Long Walk up Poems
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What happened?
I bolt awake, the heat of the fire
Still burning in my brain.
Oh, it was just a dream.
Or was it? I look at my skin,
Realize it’s black and bloody all at once
Cracked, peeling.
I sniff,
The whisper of smoke still in my nose,
My hair.
A tear rolls down my pitted cheek
As I remember, like I always do,
After I wake up.
Reliving that night.
The last thing I remember,
I was
Home, entwined in your arms
(your fingers were entwined, too, in the hair I’m stroking now).
The heat between our bodies
So strong, that I pushed you away;
I regret it now.
(I just wanted a little space.)
Because the heat then became suffocating, consuming,
As you rolled over and said
this wasn’t the same anymore.
I couldn’t breathe.
Soon, I was sweating,
100 degrees and climbing,
as you got up and packed your things
then left the room.
The slam of the front door
Was the catalyst.
My heart was the match,
And I the fuel....
I exploded from the inside out-
The flame ripped me open,
My skin started to blacken and smoulder.
Stop drop and roll?
They never taught us what to do
In a human inferno.
In desperation, I laid there on the bed
You and I shared
My tears nothing
but puffs of smoke
as they fell uselessly upon my skin.
The tears I’m crying now
In the hospital bed
Remembering
Are no more productive...
But my dear friend sitting next to me
Who pulled me out of the flames
Is there to dry them
And to console me
Telling me I still look beautiful
the wounds will heal
And that you aren’t worth them anyway.
I now know what I have to do
once I can leave this place.
Months later,
My burns have closed, now only scars remain.
I walk up the street to the house you and I once shared,
Now only a pile of rubble.
Picking my way through the charred remains of our bedroom,
A curtain scrap there, a chunk of headboard there,
A stray blackened sock,
I stop, and kneel down in the ashes.
I begin to sift through the ashes, the memories, with my finger,
Both erasing the past,
And bringing it to life all at once,
Until I have found it.
A blade of grass.
One.
Standing tall, strong,
And unapologetically green.
In the middle of the ashes,
With the ruins of our life together all around me,
I delicately clean the area around the blade of grass
with my finger, and
I smile.
You took off for Christmas and New Years Eve, and you came back high and chirpy with a rosy face looking like daisy blended with charming lips and an attitude that could pull me off the cliff. I saw you sitting there, acting as if you don’t care, you are so obsessed with the show and I have no other place to go but to sit and watch you and try to get a sensible clue from you. But the hours slip by quickly and the show ended in a jiffy leaving me high and dry with a new ambition waving in the sky.
Suddenly everything around me become obsolete but hopes catapult me to my feet, there was nothing to hold to and a sudden emptiness that I have been fighting for weeks captivate my body. I took a walk up the street hoping to find someone to lay it on, but no one was there, but the cars driving along the street they were just few but they appears to be many.
I walked into the grocery store and stood behind the door so as not to distract the customers, the shopkeeper saw me and wave to me. She forced a smile and went around the back and left me standing there looking in despair as the harshness of life has taken its tolls in the environment and everyone was paying the price.
I felt the tears springing up in my eye and suddenly I started to cry. I tried desperately to hold back the tears so as not to embarrass myself on the spot and so I suppressed the emotion. My body took on a different figure and I could feel all my joints getting stiff and so I clenched my fist and stood silently behind the door and I could hear my own heart beat racing towards the shore and my body moving to an unfamiliar rhythm. The customers come and go staring at me with budging eyes, some had no purpose there they only wanted to look at me.
I kept squeezing the tears inside hoping someone could understand how I feel and touch the pain in me. But my spirit kept draining and my heart continue to ache. I bid the shopkeeper goodbye and venture out the door stumbling on the brumby side walk until I was able to hold my grounds. I walked slowly along the path and each step that I take I could hear your voice shaking and telling me to go. I like watching the show because that’s the only time I can be with you. My hands are stiff my heart is pounding and my soul is waiting for you. Just one more day and I will board the plane and go away from this wretched place.
