We die
but once
while living
through a horror
a thousand times
We die
but once
ignoring
what our freedom
most defines
All life’s
a choice
our future claimed
when dealt
at our behest
Another
chance
to beat the dealer
the trump card
— in our vests
(Septa R5: March, 2026)
Light me a candle for holocaust day
Ice men are wearing their bullet proof vests
what’s going on in the U.S. of A?
Ice men are kicking down doors, everyday
Ice queens are boasting of shooting their pets
light me a candle for holocaust day,
Children from mothers are taken away
Ice queens are saying they have no regrets
what’s going on in the U.S. of A?
Ice queens will tell you there’s no other way
but they never tell you what happens next
light me a candle for holocaust day
Dark clouds are gathering day after day
the second amendment, rights to protest
what’s going on in the US of A?
The world is watching and can’t turn away
another ten rounds, straight into the chest
light me a candle for holocaust day
what’s going on in the US of A?
Snowballs met with red iron bullets
Someone
Has lost their compass
On the neighborhood streets of Minneapolis
The direction
Of wet splat on an officer’s back
To the metal response from a pistol splitting a windshield
Then a brain’s mesh
No one really knows
How the Albatross finds her way
Three times around the globe
Gliding on winds from one Pole to the other
What pulls her what pushes her
What power gets in her head
Ruffles her feathers and tickles her wings
Points her in one direction rather than another
It is to wonder
From the ice cold shale tumbled by glaciers
How she bares but one child every few years
While she shields with her feet and belly
A nest
From carbon bombardment
She can only fight with snowballs
Ducked under
By the President’s soldiers
Weighed down
With the oil and Crypto of Teflon vests cannisters badges radios
All our heads
The entire world
Spinning spinning out of control.
Five Flashes of Crimson
In Agricola, where the late sun lies,
And October's gold is fading from the skies,
A fence post holds a simple, wooden line,
And hosts a sight both crimson and divine.
Not one, not two, but five bright feathered vests,
Have paused their chatter and settled on the crests.
The Northern Cardinals, with coats of fire,
Are drawn by hunger to a sweet desire.
They dip and peck at berries dark and round,
A quiet feasting, without any sound.
The male's sharp scarlet, a defiant gleam,
The female's blush, like an ember in a dream.
They come in kinship, a brief, familiar flock,
To gather fuel before the sudden clock
Of dusk arrives and chills the Mississippi air,
A vivid portrait, painted right there.
A messenger of hope, that flash of red,
A loving soul, the stories have been said.
But in that moment, nothing quite so grand,
Just five bright lives, eating from the land.
I wear a hat because I've lost my hair
Folk would laugh out loud at my head so bare
Long ago my hair was thick and wavy
It was the colour of mother's gravy.
Her gravy was dark as the lumps of coal
She would light a fire with, when it was cold
If short of cash, then us kids had to sit
In the disastrous sweaters she would knit.
Often they’d be too clingy or too large
Though knitted with love for those in her charge
Mother said if we were cosy and warm
It did not matter at all what was worn.
The years have passed by, hair has disappeared
The worst of it is, it's cold on the ears
But my mother, bless her, before she left
Knitted a draw full of hats, socks and vests.
Andromedan castles
moat has little blue boats
servers are maidens joyed
white iris gardens
deep canyons
radars aimed
soft cadence
magnet minds
love balanced
Orion forts marbled
shining with platinum bands
armoured Galactics cruel
stone and steel makes head reel
bold barons
orlon vests
high pylons
canon shots
warring sons
______________________________
In my comfy corner, a little space
A place of my own, as soft as a lace
Lays a long chair of queen’s height with a wooden base
With a rocking style for a ride at a mild pace
Cushions of vibrant colours, in fitting size in the pattern of a maze
Attracting all in less time, fixing attention and nothing to daze
Lovely longing starts to occupy the space with an urge to win the race
Hands over the chair and lying fit in the seat bring glow to my face
The breeze from a window behind calls for a chat and nature’s gaze
Focusing straight from the chair the books in long &short rows pull me towards their case
Genres, size, colour, and bound all arranged in a symmetric vase
Picking up a book of my choice, reading with the flow to travel places
With characters in between with coffee and cookies and varied tastes
Of food and drinks with a due time to nap with the book in the vests
Dreaming of writing one day a grand book of characters all I LOVE
Is a LUXURY I WISH to come true one fine day.
My family joined a summer outing
So excited for swimming and rafting
Mom got our swim vests with suits
Dad just brought his parachutes
And kept eyes on us, flying and shouting.
We spoke in semaphore of smirks,
A dialect of sideways quirks—
Our mouths full up with mirage and pun,
Unconscious artists come undone.
She, a flower in a field of noise,
Parsed our pose as preening boys—
Not cruel, but tuned to frequencies
That echo long through apologies.
Our verbs wore vests too tight with charm,
Syntax stitched with latent harm.
We hadn’t meant to start a war—
Yet metaphors, once launched, implore.
Intent becomes the alibi
Of those who never learned to pry
Beneath the comfort of a jest—
A laugh can undress all the rest.
She read our pause, our sideways glance,
Not as a walk, but a strange dance
In which the lead was vague, and yet
Each footstep left a silhouette.
red hot lava lamp
shaggedy raggedy rug
peace sign plump flower
bell bottom hip huggers
fake fur vests and free love
open hearts, open ideas
nineteen seventy
volkswagon buses and Viet Nam
such a contradiction
we wore fringed vests, the love beads
the long hair, the hair bands, the granny glasses
the flowing clothes, the bell bottoms
a fantastic time, the memories of my youth
Construction has been going on
Right by my river walk,
Where workers dig and man machines
As seagulls swoop and squawk.
This morning, though, I came upon
An unexpected sight,
Unusual enough to fill me
With a strange delight.
For, clad in hard hats and in vests
Of safety neon-green,
Construction workers exercised,
A gym-class-like routine.
There must have been two dozen men,
The foreman in the lead,
All striking poses, looking
Pretty good, I must concede.
I watched them for a minute,
Then they broke to start their day,
Their early morning workout
Like a macho man ballet.
I often see a line of kids
With vests of neon green
Go walking down the street; it is
A charming urban scene.
They’re anywhere from two to four,
Connected by a rope,
So no one up and wanders off;
At least that is the hope.
A grown-up walks in front and back
And stops to deal with tears,
But mostly, it’s a happy group,
Or that’s how it appears.
I’m sure they get to run around
As those in preschool should,
Though, being city kids, they also
Stroll the neighborhood.
Dawn crests the peaks of barren refuse, enthralling masses and demanding rations of passion from muck
Stuck into walls, hanging out halfway, suspended by calls of anguish and hate
-
Little does it matter for our pain and thoughts
Little does it falter in it’s saintly rot
And little does it rain down pleasure atop rocks
-
Towering pulses in cavernous chests booming altering noises of gloomy doom and distress
decompression
decompress
-
Such success in sessions of secessions thought best bring messy manipulations of emotions and stress
Blessedly pressing the rest into vests of blasting intent and the buying of souls not spent
The buying of souls not spent
The theft of moral defense
The theft of moral defense
Sullen Sally sat softly..
Sofa cushions.velvet,soft and lofty.
Pondering, world’s great thinkers.
Some friends in her past, were heavy drinkers.
She’d observe them with a smirk
Each,assuredly,a god,not a jerk.
They’d argue that their god was best.
Such arrogant angels, in sweater vests!
9/25/2023
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