Themed distractions, affairs a boulevard,
as elbowed are divided from their minds.
Aloof, queues succeed a ship calling card,
as untrained get on, moons all exit signs.
The General Slocum, dressed to the nines
--churchgoers being passengers adorned.
Petite girls, bulky boots-dresses confines,
a spark burning as the captain is warned.
Crew-covered ears as the shrieking arose,
clung rails ... faith enables those disabled,
backing from charring ensue panic throes,
river rips donning death ... apt tests fatal.
Swimmers valueless o'er a thousand died.
Lifeboats? Vest hopeless; the firm denied.
The elbowed snooze.
Terminated cruise.
An angel flop
From clouds to drop
To earthen soil.
All whites that spoil.
The unwise sage.
The soggy page
Of book that's bent
And only lent.
The final slice
Of pie that's nice.
The empty room
For party's broom.
Those sinking feels.
Burned catherine wheels.
Song out of key.
Spoiled milk in tea.
The silent voice
Behind the door.
The absent choice
When wanting more.
The moment passed
When dreams should last.
Less gentle thud,
For all that could.
Jinjagoliath
18th July 2023
A girl in the crowd takes a selfie.
Her tam o’shanter sparkles
because of the fireworks going off
in the background, and because it has glitter.
At the gates of Moscow
weary French troops run away
hands over their ears, as Tchaikovsky
fires his righteous cannons.
The girl with the cell
is as pretty as her friend beside her,
but her friend outshines the tam o’shanter
as if it were just an ordinary beret.
She has sapphires in her eyebrows.
Kids in earshot of adults
‘wow’ or mouth age-appropriate obscenities.
The limp body of a teenage messiah
is elbowed and pushed around by his disciples.
Several rows back, a woman is laughing
as she cranes her neck skyward;
from the chin up, she looks like Greta Garbo,
only she is short and fat.
Rockets fly like fan-dancing ostriches.
The truncated 1812 Overture burps to a close.
My lens can’t capture the woman
or the girl, or her friend
who now all shine like diamonds.
I can’t fit all of this into 12 mega pixels.
The night eventually stops throwing missiles
at the moon,
the girls, and women fizz out,
the kids continue to sizzle
until they are led away by dark-eyed dreams.
fragrance of
roses
growing wild
alongside
a rusty fence
musings
suicidal
elbowed
from his
mind
Her band was made up of many cool members. Cecil on drums; he wore a cut down decades old Sisters of Mercy t-shirt bought from Jason, old blue jeans and scuffed boots. Jason noticed this and elbowed Craig in the ribs and drunkenly
grinned to his mate, “That’ll do wonders for my business!” On bass was Ronnie. A full-length leather jacket made him look like an undertaker. Underneath he wore nothing but leather hot pants. Boys and girls alike loved this and thought he looked a million dollars. Then there was guitarist Sunny wearing his studded
motorbike jacket with the picture of a speeding snail painted on the back (this was Sandra’s handiwork, she was too busy making love to a random lad she had picked up to notice). Sunny had black leather combat trousers on and massive
gothic boots with chrome toecaps that glittered in the light. Finally there was Snot the keyboard player, he had a plain white t-shirt on and black leather jeans backed up by combat boots.
A girl in the crowd takes a selfie.
Her tam o’shanter sparkles
because of the fireworks going off
in the background.
At the gates of Moscow
Tchaikovsky runs away
hands over his ears.
The girl with the cell
is as pretty as her friend beside her,
but her friend outshines the tam o’shanter
as if it were just an ordinary beret.
She has sapphires in her eyebrows.
Kids in earshot of adults
‘wow’ or mouth age-appropriate obscenities.
The limp body of a teenage messiah
is elbowed and pushed around by his disciples.
Several rows back, a woman is laughing
as she cranes her neck skyward.
From the chin up, she looks like Greta Garbo,
only she is short and fat.
Rockets fly like fan-dancing ostriches.
The truncated 1812 Overture burps to a close.
My lens can’t capture the woman
or the girl, or her friend
who now shines like a diamond.
I can’t fit all of this into 12 mega pixels.
