Gonzo Cantered Tales and Poetry

Chapbook One
1
________________________________Gonzo Cantered Tales and Poetry
Chapbook One
2
3
The Poet
As I learned to give lead
to the still small voice
who works in the silence
of coincidence
and circumstance,
my reason failed.
Thus, taken by shadow
I spoke with spirits.
Feelings not mine,
yet all the more real
because they were not.
Speaking, speaking,
through my fingers,
laughing, weeping,
I am led.
To words,
I am wed.
4
NXSable
I. Nostalgironic
The old door,

inaccessible to all but my emotellect,
darkly smooth from human touch,
freely swings.
To look and long
or look and leave
is the repetition of
time and time once more.
This door with constant moves
up around a spiral stair.
True friends, lovers, antagonists all
inhabit the cramped towering steps.
They freely traverse and converse
among and through my being.
Those of different place and time
meet to form new alliances.
To continue the battle
for something never won or lost.
The past, the past will it always last?

Never frozen in time precisely because it's mine.
Nostalgironic
II. Good Impressions
My emotions have burned

grooves into my being.
Like hot pressed wax
my soul is inscribed
5
with the passing

of life through me.
Yes, I travel through life,
but life is oblivious,
it does not remember.
I return to a place
that lives in memory.
I say: Hello!
The sweating stones
packed into the sidewalk
remain silent.
Red flags inside the parking meters,
all in a row,
maintain their blank stare.
The door at the top of the stair
does not open to greet me.
On the tree where I carved my name,
without a nod to unnamed shame,
yellow tan leaves
handshake with the
blustery autumn wind.
Not with me -
This place cannot recognize
a friend.
It may only be
the instrument that inscribes
new memories and emotional
whistle stops into the lives of others.
How impartial the time and space

that fills this place -
How biased and fragile, all too easily
impressed and disgraced am I?
6
Scarab
"The poet is the priest of the invisible."
~Wallace Stevens
"We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them."
~Kahlil Gibrhan
Little beetle, beetle mine

cast your spell again this time -
Beauty and its price,

Lovely renditions,
Renewed for me,
Forever not mine.
That winsome attraction

for the face that beguiles me;
To the grace so deep
it escapes me.
Little beetle, beetle mine,

7
Bring me back, make her new,

Smile, dimple, and hazel gaze
below a chestnut crown;
Pale cheek, temple, and nose divine.
Languid form,
Long and supple,
The woman in my dream,
Always a figure, always a friend.
Little beetle, beetle mine,

She stays young as I grow older,

Your spell is magic and I believe,
I'm in your debt, but I hate your truth.
She comes, but leaves and remains with me.
8
Exposure (The Writer)
What skill you have!
Take it with you to the grave.
There's nothing to be saved.
If a word is longer,
It will not make you stronger.
The allusion makes you taller
Than you are.
When you leave and leap too far,
Don't have a care
For what they say.
Love yourself the way,
You wish'd that they
Would cheer your name.
Leave it all behind.
In the side of your mind
9
That does not plead.
To need more than can
Be carried in your hand
From day to day.
Careful what you say,
Fast words will never pay.
10
Oedipus Rx
neurosis
psychosis
super heroes
super egos
shouldn't I don't
or do I dare?
I wish I won't
why don't I care?
times are hard

times are easy
receive a birthday card

stomach getting queasy
I hide and pout

I'm not your friend
I bounce out
I fall in
I fall to sleep when

ego has the lead
Id out again
good thing I pee'd.
11
Night Becomes Our Dearest Friend

