RFP: Request for Promise

preoccupied secrecy was written
years ago, but it lingers in my head
as a bad decision that will not fade,
and just as in all horror stories,
there are spin-offs later, and this one
is about to be resurrected with a
new theme of death, replacing sex;
curled up into a fetal, mental ball,
I squirm my way around until
juxtaposed with the prize...
a state of depression about to be
reincarnated, approaches slightly
and swiftly in the hidden light,
not to be so easily noticed,
waiting in the forbidden but ever
so tempting swamps of loneliness
that hide behind unused feelings,
relics from caring stories, never
making it to the business side,
gently hanging in thought nooses
for the plots to be revealed;
no more first editions remain
that need to be matted and framed
nor photographic sensuality
that need to be exposed or expressed
nor brush strokes of paint on
black canvases that need to be
swished and swirled into splendor
or whisper blended so delicately;
there is only the promise that needs
to be revealed at some point and
executed with last breath precision.

18Oct14

Scheduled Today

Corinthian porcelain tiles
in six inch squares lay
face up, head to toe and
left to right along the
rectangular floors on which
we walk with handbag totes
slung down from our

shoulders like European
Tourists on holiday...  and,
papers with coded remarked
instructions are held firmly
in our hands like priceless tickets
to a Dead concert without the pun,
retrieved by gay colored nurses
in off white and purple dresses,
who lead us to stand alone
recliners at the end of an
alcove where all new arrivals
were given rehearsed
trepidation and released on
the other side of the hall,
where all their lonesome fears
stood side-by-side and
alongside the  look-a-likes
of the notorious Mexican Cartel;
sitting down where others had sat
and regretting what others regretted,
thrust out vein-less arms across
which they were to cut, but,
decided to get an infusion instead,
serving only to make me later
than scheduled for my own.

17Oct14
  

A Salesmen's Death

hiding behind the folds
of obese mentality, my
thoughts still occur to
me and someone else
as feared years ago by
those who taught me
not to care at all anymore;
standing in the shadows
of sublime indifference,
my tired eyes see the
hypocrisy of faith and
power that fuels our
greed and our futility;
conspicuous consumption
now labeled quite fondly
as conscious capitalism
evokes a gentile side to
our inherent corrupt natures
as we rather feebly attempt
to defend ourselves from
those who own our debt.

17Oct14

Retrospectives

mother never spanked me
my father once or twice,
not a pleasant child I was
but a rebel seeker of rules
to break and conventions
that were as afternoon tea
in across the water England;
once a past developed, it
never stopped stalking me,
haunting Halloween it was
more tricks than treats
leaving me with no truths;
savvy siblings circumvented
my space in time, forcing
sensitive disclosures and
facts not yet entered into
evidence but acted upon;
steel-toed shoes danced
French minutes with
German precision as
Pyramid sunrises may have
been a verse from Revelations
without the fanfare of
terrorism so prevalent today.

17Oct15

Crossroads

most of us stand
at a crossroad
once or twice
in our lifetime,
but none
have presented
themselves to me,
just twists and turns
and getting lost a few times
with unfamiliar
opportunities...
and cities; yet,
my path or journey,
some might say,
was never pre-planned
or precisely executed
with deliverables
and milestones;
however, it did
follow a pre-determined
path of sorts
of which I
knew nothing until
reaching those
inevitable destinations.

17Oct14

Dungeon Duty

I live in a dungeon,
a mental one at that,
with no windows
and one tiny light
swinging w
                e
                 a
                  r
                   i
                    l
                     y
                        back and forth overhead;
moisture seeps through
these porous walls and
into my lungs, giving me
the motivation to breathe
in the death of life and
become renewed in a
spirit of self from long ago;
curtains of despair have
all been removed from my grasps
for fear of escape out a window,
and bugs bit my ankles,
leaving itchy welts in positions
not easily scratched in
time to prevent swelling;
black cats nightly roam
and stalk my vision but
never attack as it is always too
early to share their myths
and remedies...   and,
screech owls hoot out
the arrival of the day, their
claws scratching out my
to see again so quickly.

15Oct14

Only Once

you no longer
desire
to share my
dreams
and wishes
like
you did before
because
the love you
had
for me
has been given
to another.

15Oct14

Consideration

playful scenarios layout
their blankets of design at
the concrete steps of my
morning mental chambers
for consideration and
without hesitation they
disappear into the thick air
around the uncertainty of
my desire never to be seen
with the same form and
style that they were woven
in today and previously.

15Oct14

Pre Destination Bookings

through my windows to the world,
I see evidence of rain in the forecast
with the offset of watery destruction
by witnessing spectacular foliage
in the Smokies  not to way away;

there are no rites of passage left for me
except death and rebirth as the story goes
and while that is a beautiful thought,
many do not as of yet, see it that way,
but I do...  or, at least I want to...





through my windows to the world,
I see visions of dimensions yet to be
realized by modern man in my lifetime,
with houses full of vacant rooms on all
floor and never fully occupied as far as
I can tell without having ever gone there.

