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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Softly uttered, beneath cold biting mist,
footfalls muffled through stifling drifts, empty sidwalks embrace noone,
Frost heavily pluming, clinging on each sigh
In night's brazen stillness, beneath eerie lamp glow waning,
When dawn's long in coming, and all sleep like the dead,
Ah, then lets take a walk shall we , you and i?
Strolling as one, hand in hand, through icy winds
Past the churchyard gates, snow laden and chained,
Beyond empty glances of headstone cherubs,
Far off in darkness, solemn bells toll with straining conviction,
as winds moan wistfully, the tolling pierces the heart,
And I wonder in passing, how many more walks have we,
Beneath the silent moon overhead, white as bones in a shroud,
Shall the secnt of cinnamon haunt me into my dreams, yes i am certain,
For your eyes resemble heavens gates, amd my soul longs for redemption,
An angel draped in my tattered, time-worn jacket, littered with marks of life's ventures,
And yet you bear no wings to fly, but still you comfort me as morning draws nigh,
Crosstown bungalow, windows shuttered, still as my breath
As you I guide you once more up treacherous steps,
Our hands we let fall, a yearning stare betrays me,
"Tomorrow night again? Or when shall it be??",
Only a nod and a smile left imprinted to my heart,
"Hang on to the jacket. I'll pick it up in the morning."
Your smile never falters, unweathered by the wind,
And I turn to leave this night and you,
Leave this world behind for the rising sun,
An arm reached out, gripped with sorrow and infinity,
Pulled back into your everlasting embrace,
A kiss so deep, I feel I'm drowning,
God, let me drown...let me...drown....
You're gone.
Empty streets the morning finds,
save for me and my memories, trapped between time,
Stray dog struts past, hunting eagerly some alleyway breakfast,
But my business waits at the churchyard, still silent, still chained,
I climb over and drop, the gates clank in protest,
Between the rows of headstones, I walk in solemn sprit,
Thirteen rows now, then fifiteen, I know the way well,
And upon the eighteenth row, I find without mistake,
And draped across the frozen ground.....
My tattered, time-worn jacket.
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
My footfalls echo; touching down before my shadow,
City of souls passing on crowded sidewalks; drowning in self
Deathly cacophony of indifference engulfs our ranks like a silent murderer
Will you hear their lingering cries, amongst the howling winds of change?
But is it really change or self indulgence that propels us into the darkened void?
Spout forth your words of wisdom, of success, and of a life of untold blessing
Still you turn and spit in your bretheren's face; you cast him out with stony heart and icy gaze,
Your words become as ash in your mouths; love left in chains, weeping in eternal darkness,
When we gonna make a clean slate; you know we're bound to choke on all this hate,
And it's an eye for an eye till we're deaf dumb and blind, so who will make the difference in the end?
Go down to the gutter, you who speak freedom and equality; lift up countenance to our people,
Lest you become prideful and unwavering in unbridled varocity; learn forgiveness before the chance is lost,
"Love the sinner and hate the sin", say the church sign, screaming at the multitudes.
I've walked through palaces and through historians halls, but I still cant find the virtue,
We all believe in charity, but where's all our humanity; lost in politics and legal prose?
I ain't no judge, I just know whats right, and I ain't no preacher, but we gotta spread the light,
Standing alone on the corner on Houston's north side, feeling the cold wind blow,
Dowling street full, cardboard testiments raised in desperate yearning, begging in humility,
Lights changing in time with humanity's stride; still they call out eager to live, to climb, to find solace,
What say you great America?
Speak....
Robert Chirino III 2015
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2016
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Too tired, i thought io myself, to lance this wound again
So I'll let the sufferings flow where no good tidings go
And we'll call it a truce in the end.
Oh, tell me once more,
How this life of ours should go,
Cause the words fall to the floor anyhow
And the small town girl's turned penthouse femme fatale
Oh but we knew how these city streets howl faux freedoms
In the face of the soft-skinned and weak minds
But mine's been all the weaker for believing poison is love
And I drank the barrel dry till I went blind to the holy light
Damn these tears and this darkness of soul
But if that's the case babe, mine's been rolling in coal
Oh, I ain't a scholar, nor master of schemes
just a two-bit pauper with sprawling rock-candy dreams
the letters don't fall into place like they did once before
And I don't search for the gold in folk's smiles anymore
I've been drowning in sin and the lifeblood of all lies
Worst part's been hiding a lost soul behind brown eyes
Tell me honey, how's life been to you?
Well, the winds tell me the sound's still alive and well
Ah, but the wind ain't so kind in the dark when your wrapped in loneliness
And broken strings on a battered guitar have lost the will to tell the tale
New strings sell good, but you pay with your heart
Aren't we running out of pieces by now ?
