Carpal tunnel twinges
punctuate a torpid afternoon,
as row on row we line the aisles
and stare at nothing
with the guarded anonymity
of urinating men.
My thumb is on the lever,
moving almost imperceptibly,
as marbles rocket into space
and filter down
through obstacles designed
to keep the management in business.
The captive of a chain reaction
freed from craving by acceptance
of the preordained,
I decompose, am compromised,
incorporated by the convolutions
of this artificial universe.
But something breaks
the moment I let go.
The single thread
that holds the world in place is cut,
and once again I fall away
with all my individual needs exposed.
Japan, 1968
Previous version published in Outposts, England
Categories:
outposts, fun, sports,
Form: Blank verse
TRAIN TRAVEL
I am on a superfast train
Listening to the soothing refrain,
Of the wheels on the railway track
Clickety clack, clickety clack.
Verdant vistas on either side,
Soothing visions during the ride.
Hamlets and villages flash by,
Little children waving "Hi"!
Fields of wheat and sugarcane,
Glistening from recent rains.
No pollution, no blaring horns,
No impatience or faces forlorn.
The catering staff wend their way,
Distributing food on trays.
We tuck into a hearty meal,
Get a satiated feel.
Chat with fellow travelers,
Some sober, some revelers.
Each with different tales to tell,
Caught up in a magical spell.
Halting at railway stations,
Quaint outposts of the nation.
The aroma of frying food,
You simply cannot elude.
Idyllic this train travel,
Just unwind and unravel.
Far away from stress and strain,
Modern life's eternal bane.
Stretching on my berth, relaxed,
Languidly just laying back,
Till I reach my destination
I'll admire Nature's creations.
Categories:
outposts, travel,
Form: Rhyme
TRAIN TRAVEL
I am on a superfast train
Listening to the soothing refrain,
Of the wheels on the railway track
Clickety clack, clickety clack.
Verdant vistas on either side,
Soothing visions during the ride.
Hamlets and villages flash by,
Little children waving "Hi"!
Fields of wheat and sugarcane,
Glistening from recent rains.
No pollution, no blaring horns,
No impatience or faces forlorn.
The catering staff wend their way,
Distributing food on trays.
We tuck into a hearty meal,
Get a satiated feel.
Chat with fellow travelers,
Some sober, some revelers.
Each with different tales to tell,
Caught up in a magical spell.
Halting at railway stations,
Quaint outposts of the nation.
The aroma of frying food,
You simply cannot elude.
Idyllic this train travel,
Just unwind and unravel.
Far away from stress and strain,
Modern life's eternal bane.
Stretching on my berth, relaxed,
Languidly just laying back,
Till I reach my destination
I'll admire Nature's creations.
Categories:
outposts, travel,
Form: Rhyme
the spiritual heart
conjoined with the physical
radiates a compelling silent hum
even as the head ovoid glistens in bliss
enlivened spine radiates cool heat
whilst over front the energy grid
anchors power at the navel
soles of feet and palms
act as outposts of the glow
all nodes in unison invoking grace
setting up an intent wave from the heart
in childlike playfulness by presence
as both the subject and object
creator and the recipient
Categories:
outposts, spiritual,
Form: Free verse
There exists no place
Outside the Lord's grip -
From the outposts of space
To the eclipse of a pit -
He's never far away
And even more so -
He's on the war field
In the foxholes -
In the nursing ward
And in the catacombs.
Where else should He be
But with the wounded
In body and spirit, prithee?
As two are wed -
Jesus - be ever with me.
Categories:
outposts, hope, jesus, religious,
Form: Rhyme
Only ghosts man these
old frontier outposts now
They rock back and forth on
driftwood chairs on the porches
of the town main street shop's
and saloons
Hoping and praying for a piece
of tumbleweed to pass bye to
make this day somehow
memorable
The sun's positioning says this
would have been rush hour way
back then
When they left they stole the
boots off the dead so as to
keep the noise of trampling feet
down
The weeded grass in the graveyard
has turned ginger brown
And the names on the crosses
have almost totaly eroded and
faded away completely
Soon enough this here town
wont be found on any map
anymore and when that happens
It won't be a ghost town it
will be as if it never existed
at all
And at that point then even the
ghosts will have to contemplate
maybe leaving and moving on
Because even the dead need
some form of life to exist
Above ground zero
Categories:
outposts, slam,
Form: Free verse
proximity was far beyond the reach
of closure departure
destination settlement
immediacy suspended a hung sky
in longitude perspectives
equations riddles
requests gripped the claws in vain
from suffering attachment
torture stranglehold
distance called upon commotion
in puzzlement surrender
gratitude belief
restitution bridged the gaping hole
for restitution destiny
awareness harmony
as the horizon tilted into meaning
contradicted stagnant apprehension
a canopy of scintillating comfort
crowned her roots with wings to fly
in liberation acceptance
tranquility balance
tarred feathers oozed in the sun
skin healed the scars of separation
wounds closed outskirts of despair
outposts became internal delectation
as life reached out and one path closed opened up the journey ...
