Fort Crown Point sits on the big lake
that’s long been called Champlain,
its broad earthen walls left open,
thrown up, but built in vain.
Its roofless barracks give no warmth,
just gutsy shells of stone,
unlike its more famous neighbors
no story here was known.
Ticonderoga, near the south,
battered by history...
and Saint Frederic, just steps away
still got a chance to be…
But Crown Point never was a fort,
never besieged or wrecked
before that old war passed them by,
and redcoats took Quebec.
It makes it strange to see it now,
unfinished, yet preserved,
a monument to a place where
no great glory was earned,
no battle raged, no people died,
no purpose did it get,
like a life with great potential
cut short by early death…
Can that apply to a building
if in serves not its task?
But then, it was designed for war…
maybe there’s good in that.
Yet still I get a forlorn sense
on seeing it because
I’d hate to be remembered for
something I never was…
Can our hearts be reduced to our behavior?
20,000 people a day visit the Eiffel Tower, which is about 450 feet
from our back windows - trees block much of the view and they’re
several stories below us, so only a bit of the loudest noise reaches us.
By 8pm that number is halved and by 10pm only stragglers remain
- and lovers, who stroll hand in hand at all hours.
There are no more classes, this year, we were given two weeks
to study for first year final exams - which start in 2 days.
When studying late at night,
I setup on our 6th floor balcony
I love the seeming quiet
(I’m jamming to my AirPods).
I have quite the imagination
- my perch seems like a tree-fort
because the trees are within reach
studying is like an exploration
I pretend that no one else knows
these things I’m discovering
of course that’s silly
but feelings are feelings
I wish I didn’t have to sleep
I love the research
I love my music, I love the darkness
I can watch the lovers walk the park
I’m up here, alone, for hours
there are peak moments happening
in the tree-fort
.
.
Songs for this:
Lush Life by Zara Larsson
New Rules by Dua Lipa
Hidden among reeds
a crane's silhouette reveals
stillness of beauty
his eyes focused on water
his thoughts lost in its ripples
I'm so tired of this life,
Tired of all the day to day chores.
Now all I want is to take a rest,
Or maybe stop altogether and begone.
But I've some chores left to do,
A prison to guard,
A fort to hold,
A mirror to break,
A blanket to fold,
And a soul to crush, so full of mold.
Andromedan castles
moat has little blue boats
servers are maidens joyed
white iris gardens
deep canyons
radars aimed
soft cadence
magnet minds
love balanced
Orion forts marbled
shining with platinum bands
armoured Galactics cruel
stone and steel makes head reel
bold barons
orlon vests
high pylons
canon shots
warring sons
______________________________
Strains of notes shuttle me back
to my grandfather’s makeshift -fort
crammed with songbooks, bows, and pipes.
Here, we would empty our shoulders
from a rough sail;
he scattering fiddle tunes on painted halls--
his eyes half-closed ,melting the noise
of an anxious world, of teary wrongs.
‘Bathe in night's luster ’ he mused,
smitten by some Gerhwin's refrains...
and my rubber spine would bend with
violin strings weeping till we drowned
in trusses of orchestral magic...
Sometime in fall, dirge of nightfall exhumed
his lust for old charm...
and my eyes fall on the moat of vagueness ,
lost in the maize of this space
utterly cold.damp. unsung,
plucking his strings so hastily uninvited.
Hopes died knotted when dreams betrayed
and my spirit lay prone in my marrow.
My heart watched love fray until failed.
No muscle of emotional strength left
was even tentatively dream linked.
Now, jailed in my mind-built fortress
are desires deceptively pieced parts
that once tingled my anticipation.
Morning to night, heartbreak guards my
fort’s locked cells where starvation
gives no salvation to dark false posing.
For years, I fell atop love bruising gravel
yet I stayed glitter and tackle saddled
seeking soulmate love on the horizons.
All love I thought breathed genuine
was paradise deception had spliced.
