Waiting for Sleep

When the darkness comes like a blanket being pulling over the daylight
and the star wink into the skies like a thousand dropped diamonds
filling the folds and wrinkles that spreads across the scope of my sight
I stop on my journey to pause and reflect on the words from Frost
the values of wisdom, the references to paths taken, the moments
where I should have stopped instead of plunging on regardless of cost.
Am I lost? Was it worth finding another was on a different road
than the one I wanted to to take but was hindered then blocked
I am alone there in this forest, the sun fading from the crimson sky
ever way I want to turn to is foreboding, or somehow locked
I want to stop, I want to weep, but I am into deep to not even try,
I have another reference that is stronger than the cliches of sleep
another week has passed, why did I think that the time would last
as I lie here in my bed waiting for sleep.

Rhyme and Reason

Reaching for the reason to forge the unforgettable something
Teaching myself the words to the song that I want to sing
Breaching the walls that surround my secrets and suffering
Each line forms in my mind as the keyboard clicks out the next
like a thousand experiments as I delve down into the subtext.

Hoping to find the patterns to the ideas that fly out of my head
Coping with the bursts of creativity, the challenge, the beachhead
Loping along the verse as if to rehearse the lines that I have just read.
Each Rhyme needs explanation if not just a simplistic reason
like the myriads of possibilities without committing basic treason
This is my crime, this is my time, and I want it to be
sublime.

It Went something like this...

I think I remembered that was what it was like and I would later say
that it happened something like this...
Was it just one kiss?
Who am I going to miss?
Was she real or just something - no wait that was a dream
I was having when I decided I really remembered that this
was something that I could reminisce.
I wanted to remind myself that it was like this relationship
that I had only wished that I had.
Was it really that bad?
was she as kind as I was mad?
was it all we really had?
Was it real or just folly? No- wait that was just a dream
something that was less of substance than steam
nothing is really what it seems
I sometimes feel that I am coming apart at the seams
that I cannot tell what happened from what I imagined
that it is just another illusion rather than just another
simile or metaphoric conclusion
Is it just the poetic collusions
that leads me to this ironic conclusion?
Still was it just one kiss?
or was there something I did miss?

PADM announcement

Basically Bad News.

I cannot keep this up. I feel like I am:
A. stagnating.
B. trying to hard. trying to keep writing good poetry everyday is suicidal- at least figuratively.
C. Crazy wrong.

Part of what makes me a good poet is the drive to compose, the willingness to share, the ability to recompose/rewrite what I written.
Doing a poem a day in May seemed like a good exercise for me, but the rest of my writing is suffering for it, nevermind that my life and time seems to be much more limited on availability than I had previously assumed it would be.
Also you forget, well- I forget the bunching up from the last 2 years where I could not write or would forget to write for a few days then try to make up for it which even now still feels like cheating.

I want to create unforgettable poetry. I don't want to end up with bland, banal poetry.
I am a perfectionist at best so when I write bad stuff it stresses me out.

SO
No more Poem A Day in May.
I had a good run but I want to do something else. something new.
I am kind of apologizing to you my readers but as Logan Nine Fingers would say
"you have to be realistic about these things."

Of course, I am not going to end up by jumping out a window down into a frozen river gorge.

PADM #14 To Do List

To Do List
1. Take out the trash, keep some cash
2. Fire the kid who mows you lawn
3. Get the weed eater out of pawn.
4. Don't forget your anniversary, she is after all your wife
6. If you're lucky, she'll stick around for the rest of your life.
7. Feed the pets if you have one or two.
8. If you don't, you should, it is your due.
9. Lock your doors, your windows and your car
10. Is there any wonder that our civilization got this far.

The things we list that we have to do.
this modern life spiraling out of view.

PADM #13 Sermonizing

Say the words or what you will
even from the pulpit, it can be a
bitter pill to swallow- if that's still
allowed, but whatever you do keep
speaking, unashamed, unbowed.
Just remember it's you who is above
the church crowd.

Tell a metaphor or analogy- or the like
one with a good moral, some good psych.
Stick with the script, mention the gospel verse
remember to take your time just as you rehearsed
if someone checks their watch, remind yourself
it could be worse.

Make your stories funny but also true
throw in an appropriate joke or two
reach out to as many of them as you can
keep telling yourself all is going according
to plan, maybe you get a laugh or so, holy man.

If someone falls asleep, drop your voice down deep
then yell out a Glory Hallelujah! and then weep.
If another is married to their new cellphone
announce repentance with a high pitched tone
Then wave your arms around in the air
do a two step, then an amen before
heading down the stair!

