Monday, April 25, 2016

A Long Time Ago..

Seemingly a party quests in the Greens
For adventure and riches, but justice and peace, too
And when whom might happen through
Mercs who ride for home and health
Melieuing about with horses around
While above town in High castle there's dancing
A masquerade ball with masks and all prancing get-down
And a music sweet mechanical thing full of harpsichord

At the inn the adventurers sweep and wash for nights fare
The mercs kick back and converse having ridden in.
And innkeeper at bar listens quietly as hearth keeps warm,
Pulling draughts from warm pig barrels on wall with flat beer
Keeping the mud and hard roads of worlds outside the wall,
While townsfolk around town close shutters as sunset draws down

Wherefore do the soldiers' hearts wander?
What are adventurer's eager for?
Who does innkeeper acclaim?
Glory? Justice? Peace? All these things...
Having committed soul to distressing tasks...
Having nibbled horror...

Wherefore do children play?
What are families eager for?
Who does mayor acclaim?
Faith? Hope? Charity? All these things...
Having committed souls to Lords...
Having nibbled ambrosia...

Wherefore do musicians sit?
What are dances eager for?
Whom does the king acclaim?
Respect? Power? Money? All these things...
Having committed soul to water and land...
Having nibbled innocence...

The greenswathed graveyard grows hoary with moss
A skeleton seeking lost life grips fresh earth crawling out
The Raven watches around, the Rat seeks another shiny thing
As silver light casts around from moon past Cathedral
A solemn thing with pooled time, while streets passing...
Channel this into shoots and eddying pools of flowing crowds
On busier days and nights through trees and shops to sides
With lantern lit by-ways and alleys of timber-framed and cob-filled spaces.
This is space, but is also time, interchangeably.
Sources feed and are filled, shoots still... Pools stream...
Like the creek that washes clean with each rainfall.
This is time, this is space, both fast and slow... And sometimes paused...
And sometimes lost to history.
Flowing to free, and freeing to flow:
This thing called life in Time and Space and Eternity.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Mr. Seedmore

There was a mouse
And on top of hat it crawled
A biIIGG Top Hat with ribbon wrapped

Down in the cellar
Where a tallow candle burned
so sloOOWLY 48 Hour or longer

Mr Mouse crawled around
Where no owl spied him found
but spyYYING Wife cried to him

Saying, "Seedmore, bring some cheese"
"bring the baAACON! bring the peas!"
while scuRRYING in pantries deep

"Bring some nuts, bring some seeds"
and stuuFFING his cheeks
He'd please her much and wanton needs

A curious breath would follow
Whenever they finished filling shopping list
An unseen mouth, with curious tongue, seemed to complain

With 6 meals a day it was quite confirmed
There was someone else of conscious down here
Something or SomeONE ELSE that gained

Once a week it would come unbolted
And his soul this would seek
Darkly in the pantry deep

He'd run high and crawl low, He'd dodge things it threw,
And it would chant his sins, this earthy ghoul
And t'would protest all day long

So him and the missus packed up and moved
Back to the woald and the sunshine and the crew
But he was touched and it had followed, TOO!

The ghoul of earthly deeps was in his fur and tail
And once a week still he remembers some of hell seen
But some of air and earth helps dispel that chanting and recanting

Some of rain and sun helps to heal his churning tail and heady keep

Wednesday, April 20, 2016


The chimes cling
Once again a raven gets a white feather
Again cling rings the chime
A gray hair appears on a lover
More chimes sing
Silver thread is filigreed

The chimes cling
The gold plated turns silver
Again cling rings the chime
A tree becomes sylvan
More chimes sing
Lumber becomes weathered

The chimes ring
The rain becomes river
Again sing the chimes
Sunshine glints in eye
More chimes cling and clatter
Dreams float in from never
To supercede all of reality

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Inna Cup of Tea

The world is too busy
For me
As I sit quietly still
Listening to my breath
Feeling the earth
Drag me in to itself

Maybe it's my Life
That is too busy for me
But something speeds up
And leaves me behind
As I slow my heartbeat

Perhaps it is the walls
That appear to go nowhere

Perhaps it's Father Time
Singing the season's soliloquy

Or perhaps it is my mind, I
That catches up to me...
And me making time
For myself
Wherein all healing
Comes from
To bless souls' sunrise
And extend days' end

All that and more is possible
Dreamed here
And extended
To farthest shore
And ground swelling back
A melody's ancient tale
Of harmony and perseverance

Imaginary Math

The music tunes my head
And I imagine
sub-ether programming
From packaged and portable
Tune and avatar wrapped in
Sub-conscious to sub-conscious
Communiqae relations
Like beta-waves
Relating proper
OCD criteria
For comfort
Of subliminal
Rightness with God.
Ain't that a Crock!?
But I do imagine
Many things
Feelings, sounds, sights
Taste and smells
My heart reacts
Yours would too I bet
Considering how already
It does to the invisible
Don't think of pineapples
Don't think of pineapples
Don't think of pineapples
And their prickly skin
Nor their sweet and sour yellow flesh

Our hearts react
And now my brain
Is trying to predict
Whether I can find a treat
In the hidden
Of my home.
I'd ask my cat
But I suspect she
Guesses sometimes
The accurate answer.
But she's right 100%
Of the time
With her companionship.
Can she read
My Mind?