The night stops throwing cannonballs
at 1 a.m.
as our eyes met
as our eyes met
a thunderous spark
detonated in my heart
a sudden tsunami
of years of ancient history
in some telepathic wave
taking my breath away
i understood in an instant
it had all been a charade
how things really happened
the day we met
IT WAS HE
who noticed me across the room
and elbowed his buddy
who haphazardly reacted to the nudge
by flashing his big bright smile my way
and it just so happened our eyes locked
changing history
yes IT WAS HE
who was going through a rough patch
encouraged his friend to pursue me
and offer me a ride home
that’s how i fell for the clown
but today years later
his eyes betrayed him revealing
IT WAS HE
who had been in love with me all along
and here i'd been duped
ironically a victim to my very own version
of the classic Cyrano de Bergerac love triangle
dazed i stood in staggering awe
of what could have been
Read on air by invitation ~ April 4, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on March 26, 2018
(reference to my favorite, the most wonderful and famous play CYRANO DE BERGERAC written by Edmond Rostand)
cracked faces
lacking style
forced me
places
dott
ing
smiles
liars laughing moons
projecting images
of
baboons
book knowledge
rocks
in
the
pocket
brittle stars reflection
whittle scars affection
try me with a spoon in your mouth
plant your thumbs elbowed man
wooly up your mammoth
brush my ivory tusks
blowing bubbles
with your
cracked
faces
?
A COPPER PENNY
The significance of a copper penny…
It’s part of our heritage
Being raised in the copper mining area
Of Ruth, Nevada
Fathers and brothers worked for
The Kennecott Copper Mining Corporation
Both abhorred and sacrificed for
It was a job
The dirt was copper colored
There was no gazebo
No water
No arboretum
The only wish made was for the bell
At the end of the day
Men
Working
Sweating
Crying
Dying
The copper colored beer with elbowed sleeves
On copper tile
Laborers draught
The copper penny
The juke box
Seen in the dance of the copper leaves in fall
Twenty and thirty years on
It’s not gold
An entirely different color
The copper leaves rake sweetness layered
Pilings high
Dancing in the breeze
A “Little” Fugue in G Minor
The Classical Power
Given by Time-Life living divided
Spent
Leaving
Wondering where it is
The beauty, the color, the penny
He was not more than twelve and I was just ten,
When in 1984, ‘they’ assassinated the PM in her den.
It was at her residence that the clay was kept.
Thousands of people reached to pay her last respect.
And we were one of them, daddy and the kids.
He was confused and afraid but for us it was the ultimate fun.
Suddenly the mob turned furious and went out of control
Nobody could help, not even those who were on patrol.
Carelessly people pushed and elbowed one another
Nobody thought for anyone, no one cared.
At that moment, two little arms surrounded me
And fought for my freedom,
I saw how he made space for me - my big brother.
Though he was crushed himself but helped me settle.
There in that dreadful situation he treated me like a petal.
It was when I was ten and he, not more than twelve.
Date: 05/01/2016
The violence in Delhi was triggered by the assassination of Indira Gandhi, the 4th Prime Minister of India .
The room looks over and starts to chuckle.
An oddly beautiful stream of cider
Erupting from the nose of my uncle.
Kids waiting for a Christmas night rider,
All hoping to finally see Saint Nick.
Aunty Mary stands up and starts to twirl,
Nigh knocking over a lamp, she stops quick,
And she instead flattens the nearest girl.
Family running to see if she is fine,
We end up running into each other.
Dinner’s done, I head for the starting line,
And I’m elbowed in the face by brother.
It wouldn’t be family, well I assume,
Lack a trip to the emergency room.
My little girl, she could not sleep
so toss and turn, she pulled the sheets
and, ba ba black sheep safe in tow
to our dark room she chose to go
A creak of the door and then there she was
she wanted to sleep with us because
she heard a noise, she was too hot,
she tried to sleep but she could not
I hauled her up to our bed at three
before too long she was fast asleep
but I, on the other hand, was wide awake
for, someone did my pillow take
and someone elbowed me all night
and had the blanket pulled too tight
Someone’s hand flopped on my head
(I wished we had a king size bed)
By six I finally gave in and rose
eyes swollen tired and stuffy nose
hair looking like I had lost the war
all out of coffee so I went to the store
and when I got back, when asked how she slept
my little girl sighed, and said “good, except...
I thought I would sleep all snugly and tight
but MOMMA bug kept me UP ALL NIGHT!!!!”