My appointment didn't show up today
So I decided to hang out and play
I circled around Ellanor's Park
wandering about in the dark
and thinking about the road ahead
The rain has just fell leaving mud
and water on the swampy ground
The pokemon go gang was playing around
disturbing nature with their silly sound
They walk up and down the wet grass
communicating with their partners
One by one two by two they showed up and join the crew
As soon as I arrived more of them anchored down
creating nuisance and spreading bad energy around
Luckily the Gods were lingering by to listen to my silent cry
They came down form the sky and spew them out of sight
so that nature could sing and dance about
On by one they jump into their cars
and drove out of Ellanor's park
I closed my car and walked over to an old bulldozer
stationed on the park's ground
the equipment was so old
I wonder if I was still in America
The owner was not around
so I climbed up and sat in the chair
and examined the levers and gears
I was captivated by a certain power
It felt good sitting in an elevated tower
It has been parked there for many days
Rust and dirt was musing on its face
No work was going on and the pile of sand
stood waiting on the ground for the fix it man
The same roads that were repaired
has been dug up and repaired year after year
The paved parts are lean and bumpy
And when I drive my truck rocked side to side
Where are the professional engineers
Cheap labor has sucked every penny out of the mill grinder
And America's roads are in danger
I watched them prowling up and down the street
Trying to figure out my heart beat
But I sat in the big old bulldozer scrutinizing them all over
I felt a sudden rush of power
I felt like a queen in her parlor
And I felt like a queen riding in a carriage
Waving to the magnificent crowd shouting out loud
If the owner was around I would ask for permission
To drive it up and down and through the town
Wolfish influence peddlers
Big belly contractors and poor skills workers
has feasted on the wallet of the county for years
But now I am in the bulldozer and I am getting
ready to run some one over
America needs a constitutional face-lift
Here I am in this big old bulldozer
feeling energetic and strong
I am ready to dig up and tear down the remaining barriers.
Loneliness of Gray
by Odin Roark
Could It Be…
The mirror by which we see ourselves
This captive freedom of art in all of us
This necessity to communicate
Desire to become
Is but destiny’s
Loneliness of Gray
For if
As in physics
The typical complementary colors
Blue and yellow
Red and green
Passion's mainstay
When mixed
Yield gray
Then why
When one’s being
Claims gray
Must disappointment ensue
When there is such empirical truth at hand
When there is no opposite for gray
As it is its own opposite
It’s own quintessential purity
Of emotion’s blend
why
Yes
Some would say
The artist’s mind lives unique perceptions
Available to all
Yet determined by most
As out of reach
Few
Accept this fourth dimension
Others reject
Where hands and feet
Colors and viewpoint
Change about
Inviting the dual organs
Nostrils
Ears
Eyes
To express like colors
Embracing opposites
Allowing vocal cords of multiple mode
To render art’s communication
Imagination’s reverse tongue
Creativity’s spoken proclivity
To forever accept extremities of the mind
As wonderment
As living
Ever notice
How simple the artists’ walk
It appears to be on whatever surface
Imagination might volunteer
Be it floor
Path
Greensward
Or bomb-rutted road
Where surfaces creatively experienced
Reveal a virtually abstract pressure-balancing of gravity
Requiring little of tactile distinctiveness
But merely an accommodation
Today’s levitational force
Accomplishing needed transfers of altitude
Where the climbing of stairs
But a walk up from lower levels of existence
To higher realms of selection
To the Artist
Passage from one scene to another
Needn’t be a factor
Rather trust in gliding
Where shadow and blurred focus
Claim one’s mingled curiosity
Into a chosen whole
Where much of vision
Voids transient objects
Ambiguous appearances like
Furniture
Or details of vegetation
Seeking instead
A diffuse lighting of every scene
Rendering the scheme of reversed colors and texture
Bright red grass
Yellow sky
A conundrum of black and gray cloud-forms
Down to the white tree-trunks
Green brick walls
Embracing
A Lovingly
Angelical grotesquerie
Such reveals one’s essence
One’s creation
One’s smile at chance
Depending on how
The mirror might be hanging
Seven hundred and sixty two feet from corner to corner. From the huge old elm tree in Dr. Rooney's front yard on one end, to the lamppost that sat outside my bedroom window on the other. That's how long the street that I grew up on is.
