I talk to the trees
and they listen to me
I whisper sweet nothings
they renew the air I breathe
I talk to the trees
tho' they don't respond
beats speaking to myself
in the back of beyond
I talk to the trees
tho' they never reply
my words go unanswered
don't ask them why
I talk to the trees
tho' they have little to say
so the men in white coats
they put me away
If you only knew how long I've been
w
w a
w a i
w a i t
w a i t i
w a i t i n
w a i t i n g
for the longing of your embrace,
for elongated dreams of your gaze
with the kind of gleam in your eye
that chases my love,
unlaces dreams I feel uncertain of,
and embraces my body's blood,
which holds the bloodline to our future.
I'm not asking you to worship me,
not to commit blasphemy,
but, if possible, maybe the next best thing?
If you only knew how I long to give you the same
China claims that the Taiwan Strait
Does not divorce it from its mate
But China's been busted
It can not be trusted
Since it reneged on Hong Kong's fate!
From toothed alps to McKenzie High Country
to hardwood alpine forest and fernland,
there rises the jewel Aoraki
out of the jagged ice age peaks so grand.
And polar winds at its rock face below
chill Lake Te Anau’s willow and bluegum,
where the frozen wild lowland tussocks grow
and rainbow river trout and salmon run.
Behold plains and valleys when spring has shone,
hear the cloven hooves scatter asunder,
climb Arthur’s Pass to Milford Track and yon
to glacier and fiord and rolling tundra.
Stretched from Cloudy Bay to Bluff on the sea
thunders the sky father, Ranginui.
Written: April 1996
I’ll exit in quiet and angst-hastened steps
Over the sanded dust on that jinxing floor;
And with well-metered gait soon shoot out
Into a sea of blank faces beyond the door.
I own I must pity each unspeaking grain
Of sad earth asleep under my agile feet,
Unaware of those heavy strides of pain,
Resolute where tears and anxiety meet.
I nurse a weird thought that I’ll encounter
An intolerably inquisitive eye as I saunter
Past every low stretch of panicky ground,
Curious whereto my swift legs are bound.
It will be a hastily embarked on walk to far
Climes cast between two impossible walls:
Meanest Fate on dim life's left-handed end,
Luck posted on shinier side of such fracas.
At seven-thirty in the chilly morn’s breeze,
I’ll roam wherever Destiny’s winds please!
The Strait & Narrow
6-23-2016
Some spent adolescence in foolhardy thought,
then observing the sun setting on advanced days.
Thinking they could handle whatever life brought,
but seeing at the end it isn’t the fiddler who pays.
So hold head a little higher, don’t cross the line,
for mistakes we’ve made we’ll be held accountable.
Take the high road, trust God, and you’ll do fine,
in trusting God, everything, becomes surmountable.
I encountered the cursed female along the way.
Six heads had she; six heads to devour my men.
My crew and I held tight to the cliffs to survive that day.
Six of my men were devoured on that voyage back then.
We landed on an island, the island of the Sun.
I didn't want to go there, but my crew sought rest.
The fools in my crew slaughtered a calf- the most sacred one.
Zeus then cursed my luck, cutting it in half at best.
I alone survived; my crew perished under Zeus's wrath.
A storm sent me backwards to face Charybdis's might.
Sheltering in a tree, I evaded her warpath.
On the wreckage of my ship I floated, barely surviving the fight.
This my account of that narrow strait.
This is but one tale of the things I must tell.
Thankful am I, for not having met my fate.
My name is Odysseus; remember it well.
Wandering And Loafing thither-stunned I knew,
Scorching sweat-and a grim creature view,
Aye troubled and loaded vista of misery,
Swirling with abjectness seeming weary,
Nor they stand upright neither they sit calm,
Where they where ,never in placid nay in ominous realm,
Prepare for prepare on this abominable flame of war,
They freaked out through futile power,
Hence ‘tis a royal road through eke’ out but volatile,
Ye- grudgingly yet’ a way but vile,
What he must –must he be, but far and away,
Gibbet solemnly- but utter mere no word-to say,
Confined yea bind ah! Archaic men-at-arms,
You’d be among these, with no charm and warms,
Maunder surreal-y even in the day-and night watch,
Discern–castles in air while-lying on a patch,
Fair a mere simpleton creature, when dies,
Forgot at-once posthumously with no suspiration and sighs,
No well being and vivification where he dwelt and grew,
Aye beneath the troubled shallow’y spring under the yoke of fo,
Regime demand integrity, excelence and professionalism,
They say trinquality, solace, and humanism,
Tongue introverted, knees knocked, head stood,
Muster out as OAP, at hoar,man-made-wood.
Upon my wrist are ten strait lines
and there they stay for all of time
they show my pain from day to day
and i know they'll never fade
One for my father
who wasn't there
one for my mother
who didn't care
one for my grandma
who gave me away
one for a crush
who said no way
one for a boy
who broke my heart
and another
who watched me fall apart
and one more
who wanted to be friends
and those
who let our friendship end
one for my aunt
who said I was nuts
and for those
who didn't notice the cuts
Upon my wrists
are ten strait lines
and there they stay for all of time
they show my pain from day to day
and I know they'll never fade
The Strait
~A strait betwixt two,
denying reality…
one’s faith…Love’s wisdom!
For and in honor of Brian Strand
And Contest: Whatever
she walks in the room.
it gets quiet or clears, but
she doesn't know why.
when they do talk to
her, she starts to stutter -- not
used to her own voice.
she seems to be not
"camera ready" to them.
she doesn't want to change.
if she tries to make
small talk with them, they become
noticeably nervous.
they might think she has
something to hide, but she thinks
they might have too.
maybe she'll wake up
one day as herself, and they'll
treat her as normal.
maybe they already do.