Dedicated to ~K and 'The Laxative Mind Effect'.
There is a place where dreaming ends,
And night becomes our dearest friend,
And when desire turns to self,
And where a wish will never help,
And all the while you're free to call,
To questions that intrigue us all.
Let's leave this place that life calls black,
Our hearts like stones that grow so cold,
The hurts that wound to show our lack,
And talk to answers while we're told,
Just look to life and not your back,
A bright white place for those so bold.
Yes, there is a place where dreaming ends
And night becomes our dearest friend.
12
The Beauty
She glances ever so carelessly,
At the transparent reflection in the window,
Just a smoothing of the hair is needed.
The echoing hollow is familiar,
The shopping mall offers her fame.
Surely wondering just how many,
From sideways, front, and behind,
Who has ever seen a beauty like me?
Just an extra voice of laughter,
For the young men walking past her.
Another bag of clothing for showing,
The shopping mall offers her fame.
13
I'm On Your Side
Dark is good. It's time you hid.
What is that? Nothing, silly.
Dust bunnies. Yes, be quiet.
I'm scared. Sure you are kid.
I can't breathe. Be glad it's chilly.
I can't see! You don't need to.
Where is he? Near, very near.
Stomach hurts! How bad, really?
I hear them. They won't find you.
I hate him. How about her?
I love her. Why do you hide?
She hates me. Why is that true?
She likes him! She's your mother.
He smells bad! All of them do.
I could cry! I'm on your side.
14
Formed Reflection
Swiftly, yet great in grace,
Poised, in seeming pride,
Intently, however not,
Moving, can leave no trace,
Leaping, without a ride,
Swirling, inside a knot,
Stepping, in cantered pace.
Flowing muscles slipping along formed reflection.
Born black, now glowing white Lipizzaner perfection.
15
Tango Blue
The damn phone,
Hear the tone.
Uptown, downtown, speeding lights are flash'n.
"It can't be."
"Yes, it's me."
Wrong way, highways, my way, say it anyway.
"Go ahead."
"I'm in bed."
Right turn, left turn, stop and looking back.
"Where are you?"
"Hanover."
Press the gas, flip the phone, grab your comb.
"Come over."
Express lane, turning lane, hear and feel the heat.
"Tango Blue!"
16
Backyard Moments In Time
The sun is warm on my face
and that rare feeling of being whole
and at peace with and inside myself
- that has been working up to this moment
and certainly all of its own doing -
has finally succeeded. I look at the ground
in front of me as the sprinkling of sunshine
casts crazy dancing figures into a frenzied ritual
that follows the movement of the light breeze.
Which has the lead in directing
the leaves of shadow and light.
They are all of them, just right there.
Somewhere, just there, to the left
of that smoothly rounded old rock
and quite to the right, is my baby girl.
She - all so pink and a bit messy
from her entrance into the world,
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wearing that fresh, new stocking cap.
Such a pink, she and the cap, against the dark
blue-green hospital linen. The cap that was
placed there on her beautiful tiny little head
by the delivery nurse who shared
in owning the same red hair.
They are both of them, just right there.
The movement of an anxious starling
causes me to look in its direction where
I see the gardenia blooms, so well reflected
in their shiny background. And just there,
my new bride is behind a closed door
making herself wonderful for our wedding night.
I'm sitting on the side of that hotel room bed
considering the most curious thought. At no other time
have I since, or before, had such difficulty deciding
if something was comical or serious. There I sit
thinking to myself, "What am I doing here?"
Myself and my young wife both, just right there.

