A crisp, cold morning in Hyde Park,
and he is waiting for his date.
As joggers jog and poodles bark,
the girl's unconscionably late.
He paces London's crocused heart,
as traffic booms in Piccadilly:
he's practicing that English art
of seeming calm, while feeling silly.
One final tryst beside the lake,
in front of the Eternal Boy:
a parting kiss, for old times' sake ...
she's stood him up? Or playing coy?
The hotel clerk purrs sympathy
when summoned on the mobile phone.
By now, she'll be in Duty Free.
Well, there it is. This Bird Has Flown.
He tries to feign the jaunty airs
of a striped suit on a sandwich sortie,
but doing drily debonaire's
not easy when you're fat and forty.
He tramps the lonely, flat green mile
to Green Park Tube's unlovely portal,
but perks up with a cheeky smile -
well, for a week he was immortal!
I step onto my departure from the dock
to embark on a voyage of the amygdala.
Here lies a treasure trove of motion.
The gangway moves slowly,
no suitcases or fare stubs,
only our passports—
those little books of identity
that grant us entry.
Then we all separate into the chambers
of the left and right atriums.
We check in at the front desk
like a queue of traffic.
Murmurs from fellow passengers drown out
the gratuities,
as our steward paces the hallway
with a duty-free smile.
At last, we reach the bridge,
suspended between the bow and stern.
All my ‘what ifs’ and ‘buts’
rising up and thrown overboard
like drifting flotsam.
This is to be sung.
Dear Putin
Won’t you come out today
Dear Putin
Meet the men who flew all this way
The sky is blue, their cash is green
Greatest deal, you just wait and see
Dear Putin
Won’t you just try aye aye
Dear Putin
Open up those lines.
Sky is blue. Their cash is green
And don’t forget. It’s duty-Free!
Dear Putin
Won’t you just try, aye aye
Eyes of blue, like Russian skies
Take this moment, and Realize
Dear Putin
Open up those lines!
The V12 purred as the fireboat ran
easy outpaced the coastguard man
this time;
last time, bullets blazed
so what;
the price was raised
waiting on the rum line for a good tide
duty-free; it goes stateside.
They can’t catch us
we’re fast and sleek
who’s gonna bother at
30 bucks a week?
seven hundred k I made this year
1920, and running is the gear!
My dearest Yolanda
Sending you warm thought and many blessings
you no longer need to fear thee arson
murderer of nine nor the terrorists
threats on license plates remember
your safe place you no longer have to go into
hostage situations working with the FBI
wearing wires on your unborn children
you are safe dear you are home
breathe breathe breathe breathe
you're doing great breathe no more
abuse you're past that no more threats
From Ciro Gargano you are home safe
you are good enough find your joy hold it
breathe out that's it calm calm sh sh sh sh sh
Safe USA
I don’t sense that God keeps score --
my guess, believing He already
has enough pollsters and priests for that,
man’s predisposed world of numbers and
profitable confessions,
ballot slips and extra altar sips,
less Jung and more Freudian
myself reasoning that, Lover and
Judge are not compatible, the best
leaving their robes at the courthouse,
their own dwellings Duty Free
For sure, by now, have learned my ideas
often not mainstream, avoiding prescribed
social templates, ducking Bibles, my heart and head
a record of lumps
attempting to understand and follow Christ
not always a Sunday picnic, the devil in
the weather, and “keep off the grass” --
The libraries are all down sized
The books are being digitized
They all come with audio feed
So, no need to learn to read
Just log in no extra fee
For all of it is duty free
Til but for dust the shelves are bare
And you can’t read what isn’t there
For print and paper last too long
Outlive the writers now long gone
And there seems no way to beat
The censors cry “delete – delete”
It doesn’t fit the narrative
Therefore, we cannot let it live
And with no copy, soft or hard
No one could truly quote the bard
Whose thoughts and words, double-entendre
Could rock the boat, put us asunder
John G. Lawless
©1/27/2023
on auto pilot in slow motion
my conveyor belt keeps moving
on a creaky carousel
aroused in boredom
suspended in apathy
a jester on weary shoulders keeps mocking
teasing and picking at scabs
thorny wounds from too much baggage
have abandoned rose petals
in the wilderness of making
I wonder whether I should pick up the luggage
or claim compensation for lost property
yet hesitation sets in
as it is not clear what to do with the proceeds
sometimes I would give a penny for thoughts
of joyful anticipation but fear that the truth
would be unreal
amongst the lonely passage of time
there is hope however
because these days airports never close
flights of fancy can be delusional
dereliction of duty-free travel is a scam
only I can choose purpose and destination
before eventually my ashes end up in a Teddy bear
for care free travelling
There is a force inside us all,
A kind of spirit wind.
Its energy moves within our bones,
It grows our hair
And heals our wounds,
The boon of life to humankind.
This urge that surges through our veins
And gives our bodies breath
Is not a gift that's duty-free.
The charge is large,
Ironically,
The price we pay for life is death.
I solemnly received my first toilet auger
As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword.
It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition,
And seemed to me a suitable reward.
And so began my tenure working maintenance
In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance.
But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free,
So, it was time for starting over’s second chance.
A thousand plus apartments needed tending.
When a work ticket printed, I called dibs.
Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams.
I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs.
I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems:
Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script.
But no matter the religion of the trouble call,
For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped.
There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs
Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall.
I dealt as best I could with the detritus,
But my biggest stress was over-night on-call.
While paying the price of complete independence
I may sometimes have hammered my thumb.
Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade,
I conducted my final campaign as my army of one.
And I came off a winner.
He owned a pet chipmunk named Georgie McGee
who loved to eat almonds while counting to three
little by little he inched his way in
nuzzling sweetly right up to Quinn
who never thought squirrels could live duty free
He ravaged tomatoes and ate little leaves
while Quinnie reviewed every pet peeve
he dug up the flowers
and never did shower
as he squabbled and quabbled without a reprieve
He never did shoe him nor send him away
for happy go lucky would eat then make way
he ate from his finger
but never did linger
how old he was? well, he never did say !
Be,
it's the eyes that draw me in
subtlety seductive
with a hint of fear
but freshly lit and duty free
there's no denying
a night time dream of deference
where drips of desire
tumble down
her dainty cheek
no torture, no suppression,
no midnight depression
as those nails start digging in
we cross
then re-cross
in a nearly perfect ring
toro
Pamplona fills the bill
she winks,
it's adoration
a soul she's climbing in
no spilling of tight held secrets
tonight no bull is going to win
Cattle backs to home
Birds chirping for evening nest
Your hassle sizzles
Sun isn’t duty-free being
Moon shows beauty unity
-April 03, 2019, Chattogram
Dazzled by the beauty of this earth ?
Unable to spend more then your worth?
Trust in the providence of God and
You will see, you can live duty free
Free from poverty as you
Regain your strength in nature;
Elastase moments of grace are here so
Elect to spend an hour in God's free space
yesterday I walked home in the rain
and forgot
for thirty minutes
that I was grown up
and in heels, business dressed
and straightened hair,
and remembered
something free
locked into the
sky like moonstone
murky and luminous
a tousled beauty buried
in routines and duties
no umbrella, thirty minutes
a woman in transit
without belonging
tax free.
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