So who cares? Good question. It really is irrelevant isn't it? Well maybe. At least it was until one day when I went back and visited the old neighborhood after an absence of many years. That's when I realized how much shorter it had gotten while I was away. Time was when I would walk up to Washington Street on the opposite end from where I lived and look back, and it was a very long way. If I ran from end to end, I would be huffing and puffing by the time I collapsed on my front porch.
Sitting catty corner across the street from where I lived was the Lincoln Elementary School, surrounded by fields that ran uninterrupted the length of the street. Only the Noonan's house broke the symmetry, sitting there in solitary defiance halfway down the street. I never did know why it was there, but suspect it had something to do with the Noonan's getting there first.
Today the school is a nursing home, but everything else is still as it was, except of course, the field too has grown smaller, and the Noonan house isn't at all as large as it used to be.
I had a paper route back then. It encompassed several blocks of my neighborhood, with my dad being the last one to get his paper. It took most of the afternoon to deliver my route, given the distance and all. I wish it had been as small then as it seems to be today.
Anyway, that was a long time ago. I left for the Air Force right after high school. I remember waiting for the bus next to that old elm tree in Dr Rooney's yard. My folks moved to another part of town shortly after that, so I never did go back. Occasions to visit the town at all were few over the years. It was my dads funeral that finally brought me back for a few days.
Funny how the world keeps shrinking. Once distant destinations no longer are. California seems to be a lot closer to Boston then it once was, and when did Canada become just a few hours north of here. I guess maybe I shouldn't be surprised after all that my street ended up being only seven hundred and sixty two feet from corner to corner. Small world, isn't it?
Turtle heard that Salt Woman was on the road again, and he was
wanting a taste of her. Some miles from Cochiti, he stopped
for directions at a Speedway gas station.
The dwarf who ran the garage could not speak, but Turtle
using the language of Sandhill cranes put a spell on him,
making him dance directions. The dwarf’s jerky movements
became more fluid as Turtle urged him to relate more of the
Salt Woman.
In these parts, Salt Woman had a rep. She traveled
with a wooden puppet that she called her grandson.
When she came to a pueblo she would ask for food for
the boy. Some villages offered her food from the communal
storehouse, and she would bless their store with her tears,
while her grandson grew green leaves on the top of his wooden
head, but in some pueblos the mayor would refuse to offer
anything. Salt women would then turn the children of the village
into chaparral jays.
Turtle figured that the garage dwarf was just a fool, but he knew
that a salty woman was worth finding, and so he drove on following
her trail. Sure enough he found her in a bar in the Acoma
settlement known as Sky City.
Her grandson was with her. Turtle took a good look at Salt Woman.
She was not young, her face was lined, but her hips were as round
as fat babies, her belly dimpled, rosy, and delectable. The wooden
child’s eyes opened wide as he watched Turtle walk up to the bar.
Turtle was looking fine in his rhinestone studded jeans, his tan ruby
fringed shirt and his white, eagle-feathered Stetson.
Ordering tequila, he turned to the woman.
"Will you give me one of your tears, mother"? He asked.
"I have a thirst that can only be cured by a greater thirst".
Salt Woman looked at Turtle:
"And what will you give me in return"?
"I will share my salt with you," turtle replied honestly.
"The same as any man then," she said with a curling lip.
"Yes mother, but my salt will make you younger,' turtle lied.
