EPIGRAPH
Words
In medias res, metaphors
Rhythm and rhyme
Rustling in the mind
Gold and purple ideas
Shining from the sub conscience
Casting shadows in patterns of clichés
Déja vue
The word-gazer
Wanders, rambles, invocates
The muse, poor woman blind by now
Does not see, nor care the least bit
Whether the emperor wears any clothes
But the winged horse may yet be set free!
In to
In mid-day sun of black lazy shadows
Washed-out colors in endless grass lands
Greedy vultures converging from far and wide
Buzzing flies multiplying by the hundreds
Feasting on putrid remnants of pale flesh
Which stubbornly cling to the bones of what
Was a cape buffalo in the morning
A lone acacia tree guards a foot-print
Red clay testimonial to human
Evolution, in misty mountain valleys
Where the wild jungle night calved a sun rise
His rays bring on hunger, thirst and disease
The long, hot, dry day doles out enslavement
But the night belongs to the drums and ghosts
When bloody sun sets, hungry lions roar
Monkeys chatter and shamanic birds shriek
The dancing drums silence moaning day songs
And resilience, chains, not spirit broken
With her smile she shares glittering pearls
And her clear look casts brilliant diamonds
LUNCH BREAK
I am a great blue heron
Long-billed and long-legged
I stalk the shallow waters
Of my abandoned quarry pit
Prowling bottom silt
Scratching for feed
Straining my gullet
I masticate invertebrates
Gorging skyward
I scope the shoreline
For peril in waiting
Stenciled shadows
On the red clay bank.
It’s only the old man
Waiting in his gray car
Wearing a gray suit
Matching his gray hair
His eyes scanning
The gray screen
Of sky reflections
In my abandoned quarry pit
From a crumbled brown paper bag
He pulls a polished red apple
And eats it slowly, cheerful eyes
Caressing my plumage
Ruffled by the northeastern breeze
Having eaten the shiny hull
He throws the core in my direction
Leaving concentric ripples behind
He drives off in wavy lines
With a hoarse cry I fold my legs
And partially immersed in his grayness
I glide away
To roost in his soul.
CARPE NOCTEM
Yearning your heated breath, dark shadows cast
Clouding and always tormenting my mind
The time-less clandestine obscurity passed
Wicked intoxication made us blind
Gone now are the times of happy hunts
The urge in togetherness to destroy
Norms and what else the timid soul confronts
Willful we dared to fill our hearts with joy
The tender neck by a sharp kiss branded
Passionate fangs penetrated the vein
This ecstasy not to mortals handed
To feel such love, so full of lust and pain
Without envy we gave each other lives
From burial grounds the un-death freeing
Expectation cuts like a hundred knives
Violent feelings made sense of our being
Spurting, red warm blood soothed our craving throat
We sought illustriousness, found strength and peace
Weight-less from high church steeples we could float
Oh, for velvet darkness never to cease
Peeking sun’s first rays surprised the embrace
Too intense to separate in the end
Your likeness eclipsing in deathly grace
Even passion a life-less corpse can’t mend
Now I hunt alone through the long night cursed
Of all the many ones I had to kill
No matter how pretty, none quenched my thirst
But when I did love them, they had their will
The winged creature with stake, they may slay
But calm peace I shall never know again
Faithfully I see your face and long your way
Forever I chase your sweet spell in vain
Prima Verde
The frost’s breath still strokes her
Seemingly lifeless body
Raging storms rocking her
In dreams and out of reach
But almost unnoticeable
She stretches her numb limbs
Life juice welling, swelling
Rushing through tired roots
Cherry trees nodding to each
Other now knowingly
Murmuring and mumbling
A great awakening
Suddenly a rain drop
Tickles her sniffing cold nose
She shakes off the heavy dream
And yawns – it’s only March
Rising from earth’s darkness
She drapes herself proudly
In shimmering rainbows
Spring time is in the air
FORECLOSURE
A gathering of mostly older men
Brooks Brothers business suits some
And others ordinary oil-stained overalls
Milling about, drinking coffee and coughing
In the yard, behind the barn, away from the house
Neighbors, some gleefully glaring
And strangers searching sheepishly
Among hand tools, hoists and harvester
In house, weathered face feeling
Wronged and weary, waiting
To hear the chattering auctioneer:
Do I hear a hundred, a hundred
Thousand, a hundred, a hundred
A hundred once
A hundred twice
SOLD!