18
You Must Know It
I'm not the daffodil poet,
If you get it, you must know it.
Streams and things are surely fine,
My sweet words aren't made to be kind.
When knowledge of self stays alone,
Deep runs the chill through my bones.
Sharing is for caring to mend,
Take my words, my friend, I don't lend.
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Haiku Not - Wind, Sun and Dew
When the Wind sets to sleeping
After the Sun sets the skyline
Then the Dew sets the droplets
What then after when sleeping?
Then who sleeps when the Wind sets?
After his skies what sets the Sun?
What then is their drop of Dew?
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Loud
Loud!
I'm awake,
no need to strain my big ears.
Screaming tear filled accusations.
Booze humored responses.
Babies crying, pots slamming.
Headlights in the driveway
invading my darkness.
Back door opening - muffled talking.
Sun streams into
an empty house,
punctuated by gobbling snorts of snoring.
The stink of unwashed sleep
as I shake the bare shoulder.
Dad, Dad, you need to sign my report card.
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The Sound of Angels
That's mine. Leave it alone.
Nah ah! Mom bought that cereal for both of us.
Be careful! You're spilling the milk all over.
Which cartoon do you want to watch?
That's okay, watch yours first. Then I'll pick.
As I lay and hear their banter,
I press my head so softly,
As the tear is dried so sweetly,
On my weekend pillowcase.
22
On A Dark Tame Horse I Ride
It was fun to play in the rain,
When the sun left its pain.
To call your name,
Yet all the same,
To run with trains,
My spirit had a stain.
And dream of silver manes.
And I became - tame.
23
I Could Not Say
Some would say he has gone away
Others that he died
I could not say
All would agree because of she
Her that stole his soul
I could not say
If happiness is meant for now
Grief and pain for later
I could not say
When hearts turn bitter words cut sharp
Bullets the silent part
I could not say
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Here in Hell or there with harps
Where he is no one knows
I could not say
She laid him down where the green grass grows
Spread the leaves around his sleeves
Tied her heart to mine
Then used the gun that had but two
One for him and one for you
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I Wish It Would Rain
Thirty days I'm doing without
If only I could have a shadow of doubt
I wish it would rain
Sunburn stopped when my body froze
If only I could talk with my tongue at my toes
Whispering winds tell me not to listen
If only the sky could begin to glisten
Hell freezes over at my front door
If only my mind could work once more
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Bags of riches and no set of britches
If only the night could swallow those sons of bitches
Eating 's no fun at a table for one
Nor do I care for this front row chair
There's no shadow of doubt
The sharks will have me
When this boat gives out
If only I wouldn't die thirsty
I wish it could rain
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What's Absurd?
The eye is the window to the soul
But a blind man knows
Lost love is the beast
Who eats from end to beginning
Until you meet to start over again.
If you chase a white rabbit
He drops out of sight into
Midnight tunnels of habit
Trust if you must
Love is his enemy and lust his friend.
Wish upon a star
And see how far
A penny for your thoughts will
Take you away
And bring you change on a rainy day.
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Take it to heart
And let it go to your head
Find a bed of roses and clouds in the sky
Forget what you say, but remember your part
There's no silver lining in a hundred good-byes.
The eye is the window to the soul
Until you meet and start over again.
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My Most Devious Derelict

My Most Devious Derelict,
I've had second thoughts concerning your offer to make me miserable for the rest of
my life. At this stage of stunted personal growth, I feel it is better that I move on and
find myself with space enough to be with just one lover. Your offer of permanent
torment is surely provocative and enticing. It is all that I can do - to just say no.
Although love is fleeting and emotional pain is forever, I must break your black
heart and call off our engagement. Please explain to everyone that I'm just too loving
and undeserving of your horrible cruelty.
May you have the worst life possible,
Johnny Rotten Camus
~~~~~~
Dear John,
How could you? After all the things we didn't have together! Please accept my
eternal curses. I'm begging you insincerely please! I long for you and others. Who in
their right mind would not believe that existence is futile?
Waiting unexpectational on your return to sanity -
All my sticks and stones,
Forever my hatred is yours,
Your Devious Derelict,
Simone
P.S. Jean-Paul asks that you call him soon.

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My Jealous Permutations
words told tone lied
lied words told tone
tone lied told words
told words lied tone
lied tone told words
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It Happened One Sunny Day One Terrible

Night
The ocean was calm.
And the breeze was light.
No sign of danger
Was anywhere in sight.
Then came a thunderous boom.
Straight out of nowhere
Came darkness and gloom.
That filled everyone
With a deep dread of Doom.
So the Captains at sea
All feared the worst that could be.
They said to themselves:
Could this really happen?
To my ship and to me?
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The blinking lights beamed
And the radios sizzled:
This is much worse
Than a terrible dream.
For hundreds of miles
Went a vertical stream.
The sound was so loud
No one heard themselves scream!
Everyone who could see
Knew that many were lost.
Everyone who was there
had nowhere to flee.
They saw the huge mountain
Disappear from the sea.
All of the rocks
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And all of the trees,
Became a red fountain
Spewing fire in the air.
It happened one sunny day.
That was a terrible night.
There never was,
Nor will be
Again.
A friend like the mountain.
The mountain Krakatowa.
That is gone forever
And is Nomoa.
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8 1/2 (Otto e mezzo) For Love
I truly try
As time goes by
This bird has flown
Society's child
The boots made for walking
Have come a long way, baby
Wasn't it good?
Like a rolling stone
All you need is love
A spaceman
A tambourine man
A nowhere man
Penny lane
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Mary Jane
Who stayed the same?
~~~~~~~~~~
War of the roses
A pocketful of poses
A fatal attraction for a few dollars more
Outland badland
Endgame
And checkmate
Much ado only two
The man who loved cat dancing
Who are you?
La dolce vita was a shrew
Nino Rota loved Juliet
And my godfather made three