Turtle will promise anything for sex, in this he is no better
than most men.
Salt Woman laughed out loud, yet a teardrop of sadness fell into
Turtle’s tequila. In a flash Turtle drank it down, grabbed hold of
the boy transforming him to a crane, then he took Salt Woman
upstairs where they tasted their thirst – again and again.
I am the real sea
A tumultuous sea
One wave hits another
And that’s me
Waves sliding, edge
Of all the earth
Edge of my childhood
Look upon my birth
Whirlpools spinning bide
In my heart and my mind
Icebergs are
My gentlest thoughts
Whitecaps are
The spraying wind that blows
Through my thoughts
Icebergs are, just are
In me, and hold the secrets
Of my birth, times not even I
Remember, gone the times
Of sweet November
I once rested in my mother
I once talked to her
All night
She sang to me each November
Always sang, her words still ring
God rest her soul
She had to go
Now she walks amongst the Angels
Watching watching what’s below
As a child I knew no other
As a man I miss her so
There she was in sweet November
There she was beside my bed
She sang to me songs so tender
God rest her soul I’m here below
And I miss her so
Once she spoke in fiergy tongues
As she cared for her little ones
Brought me into this harsh life
A little water she poured into me
Now I am a sea
She brought me life,
She slakes my thirst, still
I stand within her saltly sea
One day I will too be freed
She made me too a sea
Mixed her salt into me
Left me on this rock
To preach and write and teach
Until I drop
She left me on this rock
To preach until I drop
She made me too a see
She’s so much a part of me
As I am of her
How she worked to make of me
A mixing, churning, life full sea
In the boundaries of my flesh
In my mind are many thoughts
Intertwined in me
Her words are like the brutal winds
That slows into the gentlest sky
And calm the raging storm of me
She made of me a sea
In my mind are many thoughts
To many for my words to tell
In my heart is so much love
It’s gone to sleep and lives above
I will not approach the deep blue sea
Will not walk up to its shores
I will hear her voice no more
Until I go I’ll say no more
Of the words she dreamed and gave to me
I will no more think of her words
Or study her philosophy
No longer will I stand and mourn
Upon the sands and footprints shown
She made of me a sea
Now I am the likeness of her love
I am a deep blue sea now too
Within the salt a move and breathe
She made of me a sea
And now I am he
Donald Standeford
As I sit there upright and snooty, my maid brings my meal.
“Here you are sir, how do you feel?”
“I'm pleasant.” “Don't forget I have two guests coming today.”
“Yes sir, I'll come up and notify you when they are on their way.”
I finish eating and walk up and stare out the window.
The size of this place still impresses me and pleases my ego.
I see all my workers outside and breathe in the morning dew.
I stare at them and can't stand their uniforms of aqua blue.
I rub my wrists because they are both bruised and red,
but I don't know why, maybe I was tossing and turning in my bed.
I see two people walking towards the house, so my guests have arrived.
We sit down and I lean forward and whisper, “I'm glad you survived.”
One of them tears up and says, “I'm glad we survived too.”
The maids would never suspect we were spies, they don't have a clue.
“Okay, we don't have much time until the maid comes back.”
“So here is your new assignment, put it in your pack.”
“Thank you sir, now lets go outside and enjoy the time we're here.”
The three of us walk outside, but they both check to make sure its clear.
So many people are after me, I stay in my room with the door locked.
But there is fencing and barbwire all around, so my enemies are blocked.
One of them says to me, “so do you like this new home?”
I say, “Its not too bad, but I liked it better in Rome.”
I felt too uneasy out here, so I suggested we go back to the room.
Out there I can feel people watching me, and I can see my impending doom.
We get back to the room and talk about the details of the mission.
Before they leave I bid them farewell on their expedition.
I lay down in my bed and look up at the ceiling.
I see all these dents and holes and the paint is peeling.
I call my maid and ask where all these came from.
