faucets drip
radiators rattle
hinges creak
dad’s in the saddle
lights blink
a/c blows
stove’s aflame
off mom goes
shower’s cold
sister scolds
true shalom
~ happy home
I come home to great works of literature submerged in water
Knee deep
The landlady tells me not to worry
You don't need sugar in coffee - you're sweet enough
Arteta, the Arsenal manager is asked about superlatives
The poet within him replies, "I don't mind adjectives".
I have a woman.
I’m proud to call her my wife.
Some give theirs’ nicknames, ‘her indoors’ and ‘the trouble and strife’
Now, I have my flaws and they are many and vast.
I think like a man, slowly and ‘at last’!
But my wife asks me to hang the washing out in the rain!
Her argument for using the balustrade and radiators to me seems pretty lame!
They dry out too quickly!
They dry out too fast!
So, while it’s overcast and drizzling the wind will still give them a blast!
Now, I have a chunter as I’m stood outside getting my bald head wet! She says that there’s sense in her logic though I can’t see it being approved by Spock from Star Trek!
If they get wet we can give them a spin! Then wait for some sunshine to hang them out again!
The weather app says it’s going to clear up - so that’s what you’ll do. Get out there in the drizzle and hang the washing out you fool.
People like the Lord are watching you
The men who follow Jesus cared
You're constantly on an audition
And everyone you ever knew
Will eventually be there
It's hard to live under scrutiny
Or dissected under judging eyes
You can see why the people cry mutiny
While enjoying the safety
Of being paralyzed
How am I supposed to keep moving
With all this heat following me?
I been chained to radiators
By molls who said they were mine
They all said they'd meet me later
And we'd run away to the land
Of sweet grapevines
Ya gotta be wary they tell you
'cause they're workin' both sides of the mirror
Under the hot spot of seduction,
Your contrived confession
Comes crystal-clear
How am I supposed to keep movingHn
With all this heat following me?
The most important noise you will know:
the smoke detector with a dying battery'
out in the stair well
going off every three minutes
with the aggression of bass
coming from passing cars
in Washington Heights
to mid-town
and
just loud enough
so
sleep folds in on itself.
Dreaming takes on a different meaning
with a different face
turning from a black and white movie
to yellowed
film
still,
flat
motionless
and all that is left are the waking hours.
It takes technique to escape
the sound that keeps you incarcerated
in an A tonal tomb.
Street lights cast
the turning silhouettes
of fly paper in the living room.
And there is always the hope for the hissing of the radiators
two months away
when the heat turns moist and heavy
like the collective breath of Argentina.
snowy daffodils
bend under the chill blanket
sunrise uncovers
The radiators still ping
April is disguised as March
That street,
Not easy to
Spell, even
Now.
But radiators,
And old Christmases
Are unfounded.
But still, this
Tinsle town,
I wish I never
Abandoed you.
Driving, so fast,
In a Dodge,
We smiled, girl.
Until we domesticated
Ourselves.
I
In the solitary hours
my ears play tricks on me.
Call this a confession if you will.
I hear things that I don't want to,
People talking indescriptively,
Electronic tones and beeps.
There are no voices in my head
Except my own,
The occasional lyrics of a catchy song,
And the imagined calling
Of my name in public places.
And I wonder at the chance
That I am not alone in this,
That others hear the things not there,
The mischief of pixies that dance in the ear.
II
Dress quickly!
Your lover leaves to errand
Promptly upon awakening to the late morning.
You must flee with him
So that the house remains in stabbing silence.
It is not so complete though
When capsuling the off rhythm ping
Of the radiators, the cracks of old walls
When the wind should dare to test them.
The refrigerator and the toilet
Take turns refreshing themselves,
But those ambiances only serve to exclaim
The sinister silence that reigns over all else.
wet ice pellets
pitter patter on the pane…
radiators steam
I see the snow falling again,
Again I must start up ""Old Betsy"" before bed,
Bed brings cold feet and shivers until the
body heat thaws it out,
Out again to start another day,
Day brings kid's hopes of no school,
School radiators pop and moan to warm the
building,
Building up of snow is a potential income
for the young scooping snow for the old,
Old and tiring is Another Iowa Winter.