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Mustangs camaros
Broken arrows
For a man and a woman
Waiting for Godot
Driving Miss Daisy
And a cuckoo's nest for Mrs. Robinson
Napalm and Zappa
Napster
Who are you after?
Fellini and McQueen
Mean streets
And a taxi
~~~~~~~~~
37
8 1/2 for love
8 1/2 times for zero
I'm no hero.
38
En Casa de Herrero, Cuchillo de Palo
I was guilty.
My motive was profane.
Yet, all the same,
Would consider myself
- cultured and urbane.
Test Test 1-2-3
My soul
the crash test dummy of
My deeds
My face
the clown painted need of
His grace
39
Some Like It Hot
Red, Red
It's often said
Is the color of love
When blood runs hot!
Blue, Blue
Is also true
When the color of love
Is not so hot!
40
Brothers In Arms
He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep - pain that
cannot forget - falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our
own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful
grace of God.
Aeschylus (525 BC – 456 BC)
Sweeney's Scrapbook
Sweeney, standing at the cell door, glares at the Mead composition book with the
sewn binding and tattered cardboard jacket. That man is a fool to write such trash.
Who in their right mind could understand such tripe. Certainly not me. He walks to
the small table, stops for a long moment, and then grabs the book. He slaps it against
his opposite palm and feels the satisfying sting along with the loud noise that breaks
the silence. Careless of crumpling the pages, he finds the one he is looking for.
He begins to read:
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Lord
Of my life,
You pipe a jig,
They hear a dirge.
They sing they didn’t,
I dance - They did!
They glo--ry and pra--nce,
The awful song of the wicked!
The re-sur-rect-ed Christ denied and slain,
By his fol-low-ers with His name.
A glorified body does not bleed,
Christ is dead just the same.
The crime is hid---den!
So whose to blame?
So whose to know,
Before they go?
They keep law!
To feed His,
sheep.
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Sounds like a bunch of traitors to me. Just like those damn Charlie Gooks I had to
kill. Me and Brad ... the two of us were stronger than dynamite. TnT - that's what
they called us. Yeah man. TnT. Terrington and Todd. Those hole moles never
squeaked when my razor went through their throats. Yeah man, the Colonel knew
they were traitors. Plenty good reason enough for Brad and me. "Thus may we
gather honey from the weed," was Brad's favorite black-op code. Man, did we gather
some honey for Uncle Sam's money. Bloodweed. ... Thus may we gather at the river.
Crossing Jordan was the hard part. But once across, the thrill was on. Funny how
when a man dies in your arms ... he seems almost thankful. The little bastards were
grateful that I killed them.
He leafs through a few more pages, pausing occassionally. He stops and stares at the
illustrations. Touching them lightly with the tips of his fingers, he feels the raised ink
on the pages pasted into the scrapbook.
He begins to read.
Decision
Today is the day.

Now is the time.
"Winken, Blinken, and Nod,

Went to sea in a wooden shoe.
Floating on a dewy mist,
They sailed into a crystal light sea."
Where is the crystal path to the past?

How does it go from there to here?
Prediction based on bias and wish,
Warms a motive well.
When consequence shapes circumstance,

Experience breathes a chill.
Decision, reluctant to leave a cozy bed,
Invents another wish instead.
Brad Terrington
43
Altitude
Racing past sound
Leaving the ground
Where is God to be found?
Ice crystals
Oxygen missiles
I leave this short epistle.
44
The Sounds of Silence
LaFAYE'S FUNERAL HOME: What am I to do without her? You're supposed

to love us God. My precious little girl is with you, not me.
NEW YORK STATE WELFARE OFFICE: Oh God, why me? Why in the name of
hell - me?
4th FLOOR ONCOLOGY: What did I ever do to deserve this tube of poison in
my arm?
3:30 AM SARATOGA COUNTY BOOKING: To hell with you God. I don't care if
they kill me for driving drunk.
DECEMBER 22, THE ATLANTIC OCEAN: God please, please teach me how to