“ohh I see what you are up to you think I'm dumb.”
I see the fear in her eyes,
she knows we're spies.
My worst fears have come true, they found me.
A wall of men in blue running toward me is all I see.
I try to escape, but I eventually get tackled.
Now I will spend my life in this cell, completely shackled.
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Further and further I sink into my darkness.
Desperately reaching up. Reaching up to grab hold of something. Failing. Failing and falling.
You sat there and watched as I died on that sand!
You sat there and watched me drown in my darkness and you didn't grab my hand!
I laid there and died on that sand. You didn't even care! You just turned around and walked away.
Again! You did it again! You turned around and left... Just like you did the first time... Except this time you forgot to say goodbye. You turned around and walked away... You let me die.
Could you have saved me? Yes, you could've. You could've saved me! You could've picked me off that cool wet sand. You could've saved me... You could've grabbed my hand.
But instead you sat there. You sat there and watched as I screamed for the black angel of death.
You sat there and laughed as I reached up for you. You didn't try. You laughed. You sat there and laughed.
You let me drown... You let me die... You didn't care... You didn't try... You turned around and walked away... You could've saved me that day...
I drowned... I died... You sat there and laughed... You watched me cry...
The black angel of death came and led me to my grave. Leaving nothing behind but my cold, white, lifeless body.
To the grave I went. Tombstone above my head, red roses at my feet.
Far under the ground... Deep in my darkness...You actually showed up! For what?! You can't push me down further! I'm down all the way!
You lay a black, cold, stone heart and a black rose by my tombstone. You walk off... Slowly... Step by step... Back down to the beach... The waves still broke the sand still cold. Quietly you walk up to my place of death. You place a black wooden cross where I drowned.
Broken waves, cold sand.
Black angel of death...you led me here. Led me away from my ****ed up life... Black angel of death...never leave my side.
Broken waves, cold sand. Black, cold, stone heart, black, wooden cross.
Black angels of death protect my soul...
Black angel of death...
You sit there and watch the broken wave’s crash...crash around the black, wooden cross...
Broken waves, cold sand... Black, cold, stone heart, black, wooden cross...
Black angel of death...
Stay with me forever...
Under your twisted lips, runs a wooden tongue called time, you have drained the city of all that is divine,and your tongue is rolling over into your head as if you are getting ready to expose the dead. You went on a shooting spree, committing murder in the first degree, mashing up sauce and pans while you infiltrate the substance all over the land.
You bear the mark of the Antichrist in your stomach and the beast curled up in your back side while the guitar is strumming silently in your head as if music is your only gift and sardines, are your only dish.
Retrace your steps and look in the hole and you will see how far the tunnel has gone into the river bed and what about the clock above the wall? It’s time for you to get out of bed and take a long cold shower.
Your wildest dream is buried in your heart and it has been with you from the very start, walk up the road and turn around the bend and you will see the lion occupied its den, you can tame it from outside but don’t make the mistake and go inside, your wildest dream is full of pride.
The morning is looking for you and the afternoon has its wing all over you, the evening and nights are filled with delight but the dragons are active after midnight but the firefly will lead you into the light.
I have seen you wailing on that road with Illusion covering your face and reality leading you to a woeful embrace. The train is speeding and you must recuse yourself from the track before you get hit in your back.
Setting up late at nights to roll the infamous dice has set off a new course of action with marinated duck clucking in the oven and sauté beef frozen on ice watching the curry chicken dancing on top of the plate.
They set up all night waiting for you to try on a brand-new pair of shoes; I don’t think it will fit because deception is stuff in its sole. It’s too small for your feet and I can feel the Cinderella heartbeat spreading the heat.
This is more than fifteen-year-old inquiry of a man and a woman on a reckless and deceptive journey and the schemes that they use to obtain the price came at a horrendous sacrifice both man and woman fell into the ditch leaving a painful bridge behind and we finally got them off the pitch.