Kilimanjaro
On the roof top of Africa
Over sapphire and emerald glacier
Sun rise embraces snowy cupola
Waning twilight retreats from insomnia
Treading on orange sherbet, feels chillier
On the roof top of Africa
Oxygen-starved lungs orchestra
Wheezing sickly, aching body becomes wearier
Sun rise embraces snowy cupola
Swollen brain battling edema
All spell-bound, by Bryson the sorcerer
On the roof top of Africa
Rushing adrenal plethora
Exulting the climbing mountain worshipper
Sun rise embraces snowy cupola
High fives, hugging, yelling hurrah
Gentle breeze spreads Tanzanian flag loftier
On the roof top of Africa
January Dreams
Last night, I saw a manger
Frozen in the Gazebo
Or was it a chilly dream?
A baby smiling sweetly
Or was it night’s frozen breath?
Dangling hope to dreaming fools
A baby formed from clay
Meaning to bring salvation
I drank to your health baby
While sitting at your cold feet
I could feel the crushing weight
So heavy, heavens can’t heave
Too earthly to entrust angels
Formed from clay or night’s frost
Only fools, the chosen ones
Forgive who wage wars on them
See dancers on glowing coals
Eaten by bright, cheerful flames
Singeing on-looking moth’s wings
And the sweet smiling baby
Learns how souls are parted by
The fine comb of searching thoughts.
IMMIGRANTS
Their shrill squawking
Fills the neighborhood
With unfamiliar dissonance
The entire sight is strange
As they congregate in anticipation
Posturing among themselves
And jockeying for positions
Waiting for crumbs to fall their way
And an occasional handout
They followed the lure
Of the garbage truck
Promising plenty
They surely look out of place
Seagulls in the parking lot
Of a shopping center
With no sea in sight For miles.
AD ASTRA
Hale-Bopp voyager of stellar might, up high
From here, through heaven’s gate we wish to fly
Earth sick, unhappy, eternal day dream, the sky
In self-denial, castrating we try
Little and big temptations now we defy
But Applegate and Applebaum belie
Vodka and phenobarbitol, we sigh
In Nikes, dressed warm, asleep, we die
No psalm, nor reason, ask not why.
Joshua’s joyful journey
Your pink little feet, sun-kissed will grow
Searching sunscapes of long ago
Sunscapes beckoning and winking
You watch little elves dew drops drinking
At the border of the big woods
Where the wind delivers his goods
And the silent tree tops embrace
The wind’s bounty, stroking with grace
The air of millennia – now
And joyfully waving each bough
Against the endless starry sphere
From where floating dreams bring much cheer
And when some stars fall on your bed
Stick one on your brother’s fore head
Follow the moose to the woods edge
Where lasting friendship it will pledge
When you are sad, eyes filled with tears
A yellow kangaroo appears
Smiling it will grow bright red spots
By drying away your tears dots
It is in the sunscapes we find
True happiness and peace of mind
Look ahead, behind the trees hem
Sunscapes and you may enter them
Your pink little feet, sun-kissed will grow
Child’s Play
So sophisticated has become our world
But leave it to angry and wronged boys
Smart atomic bombs behind flags unfurled
With gusto and force they shatter their toys
But leave it to angry and wronged boys
Tender children at heart, they tear to pieces
With gusto and force they shatter their toys
And then they cry and their pain never ceases
Tender children at heart, they tear to pieces
Everything, till there is nothing to break
And then they cry and their pain never ceases
From the broken pieces a new play they make
Maturity would require them to think
Smart atomic bombs behind flags unfurled
They march on to the catastrophe’s brink
So sophisticated has become our world
SNACK TIME
Every now and then
Mid-afternoons mostly
On rainy days more often
I feel the urge to reward
Myself and the purveyors
Of nationally distributed snack food
By purchasing one of these
Cute, little and cellophane packaged
Goodies with fancy names
And fancier, if not garish
Looking colors.
