Little things
That bite and bite
Take away my sanity
Month: May 2014
Fond of a Maiden (day 1101)
When wanderers showed me another decision,
A lane up ahead lifted options adieu.
Where once was a path littered with madness unforgiven,
Turned swiftly to a road which lost was a given.
Down, through, and past ghouls where I roamed
A length I did witness had I hardly been borne.
Beyond intents, beyond deliberation
I was lost in a path for forever ambition.
Launched into desires like a reflection upon me
I shared all I had with a widow of seven.
She laughed at my folly through havens and glens
That caused me much heartache of which I’m still shaken.
I was laughing at the tragedy I’d been witness,
In all of my givens I was never victim,
Save only of dreaming eternal desires.
Here was my folly; deeper than madness,
Here was the road I had swiftly been given.
To which [luckily] my stars had been lifted to heaven
Aloud as I lay beneath all these twilights.
Then at once – without warning –
As I kissed my last maiden goodbye
I witnessed what I had openly given.
Shared with my gallantry: a picnic in the glen,
A light long been forsaken.
Here I was dined like a royal brandy-wine
A Mister to a noblette, a guru to affect.
Like my littered path of madness unforgiven,
I was handed a chance of a rosy countenance.
Here I was left as if struck by forever,
Struck daft by the eyes of life’s fairer.
So out of my lands I had mended and mined,
Through wild abandon chalked plenty with lust.
I found I had seen what’s never forgotten.
Here I was. Here I decided. And here
I lept at the chance to grow fond of a maiden.
Dreaming of Singing (day 1100)
A range of extremes rushing through my heart
Billows and swells my emotions alive.
So I, all exposure; wind at my neck,
Look to the distance with dreamy eyes sans regret.
Moments that crawl deep in mud
Shaking mystery free from it’s longing and clutching grasp.
A sad song sung alone, echoing off towering cliffs.
A sweet song sung on a bellowing clarinet.
Could you lie to me just a little bit longer?
Rush to my head on a caffeinated high.
Your sprouts in my garden are light in my eyes,
And singing alone’s become quite obscene.
Tiny Jewel (day 1099)
I’m asleep in a tiny jewel;
Happy, and my mind’s eye.
To freedom I’ve never given up.
A rhythm which is rhyme
And castles made of sand
Float wind swept grasses.
So high, so long.
And I am asleep in a tiny jewel;
With windows into-out-of
I crawl and drain sand,
Sifting my widowed beetroot
And surfacing divine;
Flat root / straight cut.
Smoking Gun Saloon (day 1098)
I was gambling at the Big Gun Saloon.
A lone mescalito biting the fat end,
Lookin’ for a chance.
I gambled often, too often.
A riverboat of floating luck
With legalized six shooters
Yelling my splashing soul goodbye.
I danced with happy Jacks
In a smoking gun saloon.
Ladies with rumpled tushes
Blowin’ kisses on good nights.
Everywhere: adultery in bedackled gems,
Fishnet in blackened stockings,
And a room awaiting cowboy’s boots.
I loved her like a riverman,
Steady and full of piss
Navigating curls running this stream long.
And then she whispered:
“If you ain’t out by noon,
I’ll be throwin’ in yer boots,
Or if you fancy another ride
I’ll be you’re shining star all night.
But either way, it’s been two days
And I ain’t seen you high stack all ride.
So if it’s all the same to you, Sir,
I’ll have mine paid: fair share.
So I can find myself a meal,
I’m hungry and loveless,
Waiting on this ordeal.
Now I trust you, and don’t be puttin on,
This was the deal we made, my trust.
Now do me kind and have it out,
And I’ll be on my way.”
Those were the words I heard sung again
As my splashing soul went out,
And the legalese was spitting up
Lead tipped water kisses into my eyes.
Primrose (day 1097)
I met a man of wit and prose
Who spoke to me of a rare primrose.
He said he loved the way it held
It’s neck above all fields wild.
I said I had only seen it in three perfect rows.
Enemy Guns (day 1096)
Over and over and over again,
Whispers so shallow
Cover me: a grin.
To which my reply
– Steadfast [I tried],
Tested, and true –
Climbing above
With a flag stretching high,
Hollering through open windows and sky.
Whispers in wind
Upon layers of feathers,
An angel lay me;
Scatter hopes
Like mine enemy’s gun.
The Glen (day 1095)
In the glen; wild roving stallion,
I paused to stretch my limbs.
And when dismounting my hairy beast
A chorus of chick-a-dees sang to me.
To listen intently I spread my wings,
Laid myself low, enjoyed with the breeze
And over my head did fly all at once
One hundred black sparrows gathering their young.
Where butterflies fell over lazily my outstretched wings
And careless little flies found my warm skin.
And I on my back with my eyes to the sky
Watched clouds float on by; lazy summer breeze.
Long grass swayed as the warm sun spied between
Kentucky Blue, Fennel, and Orchard
Which my stallion munch on unceasingly,
“Chompity chompity chompity chomp.”
A soothing repetition with each grass pull; roots.
Up again, off again. Forward on was I!
A creek to be over! A fence to be had!
This glen of that glen, and fields in between
A small pond, a homestead, a row of red oaks.
Then after the huckelberries there’s a lane off ahead,
Then I’ll be home, my family’s ol’ stead.
With Dragons (day 1094)
I await
Not anxious
But limber
Excited
Loose in the attitude
A mixed cocktail
On John-John’s patio
And rain
Midsummer night
With dragons
Up Against the Wall (day 1093)
I’m alone here,
Not waiting for anyone.
This is the show space;
This is my call.
So when I lean up against the wall
Take a double notice man,
This isn’t curtain call
This is a casual evening stroll…
Saddled and suited
Eyein up the ninety suitors,
Oh everybody comes a calling
When I’m up against the wall.