Long Undreamed Poems
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To write a poem I dream an undreamed dream
The woods in France deformed by dead young men
A nightmare complex in its perplexed themes
In our dream the narrative has means
To make those killed communicate again
To write a poem I dream an undreamed dream
Later, in another war, trains steamed
To take the “insect” Jew, no longer “man.”
A nightmare simple in its evil themes
The little pearls we half see, as we scheme
The evasions we ignored but which remained.
We read a poem, we dream an undreamed dream
Who we are and who we might have been
At 4 am in isolated pain
The Nightmare Complex, come to share your screams
Can any see the woods as Dante aimed
To recreate the moment where we change?
To write a poem embodies soldiers’ dreams
Nightmares dark yet piercing wartime themes
See the black cat run, jump, slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher for life, the apex of its design, all built of little fur and bones, razors, a hunter in miniature.
A professional from birth. Cunning, slick, and sly. In the calculus of black cats that plot and destroy. Do they bring presents of dead mice, bird heads, and stranger things. Yes, they do! To there humans as tokens of respect and devotion…
But, all that fury and murder in a small cute four-legged form a furry little shadow within shadows, with big soulful eyes, they lay waste to your soul's ramparts and snuggle into a little furry ball of furies, as abyssal black stares back into your soul with twin pumpkin fire lights eyes of purrfect piercing design.
They express love without words. They slowly blink emerald eyes, a symbolism of that devotion, as a deep purr of a suttle silent little engine revs as you stroke the ferry beast as it is stretches and yaws, mouth of bright teeth, curls around feet down and hugs your hand as the little endless engine of furry fury cuddles and only just wants loves.
Such the duality of a thing and apex predator in a pint-sized puff ball. Of furry fury… A black cat is a shadow within a shadow running under your feet as you stumble to the restroom at midnight on Halloweens Eve.
They sit and watch the void above your head in the air of the unknown things best left unseen by humanity and only black cats can know. In correlation between black cats and their shadows, they know the unknown, unseen, and undreamed.
See the black cats run, jump, and slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher of life, the apex of its design, all built of little bones, razors, and furry furies.
Cunning, slick, sly as it curls itself around your heart, wanting cuddles, treats with slowly blinking eyes of love, and devotion in the way only a black cat can!
A man
is not what
he wants to be
but what he has to be
A dream
no longer
the dreamers
leaving our sleep undreamed
A vow
no longer
a promise
when fidelity has died
And trust
no longer
sacred
— when intent becomes a lie
__________
The Past
I lost you to love
you left me for dead
Before moving on
and leaving our bed
That dream that we shared
no longer alive
The present imperfect
— the past but a lie
________
The Baby’s Bathwater
The worst form
of delusion
is self-delusion
The worst form
of denial
denying what’s felt
The worst form
of deception
is self-deception
The worst form
of rejection
— rejecting the self
________
Shoo
Those who can ...
do
Those who can’t ...
mime
Go paint your face
for one who cares
As blissfully
— I rhyme
________
Doomed To Repeat
Crying about
the effects of war
will never stop
or prevent them
Evil inside
the human mind
violence births
its fatal intention
The best laid plans
a pathway to hell
devoid of
any action
Asleep at the switch
its gene still in place
to surface again
— in greed’s superfaction
________
Endure
Disagree
without being
disagreeable
Resist
without burning
it down
Commit
without being
a fanatic
Endure
without wearing
— a frown
(The New Room: July, 2026)
He records the works of his life, the ephemera
he once scrawled onto the tissue thin,
thinking them indelible blueprints.
Most were fables told to a dying legend,
Pastimes, that were chariot wheels
for his little red wagon.
He is an inventor of sorts, an engineer
of impossibilities.
He accumulates metallurgical oddments
for mechanical artifacts
that have no purpose or point;
contrivances with strange gears.
attachments that bolt on to
only missing parts.
They are pieces of an assemblage
made to represent an unknowable idea.
He structures these devises
on the leeched rims of endless visions.
His minds darkened workshops
flicker with the light of kerosene lamps.
He needs shadows and the gleam of
yet undreamed dreams,
he needs gaslight eyes
while shaping the formless.
Nuts, bolts, levers, and steam driven
small brass sprockets
for the calibration of improbable elements
are his articles of faith.
