Stacking my collection
of reminders folded along
stripes red and blue and white
lead me on downed lines
about dancing flames
and their moth mouths petty
and pretty like butter
and shoo
and all sortsa
but mostly bar
flies and how their tabs
tells their lies their
jukebox songs their lives
all captured in amber
and lager and porter
for as long until
last call.
Then and Now
watching them tumbling
colliding in hapless manners
thinking again of them
wiped out and cleaned up
after all this is all
in all honesty of mistakes
and trouser snakes
and cotton mouths
all so inexplicably
swimming serpentine
nearing closing time
and none of them the wiser
for nor free from naught
pacing themselves
left stage or right
into that good night.
Like my accidental
mismingled socks
We're all left to roam
amongst all all the same
at the end of the shift
the belligerent
the ignorant
strong willed
and a little stained
just the same
we're all we are
in denial
in anger
in bargaining are
so lonely to succumb
out of depression
accepting eventually
and hopefully we
will someday
have found our way
folded and clean
But for now I am being
reminded that
my lint trap
needs cleaning.
reminded that
my lint trap
needs cleaning.
Psalm 6:11:74
In her night
her thighs and hips
in his sighs
his hips and thighs
in her light
talking in tongues
and lips and bended knees
in one form or another
in surrender with
Honesty immeasurable
smiles long after
irrepressible laughter
into the night
breathless still
quivering he
mumbled humbled
"You were so many gods then, I wasn't sure who to thank in what form of speech."
her thighs and hips
in his sighs
his hips and thighs
in her light
talking in tongues
and lips and bended knees
in one form or another
in surrender with
Honesty immeasurable
smiles long after
irrepressible laughter
into the night
breathless still
quivering he
mumbled humbled
"You were so many gods then, I wasn't sure who to thank in what form of speech."
Wassails
Here I go a wassailing
Maybe it's the quiet
chill in the air that I
begin to hum along to
what is starting falling
as
tho so small this
Space and Time we
traverse
if in my times of tryin' I
judged failing as I
seem'd strutting
as
tho back and forth in
pride and vanity of
breathing and smiling
between being I
am
Thankful: guilty
Forgiving: guilty
Bargaining: guilty
Relenting: guilty
Accepting: guilty
And in perspective I
am
pondering so pensive
seat edge sitting as
so many are seeming
foundering in hope
wishing dreaming
and scheming seen
all at once: guilty
Waiting for the next verse...
"It Could Be Anything!"
She long ago exclaimed!
...to drop.
on I go a wassailing
There's peculiar music
in this falling snow
in the heartbeat downtime
when the treading of people
cease to leave their mark
on the ground or in the air
even all about my ears and
the affects of their passing
now cold kisses twinkling
in constellations on my skin
winking from what has been
How now sitting on the stoop
as a pendulum swings these
thoughts free flowing
piling and deepening
their frenzied momentum
only slowing by the pull
of the night's clear airs for
I swear I can hear those stars
like crystal bells peening
not so now cloud hidden
as they seem falling
Singing in longing for the next verse...
"It Could Be Anything!"
The Child excited whispered
...to drop.
on I go a wassailing
Warming up my automobile
past last call, pondering
the lot yet to be cleared
and how still we can be
haphazardly and blind sighted
in love like snow falling unique
by dropping or stopping in
upon one another as
Cheers and Tears and Smiles
Losers, Boozers and Heroes
and Jokers and Legends and Liars
and all the Stories of Old told
about and among Friends and Family
all our moments unforgettably
brilliantly unscripted so
How haphazardly blind sidedly
spun we are all happily so
off course that I linger
behind warmed windows long defrosted
watching all the paths diverging
thinking of how for the better
for the laughter and memories
and smiling of course
knowing the eventuality
reluctantly we might melt
fade and unwittingly away we
eventually say good-bye
as we must all fall
a part
for the time being
Dreaming for the next verse...
"It Could Be Anything!"
The engine rumbled
...to drop.
on I go a wassailing
I sing so simple
these carols
here now and past as
my December Anthems
forward leaning hopeful
tho maybe just as poor
as if this be our last
And all I've written
in meaning well and deep
were best intentions to
scribe what You and I
and Yours and We will be
You so long from me reading
how we lift'd by our hands
and arms and heads
above our shoulders the next
unfettered unapologetic
for Generations onward
Hopeful Joyful Shameless
celebrating proud Us for
and from the best to who
with distant loving eyes
in wonder children yet dreamt
and will in spite of it all
sing the likes of You
striving for next...
"Yes they will, everything!"
We smile heroically You!
wassailing your own verse!
...so let it drop!
Maybe it's the quiet
chill in the air that I
begin to hum along to
what is starting falling
as
tho so small this
Space and Time we
traverse
if in my times of tryin' I
judged failing as I
seem'd strutting
as
tho back and forth in
pride and vanity of
breathing and smiling
between being I
am
Thankful: guilty
Forgiving: guilty
Bargaining: guilty
Relenting: guilty
Accepting: guilty
And in perspective I
am
pondering so pensive
seat edge sitting as
so many are seeming
foundering in hope
wishing dreaming
and scheming seen
all at once: guilty
Waiting for the next verse...
"It Could Be Anything!"
She long ago exclaimed!
...to drop.
on I go a wassailing
There's peculiar music
in this falling snow
in the heartbeat downtime
when the treading of people
cease to leave their mark
on the ground or in the air
even all about my ears and
the affects of their passing
now cold kisses twinkling
in constellations on my skin
winking from what has been
How now sitting on the stoop
as a pendulum swings these
thoughts free flowing
piling and deepening
their frenzied momentum
only slowing by the pull
of the night's clear airs for
I swear I can hear those stars
like crystal bells peening
not so now cloud hidden
as they seem falling
Singing in longing for the next verse...
"It Could Be Anything!"
The Child excited whispered
...to drop.
on I go a wassailing
Warming up my automobile
past last call, pondering
the lot yet to be cleared
and how still we can be
haphazardly and blind sighted
in love like snow falling unique
by dropping or stopping in
upon one another as
Cheers and Tears and Smiles
Losers, Boozers and Heroes
and Jokers and Legends and Liars
and all the Stories of Old told
about and among Friends and Family
all our moments unforgettably
brilliantly unscripted so
How haphazardly blind sidedly
spun we are all happily so
off course that I linger
behind warmed windows long defrosted
watching all the paths diverging
thinking of how for the better
for the laughter and memories
and smiling of course
knowing the eventuality
reluctantly we might melt
fade and unwittingly away we
eventually say good-bye
as we must all fall
a part
for the time being
Dreaming for the next verse...
"It Could Be Anything!"
The engine rumbled
...to drop.
on I go a wassailing
I sing so simple
these carols
here now and past as
my December Anthems
forward leaning hopeful
tho maybe just as poor
as if this be our last
And all I've written
in meaning well and deep
were best intentions to
scribe what You and I
and Yours and We will be
You so long from me reading
how we lift'd by our hands
and arms and heads
above our shoulders the next
unfettered unapologetic
for Generations onward
Hopeful Joyful Shameless
celebrating proud Us for
and from the best to who
with distant loving eyes
in wonder children yet dreamt
and will in spite of it all
sing the likes of You
striving for next...
"Yes they will, everything!"
We smile heroically You!
wassailing your own verse!
...so let it drop!
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