of all the points I've had to make
the hardest is of no return
a few of those I've had to break
a few had broken me in turn
some surely pointless in the end
and others left me quite disjoint
some, scored at gun point, had me bend
and some just serve to make my point
stale fairy tales
and culture clashes
sad, empty pails
mouths full of ashes
unholy scribes
so condescending
the world describes
a bitter ending
Well met, Juliet, was it worth it?
no tale quite as sad, so they say
the bard broke them apart, saying curse it
they're happy? I've got bills to pay
protagonists labor, frustrated
as pens meet their every attempt
until our desires are sated
and heroines are not exempt
trying to catch the dying embers
I fling the windows open wide
inviting the last light inside
the tree, pretends that it remembers
(though in the past, it has denied)
what night is like -- and stays outside
head up in the clouds
worry down below
stomach full of doubts
window lit aglow
alone in her Rapunzel tower
and in her hand, a single flower
Author notes: image from latimes.com
let Billy sing at your white wedding
his Mony, Mony does the trick
cradle of love, the bed's red bedding
is somewhat more cliché than chic
you're dancing with yourself, your other
significant, but doesn't bother
to be a lover, rebel yell
a sweet sixteen will never tell
is flesh for fantasy required?
can one love eyes without a face?
peculiar, our human race
for most of us, that's how we're wired
white wedding, coming out, our ball
come, L.A. woman, catch my fall
Forgotten temples dot the cityscape
where humans used to sacrifice their lives.
The avenues that offered no escape;
their spirit lives but nothing else survives.
The wind howls as no canine ever did.
The rats and roaches long since disappeared.
Dust devils dance dark alleys that once hid
the seedy city's waste, and those that feared
the cleansing light of day. No need to hide,
the sunlight barely permeates the clouds.
The sidewalks, emptied long ago, abide,
but wait in vain to host returning crowds.
Where's everyone, what happened here? You know.
And this? Merely my long "I told you so".
welcome winter
I can't stand you
nasty weather
tepid sun
ever going on vacation?
really hope this is the one
sun sets early
on the water
late departures
stay indoor
take me somewhere
I need summer
care to stay there
evermore
so pale, she looks at me with bloodshot eyes
the pendant that will soon absorb my soul
a harmless blue, maintaining her disguise
it holds all she's absorbed, all that she stole
as darkness overtakes me, here's the moon
and on my mind: please stay, don't go so soon
Author notes: image from mocah.org
in the beginning
all was singularity
everything followed
In deep mountain passes where winds wail away unimpeded
and ridges so steep that they haven't been conquered, not once
A mountainous echo lived happily, knowing it's needed
and answered all incoming calls, if but given a chance
When loneliness swells in your throat, makes it harder to swallow
and your stifled groans fall as if to a bottomless pit
The echo will catch them, and treat them as holy and hallow
and amplify them, never failing to send or transmit
What manner of folk, stoned and sated, nor lacking companions
but none heard the snorting of horses and thunder of hooves
They came but to kill and to silence the spirited canyons
The echo was caught, promptly gagged, warned against making moves
The sordid affair, an impromptu but bloody all-nighter
the echo was trampled and tortured and died all alone
It was executed, just shot, with the sky turning brighter
The rocks ricochet from the cliffs, as would tears from a stone
Author notes: В тиши перевала, где скалы ветрам не помеха, На кручах таких, на какие никто не проник, Жило-поживало весёлое горное эхо, Оно отзывалось на крик — человеческий крик. Когда одиночество комом подкатит под горло, И сдавленный стон еле слышно в обрыв упадёт, Крик этот о помощи эхо подхватит проворно, Усилит и бережно в руки своих донесёт. Должно быть, не люди, напившись дурмана и зелья, Чтоб не был услышан никем громкий топот и храп, Пришли умертвить, обеззвучить живое ущелье. И эхо связали, и в рот ему всунули кляп. Всю ночь продолжалась кровавая злая потеха, И эхо топтали, но звука никто не слыхал, К утру расстреляли притихшее горное эхо — И брызнули слёзы, как камни, из раненых скал...
breakfast turning into luncheon
luncheon turning into dinner
sitting pretty in this dungeon
I'm not getting any thinner
hearing Covid's finally over
maybe it is time to venture
whistle, whistle, come on Rover
see if you can find my denture