My photo
Cape Cod, United States
__I see with young eyes, an old mirror. Here, I hope to offer... as I see.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Departure 20
__This... was scribbled in November of 2002. _m

I had been there many times before,
                           And shrank in the clash of it all;
Breathing in the smells and sights
                           Of this cavern, this grimy hall.

The stretch of countless rushing trains,
                           Burned rubber, and electric sweat;
Pulsing through this living cell,
                           In foulest dust beset.

Above the grinding, toneless clatter,
                           A lonely voice was heard;
Cutting through this screeching din,
                           Saying but a single word.

"Repent," he coughed and blubbered through
                          His spirit sodden lips;
A broken, beaten, filthy beast,
                          That spat through lathered drips.

"Repent," he wheezed, and again that word,
                          Echoed through this oily hall;
And every step he took my way,
                          Surged my memory's crawl.

"Repent," he neighed as he reached my feet,
                          Whiskey bleeding from each eye;
He caught my gaze, then hid his face,
                          Then spewed his crippled sigh.

"Repent," he mumbled, then spilled away,
                          Wretched, reeking and worn;
Siding off in greasy steps,
                          He vanished, within his scorn.

Stunned, I followed those sodden eyes,
                         For what was there was known;
And I listened for that single word
                          "Repent," this drunkard's drone.

I searched and searched through noise and filth,
                          To find this wasted soul;
I rummaged every crack and den,
                         And every wretched hole.

I found my kin, in the muck and lice,
                          Curled in a fetal ball;
And I prayed he seemed again to me,
                          As he did when I was small.

He waved me off, and spat out words,
                          Preaching me in err;
That I should turn and walk away,
                          And leave him to his lair.

Not a brother, he said to me
                          Don't sorrow for my fall;
Go you back... to your life of ease,
                          I'm no brother after all.

Go quickly to your wife and young,
                         And leave me to my cave;
A rotting soul I am, you've seen,
                         Just searching for my grave.

Against my will, I honored his,
                         Stealing courage, I stepped my length;
And I heard his anxious, whispered plea;
                         Brother, leave with me your strength.
I've returned, uncounted times,
                         To this subway's sour gloom;
To search for him, within this beast,
                         Before he found his tomb.

But not the word, nor sight I'd see
                         Within this cavern's sore;
Of brother or beast, or broken man,
                         That wasted soul once more.

Then one day, in horror's grasp, "Repent,"
                         I heard, and I spun about;
To a brilliant light in my brother's eyes,
                         That beast... he had cast out!

When last we met, his shining words,
                         You gave as I did plea;
You took your leave, but left your strength,
                         And with it, I burst free!

This was my grave, this subway vault,
                         But hope, in your leaving fell;
To the strength you left, as you stepped away,
                         Your faith, has fought my spell.

I pass that faith in tearless fight,
                         To my brothers barrowed near;
That they may broach their hollow hell,
                         To slay that beast of fear.
                          _ _

When I return to this evil place,
                        To search within its reek;
I listen for his single word, his hymn
                         Is the sound I seek.


"Repent," bursts through this mortal clamor,
                         And with his messaged call;
My Brother is again to me... the hero,
                         He was... when I was small.



Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Just two obstructions to finding the truth. This, from 2011

__ Politics is a mound of sand, and its truth, a single grain within that hill; our hope is to find one grain of hidden truth.

we seek
that single grain of truth
winds rise

__ Politics, is a river that deposits myths on the far shore, and fantasies on the near, while its truth rushes onward to deeper seas.

truth of lies
in the roil of tidal waves
we swimmers


Friday, August 12, 2016

__ There is always something to surge our thoughts forward_!   This,  a slight rewrite of something I posted here during August_  of 2010.

flat pond
this summer stands still
fish rings

Monday, August 8, 2016

life's breeze
carries this butterfly
new flowers

Thursday, August 4, 2016

__A student says, I have much to learn;  a master responds,  I have learned... how little I know.   We learn to learn.

yesterdays' mind
searches the earth and clouds

Monday, August 1, 2016

__Recently, I thought I had seen two TV shows entitled 'Big Bother;' I was incorrect, I had actually watched two political conventions.  But, as academic politicos continually imply, my ineptitude is due to my lower intellect, that of the proletariat. Perhaps the Orwellian era has arrived_?

the first lie
is the final truth
they that say