I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
Cockcrows are loud enough to wake the dead.
I cringe and slink as I traipse about in the dead woods,
Among the cadavers of river plants, decimated,
Deserted, and vitiated through seasons’ flagrant ebb.
I see shadows that sing with their mouths tightly shut.
Like them all, I, too, am lonesome, and I draw about me
The dry waves of parched waters.
On my lips is a certain prayer — a revised edition of the
Paternoster.
Return, waters, return from the underrocks, I pray thee.
My sorrows are old and fragile.
Hoots and cries and stridulations beseech me.
I have picked my way among paths that
Cuddle the feet in sympathy and soothe
The souls that hide from the earnestness of
Sunrise.
Wash my dry naked feet, O waters,
And grease my palms so cracked from
Endless chafing.
As the dusk journeys to the dawn
a crisp breeze awakens the senses
light fingers through the heavens
and shadows slither away.
The day begins as if promised
to break night and interrupt dreams
time to awake and accomplish
routines and task of living
Up with a yawn and stretch
and you look upon the one sleeping
beside you. At peace with a face
of an angel. Only if it appear when awaken.
Walk barefoot into the kitchen
brew coffee and fry bacon
if that doesn't wake the dead
throw dirt on them, smells of first morning.
You look back into the bedroom
and see the sleepy head turn
thinking how can I pick em
out on the porch sipping coffee
Watching the sun rise in full brilliance
who appears at the doorway
can I have a sip?
Sitting beside you feeling happiness
The day begins as the world turns
and your life with love
forget worries, forget problems
it feels right, another good day.
An early morning run across a misty lake
comes in, fades out of view with every stroke I take.
With pace that ebbs and flows from tunes within my head,
I hope the rhythmic rowing will not wake the dead.
I try to focus on the things that Austin taught,
but mostly, in the moment, I’m enraptured, caught
up in this misty morning ‘cross unknown expanse;
time and distance slip away in other-wordly trance…
She stood there almost unnoticed
One component of a musical layer
Until her riff came and showed
She was a mean saxophone player
Her controlled notes lazily flowing
Around that club room and bar
No restrictions on their going
As she slid them near and far
Wrapping them around and through
Each knowing receiving head
Notes that oh so sly could do
Miracles to stir and wake the dead
Her eyes were closed so softly tight
Legs akimbo astride that stage
Speared by that one spotlight
Playing a maturity beyond her age
You could feel for just a little
A jazz epic in the build
By a talent more than brittle
As not a note was spilled
Then as the spotlight shifted
She stepped back into the band
And the standard she had lifted
Slipped back in to the bland
She stood there almost unnoticed
One component of a musical layer
Until her riff came and showed
She was a mean saxophone player
He stubbed his toe, the elders said.
He is howling and wailing to wake the dead.
He is not a werewolf, I argued with them.
He is a ghost, my little cousin, Clem.
He is being ridiculous the uncles roared.
Their blood pressure was up, it truly soared.
We cannot get him to quit screaming Aunt Tootie reported.
I did what I had to do to get this conversation aborted.
He is a GHOST I told them all sternly and mean.
This whole thing is a really implausible scene.
Because, you weirdos, think farther than your nose.
There has never been a ghost who had any toes!
It was my first summer job
I didn’t feel quite ready
but I tossed all hesitation aside
it was time to stretch my wings
I felt lucky and tried to measure up
as summer camp counselor
on this beautiful woodsy island
where nature abounded
I was a full week into it
things were running smooth
I was starting to fit in as best I could
until it happened late one night
In the deepest darkness I met my nemesis
a teenie weenie itsy bitsy mouse
I let out a scream to wake the dead
that echoed clear across the lake
Coincidentally soon afterwards it was decided
they didn’t need quite as many counselors
I’ll always remember them polite as could be
as I was being thanked for my services
Read on air by invitation ~ May 19, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on April 15, 2021
I've hurt myself again.
I fell in my bedroom den.
The world went around ,
and I let out a sound,
That I'm certain could wake the dead.
I twisted my leg when I fell,
Strained a tendon from what I can tell.
I saw my physician,
He said here's the question,
How long can you give it to mend.
So I'm taking vacation for now,
And my boss is having a cow,
'Cause four others are gone,
And he sings a sad song,
He counted on me to attend.
I said, Sorry I can barely walk.
It hurts when I stand and I balk.
When I sit it gets tense,
And the pain is immense,
And my face turns the color of chalk.
I'm sorry I must ask for grace,
But my work is too hard in this place.
I've pulled a muscle,
And you bet your bustle,
Right now I ain't running no race.
AS IS 26
As I sit by waiting for you to return.
My heart loses sight because without the blood my eyes would start to burn.
Memories of you gone often bruise my chest.
Feelings since that have passed but others only manifest.
In this sympathy like state that only causes pressure.
Heartache wouldn't hurt if only I didn't test her.
Now let them see what has really come of this.
A truly lost soul with no wish except for a last kiss.
A kiss that could wake the dead and starve yourself for nights.
Lose the will to breathe and end all internal fights.
As is, is what I speak of.
Dreaming of that day when I first found true love.
Never promising the day but only waiting for night.
Crouched by my window breathing in remaining light.
To secure the surface so my mind can take steps.
To ensure stability so my heart wont recess.
Walls of red dripping light
Heavy on my flight or fight,
I am the Igor gaurding these hallways.
Hunchback green with a crimson stare
Past the gates of Truth or Beware,
I reside on the house on the hill.
Floors that creak and stairs that wind
Taunt the these scary demons of mine,
You cant conjure these ghosts that reside.