Categories:
outposts, journey,
Form: Free verse
A sooty cat prowls
under a nail-struck star-light
to rub against my legs – yellow eyes
outposts of a far-removed planet.
Standing by my door
looking up into the riveted blackness,
I sense the remote clanking
of casements and portals,
the cold iron blinking of bygone lights.
I take out the trash,
ice-claws buffet my bones,
the hanging distance above me
snares my breath.
The cat’s eyes have closed,
it has come back from the beyond,
to be pulsing and close;
its purr as near to me now
as the blood in my lips.
Categories:
outposts, poetry,
Form: Free verse
No bougainvillea here,
Wind and wave-tossed shores
Know no such blossom.
What blooms next stormy seas
In western outposts far removed,
Unknown to sun-soft living ?
When silken purple drapes
The open sky, and folds of grey
And pastel blue hang mingled,
Dark-mirrored in the land below,
The daily reckoning may be heard,
Another storm from off the ocean,
Or might the sombre grey dissolve,
Transformed with silvered promise
Of brighter lengthening days ?
For when the earth relents,
As now it surely must,
A universal sigh is breathed
Across the waiting dormant land.
As expectation stirs, the great unveiling.
A curtain raised upon a glorious stage,
As now the islands of the west
With wondrous spectacle are blessed.
To my mind, and for what it's worth,
The flowering of the machair
Is the greatest show on earth.
Categories:
outposts, nature, spring, western,
Form: Free verse
So many great poets here!
What about the new ones,
who need your hug, eh?
You just might give them the
poetry bug!
I like to seek who's waiting
for my nudge!
To take my time and reply
and get some good, warm
yummy fudge.
My Dad is to blame for all of
this!
He constantly wondered why
only the big fish got the hits.
He wanted the smaller fish
raised to a respected dish.
Honestly, I feel the same as he!
There so many empty reply boxes
and also, with replies too few.
Some of you understand clearly,
I AM talking to you!
I'd rather see us an in-gathering
crowd.
Not an In Crowd who back slaps
each other!
Leaving many on lonely outposts
just sitting around.
I myself don't want to play,and
am as skittish as a newbie.
It's no joy to write to walls and I
don't think it's cool or groovy.
I know I choose topics at times
electric.
But am not here to tickle your
tummy nor stick to forms only
poetic!
We may just be~ the very last
bastion of free speech.
With Political Correctness running
the world,more
I want the brakes on PC going to
a loud "screech.'
October 15, 2019
Categories:
outposts, culture, friendship, integrity, loneliness,
Form: Rhyme
Although their blows knew no restraint,
Their countenances no control,
He bore their hate without complaint
That love might make their hunger whole.
The curses that had filled the night
Gave way to stifled sobs and wails,
While on that hill the infinite
Was held for half a day by nails.
He cried aloud in grief and pain;
The soldiers stopped awhile to stare,
Then turned their backs against the rain
And grubbed among his underwear.
First published in Outposts, England
Categories:
outposts, bible, christian, faith, religious,
Form: Rhyme
second terra,masters of the nether world,
black is their art,as crafty smoke curls
behind a screen,landscaping scenes,amazing,
chemical elements influence our being
projecting images,manipulating thoughts
misguided perceptions easily bought
subliminal messages,chaotic fuel
hatred belies evil despotic rule.
recreant,miscreant,one and the same
lowly existence,there they'll remain
sinking lower to depths,uncaring of deeds
subliminal messages,planting evil seeds
appearances frequent to mislead perceptual
third eye needed to discern the actual
programs running,they're constantly gunning
head shots,heart shots,they've got,cunning
skills diverse,if left open for attack
awareness,understanding,will guard your back
no compromise on the bridge
as you stand on the ridge
spirit within' to keep you on edge
outskirts,outposts,uncharted fields
strength and honor,due time it will yield.
Categories:
outposts, allegory, imagination, life, evil,
Form: I do not know?