float. I don't deserve anything! I'm begging you, please God! I'm so tired.
GOD: Now you're talking.
45
This Is Love
The Lord is above,
And spreads His love.
He sees Himself,
On the Cross -
When all were lost.
He finds the time,
To make His Way.
Through you and me,
For all to see.
He lends an ear,
He bends to catch,
What you might say,
But didn't - yesterday.
46
He knows the time.
He makes things rhyme.
So we can dance,
In harmony.
47
Y = sin yΘu
I'd like
to show
you some family photographs
from
our Book
of Life.
The Word
of God gives
us
the gospel
in a series
of beautiful pictures
of
the silent Truth
in
the Passion
of
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our Lord Jesus Christ.
Pilate, as he was considering
the sentencing
of
our silent Lord asked, "What is truth?"
and walked away
from Truth. Then
Pilate presented Christ
to
the Jews
and said, "Ecce homo - Behold
the man!"
Mary, His mother
at
the foot
of His cross.
The three hours
of Darkness
in which Christ suffered
the sins
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of
the world.
The dead pierced body
of Christ
on His Cross
of Crucifixion as
the Centurion admits, "Surely, this man was
the Son
of God."
The stone
and soldiers that guarded
the burial tomb.
The empty tomb.
The wounds
in His resurrected body.
The ascension
of Christ
to heaven after forty days.
The witness
of
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the two angels
in His return.
Truth
Man
A virgin birth
Sinless
and unique
The blood
of
the Lamb for
the sins
of
the world
God Himself - Dead
and buried - He's alive
and resurrected - Witnessed
and confirmed by many
He has ascended
and will return.
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A divine economy
of sin
and sacrifice that equals
and answers Y.
Θήτα
the eighth letter
of
the Greek alphabet.
Resurrection Sunday
the eighth day
and
the first day
of
the week.
The day
of new beginnings.
52
God Save Me From Your Followers!
Lord of my life,
You pipe a jig,
They hear a dirge.
They sing they didn’t,
I dance they did.
53
1NE 4ORTY 4OUR
Grace.
Communion,
Communication,
Relationship,
Sharing,
Faith.
Grace is secured
In a moment of faith.
Life lived in grace
Is the Word,
Experienced.
54
Abide In Me As I Abide In You
God would say to the children of His grace,
To those who possess the power of faith:
Trim your sails and loose your rudder.
Let my Spirit carry you home.
And the rainbow water flying from your bow,
Will be a river of life in streams of now.
At that day you shall know
that I'm in my Father,
and you in me,
and I in you.
Because I live,
you will too.
1. Based on John 14:19 - 20
55
Bon-Z
Bon-Z was a young boy,
You see.
He had many fine toys,
Not me.
MP3s and his
ATV,
Kept him busy and free.
Not me.
A sad day was when,
Bon-Z lost his big grin,
And, dimpled his chin.
56
The Chinese buffet,
Was moving away.
Bon-Z liked chong-chong,
Not me.
Did I ever say?
In a very plain way,
The buffet is long gone,
And my name is Su-Z
Wong-Tong!
Haiku Not
I feel anxiety
When she goes without me
This is not rational
57
Three Friends and Two Lovers
Nevertheless
whatever and
whosoever we
are. Agree we
will among us
three.
Remember the
time is mine that
stood before he
and sometimes me.
A time when there
was only two
not him, you and
me to make us
three.
So, find your space
and trace a path
58
back to that time
that was not mine.
To search your way
from me to him
must come again
from lover to
friend.
So who's to win?
You cannot leave
what no one owns.
I'll have it that
way and that's my
say.
59
Black Velvet
Tantalizing scent of madness,
Delirious red sanity,
Provocative luscious constraint,
Seditiously awful freedom,
Harlequin's barb revilement,
Rhapsodic unction of my soul.
Oh my soul does revile and wish
to be free of this constraining
sanity which is my madness.
60
Green Tarnish
Sprouts and tangles twined his mind
Whatever was could be again, lay just behind
A green tarnish that helped to slow
The outward flow of rust
must
be the season of the
witch
A blanket of time was all that's mine
