As i in reverie..Recall life scenes' like taxis
And trams, amid myriad dreams, of people
Who want to build a valid life, learn others.
Make inventions, and relish challenges though
They are rife.' I think on builders.? As i look and
See; a carpenter working, industriously, i see
Him draw with pencil, and slide along his saw
I note the sawdust falling, to be swept
aside ' I hear snatches of conversation
The odd word comes clear, yet not real informative
To my ear..I muse on the sawing, and know its
All around world, people striving some doing whats
Best.' Guiding the blind, unravelling many a mess
I think of all i have seen from lifes first breath to its
Last' sense and idiocy.. political farce' as i watch a
Carpenter plying His saw, i see much reason in
Many of lifes actions.? Yet never a good reason, or results ever from or' for
Any type of war.'
Brilliant vermillion, a splash in the bath
The summer tanager causes a laugh
Color that seems to fly while it rests
It causes a reverence no one contests
No ordinary cardinal, nor flycatcher's hue
No black cap or vestment spoiling this view
It snatches the stinger while singing in flight
Inspiring the singer and song with the sight
Halloween is like a spleen.
Busted up, hurts, and patches.
Then I saw worms splashing around.
The stardust glazed over.
Halloween is a fog-monster.
Just eats stuff like a blast of cool air.
Groaning cauldron.
Enough mess to carry me away.
Halloween gobbles me up like something that spins.
Or has pins and needles that are invisible.
The stardust makes me do it.
And the mush halts me.
Halloween is like a molding miracle.
Halloween hats and grimacing.
Nothing between the grates.
Just me and a sewer somewhere.
Halloween snatches me up like a garbage truck.
Halloween is like organs and mush together.
Halloween is a bone on top of a mountain.
Halloween has a lot to say!
I gave up all of my inhibitions.
Sat in the cauldron with nothing else inside.
Expected something-
Unsettling.
How can I be healed when my rivers are still tender
My heart is stuck in the same sentence
Unheard points screamed at the child inside me
What am I
When the trees stick out and come out of hiding
My thoughts are disconnected from the lifeless rivers bound down on me
This penny for thoughts is meaningless
No worth inside its curves
It meant so much when I paid attention to the quietness
But the wind snatches the good thoughts from hallways of complete darkness
Do I sound crazy
Dreaming of high skies and cloud nines
I cannot see up here
It's too bright and the lines are hard to look at as wrong
How can I be healed when the tree has nothing more to wave in the wind for a look
It is invisible aging and broken edges
How am I ever healed
Baboon monkey often snatches kids, children, and the elderly's food
Doggone it, I used to make a killin' at casinos,
R o l l i n g sevens; killing em' all softly
The way The Rolling Stones kill it on the stage.
Brimming with confidence, I made my way back,
But my Tumblin Dice came up snake eyes.
"Angie," my so-called "Lady Luck" betrays me.
Whenever I peek through a window of
Golden opportunity, you bet she'll Paint It Black.
She frowns at me, and loves to remind me,
"You Can't Always Get What You Want."
She coldly snatches glory Under My Thumb.
She tells me my chances of recapturing
My lost mojo are as good as riding Wild Horses.
Across the open Appalachian badlands,
Or picking up Honky Tonk Women at
My local Ruby Tuesday restaurant. Gee, thanks!
I got crashed; I became crashed;
There must be some reason;
I endured when I was lashed;
Still, all slandered me of treason.
I get flown by the Pilot,
Who, too, succumbed with me;
Tooth and nail he had fought,
But who won was destiny.
It’s a world that’s too strange,
Of course, in the negative way;
Slaughter is beyond my range;
I can’t even think of it any day.
Sometimes, I become free,
Free to have a vivid voice;
None can escape from destiny
That snatches our each rejoice.
None ever thank me for my aid,
When they approach their destination;
In dire disgrace I am laid;
Well, there’s no procrastination.
I lost my all; I lost my life;
I failed to land on London;
Humanity’s too full of strife;
All, all become too undone.
How could I save them all?
I, too, had to die in the crash;
I took off; then I did fall;
Then occurred the brutal lash.
It’s too easy to blame on me, right?
Well, I won’t justify my innocence,
Because I was bereft of any might
That could arouse our prudence.
The tragic end haunts my spirit still;
Is there none, none to mourn on me?
Like a candle, I did try all to fill
Up, but…again … destiny!
