Tell me of your peace.
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place
As it gently sloughs the pain away
Tell me of your peace
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease,
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within
Waiting for you
For you to let it be
Why aren’t we happy?
What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.
And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?
If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.
6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.
Impenitent, deposited her soul before
the convent's calling of redemption turned to prayer,
her covenant, inside the sanctum to implore,
canonical sustains her matin's aubade e'er.
( The ghostly reservation spreads, outside, in air
in harmony and misty dew that nymphs bestow;
Her white and vast Invernal quilt, bequeaths his fare;
man's mountain flight in solitude, becomes a crow. )
The waiting holocaust, impertinent consumes,
abundant insularity, her life in gale,
this holiness' transparency, both souls entombs,
- besought expressions of entreat on holy trail.
Her imperfection is immured inside the hope
distrait is her salvation's route; ascends effused,
in abstinence disporting fates, who dormant grope,
emending consecrated souls that reigns refused.
With uttered sentiments and mindful heed,
cherubic, grants her vows to him and burdened scope,
attentive to his Crucifix, plasticity of mead,
was it the crow's night omen call and skyward lope?
She joins her palms, ex-courtesan and reason's mi're,
perusing her late impudence, in prayer withdraws
by beauty's blessed her holiness, a thorny bri'ar,
Eve christened maid of covenant and crimson flaws.
©11-29-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
Smoke filled the little river lounge
The ceiling fans twirling to jazzy notes of the band
Music weaved its way amongst the crowd
Whiskey warmed my soul
As my I laid my eyes on what I surely would lay
A fine bird she seemed all dressed in black
My eyes had already stripped this one naked and bare
I smiled her way, her sultry gaze back said, let’s fly away
Sherlock was sitting next to me, pipe in hand
He looked me in the eye, and said never dance with a Raven young man
Your love will be clawed and a bloody mess in no time
In hindsight, this Sherlock was some detective
He sure had a good read of the situation that night
I being full of bravado and whiskey took me chances
Her perfume seduced my loins
I fell into her charms, this lady in black
Well I must confess I took her back
To my boudoir of desire
I should have headed Sherlock’s dire warnings
For indeed I had bedded the Raven, no doubt at all
Raving mad she was
Nostrils flared and claws ready to pounce
On my oh so romantic heart
I now have only one eye
In which to read the tales of Inspector Holmes
I have no ladies in waiting any more
No more raving mad love affairs
As I stare out my window
At the old black crow
(Dedicated to Folake)
Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.
Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.
May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.
Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.
Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.
There’s one thing I know for sure
I’ve said it many times before
When it comes to knowing, I just don’t
I’ll never say ‘I know’ I won’t!!
No me I know nothing at all
Excepting ‘life is beautiful’!!
Some great power did make it thus
And in that power I do trust.
I see the flowers, I see the trees
I feel the breeze just flowing free
I see and hear the birds that sing
And to my heart all of this brings
A smile just like the morning sun
I’m so in love with the ‘power of one’
The truth it lives within my heart
As I proclaim it with my art.
My heart is always open wide
I sit in silence, look inside
And understand what life’s about
I have no knowledge, have no doubts
It’s written in my deepest core
The truth, I cannot tell you more
For words so clumsy, cannot say
What’s in the soul, there is no way!
I write this poem from my heart
So glad that fate gave me this art
This gift of writing truthfully
I cannot lie, I cannot be
A man who says I really know
Yet deep within my heart I glow
I have within me so much joy
And this, no power could destroy
6 October 2014.
Living as a T.P.I
Just under twenty years ago
I was down in every way
Because of time in Vietnam
There was horror in my days
So Repatriation did give me
A special rate of pension
To help me with my daily stress
And take away my tension.
At first I hated all of this
I felt just like a taker
Though these guys knew without a doubt
That me, I was no faker
Then one day I did think about it
And came to the conclusion
That me, I was one lucky man.
Then gone were my illusions
So then, I made the most of it
I learned to play Guitar
And wrote about three hundred songs
[Though I never was a star]
I walked along the wetland trails
And heard the birds rich calls
And realized this lazy life
It was quite wonderful.
So now I bless each day that comes
And do not care at all
That I am living off the state
I guess I have it all
And all this leisure that I have
I deserve it, all if it
Because I went to serve my country
And I know I done my bit.
19 November 2013 @ 1500hrs.
Could a scythe cut a slice
from a sycamore tree?
If a bird had no feathers
what bird would it be?
If a square had three corners
would it still be a square?
Will your curls always swirl
if you tug at your hair?
My curls will always swirl
For questions make them so
You will question me ‘why’
when my answer is ‘no’.