PADM #11 No More

No more fairy tales for me, no more adventures that defy
our persistent reality. No more flights of fancy out beyond
my bedroom door, no more dragons, just no more.
No more stories to keep me up until late in the night
no more lovers needing rescue, no more words that
even the princesses will rue,
No more pages that the books will make me turn, no more
unreasonable hopes, no more regrets to fire, no more pictures
to burn. No more mermaids asking for their turn, no more
heroes, no more villains to spurn. No more swords to find,
no more dreams of any kind, I don't want to learn what
it was to be an adult, I don't want to learn the lie behind
such an insult. I don't want something like all this to come
to an invariable end, I don't want to lose my fiction since it
is like having to bury a friend.
Some people would say that I must be feeling conflicted, but
I answer and say there are worse things to be addicted. Some
people would say that there are books that can help me, but I
say they are just nicer prisons to someone who is meant to be
free,

PADM #10: On Stein Time

If I were to travel back in Time
I would, of course, go back to find
that particular patron, Gertrude Stein.
If I were, that I would to travel
it would be more likely that I'd unravel
then finding find myself face down
like Hemingway upon the Parisian gravel.
If I should find another way to start
I would then take up Picasso-like art
what better way for my poetry to win her heart?

PADM #9 Requiem

Dare I dream of you when you are gone to the dust

as they lower your casket down out of view

I will not say farewell, for that would mean an end

to our days together, I will shed the tears for you, 

I will not allow my doubts lead us into regret

I will not weep and I will not forget.

Dare I dream of you when the winter's cold comes

when the snow lays upon the stones above your grave

instead I will hold onto the warmth that was your touch

the comfort and the hope that your presence gave.

I will choose to remember our last embrace

I will miss the easy smile light upon your face.

Dare I dream that you are dead and now gone

like the autumn leaves, orange, red and then gray

as if the seasons would cease to change at all,

Was there something else you could stop to say

or the way you would lean over for one more kiss

these are the moments about you I will miss.

PADM #8: Nerds

What is it about Nerds?
I mean that there is actually a lot about nerds that I like
BUT
there are also a lot that I don't like about how the Media 
and by Media I mean TV entertainment (BBT) defines nerds
and nerdism as.
Nerds are not just like other humans save that most of them are
mostly human with feelings and fears and doubts and sometimes
even hopes that they will be like other humans.
Nerds are really aware that they are different and that the awareness
is what makes them different from others because Nerds feel this
more strongly or rather acutely than others.
Ironically, I am not a nerd and maybe it is that others seek to define 
me as a nerd and thereby quantify Nerdism as a quantifiable category
in order to fit all those social outcasts and rejects and failures into a 
tidy box so that maybe by the definition of rejection they will become 
something like those other classifications that make the others feel
like the universe is actually explainable and thus safer from the very
anxiety that drives so many people like me to define ourselves by a 
formerly derogative name given to us by ignorant bullies when we 
were too young to realize that no one can define us other than 
ourselves although they will try,
So what is it about Nerds that makes me ask that question?
I am a nerd, at least by identification with the plights of 
social rejection and a distinct inability to conform to
this, the expected social norm.
Perhaps I am a nerd because I reject the idea that I must be a nerd?
unless I am a geek
which would be something else entirely.

PADM #7: Once

Once,
When will you be leaving? She asked as we stood on her stoop.
I sighed and scratched at an imagined itch as if to delay my
departure for one more moment before turning to look into her
eyes, replying: Sometime today.
Are you coming back? She asked me this several times.
I was packing my suitcase, sorting the socks and underwear,
avoiding the lie that threatened to escape my lips
Instead I choose to hug her thereby admitting
my guilt in emotional answer.
Do you love me? She asked as I walked with her to the train
What kind of question is that? I shot back then regretted
it instantly as we both knew it was yes, the strategy of pain
I am coming back I said to her there at the door, but I never
did, didn't even know why, her tears on my shirt, the
melancholic moments of her hurt, I am still not sure
what was worse, that I still loved her even when
I stood on the grass watching the hearse take away
all that I thought I had loved into the morning light
as I remembered her last words: Stay with me.
Once.

PADM #6: How Pleasant to know Mr. Van

How pleasant to know Mr. Van,
who has written such posts and blogs
a curmudgeon disguised like a man
he really truly has gone to the dogs.

His mind is precise and sardonic
his nose is sensitively aware.
His vision can be socially hedonic
his beard reminds one of a bear.

He has 2 ears, 2 eyes and 8 fingers
at knitting he is totally thumbs.
Once he was one of the web slingers
now he just searches for crumbs.

He likes to take tea in the coffee bars
some cream and sugar or honey
He avoids staring at the passing cars
but always tips with monopoly money.

He has more friends out there on the net.
Poor Yorick is the name of his cat;
His body is solidly and stoically set
his bathroom has a welcome home mat.

