platitudes, ah platitudes. . .
paucity of penury

when not enough
is too much

non-existent forgiveness
lines road to somewhere

all signs point
to

pot of gold --
more than wrong

clandestine advertiser's slick
fleece fools

waiting in line for it
anticipation is killing them

hyperbole notwithstanding
they wait and wait.

Amid the canyons made of steel
a world completely without green
where nature has been brought to heel
still, subtle beauty can be seen

Just prior to morning's sunrise
only sound is distant diesel's rumble
in quickly lightening predawn skies
you can watch white contrails crumble

Tall towers' glasses now reveal
the first lances of the morning light
lending a sharp crystalline feel
to an otherwise stark, sterile sight

There are basically, but two ways
to accomplish a given task,

if one can research, and become informed
then in the sweet light of success, one will "bask"!

Last month, I tried to move my residence
to a house, where I could better, reside,

however, while asking for neighborly assistance
my friends "dragged their feet", and tried to hide !

Now, I've been there for others,
moving really is a daunting chore,

Unforgiving tides rush in across
my virtue the crest of the wave
bears down in unrelenting
fashion, testing me.

Clinging to the tapestry of my
being as you fear not the testimony
of any bible that fails to hold
justification in others presence.

Squinting your slanted eyes, your
version trimmed to suit my belief
in it minute, self-confidence was just
a word just something I would observe.

Here within lies
a recollection
of large talons
that tear smooth

creamy flesh

a cadence ricochets
off paint peeled walls
of the clatter as soles
strike dry dirt and stone

blood rushes

two sets of eyes
squint and scan
backs hunched low
only darkness shields

momentary peace

words mumbled
in restless sleep
betray the vessel
of secrets deep

burial crypt

posterity's portal
reveals a clue
gravestone cipher
the silent cue.

Seedling’s seed to Earth

Simple seedling, to seed then shoot,
I pray you grow into a peoples brute.
Quiet, soft are all good and well,
but some won’t listen until you yell.

That mother Earth a champion needs,
our bravest hero now concedes.
And though I lurch into an absurd,
the champion I plant, a simple word.

Banish tyranny’s evil sword and gun,
there are spoken battles, that must be won.
Let all who live on this inhuman land,
know, no more will die from a raised hand.

Arise, and walk along these streets,
breathe and partake of the dregs
of the mighty industrial age;
paint the colours of its appeal -

toxic fumes that light the path
to days only just imagined.

Parted lips bare wisdom,
shatter the silence that shackles;
within parched throat, sealed
sounds peal from the belfry -

tender whispers caress
each unknown orphaned heart.

Lift high the banner brave;
let the bitter winds bite
lash fierce its tattered frame,
light gapes through its holes-

I came upon a house today,
though most of it had gone away,
and left behind its mossy bones
of listing piers and cracked hearth stones.

So I took a pause for pondering
in midst of random woodland wandering
to think of those who once lived there
where none go now but deer and hare.

My gaze took in a lonesome hollow
and found that it was drawn to follow
up the course of a clear spring
that issued from a small stone ring.

A mile walk through muggy July woods
standing dead timber draws nearer
as we reach the marshy shore
of our flooded destination

We wade wearing tennis shoes and jeans
into water whose coolness is welcome
and whose familiar depths are known

Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.

Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:

A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.