Dracula's coffin, Frankenstein's chair
Ride on the back of the Wolfman's hair,
But Im the monster they all still fear.
What they dont understand-
They raise their torch and sharp pitchforks
And poke at the beast within me.
Gaslight the extremes
with a frightened flair
As I haunt these rooms
Who would dare to step in here?
I am Quasimodo personified.
And all the townspeople chant:
Demonic Devin under the bed
While Emotional Emily could wake the dead.
For Manic Mary never fear
Paranoid Pete will bring you to tears.
Insecure Ira has banshees screams
But Schizo Stan has nothing on those streams-
The haunted attraction lives inside me.
Now Enter me,
Im a Castle Freak-
You misunderstand my daydreams.
See me,
Im that sideshow creep-
I need a therapist to conduct this exorcism.
I Thought I heard a Trumpet
I thought I heard an echo like a trumpet far away..
It was carried on the breezes;
That swept in across the bay.
I listened at my window as I watched the eastern sky..
light up with wondrous lightening;
and the clouds began to cry.
I thought I heard a Trumpet;
and a loud victorious shout....raising high above the thunder...
With Angels all about,.
I wakened from my slumber..in the darkness on my bed...
To a glorious rowdy ruckus
Loud enough to wake the Dead.
I thought I heard a Trumpet, It was a sweet surprise
As I rose to meet my Savior.
And to look into His eyes.
Dad had left on urgent business,
something to do with a workers' dispute,
and Mum was at the next-door neighbour's
on one of her 'brief' visits.
Mary, the birthday boy's elder sister,
had just dished out the junkets.
Martin, known for his irascible fits, arrived late.
He started flicking blancmange around.
His main target was Aloysius,
though Jacob and Andreas got hit too.
At the head of the table someone looked sad,
trying to hide his tears, while smiling courageously.
Birthday boys do want their guests to be happy.
But then Calvin turned up, and started an argument.
His'dispute" with Martin soon turned vehement,
only to degenerate into a bawling match.
Girls on the sidelines started to giggle - nervously.
Karl, Jacob's distant cousin, was the last to arrive.
He said birthday parties were silly and tugged the tablecloth.
The din was hellish, enough to wake the dead.
The birthday boy shook his head and sighed.
"If only Dad and Mum were here."
The guests looked at him and grew silent,
some for shame, some in recognition,
mindful of what the birthday party was all about.
Sometimes I hate this car, it’s a pile of junk.
It steers so bad people think I’m drunk.
Rattles and shakes and smells so bad.
What a deal, I think I’ve been had.
Why does this car act so cruel?
And waste every drop of my fuel?
The paint looks like it has been in a crash.
The interior resembles a pile of trash.
The knock in the motor could wake the dead.
No start on cold mornings is what I dread.
The radio sounds like a nuclear blast.
Twenty four more payments, will this car last?
My car looks better than yours.
Even if It doesn't have all of it's doors.
The muffler is gone, no wonder it’s so loud.
I am used to this car, it makes me proud.
This car makes up who I am.
It is part of being a man.
I can drive where ever I please.
Until I have to give Dad back his keys.
The Awakening at Halloween.
The clock struck midnight as it turned Halloween, time to wake the dead.
The man entered the dark cemetery and walked to grave 13 up ahead
The shovel struck the grave 13 times till he reached flesh and bone
He sprinkled her shrunken body with yellow dust and heard the subdued moan.
Arise, Queen of the Undead, her face as grotesque in death and life
Her shrunken skin sallow as her lifeless eyes looked on the bloody knife
She cackled and shouted aloud the spell to awake her brethren in death
They arose in an eerie silence, arms outstretched till at last they met.
It was time to fill the grave again with new flesh and blood
To drag back their victim's bodies till the ground turned red tinged mud.
This Halloween night be aware if you sense an evil presence unknown
Should a lifeless hand hold you or a chill goes to your bones
Run as fast as you can before its you under the grave stone.
The Face Of Christ
as a young boy I was out in my lawn
I looked intently up at the sky
to my amazement I saw the face of Christ
having a vast domain of saints behind him
Suddenly I was paralyzed inside
for I had no where to run away & hide
there was lines being formed in the sky
this adage of thought is no lie
tears began to flow from my eyes
I wasn't ready for the return of my Lord
for I had to much sin in my life
amidst the barrage of thoughts and strife
There he was in the sky I couldn't believe my eyes
a beacon of hope to a hurting world in search of love
all from the amazing hand from up above
he looked very primitive almost on edge
with many thoughts swirling around inside my head
maybe he wanted to wake the dead
I will always remember that dear scene in my mind
For now I could see with no more to be blind
One morning I was admiring our yard’s splendid beauty.
My kind spouse did the majority of the weeding duty.
The immaculate flower beds were bursting with color.
The dahlias, geraniums, and peonies welcomed the summer.
I decided to do some weeding before the heat came around,
And I was on my hands and knees really going to town.
I was singing my favorite song, and pulling those weeds,
Working up a good sweat with my botanical deeds.
All of a sudden a few feet away,
I saw something moving, coming my way.
"What's that in the lawn," I said in dismay!
It was a big snake slithering in display!
I screamed and tried to get up and run,
But I fell right on my behind before I had begun.
The poor snake took off in another direction.
My screams to wake the dead had gotten his attention.
After the unwelcome intruder had gone,
I made my husband check that area of the lawn.
Satisfied there were no more creatures that afternoon,
I continued weeding, singing my roses a sweet tune.
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