Best Macadam Poems

Along a quiet river to nowhere were styx lean like broken crosses. The wind is gentle with a sent of quite decay or is that brimstone in these sinister currents, that spin! A black river between two lands, one of shadows n tombstone and bright...

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The road

It stretches out before me, 
 the yellow center line 
 holding my attention.

It tells me that humankind has tried 
 and made its mark known and imprinted here.

But from the woods, the trees stretch their trunks angling across the tarmac,
A  canopy of...

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(An Addingham poem)

‘There!  Where every curve
injects another memory.’

Analytic beauty that
nestled in verdant valley
allows the mind to review,
where archaic dry-stone walls
enhance the ancestral ghosts,
impeccable trees, nature’s
guardian to one’s heady days,
inscribed when lovers called.
Now historic brows lost
within the village face,
expressive meadows
from a bygone age did
grace now...

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Plain emptiness,
where I touch an ebony
diamond, only gives
me edges— wiped in my
macadam; heartache an 
old rust from repetitious
beats

the faceted phantasms
link, perhaps to mask
their face— or mine;
light just off within
its sides— all my 
fingers stream sanguine, 

no fit for the hollows
on my face, madness
glitters— and so...

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With the onset of earth
man became birthed
perplexed, he pondered his purpose
swamped with wildlife
fish and birds rife
am I meant to run a circus?

I'll need entertainers
and animal trainers
a tent constructed of kelp 
moreover, an audience 
to add due ambiance 
where to start?  "Oh, heaven help!!"

"Howdy there
was...

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II

for Thodti trailing barefeet his dried coconut-stick broom on cracked macadam
in the gutter festering oozing fresh month-old drying turds urine remains of fed-up banana-leaves skins withered jasmine garlands drained motor-oil from scooter-taxis overfed flies lean stray kids fowl cows
      ...

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I dreamt your illusion
                    {In voyeuristic colours.}

Bedded down the rust
of wizen memories
              ...

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THE CHIMNEY
The once fine air, refreshens with dust
Between the village horizon and crest
Since the sailing of a death chemical chimney.

Young green plants seedlings growing on slope
Are left to sip these  carcinogenic dusts, sapling
And entwined between vague horror.

A river source, from Stone Age
Which flows across...

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                         Stateless

			…thatched houses catch fire
sparrow tires from romping in the coned-flower chestnut   
     tree
				alights on...

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a bar door is ajar, only fading voices
echo into the void, from nowhere...and afar!

Here n there, trash drifts
ghosts in flickering neon. 

Broken, floating, bloated 
dead down eons halls
a last of white. 

Crimson taillights roar along 
an empty blacktop...

Ruins of ages-lost buildings hang together
like frozen corpses...

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Trailers sprout from desert floor    
Tombstones marking the graves of my aspirations.
Tumbleweeds snag remnants of dreams
And blow across macadam prairie.

A highway carries hope far past this place
Of broken dreams and suffocating despair,
But me the mountains trap; they surround me,
And I'll not see...

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I ain't gonna brag, boast, blab...,
lest yours truly suffers demise from backstab,
resignedly taking wheel of our automobile
donning, (but NOT trumpeting) 
role as taxi cab

shuttling the missus, (she effusively glad)
to medical appointment
me, the obliging husband
in order for this mister former cad,
debt, now an ordinary dude dad,

who...

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"Runes"




All galaxies abandoned
within you dimensions
ancient and unfathomable
creating new raptures
borne through fire 
a desire to be closer
to gramayre glamours
gedwëy ignasia 
right handed
fiercely cast

here there is no element of water
though we flow like electricity
the mother and the daughter

All galaxies abandoned
within you dimensions
ancient and unfathomable
creating new raptures
borne through...

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Let me bash tambourines and praise the mind-body continuum
Grind out the miles, suffer the sweat.
Find me a hill to break if only in my mind
The foot-step's prints on the macadam
Invisibility obscuring the pain I must have.
The anguish broken to bits again.
My ears pop with the...

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My momma was big on naps when I was a girl.
Until I was eight years old, she sent me to my room on summer afternoons.
It was probably because of the heat in the south,
The way it it penetrates to your insides leeching every bit of...

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