Among my favorites
Are the trusted, treasured
Peanut butter crackers
Each constructed
From two perfect squares
Of molded agent orange
Glued together with liquid nails
The beads of adhesive
Partially exposed by the joint
Vaguely resemble peanut butter
And as I pull the red cellophane strip
To unwrap these yummies in anticipation
I cannot help but read
What looks like a warning
From the surgeon general
But turns out to be
A complete list of ingredients
The listing, quite concise
Contains parentheses and sub listing
With multiple choices:
There is enriched wheat flour
Containing niacin, reduced iron
And thiamine mono nitrate
Riboflavin and folic acid
Vegetable shortening
(contains one or more of the following:
Partially hydrogenated vegetable oils
Bean, cotton seed, sunflower, canola)
Dextrose, salt and soy flour
Leavening (sodium bicarbonate)
Malted barley flour
Yeast and paprika
Cheddar cheese (cultured
Pasteurized milk, salt and enzymes)
Disodium phosphate and
Peanuts and artificial flavoring
Artificial color (FD 8 and yellow #16)
Good God in heaven!
What have I eaten?
Having read all of the ingredients
I note further instructions:
“Best used by expiration date”
But what could I use them for?
Oro y Plata
Under the scorching disk of gold
Insignia of Inca heraldry
Trekking Inca roads and steps
In their shadow-less presence
From the jaws of the puma
And Cusco, the navel of the earth
Climbing arid plateaus
Through cloud forests
Along the stillness of glaciers
Breathless from the preciously thin air
And the beauty of the Andean firmament
Silver framed crystals of beryl and turquoise
Beneath which lay the real gold
And silver of Ata Hualpa
Revealed only in darkness, when stars
Are laid out on the black velvet lining
Of the Andean night
And as I gaze in awe
I can see the great Inca
Now baptized Juan de Ata Hualpa
So that he could embrace the crucifix
When they passed the cord around his neck
He smiles at Pizzaro and his conquistadores
Who could take away only shiny metal
BABY – S
Hoping with a heart full of love
Miracle blessed from above
Radiant happiness greets the day
Sound wave image, Baby – S on its way
Bulging belly is looking so good
Growing baby and personhood
Love soon in our hands we can weigh
Sound wave image, Baby – S on its way
May you grow up, being your-self
Even as a mischievous elf
Our essence and joy you portray
Sound wave image, Baby – S on its way
Summer Afternoon
Bloated dreams are billowing,
Like shirts on a wash line.
Blinding white cloud ships
Sailing in to the melancholy
Of sapphire heavens.
Promising a hint of rain,
To cool the scorched earth.
The song of a distant cricket
Slices through the stillness,
Raising ripples of unfulfilled desires.
Under the willow tree’s shapeless shadow,
Dozes a couple – still holding hands.
OUTLANDERS
Amino acids, animated, alive
Cold, clammy, creepy
Creation’s cosmic conspiracy
Cells coyly coupling
Alert alien agents abound
Lurching, lurking, leery
Lunar landscapes, lurid
Earthlings, Graylings. Changelings,
Little men in green
Mischievous monsters mesmerizing
Miserable men in black meddling
Stealthily subliminally stirring sub-conscience
Releasing repressed remembrances
Restlessly reasoning religion
Relentlessly rousing rationality
Saucer stories simply squashed
Serial Samaritan
In an everyday city
In ever ever land
Lives a man
Looking normal
Like you and me
With no particular mission
Minding his own business
As he wanders
Through hopeless city scapes
Looking into dark eye sockets
Not staring back
Passing hands, rattling thin cans
And also hustling hurried drivers
To wash their windows
As they wait at traffic lights
So that they too may see
The urban reapers bountiful fields
The normal looking man
Hands a ten dollar bill
To the first shadow
Emerging from hell’s doorway
Keeping the city in fear
Knowing that no one
May be safe
From the normal looking man
Yet committing
Another act of senseless kindness
November Rains
When shorter days are framed by bleakness
Dreary sky oozes monotone grayness
November pities a world in waiting
He sends the ever cleansing, gentle rains
Washing lawns and window panes with cold spray
With a clearer vision now, we drink in
The saturated colors of autumn
Listening to the quiet, motionless trees
Resting among the glistening greenscapes
Asleep at the edges of bare brown fields
Their leafless branches stretching high above
To hint a wave to a distant jet plane
Droning and dragging the grayness away
RONDO DE MAYA
THERE WILL BE, NEITHER GLORY NOR GREATNESS
ON EARTH UNTIL THE CREATION OF MAN.
