When popping a letter in the post
before you lick it and stick it
consider all the trees which would go
to grow a bigger and better thicket
if we don't wait it's not too late
what with black rain and red tides
while fossils fuel our vehicles
petroleum product-propelled rides
turn a new leaf is my belief
as going green keeps this planet blue
Shank's pony makes all the sense in the world
it's quite the right thing to do
Spew blame as I saunter by.
No evidence nor alibi.
Shifty hands are hard to hold.
Cheating eyes spark bright and bold.
Only truth you ever met.
To curse our marriage with regret.
It’s easy sticking to routines,
Though some might find it boring,
Yet out beyond your comfort zone
Are risks not worth ignoring.
Away from home, your bed and bath,
Especially untested,
Might make you worry that you won’t,
When morning comes, feel rested.
And all the unfamiliar foods,
So different and appealing,
May be too tempting to resist
And leave your stomach reeling.
And even if you do your best
To get your things together
And pack your suitcase carefully,
There could be freaky weather.
Another possibility
Is illness when you travel
And being sick away can cause
Your spirits to unravel.
I get why people never leave
Routines which keep them going,
But sometimes stepping out may tap
A part of you worth knowing.
A warped board on a bench seat
causing discomfort
to an old bum, an aching foot,
a touch of pity all came to keep me
self-sealed inside a bag of skin.
I took no note of the river
almost licking at my feet,
the evening's prayerful quiet,
the sky slowly switching on
its nightly extravaganza of stars.
I was too far into myself
to see past my rim.
One can get lost in a stare,
that blank, formless blur
reflecting the endless distances
stretching across the self.
I was bubbled there.
Then slowly things happened,
a tugboat went past, seagulls
protested my presence,
the smell of river mud
thickened the air.
I stepped out and saw
an old man on a bench seat
who I have long known,
brushed the dandruff
from his shoulders,
helped him up and walked
him home.
Gotta date
with my baby
out on the town
with my gal
wearing the
new shoes
my honey
gave me
she's dolled up
in diamonds
and pearls
stepping out
with my lady
supper
and dancing
what ah
wonderful world
go to the rink
skate ah
little while
she's got a fashion
she's gotta style
we'll skate a bit
and dance a while
I'll kiss her cheek
to make her smile
Black and white movies,
old even when I watched them
flicker still on an inner retina.
A hero turns conspiratorially,
staring into my future;
what he said into the camera then,
is silent now
but I see his lips move
as if he were predicting this moment.
A heroine hikes her skirt over her thighs;
blood fills the flesh of memory,
a dialogue recalled by younger nerve-endings.
I remember I love her, but it is too late,
she is dead and she did not die young,
her ancient hand seems to
grasp my fingers now,
seeking closure.
King Kong lives a broken life in my hall closet.
At night I hear him weeping still
for that little platinum haired women.
He is no longer tortured, angry,
and confused,
but he forgets stuff,
Nightly I still have to explain to him
that the sound of buzzing biplanes
is only the air-conditioner kicking in.
Eventually we both slip into sleep.
Stepping out into the air
Each, and every minute
has a chance that is rare
Take it before you forget.
The moment of opportunity
Can magnifying your options
You are here with the ability
For Stepping out into action.
More ready to uncover solutions
Advance to the amazing zone,
In performance that eclipse passions
To make dreams the reality you own.
Consumed the loss of things
And step out into the new air.
Meet clouds with resounding wings
Flapping in the open atmosphere
You will be a king or a queen
With the will and motivation
To rule the realm that you have seen
Floating with time and motion.
Will you step on the hallowed ground
With our brothers and sisters that were found
When we marched together as one
And our lives had just begun
Do you remember the morning parades
And the leave night escapades
The golden days when youth abounded
The feeling of a new life as you were astounded
But the years have been unkind
And the hallowed ground has weeds entwined
For us who were the lucky few
Close you eyes your memories won’t fade for you.
© Paul Warren Poetry
You have to be immortal
to placate the gods
Time reaffirming
all memory of
Creation, destruction,
eternity looms
For those who believe
—appeasement exhumes
(Calvary Cemetery: October, 2020)
Like the first day of school,
The first step is the scariest.
You were born to be remarkable,
And altogether incomparable.
Don’t you dare punk out,
By running in fear and doubt.
Gear up and step up to plate,
Trust yourself and be great.
Step out of your comfort zone,
Life is tougher in the red zone.
Don’t be afraid to take a chance,
Even if you only get a glance.
If you have the passion to dream,
Develop the desire to succeed.
Get out there and make it happen.
It’s time to put your dreams into action.
Back in the day music was good.
We enjoyed ourself no matter what part of town.
From the shotguns, to the high-rises.
The urge that instantly becomes testimonial.
Immediately we'd feel better soon as the music plays.
We'd forget everything else.
Like millions of feet echoing through our ears.
Our body reacts.
The experience of true euphoria when the music takes over.
Suddenly the load doesn't seem so heavy.
From the condos to the slums.
The mark of an era.
Going on down the road.
Nothing to do but walk.
Strut your strut.
The struggle to be free.
The stratosphere doesn't seem all so far.
The absolute rule of thumb.
Coming alive blowing out the dust,
The relationship between artist to listener.
To welcome birth.
The experience of it all.
Nothing but the road in front.
Strutting along.
Living, breathing.
To enjoy yourself no matter what part of town.
From projects to burb.
To step off the curb leave work behind.
Dance the block.
Clocking out.
Stepping to life.
Some of the best memories ever
Her secret fantasy; she was afraid that someone would find out..
About her love as wanton desire, for women; sensual sexual, urges.
Lightening strikes
I know the feeling
My heart grows heavy
In need of healing
Shy
For fear of rejection
The sky grows dark
My eyes to black
Consumed by doubt
I venture out...
STEPPING OUT
Stepped out this morning after many torrid days.
Stillness and dreeping dampness met my gaze.
Trees above thankful for the welcome swallow.
I too breathed deep a welcome here below.
hearing the
sound of
Gabriele's
thundering horn
this shall
be the
final call
when stepping
out of
your graves
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