Monday, May 8, 2023
Passage to Spring
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
& Early to Rise
What to do?
What to do?
between the blinds
Sun seeps through
The next day finds us
Without a clue
But harried as we are
So terribly busy
To prove
Our lives are more
Than a mere collection of breath
Passing from this hour
Into the next
Everybodies poetry
&
Everybodies photograph
Is part of the app
Producing a song
Swelling as the credits roll
They roll on & on
An infinite train rushing through
Past slack jawed riders
Filling their cases brief
With cheques
And billable hours
Oh, someone's going to pay
You know they've got to pay
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Morning Brings the Songs
Thank you
for the songs
you sing me
early in the morning.
For the images
you impart
through sonic means.
Sounds of nails creak
sliding into the flesh
of wood.
Birds outside
the global warming
of my air conditioned
photographic lair.
My God!
There are even beautifully photographed
birds on the calendar,
across from the desk lamp,
on the wall.
Who should ever worry
over the poetry of spring?
Only salesmen worry.
Whether real or imagined.
Spring? NEVER!
Birds? NEVER!
Music? NEVER!
For these,
it's just enough
to be.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Time Steps Fleet
Even if you thought, you never did a jot worthy of note
Your electro-magnetic wavelengths have radiated
While a compass needle pointed north,
Through the fog, shrouding the coastline
Echoing a very mammalian and forlorn siren
Flagging wayward vessels off the craggy inlets
The way a sedan flows the jet stream of a semi-rig
On a zero visibility hairpin turn
There's no moral for thee, dear heart
Just to know we are only
Travelers in this stream of time
Racing towards one another
Our hands outstretched for seconds/minutes/years
Hopeful to hook a kindred soul & share a small portion
Of our incredible earthly journey
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Grass Turns Yellow For Lack of Sun
In her kitchen and her bedroom
She would be warm
And she would make me warm
With her smile and her excitement
I'd be compelled to grab her in my arms
My breath would warm her ear
Her word would stoke my furnace
That would be romance. Romance is for the young,
I write this from November
From this place, romance is very far away
Impossible to see with the naked eye
Or in the song of a bird hell-bent on stabbing
Some last dregs of dirt crawling things
On the way back to the nest of twigs and dead grass
Is it any wonder all the superheroes of this planet
MUST wear disguises or be set upon
When they least expect it?
Not only them, but their loved ones also.
No wonder the marriage rate is so low
Among caped crusaders and women flying invisible jets
The same goes for all the washed out and burnt to a crisp
Nothing left to give
So t'would seem to the casual observer
In their times of healing
Must look quite uninspiring
Three days in a tomb or the belly of a whale
Not the most heroic stance
Not the knight readied with lance
To charge the lonely dragon
In it's cavern of solitude
How should we then attend to all the scratches and scrapes we have earned in this endless summer of misspent frivolity? I don't feel the need to mourn the dead, better they should mourn for us, the living. It is us to carry their memory everyday UP & DOWN the hills and freeways. It is us whom must live up to their once upon a time heroisms. Let them come down and show us how to survive this world they have left us. Don't get me started on the interest rates! Let them show US how to form a more perfect union or build a better mouse-trap. This is no small rant and there is implied no recant for the counting of electronically produced snapshots of votings and dotings, for everybody knows a house is not a home without a Boston Terrier and there could not be any US without the All involved and Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without some tofurkey and some mistletoe so we move on into the winter with fond memories in our hearts and beautiful visions sparkling in the prismatic splendor of love's eternal promise of love's eternal flame.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
How Much Is Me?
When looking into the mirror
Under the fluorescent fixtures containted with *new* green bulbs
Thursday, November 1, 2012
The Rider Approaches
Outcry and aggravation in the heart of the public eye
Here in the Land of the Free decisions are to be made
Brothers against brothers
Sisters against their mothers
Deciding if we'd be better off
Or if the worker should get a free pass
At the taxpayer's expense
The looters are creeping from the shadows
Reliant on suspicions that
the old watch dogs have gone to sleep
It's getting so bad, I went to the Air National Guard
To look for a civil aviation career
Alas, and forsoothe, for la gente, I've been deemed 'Too old',
once again as is always been the case with convenient excuses
As these are applied to the truths Of the public pie
'There's not enough to go around!'
'Everybody wants THAT job!'
'Gotta take what choo can get!'
So on and so forth
This isn't very American, if you ask me
May I review the application for Lewis and Clark?
Didn't any of your silver spoonies get a break
Before they were a half a century old?
Doesn't experience count as education?