If I answer you ‘yes’
You will question with ‘how’
If a tree could grow knowledge
I'd reach for a bough.
Like a bird
Like a bird up in a treetop
This little bird I know him well
This creature it be me
I sit here with my pen in hand
And sing so crazily
With symbols shining out like gold
I give my song to thee
These words, they be my message
I sing them to the sky
One day his body will be gone
But the words will never die
They well up from my very soul
Without no help from me
I am that bird up in a tree
With his lone symphony.
And lord, I like to share it
I will whisper from the stars
And tell the world I am this bird
Send vibes out wide and far
That sing about the journey
The only one I know
As I’m sending out my story
In words that make it glow.
5 August 2013 @ 1755hrs.
I have it all
What need I, I have it all
There’s nothing that I need
This garden offers everything
Oh, yes, it does indeed
Those branches dancing on the breeze
Green parrots gentle call
Soft music on the stereo
Oh yes, I have it all.
No treasures in this whole wide world
Could give me any more
One moment spent among the flowers
This be what I adore
Hibiscus with its purple flowers
Those softly cooing doves
Soft green leaves in the morning sun
Oh, all of this I love.
Those dark grey clouds that fill the sky
Give off a hint of rain
As I wait to feel the velvet drops
I’m like a man insane
Drinking in the sweet damp air
And this beauty all around
I open up my heart and soul
To the harmony here found.
Questions for everyone
Has anybody ever sat?
In a garden filled with flowers
Have you felt the magic there?
Have you felt the power?
Have you sat there with the body still?
And the mind too, just the same?
Have you ever lost yourself?
As the mind stopped playing games
Have you seen those magic colours?
And really seen them too!
Have you felt the touch of the morning breeze?
Have you seen the way she do?
Touch those branches with her glory
Make them dance in the morning sun
As the sparkles nearly blow your mind
And you’re the holy one?
Have you ever heard the dove’s warm Coo
And that deep, deep ravens croak?
Have you seen the mulberry tree?
As she dons her summers coat?
And radiance and reverence
Are all that one can know
Have you ever sat there in the garden?
And watched the morning flow.
These pretty little creatures
On the serpent road to Exmouth
They be some of the features
Along with Emus, Kangaroos
And handsome birds of prey
These little goats be bountiful
They’re all along the way.
They be domestic goats
Who’ve gone back to the wilds
Where they have bred one million fold.
As one moves along the miles
These little goats be seen so much
In their many shades and hues
Don’t know where they got their water
It be tough country too.
The weather here be hot and dry
As the sun bakes everything
And mostly here no rain does fall
To drinking water bring.
And yet these goats look healthy as
Such nimble little beasts
You’d see some dead there in the road
As the crows do have their feast.
That be the price of progress
That poor beasts have to die
That be the curse of human beings
Sometimes it makes me cry
Yet still they be so plentiful
These handsome little guys
Another little part of nature
That make love in me rise.
Sitting there late last night!
I took everything in with my deepest breath about me.
I could quiver feeling the warmth sinking slowly in,
I was covered over distances which I could now see.
I had left myself.
I was gone again.
I was above and beyond the clouds,
Soaring deeply with every one of my though,
Higher and higher I rose,
Reaching loftiness’ I have never once felt.
I was a bird in flight!
Stunning with privilege I had brought.
Feeling myself from deep within!
Standing there that night,
The radiance beamed all around me so I took this in.
And lo and behold, there I went again.
I could feel myself while locked deep with my thoughts.
I was absorbed inside by everything surrounding me.
I felt the depth that my eyes could never ever once see.
Loosing all truth of myself, every sensation my soul had caught.
Further and further I rose, reaching capacities I had never felt.
I’m a feather in the air,
Gathering sensations inside of myself.
I lay there that night, mind, body, and soul with me.
I was calm with the breeze,
Inside of myself,
And once again I was a bird in flight soaring so high and much too free.
I was locked sound with my deepest thoughts.
More and more I rose and impact for impact I felt.
Feathers of a bird in flight and one of me I have surely got.
Ever since that night, many, many things have come to me.
One by one, gathered by the sensations carried all over me.
Touching inside of myself, again, again, and again!
Higher and higher I climb to reach the very tipsy top.
Gathering it all, I am more of me when more of me can be felt.
I am the breeze in the air touching the many feathers these birds have brought.
Many feathers just from sitting here, but each the soar of the wind has surely caught.
I’m a bird in flight gathering all that is real or not and all that is captured in of my-self.
I am surely the feather that fell from the very top,
Because I am now what then I surely was not!
