Unsettled (The Dabbling Artist)

The need to call something
“my own”
To display an undeniable
through some means
leads to perpetual unease
A fire burning unabated
Even the gods are compelled to
but fate has made me a
unable to settle on one
method of expression
First here,
then there
Never finishing

The Weight

Music again inhabits
the room
Clair de Lune
set against a blistering
orange sunset seven days
removed from Yule
Surrounded by trees and
lights red and blue yet
something isn’t right
Such a weight I have
felt this today
Testing my resolve
as the earth tries
to swallow me

My Hillbilly Shows (Crowing)

I wrote a good ‘un
honest to god
you shoulda seen it
it was sumthin
and I hadn’t even
had my coffee yet
but folks are busy
you know what with
Christmas comin
and all so they
didn’t pay it
much mind
but it was sumthin
I’ll tell you that

Reality Check

Hariprasad Chaurasia’s
melodic bansuri
filled the room
Rag Lalita the tune
Names and terms
foreign to many but
I assure you the
sound was quite sweet
until the Medivac chopper
roared past
near to the house
yanking me back from
the precipice of peace
with its harsh reality

The Eye

The eye of the wizard
opens wide in the
blue hours
when night begins
to sense the coming day
The middle time
twixt the twain
with neither strong
enough to hold sway
Behold the eye
of the wizard
piercing the divide
Unbroken gaze
Drawing power
through the haze

Syrupy Tale

Today is
National Maple Syrup Day

So this

In its honor:
My dad would
take a butter knife
and get a goodly
amount of peanut butter
and smear it on a saucer
squirt syrup on it and
carefully mix the two
like a chemist
then spread it on
soft white bread
Best sweet treat

Devoured (Hollywood Glamor)

She’s a bag of bones
chain smoker
with Botox lips though
an hour or so with a
make-up pro still
does the trick
but that won’t last
Sold her ass for
fleeting movie fame
and the game is damn
near over
When the pretty is done
they’ll pack her up and
send her home
Hope she saved some dough
for her looming obscurity

Except For Attica

My life prior to nine
is an unsolved mystery
Few pictures
and all memories
erased by an
undefined trauma
Save for one
The mind
ever odd
held tight to the sight
of a riot I saw
on grainy color TV
I was seven
It was ’71
Carnage at Attica Prison
in New York
Strange what a brain
deems noteworthy

An Ancient Breath

The wind that lifted the soil
from the face of Kansas in the
thirties is still here
It’s never escaped our
Perhaps near
Perhaps blowing
down your street
is the wind that
touched soldier’s cheeks
at the Somme
That writhed
through the jungles of ‘Nam
Every breeze a living relic
of human history
newly experienced