Being is a Name

While having wrest upon a cause

Yet, trying to remember who I am; at a loss.

The converging roads race - headed into hell

Where the inferno singes the outer shell

While heaven’s forgiving rains mute the yell.

As ambitions take run at last wry;

Thyme wrapped eyes season a cry

Thus, solace tastes comfort hence, there lie.

Structures build regrets to carry in two hands

And dreams run lost and away to last amends.

The conversation striking quiet among all friends.

The soliloquies give praise; bring tears

For those composing to write what brings fears

And some attending listen in silent rant; spinning spheres.

All the wheels turn taking battle against the obligatory;

All roads ignoring reasons for any directed conciliatory;

The migration’s beginning is merely a safe contributory.

Held in Imperfect Adjunct

Why was the beautiful woman yawning

While the mangy dog was barking?

 

Could it be that the groaning big rig

Had run over the lying dead prig?

 

Where was the hummingbird’s liquid course

Amidst the vacant waters of remorse?

 

And when will the seas cloth over the soil

Planted illness with prayer bushes of foil.

 

Who was that handsome man running

For the next stop? - could be stunning.

 

In her complete dismissal of his stale breath

She could not disguise her own lack of depth

 

The each held hand as they took leap

Forevermore, they could not weep.

A Dappled View

The light’s fingers trace through the trees

Identifying the dappled contrast in stillness

Between the mass and each unique form

Holding memory in time’s hand;

Neither a trifling matter

Nor a principle particle.

While the body of day and night

Passes along without keep or promise

For those who wait in measured gaze

Or who lust in mad blindness

For meanings beyond emptiness.

If it were not true that hunger - has no please.

At Home in the Universe

Coverings - no matter their enchanting presence

nor their surreal charms that twinkle in the deep

vastness often determines only the naked pretense

of all eternity’s keepsakes; holding to light’s leap

from nebulas down to the tiny particles that matter.

Time warps under the solar capes of the mad hatter.

What designs are to exist under the celestial dome

That suit an infinite universe and robe a finite home.

Feathering Time

Dawn’s face has lost its place

The blue in the eye crossed in lace.

The gathering birds that came

to flock, soon understood how odd

that although all were of feathered bod

however, none two were the same

as any other; each sat idle

turning against the wind in sidle.

The northern reach seems a little colder

And time will hasten each away; much older.

La Cabeza y la Sonrisa

Por que es la sonrisa

    El brujo de la cabeza

Sin voz en contento

Ni prevo que es siento.

Mejor quedad suisio

    Sin culpa nor dolor.

Sonrisas no son necessario

    Pero con cuidado te busco.

Euchre a’ la Ron

When there is one

In hand and one in face

The meek hold in place!

However, never when one is right

Of a dastardly plight

When Ron names trump

Making all chump

Follow his loner –

Call it euchre a’ la – Ron!

Rage

The formidable rage of the seas

Ravage across the long horizon

And the serene is at cease.

 

The savage rage of the storm reach

An annihilating path of adobes and trees.

Laying waste, the place of preach.

 

The broodings of an empty soul

Destroy life lived in toll.

And without meaning left for the sun

 

Nor why the rage had ever begun.

Take Five at Seven

Why do rushing trains

Hold each other in restrains?

 

Keeping breath in wait;

Minutes are hours in wain

While clock’s face does entertain

Time as a way station

Lying in state.

 

As the cosmos rain

Light upon a darkled fate.