All writing

remember our love's steamy past?
when either of us couldn't last
a day without a gentle touch,
a sudden breath; when want was such
that nothing could come in between...
and now? I long just to be seen

All the worst impulses of Man:
his laziness, his greed,
his envy, want, the worst he can
and will do to succeed.

All those are given, there's no use
pretending otherwise.
Not a throw up your hands excuse:
a word, though, to the wise

Design a government that will
align, not with a wish
but with reality. The swill,
always a tasty dish.

Incentivize to common sense
and pay for it, hard cash.
The dollar -- it's made up of cents,
and always...clean the trash.

what use a voice that stands alone
cold winter winds blow in its face.
what use a cry meant to atone
when others labor to erase
all that is precious and is good.
what use to be misunderstood
what use are shoulda woulda could
what use a voice that stands alone
how can I know, my heart is stone

Autumn, swirling its late comers, just the few that are remaining.
Transfer station, weird, uncanny, some get on, some are deplaning.
Wind, nostalgic, barely blowing, gently melting on our faces.
See you soon, dear friends, we're going, flying to far away places.

Anxious, full of expectations, we await the coming changes,
Past betrayals healed by stations as the road both curves and ranges
Snowy crosses barely remnant on a kerchief of blue spaces
Leaving what I am, and am not, flying to far away places

Were we but to stop, one wishes, look around ourselves and gather.
We keep spinning like the dishes of a restless homing radar.
Dressed a fox, the Fall does call us, and a blue sky that embraces
and our fates fall in all colors, flying to far away places

Where is he, the winged devil, body of an alligator
What a pity times are evil, could we have been born, but later
May the snow keep falling, falling, without melting on our faces
May we find a dream, enthralling, flying to far away places

Author notes: http://www.bards.ru/archives/part.php?id=15767

the phone needs charge
much needed pit stop
a latte, large
parking lot backdrop
but time to jot down a few notes
tentative title: My Wild Oats

A Hallmark holiday, as if one needs
a staunch reminder of the role he played.
He is long gone, but memories, like weeds,
invade the well kempt garden that I've made
of my adulthood. Where would I be now
if not for poems that he taught me as a child?
Would freedom mean as much without the how?
I grew up free. Free of the loathed, reviled
regime that stole his youth, a Gulag camp.
How can one thank for every sunny day,
for a blue passport with a precious stamp,
a title that reads, simply, U.S.A.
For children that grew up without a fear.
A happy day for me. I shed a tear.

for those that do sell -- is it ever enough?
just how can you tell if you've got enough stuff?
it's easy, and no need to tease it:
when you've gotten nothing to sneeze at

Mothers weep for Ukraine. Tank threads deepen their grooves.
Fathers strain to explain, as the the dictator proves
human -- doesn't mean kind. Man will do unto man
and pay suffering no mind. All according to plan.

nascent, the crescent
stands ready to spill
buckets of moonlight
the forest is still
pine trees, coronas aglow
happily put on a show

Those were the days! When young and strong,
he lorded over the new fence.
When it meant something to belong
and future was the only tense.
And now? He's bending like a willow,
and counts the days. Wet grass, his pillow.

aging muscles cling to bones,
colors shift to monotones
most erogenous of zones
didn't bargain for these moans

welcome morning, come again,
glad to see you now and then
I can still remember when
writing meant using a pen

Come, musketeers, come if you shall
join in the siege of La Rochelle.
Come fight for Louis and for France.
The Huguenots won't stand a chance!

Your azure cloak, it bears a cross
come, rid your soul of sin and dross.
You'll join the likes of D'Artagnan
and fight until the day is done!

Your sword may hang on your good side
true musketeers will wear with pride
and when the foe is at arm's length
your fencing skills will be your strength

But it's the musket in your name
the musket that will give you fame
Come fight for Louis and for France.
The Huguenots won't stand a chance!