Well baby, meet me on the corner of 5th and eternity beyond
Of the hope and fiery passion we learned to burn in till we went wild
And can you find your way back to the stars babe?
And can you take me back to our unscarred years
before we spilled the blood of dreams not yet born
Are you ready mama?
Whisper it to me low...
In that voice of a longin soul...
Let's go.
© Robert
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Shadows filtered through shafts of light,
The overwhelming emptiness of time abounds.
And we meander through the clockwork tempest of our years,
But the ghosts do not sleep; to remain forever haunted,
By the laughter of the crisp dawn of a newborn day,
The subtle and solemn ebb of a middays lull,
And a solitary and lonely, but steadfast, crescent moon,
Keeping silent vigil over a thriving blue planet far beyond the stars.
As those of the living remain trapped within a vast and unending sea of
eternal endearment,
Those whom embrace the mystery that is life itself, to be and to become and to cease,
Beneath the tolling of the mournful and solitary death knell that inevitably awaits us all,
We that dwell amongst the undeniable majesties of the untamed and ancient universe.
And as I ponder the ghosts of yesteryears gone awry, the faces of those, gone yet not forgotten,
My weary but ever-questioning mind finds the solace of my yearning soul in the bosom of rising sun,
And the inviting warmth in the glorious gift of a rebirthed, yet waning dawn of another newborn day.
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2016
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Endless ribbon of tattered poetry in pavement,
Trail of tears for wandering vagabonds,
Seek yourself from this time forth betwixt sunrise and senility,
For the tides of the seasons grow weary with long-suffering,
To the hopes thou clingeth unto, by breadth and bound, unwavering still,
To where have thy troubadours vanished my heartland?
Into the unforgiving sea of nights, long past beneath God's eyes,
Tell me, oh mother, who wring thine hands in the terrible simplicity of despair,
Where have thine young sojourned unto, beyond your grieving sight,
Far across the smoking hills of sin and smoldering ash, to find beauty amongst anguish,
Listen not to the cries of death that smite the heart with wild and evil abandon,
And do you not hear the song of the mourning dove, low and yet with hope,
And tell me, Mr. Kerouac, whither hast thou been these few milion moons before,
Among the snow of the peaked mountains, hushed with the silent iron hand of winter
Drifting amply with the loneliness of the four winds of the Swanee, and the mighty
Mississippi
So roll tides, roll, to take you back to the streets of long-lived, and still loved Lowell,
There are ghosts in the alleys, but thou art no specter in the darkness,
Let us focus, with unwavering desire and redemption, to life and death, body and soul,
To you, the wanderer with pen and parchment, who told the nations of life on the
road
And the majestic unyielding awe of every eye and stillness fixed on every tounge,
from the picture thou hast set before the whole of old America,
For you had me at "Praised be man" in the senseless throes of unbridled youth,
And left to dream of moonlit vigils, as can be seen from the pilot seat of a battered
beetle,
Following the footsteps and felt pen, driving across '66, to Seligman and Flagstaff,
To loll and roll, with the unreal unfurling of your manuscript reels, to give freely your
confusion
For a timeless, aimless quote by thee, picturesque and wanting with gusto
"Whether goest thou America, in thy shiny car in the night?"
Blessings from the heartland, Mr. Kerouac.
See you in Big Sur.
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Died to mainstream, let it fall,
Left our writings on this wall,
Turn on, tune in, but don't drop out, hear the silence scream an the darkness shout,
Concrete dwelling for spirits lost, who found out deaths not the only cost,
Pay with sight, pay with mind, Cuz the devil ain't too far behind,
This lonely tunnel that we called home, long deserted, still skid row,
Now long gone, we found our groove, we've only just begun to move,
Shanties crumbled, rats roam free, names not forgotten, Tommy, Tito, Ralph, Dee,
Many others, still they stand, spread far across the promised land,
Prayers were answered, dark days past, the lost ones found their homes at last.
(This is a tribute to the men and women depicted in the documentary "Dark Days" directed by Mark Singer, and to the thousands of homeless strewn across the country and the world. Let their stories not be forgotten.)
©R.Chirino III
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
I've been thinking 'bout the badlands, and about the girls I left,
Just ponderin' over troubles I ain't made just yet.
Don't seem to be too much happenin' where I once been,
Guess I'll pack up tracks and waltz home again.
Too much juice in the blood makes the head spin,
Just hit the ground stumblin' and play it again.
Can't remember how she laughed when I gave her the ring,
Lord, ain't life sometimes a frightening thing.
Seen a wanderin' man with hammer in his hand,
Said, "Say buddy, looks like you got a plan."
He turns 'round like a shot and grins in my face,
"Buddy, looks to me like you're in the wrong damn place."
On Walker and Dowling, poets beggin' for an ear,
But it's a place of which I try to steer clear.