A life he once constructed
falls apart little by little.
He now searches for stronger,
less breakable mechanisms
to put together, no matter that they
serve no purpose, other than
to girder and frame
featherweight straws in the wind.
Next month, March, our young love will be alive
For one-half century plus two years; our love
Has stood through test which cause most to crash dive.
Our paths have gone to places undreamed of
Paths that we would not have traveled
One not very beaten down or worn path
Many of these journeys, we would have canceled
And would have left really fast.
God had a plan to weave us together
Creating unusual tapestry
On those grassy paths storms we have weathered
Drawing closer, love lasting, ancientry
Young love when first begun, hope, excitement
Half-century together love's acknowledgement
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Contest: 4 forms, 4 themes
My choice: Sonnet, Lasting Love
Date: Monday, January 23, 2012
Over the fruitful forests, I saw the trees
I hoofed over sleet, slush, ice, rain n' snow
On my any which way journeys
Wandering kookily at the yearn of heaven's glow
I bear on my back a bodily spirit flow
Whilst traveling in tracks undreamed of
In vasty wind depth visits, so
To kiss the creator's old sod of soil ruff
Many I saw, rip current ocean shores
Sunny and clear, potshot rain sprees
Great stones and rock on steepy cliff floors
Umpteen alpine in the deep forest trees
More than that, wild geese in clean blue air
In elevation over n' under
Heading home across the landscape fair
Hasteningly, avoiding hunter and thunder
In all my travels, I found no answers. Only wonder!
With dreams the west created factory's,
with dreams they invented car's,
with dreams they build space ships,
and travelled out past mar's,
with dreams the factory's build job's,
with dreams the jobs built careers,
with dreams the people built house's,
they didn't ask for you to help,
they built there live's themselve's,
you can build your life,
you can build your dream,
you can build your banks,
you can build your factory's,
you can build your shop's,
create the dream, create the drive,
learn to think and then to fly,
Why shoud you expect a hand out,
why should you expect a hand up,
in truth we have two feet and legs,
to walk upon ourselves,
We have a mind that also dreams,
a mind to build, our thoughts and schemes,
we can save and work together,
we can grasp at straws unseen,
we can live and grow together,
building dreams and goals undreamed,
we can climb on glory's mountain,
taste wealth in future streams.
the poor becoming wealthy,
on the backs of summer love,
we can build the cars and kingdom's,
live at peace beneath the stars.
In the back streets of my mind,
tears surge as I revisit a page.
My mind clears, I recollect the rage,
the undreamed depths of hope caught frozen,
ceaseless love, a soul that's broken.
In the back streets of my mind;
can you die of a broken heart?
Adieu, had not been intended for our breath.
Swells of tears flow hot down promise path.
Ought, slumber be peaceful?
My soul burst with your absence.
In the back streets of my mind;
can you die of a broken heart?
Waves rush in and around, in the back streets of my mind
in a wakeful dream as I hear the wind scarcely defined.
9/26/2019
Disappear into your smart phone
the world outside is doomed
Your few remaining human traits
have long since left the room
Disappear into your smart phone
all life beyond is lost
Your feelings truly virtual
you’ve paid a mighty cost
Disappear into your smart phone
while others stand beside
And just like you they tap their screens
faint proof that they’re alive
Disappear into your smart phone
as time is winding down
All spirit tapped, emotion strapped
your history lost, unfound
Disappear into your smart phone
that bed you’ve left unmade
Your spirit cries as memory dies
whose LaLa land you crave
Disappear into your smart phone
its power now supreme
Your knowledge mapped and future trapped
—your destiny undreamed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)
The ebony hair cascades untamed,
swirls in the stream of longing squall
on your ivory forehead canvas,
engraves the contours of your charisma.
The blue sea eyes dance with alluring waves,
butterfly lids flutter in the yearning air,
fold the void fabric of undreamed dreams,
for they drift away with the wilderness wind.
The crimson cheeks soak the rosy patina,
spreads seductive scent in luring zephyr.
Enchanted hue rippling with elusive glamour,
transfixed on your visage, entices me.
The luscious lips unfurl the rose bud,
mesmeric allure sparkles with lilac luster.
Silent words morph into pearls on petals,
radiate the flash of your last smile, I capture.