IN THE RENAISSANCE DISCOVERY BEGAN
SAILING ACROSS THE OCEAN’S WILDERNESS.
THE CONTINENT ENDOWED WITH LARGENESS
A GROUP OF EUROPEAN TRIBES OVERRAN
THERE WILL BE NEITHER GLORY NOR GREATNESS
ON EARTH UNTIL THE CREATION OF MAN.
VANDAL BORN AGAIN, FULL OF BRAZENNESS
THE BEAUTY AND SACRED, SENSE NOT CAN,
CONQUISTADORES DESTROY BARBARIAN ?
NATIVES SLAIN BY MISSIONARY ZEALOUSNESS.
THERE WILL BE, NEITHER GLORY NOR GREATNESS
ON EARTH UNTIL THE CREATION OF MAN.
Lullaby for Zachary
Sleep my child - sleep it is late
See the sun sinking to rest
Behind the mountain straight
Last rays kissing the crest
She dies in blazing red
You my child know nothing of death
Sleep my child – my child fall asleep
Sleep my child – sleep it is late
Close your eyes to the gleam
Many suns rise and wait
For you alone to beam
But night is sweet and dark
And moonlight is so stark
Sleep my child – my child fall asleep
Sleep my child – sleep it is late
The meek evening breeze wafts
The screech owl takes the bait
Who knows all magic crafts?
Dark and hidden is the narrow path
And one can hear the breath of wrath
Sleep my child – my child fall asleep
Sleep my child – sleep it is late
You and I must now go
To be lone is our fate
Nobody here will know
That when asleep we taste our tears
And with sweat wash away our fears
Sleep my child – my child fall asleep
Sleep my child – don’t listen to me
What you hear is the wind
From my head words blowing free
Their meaning I rescind
What I know, in my head I carry
And with me in my grave they bury
Sleep my child – my child fall asleep
Are you sleeping – Zachary my child?
Only bleak shores we are
Blood pulsing surf is wild
Like plasma in a star
In us flows the blood of what was
Fathers bequest us with these flaws
Sleep peacefully – you are asleep
Forlorn Hope
There is always the one
Who ventures in to the
Unknown, to explore and
Search of how to square a
Circle, without consulting
The oracle or calling
Upon the knowing gods.
Only he, who truly
Loves wisdom, is free to
Turn inwardly, seeking
Answers to the questions
Of ethics and dare I
Say true morality
Of motivations,
Responsibility.
He will muster the strength
Breaking from prison of
Self limiting beliefs
Studying relationships
Of schematic figures
To infinite numbers
Proofing that the ratio
Of the diameter
To the circumference
Of a circle is constant
Drawing circles in dust
Illuminated by Rays of hope, only to
Be extinguished when thought
Slices through the Gordian
Knot of much ignorance
The sword severs the head
Inter relationship
Intellect and matter
Do not disturb the circles
Pi is seven parts of
Twenty two - more or less.