I am simply that feather in the air falling loose and free inside of myself.
®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich
Flightless Old Birds
I spill ink upon a most sadden page
life of youth was once all the rage
Good times were to readily be had
even a dull day was not all that bad
For each new morn brought renewed hope
nothing, nothing seem beyond our scope
This ink sets in its newborn form
tired words seem to be my new norm
A whisper and a cry rarely ever call
newborn days of hope I can not recall
Why does time eat thus at my soul
when more livin' was always my goal
Looking back I see ink spilt long ago
the energy was quick the heart aflow
Deep energetic words jumping all about
laughter and joy always loudly rang out
Love was rampant always in the mix
secret night moves our passionate fix
O' youth why venture so far astray
yes , you just had to have it your way!
Robert J. Lindley
note: Time we always pray for more .
Yet after life abundant we sometimes regret
having had too much . For memories of our youth
beckon and shout. We then feel old, alone and so left out.
Then we ramble and write tired old words.
Looking to the skies as flightless old birds!
Thanks Peter, your butterfly poem brought this out of me
tonight. I saw yours was so upbeat yet mine came out as a
cry and a wail.
Those blessed wetland trails.
The sun is shining lazily
The sky is azure blue
As green leaves dance with the morning breeze
The birds be singing too
They sing a serenade of bliss
And peace is all around
As all along these wetland trails
Blue lupins can be found.
The perfume heavy in the air
It speaks of wild geraniums
The young ferns looking soft and green
And all those tall wild gums
Give out a rather pungent scent
A smell I've learned to love
As parrots screech in blissfull joy
In those trees there high above.
The lake, she glimmers neath the sun
As the ducks give lazy quacks
My feet scrape on the sand and gravel
As I stroll along this track.
Trees all gnarled and and twisted
Form a tunnel just for me
Oh I could write forever
But for now, I'll leave it be.
Dawn is breaking
Willie wagtail in my garden
Sings a very special song
Telling me the sun is coming
Dawn will break soon, won’t be long
It’s dark outside with full moon shining
But soon the light will show its face
Green parrot makes his bell like music
How his song has so much grace
Kookaburra, he is laughing
Something funny has touched him
Could he be laughing at us human’s
With all our wars and crazy din?
Spring is just around the corner
And all of nature seems to know
As I sit here in the morning
My world it has a special glow.
Now the world has gone all silent
Waiting for the dawn to break
Soon the chorus is beginning
Singing just for loves own sake
All the birds will join the chorus
And my heart will start to sing
How I love these life soaked mornings
Such joy to me they always bring.
25 August 2013 @ 0631hrs.
I do not know?
Pretty little bird sitting in her cage
So perfect and pretty
Watching the other birds laugh and play
Thinking to herself maybe one day
Days gone by and years move on
Looking through the bars, she waits so long
Waits for someone to open her cage
Open the lock, open the door
Waits for someone, waits for more
Pretty little bird sits
perfect and still
Cause good little birds fly free someday
They float through the sky
Up so high
Floating so high
Floating so high
Pretty little bird sits
perfect and still
So many years, unbridled fears, soft flowing tears
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Pretty little bird slowly breathes
Slowly sees how to fly free
Pretty little bird lies
perfect and still
Her last breath flows
And she can finally see
The invisible cage
The one she made
The one she created
The one she hated
Pretty little bird is finally free
She’s finally free
Flying so high
Up so high
Forever and ever
And ever in time
Forever and ever
To peaceful sublime
It burns and it stings.
More than drowning beneath
More than remaining in a
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why?
It burned and it stung.
The markings remained,
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little
known loathing were the known
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the
child that cried
Never was their relief for the
child that tried
You were that lovely bird that
understood the complications of
Nothing looked the same in
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears
The others-they were yet to
Caring Mother, o' so fair
You were that beautiful bird
filled with care.
The others came and were not
alone. Their two suitors sat on
Rampage and rage why did you
I began to wither and wither
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a
The droops of the Lily of the
Valley became the slumping of
My lovely bird the enemy had
taken you and the person you
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its
intricate self and you became
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
Mother, Mother what moved
Your intense spirt vanished only
to supplement a monster.
Mother, Monster and your tar
How did I kill that liver that was
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you
My lovely bird and your big
I'll tell you once, but never
Pain is only a flower for it
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as
quickly as lice.
You dear bird hurt me well.
