genuflect

they listen to the one
who'd have us all genuflect
as though he'd earned respect
great gallimaufry gathered
round him at the bar
but some of us
have seen his kind before
king in his court
braggadocios brawler
demeaning those he deems
weaker and smaller
commanding attention
from his throne or bar stool
yes, some of us already schooled
in the ways of one who aggrandizes
we've learned to recognize the lies
and we're jealous of those still ignorant
but nervous too
knowing the things that they never knew
we shout, "he's not your friend,
your pal, your mate, your bloke...
the things you value, he thinks a joke"
"Ah," they reply "maybe he's
a bit brash and loud
but he says what he thinks
and that pleases the crowd."
they think he's a such good time
he's fun so they ignore the bits
that don't match their paradigm
oh yes, they love him,
they love him right up until
he blacks their eyes
and leaves them with the bill
 

shunpike

some for speed do aim
the goal to get from A to B quickly, ever quickly
destined for a destination; barely pausing for respiration
they race at breakneck pace
to land in a different locale but the exact same place

while some the shunpike take
for thrift or caution's sake
a gentler way but still predetermined
route checked and rechecked the end confirmed
and though happier in the journey
their fulfillment found
in terminus

but you and me,
for us
no track, no path, no guide
we forge and forage our way
as over undergrowth we climb
no pavement to measure our tread
obscure we meander neither leading nor led

wayward on our way to who knows where
it really doesn't matter... as long as you're there

indigenous

once i could enumerate
every smile, grin and grimace
the contours of your face ingrained
along the ridges of my grey matter
like stony presidents on Rushmore
but like them perspective required
to get the sense and stature of you
and now you seemed diminished
integrity indigenous now disingenuous
against the greater open sky
time and distance the measure gained
from the time we said goodbye

hoary

the trees are budding now
shooting forth confusion blooms
when other years
still hoary with frost
they starkly stood
sentinels of spring to come
the world entire knows not
which way the pendulum
swings and winter throws off
her mantle too young
and some rejoice
as the sky weeps

kudos

What need
have you for lauding?
You twist so hard
to clap yourself
upon your own back,
amazed I am
you have not sprained
or strained a muscle.
Or that you can
raise your head
for all the laurels
about you draped.
So many kudos
heaped upon you that
laden with your accolades,
hollow words unearned,
you surely would collapse
if not for the ones who
behind you stand
propping you and
awaiting the gesture grand.

finesse

I freely confess
I do not now nor have I ever
possessed the knowledge
to finesse a situation
to my advantage
I mismanage both the great and small
my saving grace that with aplomb
I rise and fall
but as I'm cheerful in manner, silly and kind
so bemused others are sometimes of a mind
to offer me their gracious assistance
as I stumble and flail through existence

mayhap

we hang all hope on this
that moments may last
though the years fly
that a smile lingers
through all the days to come
from all the days gone by
mayhap our brighter moments
will shine likes stars upon
the darkened firmament of our lives
seen up close in blinding joy
or at remove still an envoy
of the felicitation that
carries one day into the next
from cradle to coffin
and in the darkest night
may often remind
that even when we see them not
the stars still shine
and love given is worth
more than love got

distaff

no more bound quite so
stitched and sewn into a silken prison
trapped into a future woven by another
the distaff distress not gone, but less
breathing holes opened in the fabric
by mothers and grandmothers
with seam rippers and cutters
still we must pick
and pull at the threads
until we can all wriggle free

onus

i am no mechanic or engineer
and i do not see
a problem to fix
or solution to find
i can barely
my own repairs mind
the onus is upon yourself
to hale and whole become
sous chef i can be
to help as best i can
but i do not know the recipe
i do not know your plan
you first must figure out
what it is you're all about

bemuse

for as quick
as I may descend
into the swirling vortex
of anxiety's troubled sea
so, too, I may be rescued
bemused in a boat
built ephemeral
of smiles and serenity
of sighs and sweets and songs
but no less buoyant

protean

now two years gone
I've writ my heart
in poems protean
each day a part
of me on page
a blog my fulsome stage
and humble thanks
to those who've read
and read still
between the lines
to find the me they knew
and the me they didn't, too

cachet

forever tripping
over my own feet
perpetual foal falling
giddy and gamboling
stumbling and stammering
and though
I have often longed
for the cachet
of the cool
like those
by grace blessed
still some clumsy charm
I do possess
so I rejoice
even in my hot mess

sward

Memory finger paints.
Enthusiastic toddler of the mind
swirling times and places into blobs;
so all summer's shining faces
melt into one sweltering day -
stretched upon a sward in Central Park
as dogs give frisbees chase
and coconut scented kids race by
past lovers languid on the grass
and in the distance the barking cry
of the hawker with his waters
or the bawling sons and daughters
caterwauling for the Carousel.
In this grass-bottomed box
sided by sky-scrapers,
you murmur for a moment
a blessing on the landscapers
as the dappled shade makes
piebald patterns on freckled skin.

