your FACE, devoid of feeling
I see you in the lockdown hall, so different from the others.
While they attempt to barter love, your face, devoid of feeling.
You never were to be swept up, for I’d not know your story.
Your brother young, ransomed in vain. He never made it homeward.
Your face, devoid of feeling, so. It eats at me, my conscience.
Fragility is not undone, engendered deep inside you.
Without a word, I sneak you out. I’ll not share in the proceeds.
a friend in need found a Friend Indeed?
I’m arrogant, impatient, just prickly as they come
So it’s a real no-brainer that I go out alone.
Except my loyal partner, who’s home all day and night,
I’ve never had somebody whose liaison is tight.
My brother drove me crazy, and not in a good way.
We hadn’t much in common except some DNA.
As kids, we fought routinely. We punched and scratched so deep,
made hurdles to a friendship irrevocably steep.
He crashed my college party. Our folks were out of town.
While dressed in drumline costume, he threw the revelers out.
We tolerate each other, leave well enough alone.
Our individual lifestyles, accept but not condone.
The tide has turned but lately. Accord has yet been sowed.
We spent some time together, a weekend on the road.
Though Mom was right there with us, we didn’t quarrel once.
Can we have laid our arms down? We’re mates, I have a hunch.
in with a whimper, Out with a Bang
entered up-side down.
Marvel, proclaimed Miracle,
grimace on your face.
Sulk and laugh. Rebel.
Kiss some toads and wade in creeks.
Splash-in-puddles fun.
Come maturity,
Imaginings are long gone.
Season: merciless.
Find purpose, with luck.
Work until you can’t endure.
Playfulness returns.
Legacy of love.
You’ll thread that needle’s eye yet!
Lay your burden down.
Murder, by any other name ...
How this story came to be,
I’m obsessed, or so it seems.
Talk in rhymes or riddles, now?
Take it to the limit: Ciao.
You’re so wrapped up
in your little world
full of boys, boys,
and your pretty girls.
I am watching from my vantage point.
Little do you know,
I’ve got you figured out.
Where you’ll be at
any given time
is recorded
in my Masterpiece mind.
Why I’ll do this
after all the torture.
I may NEVER know.
I will blow it all, you see?
I
will
Sacrifice
my Ultimate Delight for your
dead Peace of Mind!
Scale this pro ad infinitum (not ‘at least 9 times’)
Piranha’s at your doorstep
when you step in her stream.
For Hate’s last breath is breathed out
to carry on this meme.
An alternate truth, sadly,
is how you’ll meet your fate.
The undertaker’s dream is
predictable. You’re bait!
No backward curiosity
will let you shirk this task.
Nearing the End of Days, you
will be proffered no mask.
Unnatural, her motives?
Unanimously, No!
I think of scales that grow back.
Your forever: in a pro.
dirge in A minor (a la ’60s Folk Music)
Well, how are you faring, my stranger?
Yes, how are you getting along?
It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken,
a sad melody for a song.
So, how has it been, being without me?
Has life dealt you many a wrong?
Has she, your new love, been good to you?
A sad turn of things for a song.
Yes, how have you been, my dear husband?
You still bring a tear to my eyes.
Not long will you remain my husband.
The song hears the dove as she cries.
So, how has it been, being married?
And did I make you a fine wife?
Now do you regret being married?
Has marriage affected your life?
And will you remember the moment,
the hour we exchanged both our lies?
Will we each remember our sadness?
No joy in this song, the dove cries.
The joy that we sought, have you found it?
The joy to last our whole lives long?
Did I make you happy, my lost one?
a sad memory for a song.
Was I such a horrible lover?
Did I bring you nothing but strife?
I shudder to think of the severance,
the cutting, the sharpness, the knife.
You’ll never again long to hold me,
admit that your love is still strong.
The path you have chosen lies elsewhere,
a sad eulogy for a song.
the Fall
The air was cleared. It was the fall
When someone had informed us all.
We ran to see, hearts on our sleeves,
Effused were we with sense of pall.
The planes came down from all around,
The air was cleared. It was the fall.
This wasn’t mere coincidence.
These acts were sure intentional.
Ay, wat’ry graves were adequate
To lay these ruffians to rest.
The air was cleared. It was the fall.
No eye had seen such sight before.
Each year, we turn our thoughts to this
And honor what ensued after.
Pearl Harbor harbored more than pearls.
The air was cleared. It was the fall.