If I could remember the admonishments
of the gods,
then stalkings
by the fabulous four,
pestilence, drought, flood, and famine,
not to mention the universal decimator war,
would reduce me to a common denominator
childlike in my passions.
Driven into obsessiveness
yet unrepentant
crowded by my wanton behaviors into
unlikely sins incarnate in their own foolishness
I lurk now
held earth bound
by a likely anger from the gods.
Not being a lyrical human
I coarsely beg, borrow, and steal, from others
to create my whole
while digging my own grave
I do not hear the gods.
Come winter, I yield
becoming a willing hostage without appeal;
a prisoner to the solitary walls of the house,
closed, secured behind windows, doors, a hibernating mouse.
Writhing images come out the stilled and silent halls
spirited ghosts freely walk lean and tall
unchained from the past it's stalkings pleasing
to come alive again, if only in the season.
Celebrating holidays
recalling those easily forgotten memories at play
the gatherings of relatives, the aunts, the uncles unwind,
cousins from afar, unseen at any other time.
The house smells of spices, autumn winter scents
pumpkin, nutmeg, apples, cinnamon, carving events;
turkey with chestnut stuffing, fresh baked rolls and breads.
anticipating laughter of football games with parades ahead.
In the cold gray harshness of the winter tide
these sweet memories manage to survive
as each is revived to live again
by family, dreams and gatherings of friends.
Come winter, I gladly yield
willingly giving all to everything revealed
recalling each of those gone before but still close in memory
thankful with the gifts of family, love given me.
What keeps a man tied up to a woman
Who’s distant and leads her own life?
She speaks a tongue from a group of Roman
And that woman is his “dear” wife.
They stopped talking and even making love.
Then what is the point of locking
Your former other half as a caged dove
While dreaming of mistress stalkings?
It’s not decent, unfair to all the three
Each one’s craving satisfaction
How in the end it’d turn out to be
Knows noone, even his reflection.
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