy shroud,
Clouds crowd the skys
And streaming pass,
Bare trees stand proud,
Life at its last;

So our love
Has had its season
Facing now its Winter's fall,
Yet I defiant against all reason,
Hear yet its magic and its call.
9: 51 AM
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Wednesday, September 30,2009
Posting the Banns
Category: Writing and Poetry

Dear Mr. Clifton Harry Jones,
I am the one who passed the phone
To your daughter who lives with me
(Of whom I take no liberties) :
I ask you for her wedded hand,
(I bought a diamond wedding band) :
You daughter’s choice I’ll not disparage,
I’m asking for her hand in marriage;
My best intents I do convey
To support your daughter as best I may,
For I do cherish all her good,
Her natural worth is understood;
Her quality is certified,
In nothing will she be denied;
After all she saved my life,
What better virtue in a wife?
6: 54 AM
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Tuesday, September 29,2009
Riff on Miss Funky Boots Love Sonnet
Category: Writing and Poetry
Enough! Enough of this pillow talk;
I gotta sleep, you're just like a hawk,
Flapping your wings and your beak in my ear;
Why oh why can't you just disappear;
Every night you want talk of our love;
A hit you, I punch you, I give you a shove;
And when I give in you ask me, 'How is it? '
If you keep this up, oh I never will visit;
And then when we're done you beg me to speak,
Just when I'm drowsy, and sleepy, and weak;
You insist that my feelings deserve to be shared,
Your lips on my ear, you drool in my hair;
'Tell me you love me, I am your best lover! '
I just want my feet and my shoulders well covered;
If I knew that love making involved so much talk,
I'd put on my pants and go out for a walk
5: 57 AM
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Tuesday, September 29,2009
Get Well Card to Mary Ann Blinkhorn
Category: Writing and Poetry
Mary Ann
Broke her back;
She slipped and fell
With all her pack;
Advice to Mary Ann Blinkhorn:
No more climbing on
The Matterhorn.
5: 46 AM
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Tuesday, September 29,2009
For Deanna: Because She Asked
Category: Writing and Poetry

A wanton strand
Of her brown hair
Falls on her brow
And lodges there;
It is a tease,
And so it stands,
To brush it back
With vagrant hand.
4: 59 AM
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Tuesday, September 29,2009
Riff on Ami’s Oh Beautiful
Category: Writing and Poetry

The mountain flowers
Drape hill and dale,
Last Winter’s snow
Looks weak and pale;
The sun breaks through
The mountain mists,
Life renews,
Life insists.
4: 57 AM
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Tuesday, September 29,2009
Old Dad In Spring
Category: Writing and Poetry
Now I wear a gardener’s clothes;
Old cracked boots split near the toes;
Indifferent in my old sweat shirt
To badges of both leaf and dirt.

I plant my bulbs of bursting fire,
But pace myself so not to tire;
I pause to watch the morning sky
As titmouse sings with cheerful cry;

I plant my peas in spaded soil,
My stiff soft limbs unused to toil;
An old man in his Springtime garden
Recycling life in soil that’s hardened;

The grunting climb from soil stained knees,
I walk the fence, inspect my trees;
Oh, the bursting buds of seven cheeries;
The serenade of birds’ inquiries!

Oh, coming months of fragrant Spring,
Unfaithful life, what shall it bring?
A sudden frost that kills the buds?
Downpours that drown my bulbs in mud?

Or shall I walk with sons and daughter
Beneath these trees, fresh, sweetly watered,
Picking cherries from hanging boughs
And spitting seeds as we carouse.


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Poems About Innocence

  1. 101. Lost Poems Found , David McLansky
  2. 102. A Lovely Day , MOHAMMAD SKATI
  3. 103. My Gift To You , Lillian Heigle Ridlen
  4. 104. Dreamy Mystic Romantic Teenage Girl , Terence George Craddock (aft ..
  5. 105. The Age Of Innocence , Miroslava Odalovic
  6. 106. Friendship , C. P. Sharma
  7. 107. Innocence Is Affirmation Verification Of.. , Terence George Craddock (Spe ..
  8. 108. Just To Show The Kids Today What Innocen.. , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  9. 109. The Auroras of Autumn , Wallace Stevens
  10. 110. A White Flower , Faith ReAnne
  11. 111. Innocence Of The Jews , gershon hepner
  12. 112. The Night Has Its Innocence , Shalom Freedman
  13. 113. Souls Asylum - Ode To A Forgotten Kind , Dilantha Gunawardana
  14. 114. Healing The Sick , Naveed Akram
  15. 115. Auguries Of Innocence After William Blak.. , Jonathan ROBIN
  16. 116. Your Innocence , Naveed Akram
  17. 117. Innocence , SALINI NAIR
  18. 118. Innocence , King Midas
  19. 119. Laps Of Innocence , Miroslava Odalovic
  20. 120. Shattered Innocence , Amy Kerswell
  21. 121. Shattered , Amy Louise Kerswell
  22. 122. Child Of Innocence , Taher Shemaly
  23. 123. Voice Of Innocence , Sunil D'pudi
  24. 124. Deceptions Innocence , Amy Fifita
  25. 125. Innocence And Silence , Walid Boureghda
  26. 126. Child , Shruti Goswami
  27. 127. Creep , Lucifera Santez
  28. 128. Eyes , Amber Vasquez
  29. 129. Of Dreams And Ambitions , Owen Johnston
  30. 130. Those Who Commit Crimes Against Children , Francis Duggan
  31. 131. The Great Gift Of Youth , Francis Duggan
  32. 132. Streak Of Innocence , Meetika Srivastava
  33. 133. Spoiled And Demanding , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  34. 134. ` ` These Moments Of Innocence {la Ter.. , Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
  35. 135. Isn'T It The Image , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  36. 136. Innocence Of Life , MOHAMMAD SKATI
  37. 137. Giving Innocence , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  38. 138. The Benefit Of This Is Missed , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  39. 139. Innocence Inspires Paradise Harmonies , Terence George Craddock (Spe ..
  40. 140. The Killing Of Innocent Childhood - قتل .. , MOHAMMAD SKATI
  41. 141. People Are So Ready To Rage , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  42. 142. Innocence Is A Harmonic Restoration Seed , Terence George Craddock (Spe ..
  43. 143. Innocence Matter: Restoration Perfection , Terence George Craddock (Spe ..
  44. 144. Lost Innocence , Francis Duggan
  45. 145. Innocence Is Very Great And Even Wonderful , MOHAMMAD SKATI
  46. 146. Innocence Is Replaced By Aggression , MOHAMMAD SKATI
  47. 147. Life To Live Is Not A Death Sentence , Lawrence S. Pertillar
  48. 148. Share Extraordinary Vision Gentle Innoce.. , Terence George Craddock (aft ..
  49. 149. The Beauty Of The Innocence. , Bazi alis Subrata Ray
  50. 150. Intellect Holding Childhood , RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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