14Ict14

Recorded

a record of my life

with all its subtleties

has been written down

for over forty years

from which my

identity could be

extrapolated should

anyone wish to do so;

and, in so doing could

formulate a person

that is not even close 

to who I really am

by reading that which

I have never really

read once written.

14Oct14

Why Today?

           

all my today tasks rest on
the shoulders of my will
that is motivated by my
desire to procrastinate
since I am retired and
have the rest of my life,
with no other responsibilities,
than to get these things done;
so, why worry today as
they will be here tomorrow
or maybe the day after that
since that would be  a
little better...   unless,
next week is even better
since my calendar is open.

13Oct14

Bliss in the Valley

sun bleached grass turns brown
to the touch and if it tassels then
all the better it will be next year;
no palms in the valley are ever
seen unless they are in paintings
hanging on the wall or on the
big screen if ever turned on, but,
they entice all the same like a
wanton teenage girl who was
raised improperly so they say;
shades of colors, all but grey
adorn these foothills and valleys
and we are usually left alone until
some Northern redneck tries to
sing on country songs on key.

13Oct14

Leaving Home

there is no sweet surrender
they are all bitter
and far from the taste of sweet
from which I recall;
born Southern
raised in the Southern North,

discrimination
graced us with its presence
during evening dinners,
but fell by the wayside
with classmates;
still, I was careful
who I brought home for dinner
and who I eventually
would want to wed;
still, memories of truth and justice
distorted by opinion and beliefs
did cloud my judgement
yet never once I kiss any ass.

13Oct14

Robber Barons

 your wings gather no dust

they flap and fly you free

leaving behind surroundings

flying ever so high above,

watching the intruders walk

through your domain and

all that your eyes claim

all those years ago when

you fought to the death

to be free and clear but now

you must search again for

that tree of trees on which

you will build another nest

and forget momentarily that

man is not far behind you.

13Oct14

Make Over

our home
has been violated
with this
new coat of paint;
the old
sanded away,
primed
and sealed with
strips of green
covering
chair rails and
baseboards...
rollers and
brushes
and
wet cloths
wiped
away mistakes
from
fatigue and
too quickly
with
application,
and
the pungent
smell
fresh paint
odorized
each room...
fans,
blew the smell
out
the windows
towards
the neighbors;
our home,
withstood
the shock of
this assault,
but will always
guard
the memory
of the old
for three to five
years or so...
when
mistakes
are once again
found
from what we
did before
and
are redone.

13Oct14

Truth Lies

all my struggles have
been in vain because
there is no one with
whom to share them
or that has the unique
personality to fully
understand them or

comprehend them
as they should be;
therefore, the rebel in
me must die and be
buried beside all those
like me who were also
ignored and cast aside
so that we might do
some commiserating
with one another as we
finally share the truth.

13Oct14

Sights Unseen

my stationary view of life
allows me to see a small
slice of what lies in front,
the greens and browns of trees,
the reds, blacks, and silvers of bricks,
the patched driveway of concrete,
and all the leaves spread around,
sometimes, blowing by me
and the blur of a bird
flying too close to the ground;

[Silent pause to reflect]

my cabinets of storage stand
like palace guards,
holding back what they know
or have heard or have seen,
but, quiet remnants of the past
like a partial table with a gas can atop it...
and a little past that,
somewhat closer to me,
are steps and a bookcase,
and then, my own fat belly...
that seems to peer back at
not realizing my fading sight;

[Silent pause to reflect]

these views of life...
my views of life,
are somewhat limited, yet,
I see more than most
and sometimes
wish I did not see at all;




[Silent pause to reflect]

those years of verbal nonsense
oftentimes spoken and
sometimes retracted and
sometimes redacted got me here...
and inside this isolation
from which I will spend
my final years or months perhaps,
who knows...
but, more than weeks or days I suppose,
in which I
say nothing...
speaking not a word
for or against whatever...
taking not a stand
no matter how feeble the principle,
since no one wants to hear
and no one wants to know
and no one wants to be disturbed
and ruin their illusions of paradise
or the stop the flow of money
that buys their silence
and their "prayed about" loyalty.

[Silent pause to reflect]

13Oct15

Inspired

somedays,
I can dwell
for hours
on a
single thought
and
go nowhere;
whereas,
on
other days,
I can pursue
several
lines of thought
and
write
for hours
as if
unlimited
in time
and
meaning
and
purpose,
since the words
just flow
and the dead ones
just go,
and,
there is no end
in sight
when inside
my
dank,
dark,
depressing,
mental basement.