He reasoned this to be too slow
To go near deep and high to reach
The rich drops of pitch
must
witch
61
Trees fell down and he went up
To try more treachery as treason for
Leaving his reason so far out of season
The rain dealt him pain - again, this man of tin
must
witch
62
Once Upon A Night So Blurry
Sweet sequined light
Upon a night so blurry
A rude chill rides
Upon your cantered stride
The heavy dampness feeding
Your brothers noonday children
Soundless dogs lying upright
Beneath your sight beguiling
Me into your reverie
With each shadow
Passing, taking
What I give so freely
Sweet sequined light
Upon a night so bleary
63
Cardiogenic Shock at a Small Town Clinic
The cardio tests on antique breasts who arrive
and depart with a regular start leaves me to
wonder as I check my heart if there should be such
variously different families as those
apparently smart with well dressed heels and
fresh parlor parts disagreeing so much that
old cars and trucks start gasping and wheezing
- when the new Buick parks.
64
No Soap Radio
Dear Radio Seattle,
I'm in a quandary over your recent show, 'No Soap Radio'. Would you please explain
the meaning behind the name of this new broadcast.
Sleepless in Seattle
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Sleepless,
I read with interest your email requesting that I explain the title 'No Soap Radio'.
After much consideration I am providing the following two sided joke. On one side is
written a fairly humorous situation. On the other, a piece of deliciously funny 'No
Soap Radio'.
"There are these two fish in a tank. The first fish looks over at the second fish and
says, "Hey, do you know how to drive this thing?"
Soapless in Seattle
65
Born To Be Wild
Calm Castalia by the sea
A wondrous place for Iris and he.
Demian's tongue softly spoke,
And Iris forgivingly awoke,
To the compulsion of her living
Joined to the man of her being.
She saw existing become lyrical,
When meaning moved to mystical,
Wanting and wishing to be free,
From calm Castalia by the sea.
The promise was given,
And the need was driven,
To see the Steppen,
As the doorway to heaven.
66
Demian and Iris soon left us,
As was the practice of those,
Born to be wild with the wolves,
In the mists of the mountains
A wondrous place for Iris and he,
Away from calm Castalia by the sea.
67
Crossover
Later is better than never
when it comes to remembering
the past and a place that crosses
over. A crossover, yes.
A time when maturity exceeds
damaged personality and over-
wrought, unconsidered feelings which
have for so long drawn you into
the dismal repetition of
harm as the remembrancer of
ancient hurts. Can you now
(surely you can) lay to rest what
was done to you? Have enough rivers
been crossed (those places where you
were the one who was the cause of
traumatic spite) to allow a
truce between the crying child who
68
grew to be the horrible adult?
(Surely you can crossover to
the other side and comfort that
small crying child.)
69
You
You pick me up - gently

You smell me
The freshness of myself.
You pass over me

In a damp rush
To find - secret places.
Once there
You deftly use me
Until I no longer satisfy you.
Why do you leave me

Tossed away
After I please you?
Am I so unwanted
This towel of mine
Until the next time?
70
Valley of the Dolls
Slowly, she turns as she walks across
the floor with only the smooth, light rock ballads
to cover her skin.
Stopping for the moment her practiced pace
that leads from room to room and back again;
she lingers upon her last thought
as one in a stupor might pause, abruptly stare,
and continue with a conversation once the tongue
has joined again with the mind.
Reminisce all that was, and any small bit of nothing
which was not, is the afternoon's entertainment.
Ever so gently, slightly tipping her finger and gliding,
touching the doll on the dresser who
keeps watch over her sometimes and sometimes not
reveries of that which could have been.
71
The heavy, chilled crystal tumbler in the hand of one
who has made friends with loneliness hasn't much to say,
aside from the occasional roll and purposed shake
