A COBBLESTONE STREET IN CANNES

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

I know you thought
that last one was weird
and I could see you
sitting there saying:
Geez, I hope he doesn't 
make this a habit
cuz he was obviously
high when he wrote it!

(I just had to laugh)

When all your angels
have retired and given
up the ghost and you're
out there on your own
existential limb
teetering in the wind
you'll simply tell it as it is
with increasing alacrity

all good people deplore
problems at a distance

appalled by what the
unenlightened inflict
upon each other
(but at a distance)

the power disparity
inherent in all relationships
whether they be between
individuals or groups of
individuals sows the
seeds of abuse

and here's the thing
about Armageddon......

there won't be any time to
look back and ask
what went wrong
when your ass is
high-tailing it for the hills

(jump cut)

If I had my druthers
I'd be walking down
a cobblestone street in Cannes
a few paces behind Brigitte Bardot
whose butt is wiggling like
a sack of Yukon Gold potatoes
in her bright white short shorts
and yes I will take that year
whatever it is to inhabit
like a hermit crab
for all time

The person caught in any
moment in time is
frozen in that moment
because that is his moment
then a much older person
who is caught in his moment
and will forever be comes
along and has the audacity
to claim that he is the same
person as that whippersnapper
from long ago...

identity theft on a global scale

and God said to the monk of 57 years:
You know you could have done
whatever the hell you wanted--
I'm not a prude!

but whatever it is
make it good 
'cause time steals away
like a whore 
from your bedside
at 5 a.m.
and the world 
is made of yesterdays

IN THE FLASH OF AN EYE

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

And now I find
that I give less and less
of a damn
about any of it

But it would do my heart good
if I knew that just once you stopped
and questioned your motives
for all of it
cuz if it's just by rote
it plays a sad and sour note
to my ears

And let me draw my own conclusions
as to why she smiled at me
in the supermarket
let me hang onto my illusions
a wee bit longer
cuz in my mind
and in my heart
I'm still back there listenin' to
The Mighty Quinn
(everybody's gonna want a dose)

Don't mean to be morose
but I need a reason
to fall out of that bed

Just don't make me feel that
 your day
and your life
won't be complete
unless you are killing something
that smiles

Decades whiz by
in the flash of an eye
and when I say I took her support stockings off
and wore them over my head
and then went out and robbed da liquor store
I think U know what I mean--
it's the universal language of love
ooby dooby dooby doo
 just me and you

Will apologize to neither god nor man
for what I am
my is-ness
is none of you biz-ness
and yet I'll pray
that you'll be forever freed
from your own private hell...
and thus release me from mine

SOME EVEN RUN

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads










Somebody asked today
what I do with my time.
I said I pay bills.

That's takes up a good chunk of it.

Oh, and lots of walking
(mainly to take out the garbage).

Other than that it's
readin' and writin'
but very little arithmetic,
cuz I put 2 + 2 together
a long time ago and observed
that nothing comes out
exactly the way you're expecting.

Used to spend a lot of my time
tryin'to figure out why that was
but people would say: Why you standin'there scratchin'yo head all the time?
And I'd say oh, lice--and that left me with
a lot of free time to myself--
but still couldn't put my finger on it
other than each of us is just a half
lookin' for the other half,
instinctively knowing we were whole
before the Great Forgetting--
but once broken it's hard
to get those Humpty Dumpty
shards perfectly aligned again.

Best I can advise is
that at some point I will betray you.
Or you will betray me.
And we will either live with it
or we won't. Those who do
put on a brave face,
refusing to be broken.

Some of them even run for president.

SOMEWHERE STILL RINGING

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

He believed
with unswerving conviction
that in a world teeming with souls
surely there'd  be one
just tailor made for him
and that when he found her
the one to share it with
his life would begin for real

And yes there were some
who lingered for a time
but they came and went
like blips on a radar screen
another case of mistaken identity

And all he could do
when each ship of love
crashed and burned
was look away from the carnage
(for he was good at looking away)
and turn to face the bright sun of tomorrow
that surely loomed just around the bend

He did this in the spring
He did this in the summer
He did this in the autumn
With the last leaf still clinging
and somewhere still ringing
was the sound of her voice
calling from the hill

And they would rush
to each other
and his life would begin for real
no more holding back
for lack of inspiration
and he would do all the things
he had no penchant for doing
alone

For only with a sense of purpose
does life begin in earnest
and with each passing day
he knows now for sure
that purpose is her
the one who will stay

Come down in time
he whispers
come down in time
for he knows that time
is slipping away...

And he read the other day
nearly seven billion souls
on this bright blue ball of confusion
whirling in space
and he figures some wires
must have got crossed
and some bridges didn't
and he can't help but wonder
why it's still such a lonely lonely world

BLAST FROM THE PAST

With Real Toads -Poetry Potluck- d'Verse Poets Pub

in the quick

roaring spin 

of time

moments cascade into yesterday

like a waterfall in a dream 

a flower

a stolen hour

a superpower

a viper

a sniper

a windshield wiper

spin in the eternal eddy

as the man behind the mask

harbors secrets

hidden meanings

glimpsed through patchy fog

too dangerous to share 

with anyone but you

all the rocks and all the stars

the reasons poetry and symbolism exist

I'm just a visitor

a loner with a boner

in the star magnificence

an existence

devoid of meaning

and grace

the battered corpses of love

 strewn along my tracks

yet still there is wonder

us

them

uncertainty

the unknown

the astounding scheme of things

hypnotized we wander

Casanova

a supernova

Martina Navratilova

a candelabra

a chupacabra

choose the next palabra 

time sails by on the breeze

and yet 

like you

I  stand my ground

in for a penny

in for a pound

along for the ride 

starry-eyed

and hanging on every word

this blast 

from the past

brought to you by

the 

lingering 

essence 

of

me