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest
You brought me up, then you
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you
down in your deep black
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights.
spring is under way
male rain crow sounds cu-ckoo
female is in sight
under hemlock's leaves
sends sweet response in return
rich bubbling chuckle
The little penguins march along the ice
Battling against them
The might of the long winter’s crisis
The small ones under their mother’s bellies they crawl
Into a world of cold, their eyes opened
Marching weeks and months
Just to find
Some miracle rough food
The mothers and children stay
The fathers leave
Walking and marching for miles
And in between
The Crisis changes into the worse
Where the large bird descends
Toward the small penguins
The ones who have mothers
Run to them
While other shield themselves
By squeezing tightly together
As the merciless bird strikes
Some mange to run
While finally one is caught
In the ugly beast’s claws
And eventually gets eaten cruelly…
And when the dads come
Some find their sons
Just endure another crisis similar
And for some
The dad recognizes his son
By his or her song
And beautifully they unite again
The father, mother, son
Together, proud and remarking
How beautiful their son is
And patiently the season changes
Summer comes, the ice melts
In the water they splash and swim
Day by day
All of the small penguins
Their parents leaving them to a path of their own
They march again
How significant and enduring
I can’t describe how
A penguin really suffers…
I do not know?
"I stabbed a faggot
in the knees", he whispered.
I wanted him
To catch some
from a pile of
Growing stubble heads
and high-heeled masculinity
so I unhook them
to sea [see].
As dusk comes.
I’m at the window, looking out
Upon this light filled day
Billie Holliday sings softly
And the suns rich golden rays
Paint the world, all shades of green
As those happy children talk
And gentle people filled with life
Right by my window walk.
Today, it be a perfect day
With spring there just ahead
The sun shines down so perfectly
It seems the winter’s dead
As Rosella parrots filled with colour
Feed from a small seed bowl
And tiny wrens do twitter sweetly
And the evening soothes my soul.
People sounds can’t hide the silence
That comes just pre to dusk
The days soft story fades away
And does the darkness trust.
So mystic moon might shine on down
To paint the rivers grace
With the glory of her soul
And the essence of her face.
I do not know?
I watch the bird as it flutters by,
I wish as a bird I too could fly,
To get away from the hurt and pain,
To see up there what I can gain,
I'd like to see the world from up there,
And never have to be worried scared,
I wish I could be seen and heard,
Just like that fluttering little bird!
Sitting in a square my knees are cramped
Prying through a hole I see the dark
I close my eyes and sprout wings of the lark
Flapping my arms sweat coats my body damp
Enclosed in a box entrapped within my mind
I stretch my legs and wiggle my toes
I shut my mouth breathing through my nose
I burst my arms through the sides to find
My heart holding me back incline
My mind begins to speak out loud
My box drifts into a cloud
With legs I free my entwine
Push pull my spirit is through
A rush of air cools my soul
I kneel forward up I go
The world so different and new
I prune my feathers and lift my wings
Up up I fly high high high
Up up through the midnight sky
I clear my throat and sing
Free free from me in a box
I glide and than I float
Soaring deep into the dreamers boat
I lift my head to find me in a box.
Why would I swap?
What have they, these men of wealth?
What could they give to me
I have the skies the clouds the rain
I have eternity
For I would live within this now
Expecting naught at all
Because this world, all by itself
Is so, so beautiful.
I see them with their dull, glum faces
No hint of any smile
And yet I’m supposed to envy them!
With all their wealthy style
No belly laughter comes from them
Cause this be all dried up
As for the joys of life itself
They hardly fill the cup.
While birds are singing in the trees
And the stars shine bright at night
While the flowers smell so wonderful
And the birds give sweet delight!
Oh, I could go on all day long
Why would I want at all?
When my world is oh, so beautiful
And theirs seems oh, so cruel.
2 August 2013 @ 0740hrs.
Escaping from the patterns of my life
From crime and hate and inner strife
I visit a place that is pure and serene
Where i'm alone as a morning bird sings
I followed a path forged in stone
immersed in beauty, that nature owns
It is nature that owns the morning haze
That envelops the glory of this mystic maze
A labyrinth of answers to my dreams
this paradise is false,or so it seems
As the sun beamed its radiant light
i choose a place and did recite
I gasped at the trees and fertile soil
that inherit the flowers as my quill toiled
The flowers have blossomed this early spring
Akin to a babe, immaculate and pristine.
The scent of the air is not of smog and dirt
that blackens the white and decays the dirks
Yet that of a fragrant scent from the flowers
that abides in memory to this very hour.
i heard patter from a creek a distance away
Gentle and calm it enraptured my stay
And to my eyes not a ripple shows
As i induced a wish then tossed a rose
Akin to a morrow, i saw my reflection
Hued in beauty of Mother Nature's protection
For all this beauty that envelops me
unfolds clearly for the world to see
And to the world like a perpetual fire
it flares and glows never to tire
prevailing past the wars hate and crime
the creek remains until the end of time
The morning bird wings again before me
Adieu Mother Nature I'll never defy thee
Yes! the bird of faith will lead the way
To some other secluded haven to stay.