which makes the ice cubes giggle
from inside their confinement.
As in an often repeated ritual,
she addresses her nylon friend,
"Why did I never find you in my life?"
The doll only maintains its silence.
"Why did you never come to my door?"
She paces once again and stops,
"I waited, I knew you would come, my
dear handsome Ken."
72
The Kiss
You are kneeling, he is caressing
You cling, he holds your face
For his kiss.
Gustav Klimt
Style: Art Nouveau
Lived: July 14, 1862 - February 6, 1918 (19th - 20th century)
Nationality: Austria
73
The Woman in Scrubs
The woman in scrubs flits and rubs,
As the pink that rides on her lips,
Is softened by the fire in her hips.
The many voices blend into one,
A sour vapor makes its way
Across the bar,
From the recesses of far too many excesses.
The Mind Eraser is freezing cold
- Sweet and dark,
As I am told, of those who come and go
At the sperm bank,
By the woman in scrubs.
74
Should I ask the obvious?
She is leading me,
Should I take her to task?
She may as well say,
"Sir, please rub my ass."
75
Harlequin's Carnival 1925_by Joan Miró
Treble cleft eyes
Cats with fishes
Spinning mobiles over dishes
Ladders and broken hearts
Some missing none of their parts
Asking me why, where is the lie?
Guitars without ears,
Only Jack-in-the-box
Is there to hear
Intoxicating
Enervating
Gammits for dammit inside globes that unfold
Screwdriver snakes falling off walls
Looking through windows with stars
Just how far can fantasy go?
Somewhere wiggling past nowhere in there
I'm out here peering in like a stare
76
Frozen in mind is taking
In between time of its own making
Purplish blue holds out his hand to you
Follow him too if you dare
Joan Miró
Style: Surrealism, Cubism, Fauvism
Lived: April 20, 1893 - December 25, 1983 (20th century)
Nationality: Spain
77
Response to A2Kdavis's 'A Fine Wine'
Oh that mighty fine wine!
Treacherous she-devil that she be!
Shaped like an hour glass
and graceful as a thoroughbred.
Until you want her to leave,
then she clings like a screaming monkey
to your heart and to your head.
78

Gonzo Cantered Tales and Poetry

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Gonzo Cantered Tales and Poetry

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Chapbook One

to the still small voice

who works in the silence

Thus, taken by shadow

I spoke with spirits.

Feelings not mine,

yet all the more real

because they were not.

The old door,

The past, the past will it always last?

II. Good Impressions

My emotions have burned

with the passing

How impartial the time and space

"The poet is the priest of the invisible."

Little beetle, beetle mine

Beauty and its price,

That winsome attraction

Little beetle, beetle mine,

Bring me back, make her new,

Little beetle, beetle mine,

She stays young as I grow older,

What skill you have!

Take it with you to the grave.

There's nothing to be saved.

It will not make you stronger.

The allusion makes you taller

Than you are.

When you leave and leap too far,

Don't have a care

For what they say.

Love yourself the way,

You wish'd that they

Would cheer your name.

Leave it all behind.

In the side of your mind

That does not plead.

To need more than can

Be carried in your hand

From day to day.

Careful what you say,

Fast words will never pay.

times are hard

receive a birthday card

I hide and pout

I fall to sleep when

Night Becomes Our Dearest Friend

There is a place where dreaming ends,

And night becomes our dearest friend,

And when desire turns to self,

And where a wish will never help,

And all the while you're free to call,

To questions that intrigue us all.

Let's leave this place that life calls black,

Our hearts like stones that grow so cold,

The hurts that wound to show our lack,

And talk to answers while we're told,

Just look to life and not your back,

A bright white place for those so bold.

Yes, there is a place where dreaming ends

And night becomes our dearest friend.

She glances ever so carelessly,

At the transparent reflection in the window,

Just a smoothing of the hair is needed.