A is for gasoline and matches
B is for Las Cruces, Lincoln County and Natchez
C is for zebras wearing stripes
D is for frozen broken pipes
E is girls with long eyelashes
F is lightning when it flashes
G is for toy boats that float in rain
H is an old man, without his cane
I is for apricots and spiced yams
J is for white wine, garlic and clams
K is for consciousness and free will
L is predestination, flavored with dill
M is for the back or was it the front
N is a hound that refuses to hunt
O is for lazybones and slackers
P is for catfish and stale crackers
Q is for lion - king of the jungle
R is for antibiotics and antifungal
S is the feeling you get when you're sick
T is for candles burned to the wick
U is for dreams caught in snatches
V if for blue jeans and sewed on patches
W is a fellow who is soft in the head
X says it's time he goes to bed
Y is to ask why he can't spell
Z is to answer he rhymes pretty well
Nail walking down the street
Carrying a bagful to fix something
For the master who owns my dreaming
Storefronts lolling sidewalks asleep
Night quiet jazz, Erie, PA
The endless road breaking cartons
Locked doors being kidnapped jumping
fences getting spotted running away
Dreaming snatches of words in the air
Fine milky jazz boots on a roll a train
That passes at 10 a,m, cars with their vapor
Mist the chuga-chuga sound of a boxcar to
No-where the rattling of walls when you are
Alone hot tea Lorrianne in a skirt a poetry
Reading in N.Y. moving out with only the
Shirt on my back going down,back,out, taking
Chris to the mermaid bar covered in sand, no shoes
Living nearby close to the sea, changing
Having enough cool to chill sand enough to scratch
That you never itch life that you're full
Digging the Diz and jack going, back going, back going
Because you want to/needing nothing' nothing but a little
Taste now and again just being free doing it instead of it
doing you
How much positive phosphorus is in a human body?
I hear the facts in tiny whispered scientific snatches
Stated by a biologist named Mr. John T. Roddy
Each of us has enough to make twenty-two hundred matches
Blue eyes
The beads seller
Snatches the heart of love
Girl of the Ascetic Kumbh Fair
Warmly
©Mahtab Bangalee
Swirling my eyes around and ‘round
Into a pile of leaves,
I see my assemblage point swirl, too.
I'm looking back at me in a tornado of thoughts
Assembling the ground around below me,
My support system slips
And my conscience falters.
It looks as if the worlds on fire
In this pile of autism Nal autumnal artistry.
The mystical mandala of my mind,
Snatches up my spirit then takes me for a ride
Into the higher levels of consciousness
And some lowers too. I’m dizzy from the delusion.
Illusions on the exclusion of always being present.
And wander aimlessly into some dreamy delirium of nothingness.
I slip into something more comfortable.
Something more manageable.
Something, more me.
Oh, how you brushed and washed me,
And lovingly dental flossed me -
How tragically you lost me,
When I was extracted from your skull
By an overzealous faerie,
Toothless, hideous and scary,
Who from kids like you, unwary,
Snatches denture teeth, which he can cull.
I rock in this outdoor cheap chair
Its cushion foam like ice cream
Half-eaten by the winter mice in storage
I don’t mind
Don’t need a full seat to see before me
The drop off on Torch Lake
Its fine line drawn between sky and space
So turquoise on one side black and blue on the other
Top to bottomless cliff
A mere step to reach one side from the other
If I dare walk on water
Wind carves the lake into slices of pie
Pulpy blueberry squeezes out the sides
Dragonflies bob in lilac updrafts
Broke open moments ago from their crawling lakeshore nymphs
Split open on the rocks
Their brittle wings snap in the wind
Snacks uncrinkling to a Kingfisher’s snatches
Fate born that way is hard to take
Of course many of these spindles escape to the flowers and meadows
But not all
I stand up
Boy to Dad to Grandpa
When did this happen? To survive this long?
To still hunger these many wonders?
To grow to know I am no more important
Then this oozing lake
Divided
And Memorial Day wind colliding with dragonflies and Kingfishers.
I hang on the small
umbrella, but I fail;
a whirlwind snatches it away,
it's more violent than a hungry eagle
swooping down to catch its prey...
all is in shambles, it scares the beagle
that finds shelter in a hallway
of a decayed building nearby:
he is afraid and shakes terribly!
Melancholy was felt when misty rain
made the maples cry as grieving mothers
do for the loss of their infant child;
no eyes looked drearier, their faces
were marked by a pain hard to explain...
they were finally consoled by God
who ordered rainy clouds to unwind,
giving them the comfort they needed.
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