No Ashes On Reef

                                                            (Image from Pauldixonwebdesign.co.uk)

No ashes on reef

Lose not the grief

Should you only

Replace it with

What is not right

Ask me for no favors

Don't make me change color

From fair to dark

Love lust dishonor

Phoenix Rose

                                                              (Image from M1.behave.net)

She rose from the ashes

of her past best forgotten.

Phoenix, always the dancer

gliding through the ballroom

of life. Every man wants

her to be his wife.

She smiles, she shrugs,

brushing off the gray off

her shoulders even as her eyes

look around the greenery,

to tomorrow. Her feet take

her to travel in a chacha

that only knows moves forward.

The joy in her laugh slays
the cries of yesterday.

Tears dry into diamonds,

the most cherished of gems.

She calls out a name. It rhymes.  

Your Ashes Will Not Be Spread

Your ashes will not be spread

at a secret reef

Someone else knew about it

No secret

No love

Forced to fall for a fall guy

Because evil lived

in your home, your heart

Battered by a blackhearted dwarf

A presence, any presence

Would have been welcomed

by you and you did

May-December fucking affair

You said you first fell in love with him

on the month you got married

to the dwarf who raped you and

beat you up for two score and three

Apropos

How can seven be fleeting?

How can nothing not happened?

You said you lacked not for chances

To give yourself to him

And you wanted to

Maybe you did not

Maybe you lie

Your fake confession

Makes me want to die

Of all the! What the!

Shit happens

You say no regrets

No regret for shit

You idealize, you romanticize

Affection for your peon, your pain

Shameless ambitious dumbass fuck

Exploiter of a bleeding heart

What else bled?

Quick to the draw

On the chances alone

Just him and you

Cheapened class is worse than cheap

Led to the fuck slaughter like sheep

He made you feel good

Ice cream does the same

And it doesn’t sweat like a stuck pig

Sty living in a bunkhouse

With other hired hands

Sleeping with a servant

Shit again

Have you no pride?

Your children will be so proud of you

Fucking a semi-literate trash

Skin blacked by sun and soot

You went slumming

And enjoyed it

You even fell in love, you said

Shameless.

Desperate.

Dumb.

He went away to save you?

Offering protection and love?

No. He went away

scared to get caught

and killed like the dog he was

Going away for love is permanent

He came back to get drunk

With his buddies during parties

Idealize that selfless honorable shit!

Shit is shit

A fuck is a fuck

You asked me to spread your ashes

on the spot where you added

your tears to the sea

I would have

Even if I puked as I did it

Smelling ugly simian lust 

in this place

But what if I die first?

I will not make requests

for dumping

Just burn me

and keep the fire burning

Until not even ashes remain.

Boredom and a Broken Heart

(Image from Mistwalkerphotography.files.wordpress.com)

Boredom and a broken heart
the most lethal of combos
Ennui its opposite
Want and wanting more
Not even a lot
Love lies bleeding in public
Heart in sleeveless tattooed arm
Stories to tell of pasts
Dug up and dug up and bared
Lies and games head up shoot down
Mean mister bastard petty and pretty
She does you no good, what a pity
Deception recognition
She is good, you are bad
Girls love bad boys, tough boys
Pure and selfless shit more lies
Slum high society two-in-one coffee
Flirtation with dirt-cheap sanctity
Sex in the city of green stones, black hearts
I am bored
I want to die
The death of a thousand cuts
Glass on chest crawl the snake
That you are worthless piece of shit
Boring, who wants to hear tales
Of broken hearts when broken heads
Are more interesting?
Now we are talking

Mud&Stars

{For all the Tulips and Roses in the World, palpable and immaterial}

       (Image from Onearth.org)

I am dry, I wait
I look up and crumble
Look down then, think
I would if I weren't stuck
Mud is fertilizer
An so is Shakespeare
Mud can be dry, wet
Ergo, I am mud
Stop flinging, start singing
Pick up your sticks and play
Come away, come away
Land down with a thud
Back to mud, dreaming stars

Horse Beatitudes

(Image from Charsilks.com)

It rains on New Year’s night/falls hard on the roof the sound of horses galloping in unison breaking stride/marching to the end of the word/peace remains elusive/in hearts troubled by love illicit/a matter of perspective/and strength/affection close cousin of sentiment not enough when no vessels span the seas/bridge the islands/taking you there/I wrote that for minimum daily wage and banana cue plus a bottle of Coke/north of Eden/hid from spouses psychotic/city-bred kinetic/cynic of smirking spirits having flown the coop/we can’t go home again and don’t insist/because horses’ hooves in the thousands drum roll a single note in feel rent crying for release/the hounds howl equine in stride/proud in stares and whispers

still

(Image from img.mobypicture.com)

the sun sets on a horizon still
late birds fly to roost
ripples barely seen on the water
no boats stir, no planes dot the sky
absent trees, their ghosts content
as it was meant at the start
the world without humans won't be lonely

Tomorrow the Sun

(Image from Billfrymire.com)

