We don't know who
To include in the march
So we cancel
All the parades
We don't know how
To stanch the blood flow
So we invest it all
In Band-Aids
Forest for forests --
Tree for trees --
Progress always comes
In infinitesimal degrees
We don't know when
To call the fight
So we tear down
The whole arena
We don't know where
To head for shore
So we drown ourselves
In the marina
Like a kid with a sledgehammer
To his Erector Set
Destruction is too easy
And solutions ain't been tried yet
We don't know what
The dream will look like
So we dare not
Go to sleep
We don't know why
We'd need a light --
We're so happy
In caves dark and deep
Forest for forests
Or tree for trees --
In the kingdoms to come
Our work will be done
In imperceptible degrees
when young I rarely played alone
many friends visited my home
among the many in my company
were heroes, cowboys. and fantasy
video games and an old arcade
I seldom went but often played
games of chance that tested me
my aim, skill, and tenacity
I traveled to space riding a cardboard box
took an imagination minus locks
kept butterflies for a little while
with ants for friends in a domicile
then came a steel Erector set
that daddy gave, and I did sit
building cars and Ferris wheel
seeing that as a mammoth deal
riding a birthday bike
I rode the trails of a little tike
traveled the alleys sidewalks and roads
looking for pets like turtles and toads
As a child he played with an Erector set.
Career choice, military cadet.
Mom tried with all her powers.
"Come home. Build towers."
On the phone,
Hours.
At gravestone,
Tears like rain showers.
The war was Eisenhower's.
One thing his mom will never forget;
As a child he played with an Erector set.
11/17/18
caramel beauty top chocolate caramel,
the one who smiles a mile,
up there she is the top
my mind thinking her as top,
cream chocolate exclusive top,
smile beauty and look up to the stars,
they are silver, down here to me
it is a normal day,
rising up by chocolate caramel,
you the top,
days are changing, my heart pumped,
can i be the one
chosen by beauty? top.
ll be wearing a black suit
one day and a running stallion
meet there, knock to those doors
open up yellow bone, my team has accompanied me
black and white beauty
im the erector who erect a connector
and concocting a way.
depicting a way
and attracting
the most,
the effect around that change everything
the impact tha ll last all the time
directing my mind as a director
to her as the top and the most,
around all over all the time,
i pray to God
We drove the brand-new Tappan Zee;
It’s modern and it’s sleek.
Only one direction’s finished;
It’s been open for a week.
The other side will join the club
Real soon and when it does,
The river will look very different
From the way it was.
The older bridge looked much as
An erector set appears,
Like the one my brothers played with
In their early childhood years.
It will slowly be dismantled
When the new one is complete,
As the past fades to oblivion,
A sorrowful retreat.
For the future’s out there waiting
And most things won’t be the same,
Like the bridge once called the Tappan Zee,
Which boasts a brand-new name.
But to tried and true New Yorkers,
Any name they tried to pick
(Former Governor M. Cuomo)
Simply put, will just not stick.
So let’s celebrate the opening
Of a bridge I guarantee
That, no matter what the signage,
Will remain the Tappan Zee.
Slowly quench yourself
When you sip from my nectar
Drenched sweat and scent drips
Muscles stiffen erector
Gently taste my lips
As you search for the sector
Bliss connecting hips
Contraction of the pector
Fiercely horde the dips
Enmeshed musky trifecta
The aromas of luxurious greens adorned the ruin
And wandering up the stairs had intense feelings
Chills and goosebumps and Erector Pelli presented
The closer the emerging, the more intuition feelings
Here I’d been, in this place along ~ long time ago
The whispers of distant voices and conversations
Remembered laughter and thought of the dancing
Beer, wine and silver goblets, and sheer elegance
Gentleman in kilts, and fair maids with bosoms
Cajoling till dawn, Oh, the legends ~ long gone
And now Butter Cups adorn the stairs leading up
To a place once reserved for men of Highlanders
And, The charitable Sisters of Dawn, tended by day
Oh, but that was ancient centuries now long forsaken
Here I walk, three hundred years past such history
Visiting ghosts, and wondering could we have passed
Each other again, some later time and place, so aghast
Venturing another lifetime, could they’ve too ~
Will we meet again, at this ruin on a hill?
The Old River Bridge
There’s an old river bridge outside my hometown.
I wonder if they’ll ever tear it down.
It’s always been a part of me
And it’s anchored in my reverie.
It’s stood many years of use and wear
From all those travelers going somewhere.
And its silhouette I will never forget
Like it was built with a giant erector set.
I think of cars I’ve crossed it in
And filed some memories deep within.
When going home it was generally known
As you crossed the bridge you were a mile from home.
Roads and oceans and mile high skies
Took me to many a travelers’ prize.
From seaside to some mountain ridge –
Nothing compares to that old river bridge.
Though I’ve traveled far this wide world o’er
My mind drifts back to days of yore.
And I feel my childhood each time I see
That old river bridge in front of me.
Written by John Posey
10/28/13
Erector sets and wooden blocks
Dominoes and house of cards
Built way up to be knocked down
Scattered all across the ground
Model cars and airplane kits
Making sure each piece will fit
Snapped together without glue
Just to fall apart on you
Puzzles without all the pieces
Will not work and it decreases
The fun and joy of finishing
A picture without it's full scene
All these things can fall apart
Or not be finished from the start
Like a love without the trust
Which is a necessary must
So it doesn't break and tremble
And you have to reassemble
Two hearts with a solid glue
So it doesn't fall on you
From a height that is too high
To complete---you let it die
From a lack of love and care
Broken too much for repair
Pocket-Memories
by Odin Roark
Layers of love are never lost
Even after a good bath
How long had it been?
A mantle of dust
A bit of sand
Some fish oil residue
“gives special character”
He used to say
So many days now past
Magnifying ants
Imagined horror stints
Trimming a yolk branch
For slingshot accuracy
Screwdriving Erector Set connections
Gutting deep-lake spinner catches
Leather punching favorite belts
Ah the looking back
Now like new once more
Everything tucked back in
Servitude getting momentary rest
As a hand-me-down’s rebirth
Awaits new challenges
It’s peaceful under here
Dark and warm
Haven’t been this clean forever
Kind of eerie
Like narrow canyons awaiting sunrise
Loved being cocooned back in my box
Wrapped in red and white
Yellow ribboned for giving
All set to surprise
Soon
His grandson’s pocket-memories will begin
As that’s what Swiss Army Knives are for…
Passing to the next
What makes growing up never ending
Not divine enough to deliver scriptures
Just a uncommon erector or life depicter
Unapoligetically painting pictures,
that expose the sinister.
Like these spiritually damaging supposed ministers
Preying physically upon our undeserving young brothers and sisters
Or politically inspired facade motivators
Attempting to build the highest encasing for elevators
Those with unapparent inclinations to deceive the nation
I pray till incoherent no reservations relieve my brethren
Searching for something more absorbent to our children than playstation
Waiting for an understanding heaven sent blessings for the fallen
And my thought process at times transgressed
Hard fought this stress nights could not rest
Send deep breaths through chest have many regrets
light sleep distressed were blest through tests
I spill my mind on the canvas like blood from open arteries
To heal the blind go bloodless like twice chosen batteries
Ran races with madness the finish line held tragedies
Then escaped that sadness now I spread these realities.
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