To soothe the cornered inferno
Consuming a sanctuary abandoned
Spider's silk like snow kissed ground
Walls caressed by a nurturing moss,
A mausoleum of birth
The detached ruins we carry
A firefighter's hose spouts curses
To cauterize a ghastly flame
The fire fights itself separately
So the lever pullers on the dispatch
Call into the ears of a healer
To douse themselves in gasoline
There is no pain, for in
Recognition there is warmth
The exiles of the charred asylum
Need something true to human heart
An acknowledgment of all their parts
Oh, from what demented mind was born
A thing so pointless as a lawn?
Surely some old eccentric lord
In a mansion, born both rich and barmy,
Who could so lavishly afford
A mighty artful minion army
Of sowers of seed and pullers of weed
Of mowers of grass and spreaders of feed
That could do for him each filthy deed
And meet the lawns fortnightly need.
But we, suburban lowly born,
Must perforce do all this on our own
Lest our green and lifeless lawn
Become like a meadow, overgrown.
Oh, from what demented mind was born
A thing so pointless as a lawn?
© Barry Freeman – May 4th 2020
She was original
And irreplaceable
Does no wrong to me
Maniacal yet adorable
Addicted to her very soul
Never could she be soluble
When she cries it brings storms
It is ironical never gives forewarns
The the she breathes the feeling of my heart torn
How iconic she is when I hold her tight
Oh how I long to see her again
Unenviable she was meant to be
The wind that held me from losing beat
Although she escaped my grasp
Presence of her could never last
Reality and eternity forever hold me still
As I look to the rocks underneath this hill
Yesterday seemed so surreal without her by me there's nothing left to feel
Enjoying the view what else to do perhaps i should dive in
Reality and irony the pullers pierce my heart filling me with eveverything she had torn out
Once I was working at a tourist place
It was a hotel, restaurant and a conference center
I saw some jewelry on the reception
I said to the receptionist
One day my books will lay here
And people will buy them like crazy
That will be great she said
In total disbelief.
That´s how it is
You got to see it, when no other can
You got to believe, when no one will
You got to carry your dream around
All the time
Protect it from doubters and pullers.
Sometimes they will see it
And hurt it, scratch it
Even try to kill it
Sometimes you will get excited
And tell everybody you meet
Then suddenly you will feel stupid.
I am writing it
When I am nobody
Can you feel me?
EndAround
If the endaround gets in the open and the balltosser does not get killed the
sideline washer will come into the game. Then the seventeen minutes will last
longer then ever and seem like forever the men with the whistles will forfeit the
flag the chain pullers come the ball is then moved to a different line.
In soccer the rules are different the endaround is the tommyboy.
The balltosser becomes the place kicker. The sideline washer is Jenifer she
takes up the seventeen minutes. The men with the whistles have none they are
called the ref. The chain pullers become the balltossers. They toss the ball out.
The tommyboy catches the ball in both games. The place kicker heads. Jenifer
smiles and forfeits the flag she is the ref in this game. The place kicker is dead.
Football and Soccer End around came.
EndAround
Flying up recently of the fell
snow in apiece
a crazy sigh seemly without
of course —
so easily flying–so enjoying
pullers by wind
and come up hells or high water
from the roofs or trees
and while the wind stopped
a clear and empty space
By effects remain.
Or while by any come back
the winter around
in sort or strongly strike —
again, flying the snow
apiece, without of course —
again flying the snow potted
fill over streets–over roofs
over the trees . . .
And lacking be snow–top indeed
The terrain.
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