We all have a life to live
The operative noun being Life
If you don't support Life
You don't get my vote
If you lurk through the shadowy regions
It'll stick to your clothes and stink up your hair
I don't know anybody who would choose Pain and misery
That must fall under the heading
Of 'whatever floats your boat, ladies.'
After November 6th my prayers will remain the same
That we remain, One nation under God
With Liberty and Justice for all
& we don't start striping
The Constitution down
To a cheap little footnote
In our profit and loss columns
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Canto for Invisio-Girl
Have you ever witnessed
On your own
Without the boost given through
Cinematic special effect
A slender woman
Fade away through a wall?
Fascinating as this may sound
I'm fairly certain you may recall
A time-lapsed occurrence
Of nature or technology
The truth of how
It actually plays out
You may remember
You may remember
Upon seeing the finale
Or recounting on conception
How the beginning justifies
The end
Vice the verse
Etc
Ect
When I tell you she has faded
Through these walls
In this place she came to visit
One cold, sparkling winter season
For holidays from her tasks
A place to drop her bags and masks
An unmated gyne
On October's Butterfly Bush
All the folks came out to meet her
As I, in my safari helmet
Strewn about with carcasses
For canvases of Lions, Tigress, and bears,
Did regale her as princess
Of a time when monarchs
Ruled the air
Gee, ain't it funny
How certain walls will
Naturally absorb objects
Resting against the surface
Yet resistant of light and air
You may remember
You may remember
The bitter chill of September
And the forgiveness of abandonment
Spewed from the lips
Of the solid foundation
Of the living God's future bride
I wish this journey was ours
To take together
You may build walls
To protect or defend
You may tell lies
To deflect or offend
Neither could make it better
Or wipe away hours shared
I have stared at the wall every second your face has faded
The orange flecks of your eyes
The pinkness of your lips
Faded into the fingerprints of your hands
Faded now the memory of your kiss
Your long toes
Used for writing flamenco libros
On the logo of your heart
You may remember
You may remember
Yet, dearest, I shan't forget
Of the all the good that you have done
Through out the infinite embrace
Of time's deepest depths
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Six Lanes Across Vibrant Red Clay
Tree rings count the cross cut ages
All the old timers
Say
They
remember when
I've personally watched both Freedom & Independence
Drive & Boulevard (respectively)
Spread in that ugly, flabby way
Now I am positioned to witness
Mallard Creek become an auto-doped
Thoroughfare for 'big 'uns'
With incredibly poor lines of sight
Six lanes across
It's the number of man
Planning the next on-ramp
Not one headline
About all the oaks felled
Where the rubber hits the road
One lone photog out there
Snapping, snapping at the scene
Of a multiple arboracide
Smooth jazz aficionados
Slow to stop - wondering
What's that crazy white boy
Doin' out there?
Most of the modern science
Has come to believe
There is a master plan in effect
To the creation of all flora and fauna
Every component effects (re: impacts)
Every living sector of this beautiful world
We were given to inhabit
To celebrate
To love and nurture
IT'S IN OUR NATURE!
I walked out on the red clay
Underneath westward fleeting lion's sun
Found the construction silenced for Sunday
Hitachi at rest
Found one red & and yellow 12oz
Empty and face down
Under swirling stripes of cirrus
Found a hard, traveling (insect)
Found a fellow documentarian
We talked for a moment
,as cars rolled past,
Time continued to march
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Against the Grain
At times in our lives
When everything spirals
Out of control
& beyond any semblance
There seems a gnawing, nagging dread
Egging us on
It is alright to call me later on
I am not in a bad mood
simply typing with my voice
while we're talking
yes, audiocontrol
I'm putting the words into the device
hopefully the words will turn into something to help
help people to defeat the negativity
wow, they're going through the hardships of life
The words in my room
in my room and im pretty weird
but true
the word my room
my room spirals and embraces
old old
also phone phone
old home, who would hear it ?
we know who
Who would share it ?
moon doom aurora massacre
who would find
Scrambling in front of them,
know inside of them,
sew them in so,
Not let them go,
Who?