 

voluble

I
who often
cannot stop my tongue
from running as if Pheidippides news laden,
voluminously voluble, gargantuanly garrulous;
I find myself made mute in the moment of pursuit.
All my tales, jokes and recitations
suddenly find complications
and anecdotes which in other company
draw some others unto me,
fall flat upon the floor.
I
nod and smile
so beguiled but certain more
the simulacrum of stupidity I seem,
as the inner me lets out a scream of frustration
while the outer me succumbs as to sedation
and I flash a message in morse code blinks,
my awkwardness a weight, my heart sinks.
It's not I have no words to say
but none I know could e'er convey
both the hope and dread that clamor to be said.
I
fear that you 
would look on me quite piteously 
and the magic of the silence
would hold no more 
for while you nod and smile 
as in sympathy
I can imagine that you are in 
the same predicament as me.

billet-doux

my words flow
like a river
cascading to the sea
the idea makes shiver
desire's devotee

the great amount
too large to count
my verses incomplete
the billet-doux
I've written to
the one I've yet to meet

transpontine

once we sat beside
a hair's breadth between
before the seismic shift
tectonic grind
from dip
to pothole
to crevasse
to canyon
now transverse
the divide
we abide
transpontine each other
across a gossamer bridge
warping in the wind
and we wonder
if the other
will dare
to tightrope
above an abyss
to find a future together
beyond the emptiness of this

weltanschauung

kindred kind are hard to find
treasured when we do
similar in weltanschauung
likeminded, me and you
and so I cannot fathom
why it doesn't work just right
why sympatico of feeling
doesn't carry past the night

ragtag

torn and tattered
bedraggled
ragtag remnants
stitched
still we stand
to fly above the fray
as if to say
to proclaim
though beaten
and battered
we remain

adjure

we cannot
change the past
it is a sculpture
well and truly set
the most we can hope
as the rain of time
falls and erodes
the sharp corners
is that our better days
sheltered are
and worser times
left out to weather
and wear away
so as you carve out
days to come
I adjure you this
dig deep in your joy
chisel lines that last
in sun or shade
in deluge or drought
likewise...tap but lightly
in times of tumult

peradventure

my sun hidden
as shadows growing
like a storm brewing
peradventure proliferates
in the quietude populated
with supposition
and suspicion
before the long night
and longest sleep
I would keep
my star shining longer
before the darkness
proves stronger

carceral

that which keeps out
also keeps in
monitored and marked
the carceral cause
should give you pause
build a fortress
for safety say you
but at what cost
and whose profit
on what side of the wall
do you think you fall
as we're bound and bought
and never as free as we thought

nexus

in the center
of the web
he sits
growing bloated
on the carcasses
of the caught
in the nexus
of deed and thought
he vomits a silken thread
the prey's dread
that binds and catches all
as he holds them in thrall
before sucking them dry

extremophile

the world burns or freezes
in lava flows or icy winds
ash fall surrounds us
in a susurrus as though snow
yet we survive...
and so
become extremophiles
we cling to life in hydrothermal vents
or huddle for warmth beneath a borealis sky
round fires tell ancestor tales of placid lives
wondering where or when or why
our predecessors let Gaia die

luculent

though mind muddled I tried
with words mangled to describe
the roiling fog of feeling inside
intention concealing
my sentiment not luculent
but no less sincere
because I cannot name it
in language sharp and clear
tongue too tangled
as fearfulness persists
so with soft smile and softer kiss
I try delicately to convey
the things I wish but cannot say

grandee

into the tv I fall
and lose myself in tales of
impassioned lovers in far off lands
with grandees and grand dames
and scullery maids and cooks
and reversals daring
and smoldering looks
and then I go back
and read all the books
cut the funding for just one more tank
and leave me my PBS, thanks

abyssal

from soaring heights
cast down to drown
in the abyssal sea
salted and sodden
water logged and trodden
until wasted and spent
we sink beneath
carcass picked and pulled
by eyeless monsters
with scraping claws
and gaping jaws
rent and rendered into jetsam
so we, who once knew sun and sky
dejected become pabulum
for bottom-feeders as we die

imprecate

the rain doesn't care
upon whom it falls
priest, beggar, king, thief
it doesn't matter at all
so imprecate the heavens
and shake an angry fist
but it matters not one jot
it still comes down with a
splish
splish
splosh
splat
on plebeian or aristocrat

hard-boiled

we who would drown
in a sea of sentimentality
oft crippled by sympathy
overwhelmed by possibility
we must a find a way
more hard-boiled to be
action paired with passion
not distraught unto distraction
tourniquet the bleeding hearts
we wear upon our sleeves
fight on, fight on with no reprieves
we must muster up and sally forth
'gainst those who claim we're nothing worth
harness frustration as a fractious horse
that in our care may win the course
we must not stay silent nor submit
to their patriotic counterfeit
waving flags in false semaphor
all the while stealing
more and more and more
resolute and steadfast we must stand
to protect our futures in this land