The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windshields cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
I live in Toronto
For 46 years now
This is the city I love
I don't want to leave Toronto
For my
Birth city
There is nothing there for me
Also Toronto is a expensive city
To live
And I need to have the money
To live in Toronto
And it is not a problem for me
Because I have the money
Yes Toronto is a beautiful city
Thanks God I have the money to live
In my nursing home
Also I have good friends at the
Nursing home
I no longer have to cook my meals
The people in my nursing home
Cook my meals for me
I go down every night at 4:00 PM
For my meals
I sit at the table that is located at
The dining room
With another friend
We both eat our meal together
Also there are lots of sky scrapers in
Downtown Toronto
Every corner I go
I see buildings being built
Also there are lots of homeless people
Living in the streets of Toronto
That is ashamed
The homeless people refuse to go
To a shelter because of bed bugs
Also there are always begging for money
I got the money I got the time
To go for walks in the
Beautiful parks during the summer
I had overeaten.
So I reached inside myself
And pulled up whatever could be pulled up
From strength that I could muster up
I labored long and hard
And eventually brought forth
Snow capped mountains
And sky scrapers dignified by the rays of the sun
And the tallest pines with cones intact
And stars draped with clouds, silver lined
And song birds with half-sung melodies resting on their beaks
And butterflies with awe-inspiring wings, extended and poised for flight
And rainbows that captured the very essence of past promises.
Exhilarated and exhausted, I wept
Not due to any emptiness or lack
But due to the incredible, unspeakable beauty of the lone rose
That remained anchored to my innermost parts.
I was spent but at peace
The windshield was covered in ice
And warming it wouldn’t suffice,
So my husband and I,
With the scrapers, did try
To remove it, attacking it twice.
With the engine turned on for some heat,
We made progress, out there in the street.
As the melting ice dripped
I knew we were equipped
With the tools for the job to complete.
I got cold so my husband said Go!
He continued to scrape like a pro
‘Til the car was so clean
We need not intervene
Until Nature delivers more snow.
Fall,
Fall
And keep on falling until
You splatter and drip
On the head of a man in a chequered shirt.
He's bin scraping,
picking
and trying to get in.
Sweat runs down it's black exterior.
Gum is chewed again,
as it feels sweet, sweet moisture once more.
Him and a friend find a crack
And go at like gold miners.
Sharp pangs cut through erogenous graffiti...
...then the bin asks what is it all for?
Suffocated by cigarette ends,
enough to make a pack of Marlboro's,
Albeit a wet one.
I don't question the scrapers and stealers, I question the onlookers.
There contents not much better than mines.
I think I'm just bitter.
It's clear what I'm supposed to do:
Fill up with rain water and let the litter float down the streets.
The bible
our pure poetry
Divine voice
art -- gallery imagery
Father’s expanding palettes of time
space infinite –
shadows of unframed
formless canvas -- man's freedom
to light, shape, transverse supernal grace,
we, alone, limit speed
and trajectory
bridging dark gaps, colors
dappled, dropped and splashed
faith will make mix, both consciously
and intuitively apply:
heaping our scrapers and brushes,
the chill of the chalkboard screech
the joy of the slip and slide
the rankle of arms and hands figuring
otherwise meaningless medium
Creativity man's Adam
ligaments of my elastic being
dutifully, lovingly allowing stretch
for explore
sinewy constructs for
mental lift and taut endurance,
the unshakable frame that
holds all upright, and
makes daily challenges
superbly sculptable, while
retaining elasticity --
God let’s be
and we decide
if when and what…?
His unseen hand
yet in the flaming attributes….
Invisible
Ah to fly
Like Superman
And save the day once more
Or X-Ray rescue captives
As I laser-melt the door
Perhaps I climb
Tall towers
And swing without a care
Between the skyline scrapers
Catching villains in a snare
Or my muscles flex
In latex
City restoration is the goal;
As I zoom around in vehicles like
Some dark knight of the soul
A metal suit
Protects me
While my heart burns like the sun
With my cape-less banter shielding
Vulnerabilities, every one
The years behind have taught me..
That heroic can be small
No need to spin the planet
Or smash right through the wall
Instead, it is in wisdom;
The timeless gentle start
Of the smile that lights the shadows
On the dark side
Of a heart
No need to be invisible
Why not let your shadow fall
On the desperate, lonely stranger
We start with one
And save them all.
Jinjagoliath
25th June 2022
Most of the time I am thinking about my pets
Pets others have dumped out
Pets who should probably have therapy but don’t.
One of them is a large pony dog we named Buddy.
He was dumped two months ago; he chews up everything.
Memory foam mattress, shoes, boots, sandals, balls,
bones, doggie chews, doggie toys, spoons, snow scrapers,
spatula handles, cardboard boxes, mouse traps, rulers,
fly swatters, and the lids off of plastic bottles.
Another is my new kitty Nemo who I struggled to get to the vet
for her shots on Saturday only to discover I had brought my cat Shark.
Nemo looks exactly like Shark only half his weight.
He fought me like a tiger when I was pushing him into a kitty carrier.
My other dog Sophie Helen is a worry; when I hear her squeaking
I know that Buddy is bothering her. He is ten times her size-
a giant galoot, and super impulsive.
My children are all grownup; my grandchildren have their friends now.