The Cage is so dark and so misty, I can hardly breathe there.
The words that echo there are so melancholic and appalling,
The Voices can only whisper as if they are strangled by Fear.
How can a bird that was born for joy, sit in a cage and sing!
The constellations of night, the luminescence of rainforest,
The infinite azure sky, the crimson horizon, the cozy pond,
The ocean, the stony mountains, even the shady bird-nest,
Everything summons my Heart but still it cannot respond.
My Heart is a song bird that is imprisoned in an inner Cage.
How can a bird that was born for joy, sit in a cage and sing!
Let my Heart fly towards liberty, breaking bars of bondage
So that it can sing in a merry tune again by flapping its wing.
MIRROR , MIRROR TALE
Zealot tundra wonder --Decked in blues of summer sky
You never flee the cold
But rally boldly on---
Taunt the Valiant Golden Hawk
Whose daunting wings yearn for the sun
Blackest days of December
Winter Tundra Bird
daring frost kissed beauty
Roving with the Ravens
Magnificent indigo flourish
Against Alaska White
Jay Bird on a bender....
Strutting the fjord.
Pearl kissed Head
Cocked in splendor
Flashing miracles of Mysteries
to a beat hop beat
Unheard by human ears
Daring his spark of life to linger
Beat hop beat Beat
At a time
Swiftly shifts in
Cruel winds grace
at a time .
Eager nimble Eager
For seeds of spring
Beat hop beat
Snow step hop Step
His Lover’s dance of spring
Promise of delight
Fresh flakes Flutter
Fresh-snow blink Flutter
Silhouette against winter white
Without a doubt--
Blue flame of sky
dare the crouching fox
Dawn breaks enchanting
Through Bare Black Trees
to touch your Jay
Beauty finds a voice
Songs of splendor spin round the world
on wings of venturing ravens and roving sparrows
Shimmer Sun Shimmer Sapphire Blue Shine
Spin Around the World
Roving Arctic swallows trill Jay praise
Raven Tributes rave of Arctic’s lovely creature
proclaim him the Prince of Beauty Undenied
Sovereign Beauty now dethroned
Prince of Peacocks
Quakes with Rage
Heights of Glory
Perched on a golden fence
The Spiteful Splendid Creature
to his death
The sunrises like the aurora borealis this morning
With the morning star still glowing brightly
Crickets calling for their mates to come
Noise of man already begun
The air is cool with a crispness
Inviting one to stay on the porch
Taking in all God's awaking of the earth
A few whispy ink black clouds grace the sky
Breathing deeply enjoying the oxygen supplied
My body by God who created the earth
Birds begin to sing God's praises
One lone bird flying high in the darkness
He is just a shadow flying by
To grace my morning on the porch
He must be the early bird that gets the worm
There is a stillness but yet a can feel the air move
As the sun comes slowly up the morning star fades
Gradually disappearing from sight
Yet it is still there its brillance hidden by the sun
Each tree shadow takes on a different shape
The colors in the sky constantly changes
Just like our lives, no matter how well planned
Life happens and changes occur for good or bad
With mountain top experiences or down in the valley
God is always there but sometimes
We walk off and leave him
He weeps as we turn our back to go
Thank you God for this time
My time on the porch
Beady black-eyed bird perched in the bush
outside my window cocking his head
from side to side eying the squirrel-proof
feeder that is coated thickly with a layer of
Vaseline not to keep the squirrels away but
to keep the rats out of the feeder who have
taken up residence in the pampas grass which
separates my house from the neighbors and
who have multiplied (the rats, not the neighbors)
at a rapid pace ever since the neighbor's yard man
killed that perfectly harmless snake, waking me
from my daylight sleep...the harsh and unusual
noise of a man pounding a snake to death with a
stick and wanting to stop him but unable to open
any windows in this old house which were all
painted shut by careless painters or demented
residents, perhaps Joe who used to live here and
briefly made his ghostly presence known when
we first moved in, but now only occasionally pulls
the shower curtain open if we leave it closed and
sometimes makes a rattling noise with the little
lever that closes the drain in the bathtub which we
never take baths in because who wants to lay
around in tub filled with soapy dirty water, fecal
cells floating around attaching themselves to your
chest, your hands and then you feel like you have to
take a shower, anyway, so why waste time that you
could be spending watching the bird who is eying
the greasy feeder with great suspicion.