12Oct14

Who Has the Floor?

scrambling...
across the floor,
tiny little legs move
its body with speed;
sliding...
under the cabinet
like slipping a paper
into a file;
colliding...
the bug and cat do,
freezing time and
emotions momentarily
until realizing,
there is no interest
held by either;
moving...
into separate directions,
behaving as if
there had been no
meeting a all.

11Oct14

Points

it is the nature of
our relationship
for me to
point out your
flaws,
and,
for you,
to accept my points,
in a way
that shows
appreciation
for the time
it took me
to see
all of them.

11Oct14

Guides

in the midst of interpretation,
the walls provide me with
writing of a different kind,
a different time,
a different place,
and all my pores open delight,
taking it all in...
but into what?

in the midst of investigation,
the dead lie there
in coffin-like homes,
peering our at us as if
we were back stage rock stars
and have given them passes
to look back inside...
but inside what?

in the midst of understanding,
a collective consciousness
sits between our legs
pointing us into a future direction
of which we know nothing,
but why?

11Oct14

Beware of Dog

don't speak to me of
compromise
as all our lives you
have been
afraid...
and,

don't speak to me of
reconciliation
as you have no idea
what it means...
and,
don't pretend to know
that I know
that you know
because
you don't.

11Oct14

Morning Sight

every morning
through fog
I look
as I drink
my morning coffee
with the glasses
of my life
fixed firmly
on my head...
and, each morning
I wonder
if there might
have been a
way for me to
see more clearly.

10Oct14

Each Step

on the floor it lies,
with multiple designs,
connected but unfinished,
like my life, and we
walk upon it as
would anyone without
any cares or concerns
and yet, my past

feels each painful step,
wishing to be free
and clear of all these
old memories that
return and haunt
and collaborate to
do more with each
step on the rug.

10Oct14

Impending Winter

we race around the frozen pond of our dreams,

looking for a tree to grab before we slip and fa,ll,

but, as we do, we slip anyway, and while it seems

a little premature, it is a necessary circumstance;

bundled up for the cold, we sit inside a humid

isolation sphere of doubt, sweating with each idea

as if it were a labor breathing, until an illuminating

sun causes ice to fall from the tree, giving us pause;

within moments within moments, a doe appears,

granting us a view of her blood stained body

before disappearing back into that part of the mind

where we were to have burned, not bury all

those memories we wasted on our foolish youth.

9Oct14

Getting Started

my thoughts today, hinge
on the door of uncertainty,
and not knowing which way
it is supposed to open for me;


my thoughts today, flow through
a lava hole, gaining speed as
they travel underground,
encountering less resistance;


my words today, sit like melting
ice in an alcoholic cocktail,
wanting to take just one sip
but afraid of its creation;


my dreams today, swing and flow
and sit calmly as they develop
and sometimes inspire me
enough to write down on paper.

9Oct14

Older... Not Better

into the future, we cannot see,
still we speculate,
and forecast possibilities;
into the past, we can see, yet,
we do not see so clearly
when we do...  repeating;
limited with our capabilities,
we arm ourselves with an
over compensating handicap,
marching into each day
with an attitude of indifferent
confidence because we know
we are who we think we are
and within that tiny awareness
of self...  lies doubt and the
ability of others to conquer,
and no respect is shown for
the different season of doubt
through which time passes.

9Oct14

Better Way

rebels see the world as
something out of place
needing fixing
while
the world see rebels as
troublesome
a nuisance
and in need of eradication
like Baltimore rats;
and, who are
those rodents that cause
so much turmoil,
other than
you and I,
who,
believe there is
a much better way.

8Oct14

ALIBI

an old man writing poetry
am I...  and,,
it is not good poetry at that,
just words expressing
trite feelings and emotions,
more like prose;
but, the
release of thoughts
does me good,
leaves me satisfied,
allows expression,
instead of
holding it all inside;
but, the
fact remains
I am an old man
unknown at best,
writing down words on lines
and calling it poetry,
and for whom
do I write?
do I even had an audience
and do I care?
so, I continue
for no apparent reason
other than I like to write.

8Oct14

Eagle Marks

a majority of us
seem to be content
with our lives
and place in society
and while
there has never been a
caste system in America,
we differentiate
through age,
race,
gender,
and income levels;
all of which,
are designed to
let only a few escape
each year
from these classifications,
joining the ranks
of the elite,
casting...
downward eyes
remember not
the journey; but
a handful of us
live our lives
without regard
for power,
empowerment,
or the whip
that once scared
our backs with
Eagle Marks.

7Oct14

A Sinner's Tale

in the quiet, reflective mode
of one's retirement, I see a
backwards glance of my life
and wonder if I had performed
a little differently, how it my
life would have been today;
and, while a meditative stare
like that denotes regret, I have
come to realize my life has been
lived exactly as it should have
been and would have been, if
a "do over" had been granted;
and, in that flash of insight, that
ultimate enlightenment, I see
a certain je ne sais quoi to the
whole relative bit while trying
to focus on the here and now.