You'll find romance and wine at the drop of a hat
But when they ask for your soul, you'll wish you sent it back.
Well, I'm tired an' turned out, Soul's longin' for the sky
But all I got is this highway, and I'll drive till I die.
She said, "Meet me in old 'Frisco" but I doubt she'll be there,
But hell, Santa Monica's about as good as it is anywhere.
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Suns fading across this sky while the clouds weep to noone passin by,
And still I think of the days we made out of dignity, grace, and pain,
and it never seems to speak the same.
So tell me why the tears don't come easy even when the heart is ripped apart,
Yeah, its hard workin' in the end of days of a romance and love gone dry,
But the blood remains on the hand and in the eyes, cuz who else knows we're buyin
empty time.
Tired of the walled-in cities cuz the tragedy echoes closer an the sins don't care who they kill,
And you in your diamond mansions with ivory and marble splendor throwin' your arrows,
Aimin' for the depths of my spirit, but u ain't good enough to burn these memories,
So do we wait for the flames or the war outside these walls to destroy us from within,
But i couldn't find the freedom of the skies from your tantelizing grip, so i learned to burn,
In the wild abandoned throes of what we thought we knew was real, but I played
the hand too hard, and I couldnt keep the demon quenched in the shadows and
before I knew it, I found myself fallin' from heavens throne to the wastelands I once
roamed.
Now im high on the hills of the north country, lookin' out from the mists of of a new morn,
And the birds singin' a new song as only he can cuz he already knows about the outside world.
Yeah babe, its been a long time rolling, but the tears of yesteryear are all the more
sweeter for the lesson learned for tomorrow.
well, I saw you some time ago on the edge town, where only the mystics go
speakin in a voice so soft and low that I could'nt run an I didn't try,
but my name wasn't in it, and on your arm was paul bunyan of the suburbanites
and a new life glowin from the sidelines had claimed you for its own,
but the ancient gaze you gave spoke all too clear, an my soul was too pained to cry,
but my walk and my heart are strong, so maybe we'll meet again
on the borderline of the city of lights where we first felt the angst and sweat of new
life and love alive and thrivin, where nothin ever really dies but sleeps.
Tell me mama, do you sleep?
Yeah.........I know.....
Neither do I.
©
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Will you turn an ear to the haunted sound children
Will you feel the beat of the human condition thrumming in your veins
Taste the sadness and longing, begot by our own who suffer in the shadows of their own
demons, To create a universe with soul and zen with a bic pen on my skin an folded napkin
Chatting with the priestess of the lower east side, while she weeps for her father who died by
the way of the needle, and her left alone to fight the deathly cold in Rochester
Somewhere in darkness intertwined with castoffs of the bastard generations
Beneath the hot top laden rivers of rage and power, built with sweat of all
those seen and yet, unseen, Take flight upon the wings wrought of the voices of the
downtrodden, dispossessed, beaten but not broken my dear friends, not broken in soul or in
heart, to give their words anchor and strength, to fight the good fight within endless days
and suffering nights, chase away the fears and tears, give a hand and understand children
what is up to us, to you, in all we feel, speak and do, dont turn down the screams, the cries,
an dont forget for all which our loved ones died, across foreign seas to foreign sands, it don't
take much to lend your hand,
The darkness surrounds, but we'll wait on our dawn, to which all our fragle hopes belong
This country, this citadel, our home, our people, one and all, our hope, our oneness....
Our America.
©R.Chirino IIII
6/23/15
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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Robert Chirino 3Rd Poem
Thanks for all the memories,
Throw your caution to the wind,
We knew the cost of revelry,
Would somehow be the end.
Leave the endless games we played,
On this bloodless battle ground,
We all just wanna steal away,
And leave these streets without a sound.
Sick of writing love songs
For a love that's long since gone,
But I just can't help but wonder why
We carried on this long.
Was it faith in a slowly dying dream
That held you in my arms,
Or waiting till the time was right
To say it all went wrong?
Now I'm typing down these troubled times,
And feeling like a lie,
Even though I know I'll rise again,
I'll never make the sky.
When I saw you last, you had the key
To your paradise beyond,
But baby, how sad it is to think
You merely changed the song.
The words have changed in depth and feel,
But the music still remains,
And it's like a dagger in the heart
to know we're both to blame.
I would have gladly suffered for
Atonement of your sin,
But we both know Jesus paid that price,
and I'm no savior among men.
Now you're somewhere in midday,
But here, daybreak's coming on,
The sullen thoughts that plagued my mind
Of those misspent days are gone.
But the road I ride's not lonesome,
'Cause I know you're still with me,
For the love we knew, I know, was true,
But we both had to be free.
R.Chirino III copyright@2015
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015
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