He likes to take long walks out into the night
the children call him Great Uncle Gum
He speaks in riddles with such peevish delight
he loves his wit as a pirate loves his rum.

He cries during particularly bad movie plots
he weeps at show of poor English use
He is completely hopeless when playing slots
he shouts at the inhumanity of the music abuse!

He claims to speak Klingon and computerese
He's cannot abide a two door blue sedan
His googling is exact, he's always ready to please
How pleasant, indeed, to know Mr. Van!

PADM #5: Glasses

World defined by two panes of glass
these are the limits of comprehension
the borders set lines on my ability focal
Everything within is to be considered
from this moment forward to be local.

With them I can paint in finite detail
without them all is Monet blurry splash
the brush strokes of blindness, the words
lost to murmurs and to mumblings,
the canvas a mess of raw feelings, attitudes
midst the distant hints of imagined rumblings

Within the frames that surround my eyes
the understanding that what I have seen
is often compromised by my own point
of view colored by my experience to date
the very definitions that create my life
I should clean them, remove the limitations
of hate.

PADM #4: Mom is the Word

Say haven't you heard
that Mom is the word
it's not all that absurd
it's not a plant or a bird
Mom is what you'd say
since it is afterall her Day.

PADM #3: This is a Wedding

First, there's this wonderful music that you only hear...at weddings.
Second, there's all this clothing, mostly worn once, then everyone is, well shedding.
Thirdly, some songs, a hymn or two, then a solo, a few readings almost always
the same.
This is the mishmash of western traditions we all do- but don't understand, a lot of
trouble so that we can share a name.
The couple say their vows, the priest calls, they respond, the words predetermined-
not much choice.
Then the blessings, the exchanging of rings, symbolic things, the nervous scared 
emotional voice.
A few prayers, one to thank, the other to bless, a moment in time, one more question 
to ask.
Will they make it, are they ready, can two people be able to undertake this formidable 
task?
Let them eat the holy food, let them drink from the sacred cup, seal the whole shebang
with one memorable kiss.
Let them remind the rest of us, that this, this is something none of us should want to miss.
Lastly a triumphant exit march, strolling hand in hand back down the aisle.
Wait, at least a dozen more pictures, everyone together, yes you too Granma, now stand still
and smile.
Then the dance is finished, the ritual performed, time to leave live in style or heart felt denial.

PADM 2: Saturn's Rings

There are such mysteries that drift with inertial unexplainble things
like stardust and cosmic glitter upon the imagination's wings
I imagine in the void silent the gentle plucking of the solar strings
my silver spacecraft is ready to depart the mind's orbital lining
I am gone to the stars, that is what they will say as they turn to each
other- shaking their collective heads, doubting that I will ever find
another way to convey the majesty or the solitude I feel each time
the sun goes out, I will wake, I will rise up to walk out into the night
look up to the stars- out to my imaginary flight as far as my naked
eyes can see, the words from my thought float away upon the
radio waves streaming out of my restless need for dreaming
that no matter what I am doing or how the universe still seems
with each moonrise I shall stop along my path to whatever
the future brings, is this my path? Or will I ever walk where no
man has tread out there midst Saturn's Rings.

PADM #1: Cubism Decubed using the Stein Deconstruction

I said that I would lie, I would lie to the liar that was lying but not laying although he was laying out what he would say
I said that I would not lie until I lied about lying though not laying this is what I was saying as if by this admission I was
admitting that by lying I was trying to state with clarification that I was- in fact just denying the fact that I am  eschewing
that he was chewing albeit more ruing as if I would stop my construing and admit that I was lying about this viewing as if
I would oppose that the art was lying on the wall not so much laying or really even saying that I was reaching for words
or rather, in other words, delaying the moment where as to avoid the moment when the artist would turn from her easel
as if to demand that I should be paying instead of preying on her soft touches of the brush rush thrust as one might want
to escape the crush-ing despair that I the buyer buying the piece, this work, this art of lying to the eye about the lying
without the makeshift moment where we are wont to say saying that she and by this I mean we, are saying without relying
on the fact she insist that it be call Napoleon the first or first that it has anything to do with Napoleon first, I see her ruse, 
I see the she rues that anyone would construe that the true is truth, such impetuousness of our youth, I swear upon this that
my lie is the truth and true as I am laying this lie like the dye used to color the work laying there before us as if to say that
I, moreover, will buy this piece, such a noble effort, such a valiant try.
I said that I would lie, that this is the truth
every word denied.
  

A Poem a Day in May

Well, It's May and I am now 6 days behind on the annual Poem a Day in May activity.
Will be trying to compose at least 2 poems a day until I catch up
Still traveling until tomorrow and do some proper cross posting.
and now we begin....