F*n Ironic

Listening to the rain
Cascade louder than fish tank or sunshine
Hides my Smile
But I have to wonder
what great adventure
Is hiding in my smile
that looks like resting dick face.
I do not see myself with my eyes
And often mirrors
Are not like the comfort of rain.
The rain soothes boredom
My mirror?
It spikes my brain
It says this is you
But ignores my chores
My family
And my dreams
It ignores me
And all 6500 Pennsylvanian bones of me
In my foot alone.
And to wit,
Doesn't see my foot at all.
The rain touches everything
The rain makes stream river and lake
And does not judge
Those that drink from it's edge
And with its thousand
Carves the world
Into a thousand years
But a mirror?
It just sits there
And tells me
I'm ugly
As a perfectly useless
Work of space.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

House of Gorgeous -- #NaPoWriMo prompt

Many riches are coming to you!
A bit of money, but that is a thing isn't it
Sweet music, honeyed tongues, seraphic insight...
These too make a man rich, as well as.

My heart's dream... a bit of magic..
Spandex yoga pants...  dance...  beer..
A poignant poem, movie, or speech..
A franchise with cheeses..
A lady in blue sweatshirt... and smile..
An unseen sparkle... a tinder flame...

Like fish they swim in my dreams...
They swim toward me...
And swimming in my head like a vixen
I rise to meet and greet.

And clear air makes me breath easier,
Crisp.. it invigorates bones Free
And a bit of profundity can purchase things
That bring smiles or ease
And bunny that seeks me as I chase her
Brings me coming to new outlook
And spreads life spent in love
Brings warmth to worlds
And years spinning seasons
Brings riches from beyond eternity's blind progress.

For what is this world without work and love?
A life without sunshine and diamonds...
A life without smiles..

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Drifting Chores and Hope's Shores--- P>S>H>prompt by Maggie Westerland

I see him in me because of... humanity?
The struggles he greets, and accepts...
There was once normality, then we grew up
And greeted chaos, and coping, and loneliness..
Along with crime, ignorance, and poverty.

My kindness was nothing next to his on soapbox biz,
Relating struggles and failures, and.. his victories
It takes courage to fight, but a bigger heart to persevere
Through uncertainty... and many don't or can't.

My kindness was to listen and toss in a dollar to his hat,
But His?
His kindness was to still a rocking boat in the wind
while sighting in shores of Hope, though he is 10 miles aside of me.
And it's all aside on this great big lake of time I float.
NOT JUST FOR ME, but for all those akin to him in his concerns, probably 3.53 million...
And of those how many have a computer?
And of those how many have an internet?
And of those how many have a firewall?
And of those how many have facebook?
And of those how many love themself?
I have much to be thankful for, but +1 that today!

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Funnily Home

The race of space rabbits in habitats
Elected this week to study humanity
Specifically our economics, with prime rates
and credit lending, and price tags..

They used their ID chip to get it
Alice kept track of this for them
But during off time, could plan advancement
Transfer, Benefit, Donate, Gift, Buy
The rabbits knew but likened this to Antiquity

Next month was the Arthurians from Gamma Sigma Green
Where people co-owned stocks or stores you'd call them
And drop-shopping was much-more-common
Cause if you sold something, one still got benefits
And sometimes sponsored, which patronage comes from.

And the month after that we would be the ant race of ePhrygia
A barbaric race that had succeeded in faster-than-light travel
But had never learned to farm an acorn, let alone lettuce,
Often drifting for long lengths of time without food or home.

So far, this rabbit was in the black
But my use of electricity keeps pushing me red
It's the stupid space heater, I know it,
What with transferring the habitat between stars
It gets cold, so cold chasing cents in outerspace...
My neighbor was complaining about this too.

But we're funnily here, where our ancestors came from!
And work is work, but I get to use the human satellite relays
To bounce and reflect bits and buts to hearts content.
I'm going to watch Roger the Rabbit with the money I earned today!
I netted a cool million hacking the Hubble Telescope, and it was play.

The Directorate wanted to know something about dust,
But personally? I think she just wanted to look for a CarrotCart on Earth,
She's always so thumpy.