Shape Shifters
Pity the moonwalker in the sky
Endless trail of darkness reached
Going back – where we began to die
Primeval survivors belie
Civilization- impeached
Pity the moonwalker in the sky
Shadows in Bad Lands terrify
Landscape by burning sun bleached
Going back – where we began to die
Birds of a feather mollify
Formless velvet night owl screeched
Pity the moonwalker in the sky
Where cunning coyotes can fly
Human shapes can be breached
Going back – where we began to die
Betrayed flesh – hint of an eye
From freed soul naked fear leached
Pity the moonwalker in the sky
Going back – where we began to die
Apocalypse
I see orange flames blazing high
Distant against the bright blue sky
I see the dark shadow expand
From a nasty, menacing hand
Red hot fire spews from a large throat
Pillowing clouds of dense smoke float
Innocent souls lifted by gale
Like sad banners of mourning-veil
Enormously grows the shadow fist
Crunching the towers with a twist
Burning walls tumble, the city scorch
The world witnesses a lit torch
The earth is embroiled in rage
Hellish horses take center stage
Shrill, blood curdling they neigh in rut
And venom spills from their split gut
Searching, I look in the mirror and shudder
I see myself adrift without a rudder
So long Othello
As comforting day light is dying
And vague twilight softly embraces
The tired, undulating body
Too worn to be lifted off the floor
The house turns quiet, void of you now
Still layered with unmistakable traces
Wisps of fur, hint of smell, stains of drool
Your quizzical look in our soul lingers
I want to turn this lasting imprint
In to what I am denied to do
To reanimate, to resurrect
Godspeed on to the kingdom of sleep
I hope that, perhaps some future day
When I must cross the murky river
And comforting day light is dying
I shall hear an echo of your dark bark
SCENT OF A CIGAR
First singed by flames, then a big draw
Like a hot kiss, but not so raw
Breathing sweet smoke, how bizarre
Soul – soothing scent of a cigar
A whiff of tobacco to smell
Is feeling so gorgeously well
Tasting cognac and caviar
Soul – soothing scent of a cigar
Visceral transcendence be-wings
Essence through haze of smoke rings
Cigars delicious concoctions are
Soul – soothing scent of a cigar.
The Exchange
Glances at first
Sizing up treasures for the one
And cash for the other
Eying earthen pots and bowls
Judging their artistic patterns
Eying a leather shoulder bag
Guessing its swollen content
Two sisters from different planets
Eying each other
Burnt sienna meeting intense cobalt blue
Pale hands reaching for bronze hands
Two sisters from different planets
Assemble a mosaic – is it understanding?
A Plague of Thoughts
Our principles last long
Enough to clash with our
Passions and vanities
Always losing the war
Nobody is so crazy
As not to find soon someone
Crazier, who understands him
The making of a therapist
You have to make your self small
To understand bigger things
And in the end you will be
Rewarded with paradise
Ideas can be more powerful than guns
That is why we are not controlling guns
But by not controlling guns
Are we controlling ideas?
Fundamental belief systems render us with
Eagle eyes for all we see to confirm it
And make us so completely blind for all
We see to question or even doubt it
In our enemies we see nothing but faults
In our good friends we see only perfection
And find their faults charming
Unless they turn on us
The quest to discover the grail of self knowledge
Lures you on to the rosy path of self esteem
Soon you increase your stride with self confidence and
Will be caught in the thicket of self righteousness
Our country is worried about its future
I am worried about our country’s present
Stop listening to the doomsayer prophets
Don’t run out of thoughts, follow your heart, act now!
Our intellect, when getting closer
To solving a problem, penetrates
To such bottomless abyss
That memory can’t follow
Be happy with your small house
A bigger one can be built
And then you will need more things
To fill all the empty space
Truth is always absolute
Although recognized seldom
It’s impossible to find it
Unless you really want to search
Don’t be striving for more
Look the good is so near
Learn to grab on to luck,
Luck around the corner
SELF BIOGRAPHY
I John Deer
Hoofed and cud-chewing
Bearing and shedding antlers
Dream of leading the herd
As Elk – totem of my clan
I do not know the medicine.
Rumpelstilzchen poems Copyright © 2004. All rights reserved.