It's not brain surgery
It's the healing of the spirit & the mind
Neither intellect nor firepower
Could allow you the peace
Given freely
From the Son of God
Our Lord
& only salvation
Jesus Christ
If you find yourself
In that precarious spot
I'd definitely hope not
Take a prayer break
& ask God for direction
Before you destroy
Yourself
And everyone
In your immediate vicinity
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Ceiling Forever Above
Not enough for me
For anyone
To explain the sky
To bring you down
To lift you up
Our horizon runs along
A crashing surf transforms
To lap at the toes
Of dancing sandpipers
Dragging grains of time
To the Earth
Farther below
I hold you in my heart
High above my head
You caress the ocean
Far above crashing shores
Leaving messages tattooed
In Heaven's forever
Reverberating frequency
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Long Remembered Orchestration
When the sun is hot
It warms the skin;
The weeds;
The woods;
& everything left
Over from wynter-tide
Hungry is our acceptance
Thirsty, the epidermis
Through cones & rods
Streaming, as we're
Screaming 'Light!
& Life!
& Flesh!
& Feast!'
Every inch of fiber
In anticipation of this moment
The pistil of the field
Stretched taut to the blue
Forest glade & brook
Practical gurggles
Amplified
Into this symphony
Friday, March 23, 2012
Any Time You Want
Take all this life has to offer
Discount coupons
Limited specials
As much as you can...
No one is promised
To gaze out upon the eyes
Of your one, true love;
Your heart's deep-set desire
This world is not my home
I am not alone
Nor do I dictate the decisions
Shaping the curve of your time line
Build your fortress
Stockpile your defense
For a day; someday
In full global retaliation
When there is no longer
Left the softest breeze
Rustling the leaves
On the branches of the trees
Causing the bluebirds to sing
And their song to ring
And their song to ring
~ pmpope 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Weed Control Services
In plain speak: she asked for someone to come and do something
She could not or did not want to do herself
In short, she wanted extra help around the house
Not to complicate the situation
Or confound the present standard
She even attempted to employ a poet
To monitor the property
And dabble in horticultural landscaping
Though never under contract, per se
He stuck in there
As well as could be expected
Even her own children
Had abandoned their birthright
And out rightly broke the fourth commandment
As prescribed by the Creator
Of the known universe
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Electrons of Mertain Magnificent Magnitudes
Jumping ump in the dump of waters
Barely liquid by my reckoning
There's no chance past this pastel
No othing to give to the glib
Scratch of thatch tache
Coming back to hang signatory
There has to be another life
There should be something to let go
Things are growing
The outcome readies itself
Positive
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Girl Above the Tunnel
You might call me a dog
Throw me from the speeding cab
Shout my name during a democratic riot
Imply misconducted deeds to the local authorities
Tie my ankles & wrist to the headboard of the bed
Light a 4 alarm fire comprimising my security deposit
With the landlord, Mr Ted
I'd have to forgive you
Don't you know it true?
Everyone I'd pass; I'd tell 'em
She's not you
Say I'd swim to Hong Kong
rocket over to Budapest
Ride a mythical creature to the Moon
I'd think I'd not swoon
This refrain I'd still croon
She's not you
So proudly I'll stand
With your buttermilk skin in my hand
Replaying your Frankenstien Transzylvania historic
As you try to rope me into your 12 step group
Swinging in the palm trees; playing in the fog
Though I may sound like a frog
Still would I croon
Nothing to worry, my dear
Underdog's not here
I will be your spoon, & still
I'll state it very confidentially
As would the loupe to the jewel
She's not you
pmpope 2012
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Crossing Across Space
I've nothing for you
Take my empty hand
No boots
No dresses
No beauty parlor visits
No foreign money orders
No running through the airports
No crowded photographs
No long lost embrace
I'm wearing no sleeves
No sack on my back
Working in the chimney
Covered in soot
I've only a heart pumping blood
A brain for collecting image
A tongue to taste
Sweet words of the lips
And eyes
To capture the light
Of your heart
And the warmth of your
Love
Which is more than enough for me
Enough for any man
To live out his days
thousands of miles of railroad tracks
Away from the epicenter
Of your garden
How the garden swells
In the spring
What wondrous
Gifts the gentle rains bring
The music of the spheres
The trumpets of bees
While worlds away
You and me
gaze deeply
hand to hand
pmpope 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Space Junk and the Inevitability of Catch Up
When your hair is bouncing in the breeze
You'd never think to see
Head held back to stare at the sky
Look up there!
That cloud looks like a tombstone
Yet on closer inspection
Hurtling from the atmosphere
Old space junk satellites
How was it when in the 70's we first heard Lou Reed
sing of Satellites of Love
But today no one could believe how all the junkies
With their canes and their permanent
Game Over! Mental codecs
Shuffle throughout the E. Village And Alphabet City
So much discarded refuse
That broke our hearts & now the rain of space junk
Is reported by news crews
While smiling and reminding us:
If you see any space debris
Call the police immediately.
After all,
It is government property.
