Once again my mental bladder is full Words and ideas become painful and cruel.
I GOTTA GO!
Legs crossed, dancing up and down. With pen I scratch and keyboard pound
I lose track of time, stuck in a dream, As words flow out in a steady stream. Some words dark and others light Mix them around until they sound right.
Now the bladder is empty Such a welcome relief.
Just hope you don't think, The words I write stink.
In his day he strutted about the countryside blazing in the sun. His every piece lovingly shaped, a nobler garment there was none. Now he stands in the corner and rusts.
Many a battle he fought and justly won. Cleansed of vanquished blood and mended where damage was done. Now he stands in the corner and rusts.
Always a fine lady's kerchief he wore in a joust. Many a tourney he left the victorious host. Now he stands in the corner and rusts.
To his king tried and true and always his honor kept. The queen's own champion, to her honor he always leapt. Now he stands in the corner and rusts.
Never once defeated by an enemy. Yet defenseless was he against new technology. Now he stands in the corner and rusts.
He stands in the corner on display, To bear witness to his glorious day No more battles shall he see, Now he stands in the corner and rusts.
As I lay dying on this field I hear the march of history around me. The sound of the musket shot and the smell of powder. The clash of swords and the pounding of horses’ hooves. The whistle of arrows cutting the air The sounds of flesh and bones crushed by stone clubs.
As my blood seeps into this battlefield It mingles with the blood of past warriors that gave their all Fighting over this piece of land. My dying request is that my bones be interred with my brothers who died before me. Bury me deep and mark the spot with only a rose. I fought hard for this land, which my comrades may or may not keep, But at least let me own this small piece, if only in death.
Now as the din of battle fades into the distance and I draw my final breath Leave me here to wait for an escort to the halls of Valhalla.
In the Garden of Eden there was found Condoms lying all around A bite from the Apple revealed What God from them had concealed.
Newly opened eyes found them nude Their thoughts soon turned to the lewd A quick slap and a tickle Put all our fates in a pickle
The gift of knowledge filled their brain For which they traded eternal pain When learned that the price of ecstasy - is pregnancy
What are you? The bulb that carries the light or the light? - Joseph Campbell
A life I spent pampering the bulb. Wearing the stylish fashions Hair cut to imitate big celebrities. Liposuction and silicone sculpted the bulb To a cultural ideal
Age brought gray hairs, Clairol sold the cure Nip and a tuck eradicated pesky wrinkles. Fortunes spent on creams and pills Waging war on age and gravity. Constant roller coaster of self-loathing Problems found then disguised With Patent-medicines.
No cure was found to Hold off Death’s knocking. Looking on my painted corpse I see the broken bulb. Too late to let it shine I see, always, I was the light.
All the dragons are gone, There's no more left to slay.
All the battles have been fought, There's none to fight today.
No castles to be defended, No new lands to be conquered.
The air has been defeated, The seas have all been charted,
The tallest mountains scaled, The deepest space explored.
The knights and chivalry has faded away. All the dragons are gone.
Last night I dreamt of an Eagle. I was standing on a tall mountain looking on a tortured landscape. He came to show me the death of the Earth. As I flew with him I surveyed her wounds.
Soaring wings cutting through the air raised a calamitous voice. The shrieking winds screamed at me of choking pollution and ozone depletion. We descended slowly through the sulfurous clouds until we brushed the fingertips of the trees. Limbs outstretched they pleaded for an end. I heard their moans of breathing toxic air and drinking acid rain.
The Eagle loosed its grip and I floated to the ground. I reached the ground and melted through it to hear the groans of the rock. It berated me with the agony of holding nuclear waste. The soil screamed from years of drinking blood and toxic waste. I flowed down to a subterranean stream and was washed out to a babbling brook. As I bounced and jostled over boulders its hurried murmurs spoke of mercury poisoning and chlorine dumping.
I came again to the mountain and scaled its weathered surface. I found the Eagle, his wings outstretched, dead upon the summit.
He’s still living it in his dreams. Hearing the gunboats coming over the trees. The machine guns chatter, and rifles crack.
Comrades falling, some dead before the impact, others drowning in their own blood. Mortars whoomp at unseen targets, shells whistling through the air. Men screaming as they impact and explode. Watching friends blown to fragments, Standing there in his dream, immobile and impotent to help.
He revisits all those old battle scenes, Watching all his friends die. Awaking with a scream still in his throat. He remains where he lies in a pool of sweat.
The war still isn't over yet. Returning there to 'Nam every night to fight it again and again. Praying some night it will be won But for a Vietnam Vet it's never won.
An Acrostic poem
E xceptional intellect and
N atural leader as
D ragon Army commander.
E nemy's gate is down!
R esourceful tactician.
W orld destroyer!
I ncapable of surrender, the
G iant slayer and
G alactic hero.
I nternal demons struggle
N ot the Xenocide, but
S peaker for the Dead.
Sun comes up and hangs around Sixteen hours til it goes to ground
no rain, grass is dead more time to lay in bed
window air conditioner makes a racket balanced on the sill, missing bracket
Kids are bored and start to drool Too smart for summer school?
Reruns on TV, such a bore Find a movie to rent, such a chore
Car interior baked oven hot Over 90 degrees, A/C goes to pot
August all hot and sticky San Diego, so rarely icky
Neighbor's pool, a cool oasis Mean guard dog, away he chases.