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Lock Me Inside Goodwill - #NaPoWriMo prompt day 9

I like second-hand clothes
The feel and smell of a good deal
The thread-bare or golden feel
The disposable trend
The full-wardrobe head
The snazzy tear in buttock's rear

I like being a bum
Getting second-hands and hand-me-downs
And saying I'm too good for that
But I like this, and having a stump to sit on...
Not sure it's worth the two dollars
or the nickel the pricetag cost.

All too often I'm posed with this or that sale
And a markup with a mark-down, plus the costs of labor
Labor in god-who-knows-where for a couple of cents
Makes me sick, not only broke, but also sick
To pay 40 dollars for a single pair of silk underwear.
Or 35 for a t-shirt I'd have to print something onto to look good.
That kinda stuff sucks, the advert outerwear.
Give me funny, give me broken-in, give me good
But above all, give me sensible.

It was a gray day I sat in that coffee shop... P.S.H. prompt by: Richard Widerkehr

up and back by
the credenza

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

A Lasting Health- poetry prompt by Emily Vieweg

And just to indicate how bad the situation is with the various polls...
They asked a wicked senescent vulture for her opinion, in turn.
Granted she's more concerned with watching and air-fares
but is considered a sage in watching the world pass
But I suspect she hated starving intermittently

And personally had written me off as too spirited.
So when the bird colonels turned to her..
Was frankly shocked that I might qualify.
I however rated, and so the cry went up, went down
Went down and up, was I purple enough, not blue but some red,

Squirrels knew better the illusion from hiding nuts...
Eagles knew better the breaking from striking their kill...
And the Ravens knew better scattering from searching for meal...
Vultures know some about everything, having eaten it.
What was I to them by woald and wolfsbane on sideline
Watching them, scattering them, breaking them, disillusioning them...
With my humanity.

Hating strife, though... isn't an option when one is on bottom,
But knowing it's bad is half-the-battle(Tm)
If I am what I eat, I'd be watching chick flics, or Oreo commercials...
But what I consume can trigger my acne or allergy...
But what I take in can pain my foot from hard hike...
The adrenaline, cortisol, and oxytocin neurochemicals...
Differing dietary needs for paprika on spoiled meat,
Or do you use thyme, I forget...

Probiotic Fish, Squirrel, Monkey, Human
And so on back-and-forth, levels rising
Multiplexural animorph, polymorph, polymath, sub-genius... Fox.

...the fox with his many tactics in winning...

Watching like vulture, and waiting like squirrel.
Hunting like wolf, evading like stag.
And wintering like bear... Always hungry.
In a world that worships crap and sex, extended metaphor,
And a sailor who can swear a blue streak, perhaps,
And a kid whom can't.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

The Fractal Frictionless World

a box within boxes, you are my house
And in my boxy chair, I squarely sit within boxy room
And square carpet relieves my boxed in feet
Inside my covered shoes
   Of boxed in peeking toes

I peer upon fishtank meek, Another boxed in world of heavy matters
4 panes make a cube and with skin flayed I can see you
A bit, of fire and gold... in the midst of dirt and destruction

Saturday, April 2, 2016

An Untaken Wish- prompt from PSH

If I could unborrow that student loan
Untake that money to go to school, immediately
Gone to community college, feasibly,
I might have kept my friends.

I didn't know going to school was going to wreck my relationships
As the road slid by, I slipped further, till I disappeared
Lost from lives, lost from time As I was subsumed into new world
And met the Irish and Africans, Italians and Romanians
I was Montana, and some kind of skinhead out of Higher Learning,
Simple and conservative, without the hate thing going...
Without the dramatic mood swings.

I didn't know you were going to press blocks on me
Tattoo my skin as flunky for making it harder than it needs to be
Then try throwing me in jail for discarding rat race
And pacing myself to real life and real hell
I didn't know we didn't have time, if we paid,
For to learn how myths or worlds work... How time is playing.

Now you learned, didn't you.. oh, school of Mine
Processing the debt, and disabling your pets so they can't wing
While enabling brains to know why to be dissatisfied
Simply like digging a whole and throwing down Ikea ladder
And if we're missing pieces because they fell farther down outtasight,
Well, one is just screwed, no to do, no hello, no how are you.

And where is the world now?  It's moved on...
Left time to play with it's tiddlywinks down hole,
And spaces play with paradigm shifts like mole,
For Worlds' only have payments for truth&beauty, anymore...
Like some Shawshank redemption escape fantasy...
Where one guy dies, while the other gets away, And the rest serve out time.

Friday, April 1, 2016

It's National Poetry Month around the world All Month Long
Handme Ups -- Lune prompt

Agonized pause,
Keyboard taps
tick-tocks outrace me

The world is loud now
Finding me
Quieter to think

Makes one wonder some
Is one deaf
When one engages

Or does part of me
When worlds do so too.

Only reaction
Felt by eyes
Touches my mind now

But mind's prediction
Intuitive Sights