Storms send out warning
of dark clouds and drizzle
ahead of wind, rain, death

Tremors don’t
But the dogs howling
at ghosts; birds flying
into windows, walls

Songs crash into words
Breaking stride, crushing dew
Fear in faces, stuck in place
Feet turn to stone

Leaden the dead
Spread the news
The world ends anew
Tomorrow the sun

One Day that Shook My World

(Image from 30.media.tumblr.com, Joe Strummer, Earthquake Weather)

Give me the shakes

shake and bake

run for the hills

Oops! This is uphill

The fool who lives this high

has nowhere to go but down

Can’t go out without a sigh

Cry and look like a clown

Call and text

Shoot your load

No more sex

Forget that broad

Holy book this, holy book that

Catch the last train on track

Sing His praises

Get high on smack

If the world ends today

Buy that last happy meal

Here’s a toast, don’t stray

My God is right, hooray!

I was in Love with Margaret Salinger

(Image from Media.smashingmagazine.com)

I was in love with Margaret Salinger

J.D. would have not approved

But he normally didn't care

So the coast is clear of doting father

Beyond pretty, Meg is a gem

She’s smart, got her father’s genes

She’s pretty, her mother is the same

Her parents split, what a shame

Margaret was her daddy’s little girl

They watched classic movies on reel

Amidst the New England woods

Fairy-tale setting, ideal for moods

Imagine Meg growing up to be Margaret

Went to college, worked as a mechanic

Jerome David could have made it easier

For her to earn a diploma, plus money for beer

But, no, daddy loved his isolation

Her daughter’s desolation forced her

To find a man of his image, futile

She hated him like Plath hated Hitler

The dream catcher wasn’t much help

All it did was give a catchy title

For a book like Mommie Dearest

With daddy stepping in for the beast

Sure, J.D.’s lover came out with her own tell-all

You can’t blame Joyce, she will always be

A little girl whining about the world

Making a living on bones in her wallet

But how could Meg do a Joyce?

Get back at an absentee daddy?

Get royalties for a book well done

Even if it hurts her as much as it did J.D.?

Should anyone care as long as we get to read

A book as fun as a day on the beach

A whale struck by a bus

A train crashing into a truck

Meg turned out OK

She married, got kids

She looks happy on the Web

She’s a Christian minister

I write this down using Courier New font

Ten-point-five points small

A boy turning fifty

Throwing rhymes, so nifty

Stories High

(Image from http:1.bp.blogspot.com)

Stories are told in ways
As numerous as heroes’ names
Sizes various as egos wandering

The best storytellers are mothers weaving tall tales
To children who imbibed their milk
In soothing tones of silenced cries, cooing contentment

The saddest sight is a widower
Who whistles in the lonely afternoon
Against the wind, sees his wife in whirlpools of dust

The happiest sound is a bird chirping
Who knows not it has wings
But sees people shuffle their feet

Attempts at Translating Neruda

(Image from fc06.deviantart.net)

An Attempt at Translating Pablo Neruda's 'Soneto XI'
from the Cebuano from the English

I yearn for your lips, your voice, your hair
Quiet, famished, I stalk the streets
Bread cannot sate my hunger, dawn intrudes
Throughout the day I search for water measuring your steps

I hunger for your slippery laughter
Your hands the hue of fierce reaping
I hunger for the pale pebbles of your fingernails
I want to consume your skin like an almond whole

I want to eat the sunshine ablaze in your body beautiful
The queenly nose on your haughty face
Desiring to consume the passing gloom of your eyelashes

I lie in wait ravenous, breathing in the twilight
Hounding you, for the warmth of your heart
Like a cougar on Quitratue’s wastelands

Sulay nga Paghubad sa Kang Pablo Neruda nga 'Soneto XI' Guikan sa Iningles nga Guikan sa Kinatsila

Gipangandoy ko ang imong ngabil,
imong tingog, imong buhok,
Hilom ug gutom, gaukoy ako sa mga kadalanan,
Ang pan dili makabusog kanako, gibalda ako sa kadlawon,
Tibuok adlaw gipangayam ko ang tubig nga sukod
sa imong mga lakang

Gigutom ako sa mimis mo nga katawa,
ang imong mga kamot nga bulok,
Sama sa usa ka bangis nga ani,
Gigutom sa mga luspad nga bato sa imong mga kuko,
Buot ko nga kaunon ang imong panit
sama sa usa ka tibuok nga almendro

Buot ko nga kaunon ang bidlisiw nga gasiga
sa imong matahum nga lawas,
Ang maraynahon nga ilong sa imong mapahitas-on
nga nawong,
Buot ko nga kaunon ang lumalabay'ng landong
sa imong mga pilok,

Ug galakat-lakat ako nga gutom, gasimhot sa salumsom,
Nangayam kanimo, alang sa imong kasing-kasing,
Sama sa usa ka puma sa pagawpaw sa Quitratue.