For true love, I would have lived in a cabin,
dressed daily in inexpensive flannel
and felt no jealousy for those living
adorned in silk and loving in a castle.
On the precipice of the fort you built,
and then abandoned,
stands this castle another is erecting.
So away with the pain you brought,
welcome the joy my new lover brings.
You defended all that makes love wilt,
you erased the warmth once in my heart, bit by bit,
till you erased everything with the joy you stole,
you left my vases with wilted roses—
the ones you gave when the last world war was fought.
In this castle built by my new lover,
love is watered now by peace of mind;
each room is filled with sweet fragrance
from freshly plucked roses and sunflowers—
it’s as if my garden can never wilt again.
So love thrives best within a castle, not behind a fort;
where pleasure swims like an eel without a boat,
no threat of fired shots begging for a shield.
How do you beg for a rehash of protection
meant for bullets, not for displeasure?
The dark castle, walls of stone, iron gates,
squats, defiantly, upon a low hill,
bracing against the storms of gods and men
of which it weathered many, and survived
as have the lords who live and lived within.
Two centuries, masters of all they see
power over those souls without the walls;
those within in their ermined purple robes.
But should they ever look beyond those walls;
which ne’er they do, for they do turn to fools;
they would observe the people build a fort.
Ragtag people, a simple wooden fort,
but it will grow, one day surround the lords,
the masters, owners of their wretched lives;
slowly choke them until they all do starve.
Oniape Fort. My dear, my beloved
Your voice is music to my ears
And your touch reaches into my very soul
When you sorrow I weep with bitter regret
When you are of good cheer I celebrate for all I know
So, with your beguiling song I am yours as sure as you are mine
For I know that I alone wield the keys to your heart
And thus together our loves does unite
My dear. My Oniape Fort.
When we present our love to the world
Our actions are in perfect harmony
Our heartstrings are tied as if one
Thrumming as to the rhythm of your melodious voice
And when the weather turns and you lose your hope
I right the wrongs and transform your sobs into song
My beloved. My Oniape Fort.
Red, the hot hedgehog baked strawberry short cakes
They were delicious, magnificent, she fed them to her snakes
Better than her chocolate sundaes, or her blueberry shakes.
Best recipe she has, said those satisfied snakes.
Remembering a granddaughter good times of Kentucky bourbon visits back home a doting father Pete Pete Lil Pete the many flowers planted I always chose the yellow ones these were for friendship sheer loss Gargano loss father mother daughter granddaughter not to mention the empty graves used for show when ever a Gargano fakes his death another violent offenders get their wings early released from prison from Mexico to Venezuela the many organised crime figures burning veterans alive torching homeless persons alive in Chicago the arson murders hidden while today I remember asiL Marie Gargano combs standing still unable to fly with wings of ashes life shortened by mafia vengeance car bombs fires explosions meets flowers the yellow ones saints and sinners greets on burning angel wings perched over black town fort Myers Florida Andersen ave.
baby giraffe runs
ducks flutter in murky pond
snakes slither away
lions sneak a nap
seals entertain laughing crowd
penguins waddle by
When full cooperation is offered
And proper support is delivered
A feeling of joy will surely arise
That will make the mood nice
When we take genuine interest
And excel superbly in any test
Goes to Sky-level our reputation
The World gives a warm invitation
Due to our extending real help
Our whole team will develop
Then success will be the result
Our importance will be gladly felt
We must not loosen our will
But, continue to show skill
In case we feel down or tired
By faith, we must be inspired
Ultimately when we firmly prove
That we can help and improve
Our team realizes the dream
We steer to success our team.
Aromatic alleviation that you need;
the secret to having anything succeed?
A blanket fort and peppermint pillow mote;
Sea of calm spiked with crimson passion;
If you get high on imagination?
That’s the turnkey to get inside;
I dare you to try and break the fire wall
if there’s nothing of childhood you recall;
Forever locked outside your psyche;
Fragrant aroma that allows you to breathe
free to rejoin what lies underneath;
Inhale exhale, roll back in time.
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