And their cars, so my time is spent thinking about my pets.
It is a delightful pastime, and they make life worthwhile.
Genuine dollars from just shredded papers!
Risked bloodless jumps from sky scrapers!
A repeated mad stabbing of one’s bowel with a dagger,
one amusedly looking back at the waiters for a stagger;
All, a seeming control of Autonomous Nature,
To the mightily attracted, an enough mental torture.
His bamboozled face sometimes worshipfully handsome
Over a barefaced holding of Nature to ransom…
This, though, a piteous misconstruction of Reality,
As magic remains miles away from Actuality;
Just as Scheming, Ingenious Devil is from God
And a gestured ‘nay’ from ‘a nod’…
In theatres commercially displayed
And in open squares freely replayed,
Faultless jobs that are but a trick,
Disparaging Laws strong like Brick;
Undeserving pockets with money stashing
And deceiving graceful necks garlanding…
If magical powers be Satan’s invention
Then one is a professing achiever of his invention,
At once, his minister
With clearly missions sinister.
Settling for a tomorrow wearing a puncture
And unthinking forfeiture of a happy future.
Mystique of mouthful aisle eats intrepid footsteps
Bespoke brick shelf scrapers muffle internet tweets
Eyes provide sole light source, borers of exploration
Closed cover modesty encroaches on curiousity
Timorous piled rectangles least represent symmetry
Shifted to stained beige paged, folded back scars
Markers of importance boast creased corners torn
In enthused infusing, informed more with each turn
Tattered stacks of spines teeter, threaten to topple
Jostle in baskets bulging gloss tortoise shell crust
Quintessential bread for society baked concepts
Richly impacts soft butter, invites require no RSVP
10th March 2021
Written for Contest: Bookshop
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Well I originate from way up here
you see these water drops called rain
but when temperatures fall I do appear
for I'm ice, most folks call me a winter pain
You see I freeze into all shapes
now if you hold me I'm really cold
and when you do I'll get impatient
for I melt turn to water, not like gold
In winter all you car drivers hate me
for I form all over your glass
harden fast on the windowpane
needing scrapers to get me off fast
Now I'm not finished with you guys
so to the roads and motorways, I go
making it slippery so can't brake fast
but if you use your sense you go slow
Dangerous I am too on walkways about
in winter old folks can get nasty falls
I cover their ways so to slip and slide
but hey I'm Mr nice(ice) in your mall!
(I have written this poem from the perspective that I am ICE speaking from its personal perspective.)
I’m going to lock it up
I’m going to build walls
No, sky scrapers
Im going to surround it with thorns
And fire will burn all the way around
I’m going to lock it
Turn the rusty key
Watch it crumble into rust, dust
Break and fall away
Pulverized, into dirt
I’m going to lock it up
I’m going to lock it up
So deep and jailed in
With bricks, stacked
Cemented by hands
Clenched, bones, white hot knuckled
Red and white, stuffed inside
Jammed and thrust into seclusion
You’ll never find it, or greet
The soft petals with your touch
The pink veined and venomed things
Which would shutter and shirk away
Locked and twisted and bound
And hidden, smashed into a trunk
Is that enough? Is that enough?
I’m going to lock it up
These angels you’ll never find
Go on, search with those yellow eyes
Those blue and hateful cold dead northern eyes
Rheumy with desire and death crusted over
Look and watch it fail in the light
Lock it up, lock it up, lock it up
Watch it fade away into the shard of a memory
And vanish into the air like a breath
Americana Panorama
Land of the free
Home of the brave
From sea to shining sea
In between golden waves
From the fields farmers plant
Across the vast Mid-West
In this Americana Panorama
Northern cities touching sky
Scrapers lighting up the night
As the Carolina shore
Echos back the oceans roar
Along the Texas plains
Where freedom loves to sing
In this Americana Panorama
With the Grand Canyons openness
To Alaska's wilderness
The mountains majesty
Powerful in its reach
In all the time that's spent
There's no other way to live
In this Americana Panorama
The colorful blue fescue
On a Kentucky afternoon
Under a Live Oak tree
With Spanish moss as company
To the California sunset
Being the last thing said
In this Americana Panorama
Its My car
Thousands of miles together we travelled
maps then a sat nav journeys unravelled
collected all sorts, even went to the tip
bus into town, no in the car I'll just nip
MOT services tax, insurance as well
paying the bills down to me it all fell
Now at the end the bills just to big
think its all over I have to admit
one last journey together we made
down to the scrapers only I walked away
the end of this tale is not very nice
travelling on roads comes at a price
pounds shillings and pence me it did cost
but for my beautiful car its life was lost...
Land of the free
Home of the brave
From sea to shining sea
In between golden waves
From the fields farmers plant
Across the vast Mid-West
In this Americana Panorama
Northern cities touching sky
Scrapers lighting up the night
As the Carolina shore
Echos back the oceans roar
Along the Texas plains
Where freedom loves to sing
In this Americana Panorama
With the Grand Canyons openness
To Alaska's wilderness
The mountains majesty
Powerful in its reach
In all the time that's spent
There's no other way to live
In this Americana Panorama
The colorful blue fescue
On a Kentucky afternoon
Under a Live Oak tree
With Spanish moss as company
To the California sunset
Being the last thing said
In this Americana Panorama
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