Pablo Neruda's Spanish text for 'Soneto XI'

we will not be loners

(Image from ugniusdapkunas.wordpress.com)

we will not be loners
we will run with the pack
and think nothing of going back
we will not be loners
we will live in a city
full of lovers and hoods
screaming for the moon
and baying for blood
we will not be loners
we will learn how to write
in upper case
and use punctuation
we will be punctual for work
which we will find
to put bread and beer on the table
we will not be loners
we will ask ancient people
to teach us
how to love and multiply
we will not be loners

She Thinks of Me at Least Once a Year

(Image from merlinspath.files.wordpress.com)

She thinks of me at least once a year
She never was sure if it was love or fear
Undeserved emotion or mere empathy
For a creature rare as a quotamonee

She was young when we first met
I was seven years her senior
A big boy acting like junior
I swept her off her feet

Always tongue-tied
Heart in sleeve hogtied
13 marauders raided her heart
Her castle walls held rampart

But the gods were unwilling
Gave me no grace, muses unsmiling
Nyx sent her nocturnal hordes
Pushed me back to the sad overlord

Where messages vanish
In fields of dead bodies
Regret and thoughts of Hades
Deaf to words admonish

I write of nursery rhymes
When the finger of poesy
Is caught in cookie-jar mimes
Of middle-age fancy

Forgive my daring, light of Ley
Princess of my youth in fields of hay
I sing of bitter fruit hanging on dead branch
Melodies, words they work perchance

The Arrogance

(Image from s6.thisnext.com)

With arrogance that should only belong to God
she breaks my heart.
Fearing neither karmic outcome or the speed of my hand
she smiles while cutting up vows like paper falling on floor.
The betrayal of ultimate candlelit dinners
whispered flirtations sinking in wine
are ancient recalls of moonlight caught in lace curtains.
Will the victim live through blotter reports
blood dripping on snow
the cliché of shared movies, shred tickets?
The query of final judgment
will prove a pretty smirk
is not the right to hurt mock.

Trois Femmes sur la Cote a.k.a. Three Females on a Beached Will

(For Jane)

(Image from imagesfromus.com)

The girl, the woman, the lady walk
along the boulevard of spoken screams
Along the coast where suns bobbing up and sinking
Are multi-colored balls children play with on the grassy lawns
Captive of concrete marble slabs, benches for weary flesh and soul

Every rising of the sun is a new year of whorls in the tree of strife
Love confounds all but the purest of spirit
Those who need not the wars of affection
Point and go where drizzles and rainbows call
Whispering vows and a skip and a jig

Short Wings

(Image by Luc Viatour from www.upload.wikimedia.org)

Live impermanent of cycles
Memories transparent shimmering
In the dim of sun, gloom of moon
Sisters of dragons flying low, waiting vainly
Of knights blue armor diving smokeless jets
Amassing not for war but for love, peace

A creature that dies everyday cannot go extinct
It lives dead between vampires and recall
Forgetting nothing, eating air
Breeding, springing forth gushers
Nymphs and imps watching
Long may you fly, bye

He Wakes Up Neurotic

(Image from farm5.static.flickr.com)

He gets up happy, they say
Smiling from day to day
Never see a frown on his mug, grey

He blows the trumpet divine
Angel or strumpet, he declines
Sat on a bench, C’s on his side
Mo’ money they plead
The babies they bleed

His arm is strong
His fingers are steel
But soft as velvet
They string the reel

Notes fly into space
In between
What’s in your face
Race to the edge
Plant veggies
Eat the soil of Eden

It’s a wonderful…
What the hell, are you?
Don’t speak, it’s a mouthful
Didn’t your ma teach you?

(Image from davegranlund.com)

The Arrogance of Stephen Hawking

The arrogance of Stephen Hawking
is the insistence of humans that they matter
more than something else.
Big Bang, theoretical physicist, which came first
the physicist or the bang?

Hawking once straddled the faith fence
not committing to one side.
Later changed his mind
with gravity pulling his ego down
to the molten core
where everything melts
including event horizons.


(Image from divorceinsurance.files.wordpress.com)

Did you do it for love?/Did you do it for money?/Did you do it for spite?/Do you think you had to, honey? – The Long Run/The Eagles

Marrying for Money

Not expecting marrying for money’d be this bad
No sex for love, no sex for love
Security, comfort, prestige -- unworth the air printed on
Sow the seeds of lust, barren feelings field
Birds, insects feast on unburied seeds
Thorny plants choke seedlings
The foolish man builds a house on mud
The foolish woman believes middle class is sad
Dead is sad, indifference mad
Not expecting marrying for money’d be this bad

Tiger Through the Rose Bush

(Image from wwwdelivery.superstock.com)

The blood the prick
Thorn elects
Goads is a gift on the land
Parched by invaders from up north
Two footed and four

Cat of stripes and rare gripes
Ambles through thickets swims through flows
It minds not the cuts remind it it’s beast
The biggest one on any block

Growling mewling mood dictates
Humidity this deep calls for waters
From below and above

Tiger beauty and death
Is god to the famished