Where Thoughts Are Born

Beyond the shade of evening light
and far from the brilliance of stars
there is a place where thoughts are born
and where they go when dimmed.

It is a place where no man can go
not flesh nor soul or ghost
It is where all dreams are made
and where poems reign as king

Poems within transparent books
Of words from thoughts unseen
When opened the words pierce the poet’s skull
and forms the verse he sees

Books only opened up by love
or peace or hate and jealousy
Pages turned by an emotional muse
Who throws them out at lightning speed

Thoughts caught behind wide green tinted eyes
Squarely neatly within hollow porous bone
Thoughts caught by a searching willing soul
Who believes his careful words are all his own

DSS

Royal Fly-Boys

Captain! Sometimes the most important person is you!
You!….. you dizzled drapes dropper
You! …. you measly mound of moose melt
Get up and fight the sons of bitches!
Hit ’em in the face!
Kick ’em in the balls!
Fuck’em up!

Now wait a minute……..
Think about this
The last skull you cracked still isn’t healed.
And you lost your Secret Society of Greenwich Ring.
Oh! Those were the days!
There was beer, blood and Brylcreem
smeared all over everything.
Royal Fly-boys!…. the Bastards!

Wake Up!!

Whew! That reoccurring WWI dream again!
What time is it?
6 O’clock already!

I HATE Daylight Saving Time!!!

OC

(DST has that affect on some people. This is OC’s  twice annually modified rant about it. Brylcreem??  John   )

To Describe It

It can’t be painted
But can we describe it
by just the smell of the shampoo
or the scent of perspiration
from under the arm
the touch of soft hands
the texture of exposed warm private flesh
the taste
that damn sweet musky taste
melded with strawberry.
The wet smoothness
the tight void
soft voiced sounds of yes and feel good
the loosened hips
and firm thighs’ rhythm and rhyme
the tight tendons
and firm stiffness
and curled colored nail toes
burst of nerves
entwined heartbeats and sated breaths
of entangled sleep and entangled bond.

DSS

I Choose Our Love

When I need love
when I am blind and nothing else will  do
I choose your love
Your sweet sweet love
when love will bind our mind of two
When I feel love
I choose my love
when I’m blind and don’t feel what other lovers do
I choose your love
I choose love, my sweet love, my sweet sweet love of you.

DSS

Thinking of Clowns

That clown also smells like moth balls.
In my little town,
we had a little clown
that would appear
only once a year
for an annual event,
a carnival on the square,
Not only did he scare me well,
he had that moth ball smell!
He must have kept that clown suit
in a closet for all the year
So now when I smell mothballs,
I think of clown and beer.
I suspected that he played Santa, too

OC

This poem originated from a comment I made on The Muscleheaded Blog .

Revisiting Insomnia

Ok, how do I do it? I’ve been wide awake since 3:30AM. How do I get back to sleep?

I have never understood counting sheep. I try to think only good thoughts. But I do that all the time anyway. I may start thinking only bad thoughts, that may work. But I have enough nightmares that wake me up now. Although I don’t think that’s what woke me this morning.

Maybe I’m just not tired. But when I got up to pee, my joints and bones didn’t cooperate. I actually hobbled to the bathroom. I did not feel rested. Ok, now I remember, I woke up because I had to pee. That’s happening more and more lately. But I should be able to go back to sleep.

Damn, I wish for the old days when the only thing that woke me up was a boner.

Such is the life of John.

Things Done

I know what I should do
I know what I am going to do
I know what I will be able to do
These are all things I haven’t done
And I have done many things
All were things that I had to do
Things I was inspired to do
Things I was driven to do
Things that just needed done
I have done nothing I could not do.

DSS

Imagining It

You want it mystical and get it bland
That’s alright, imagine it
Ask for over medium and get it easy
That’s OK, imagine it
Want your new jeans slim and 29
Must be husky and 32,
Imagine your ass looking fine
Leave the car shiny and spotless
Imagine that ding was never there
Walk down the street, shoulders back
look straight ahead
Everyone else, imagining it , too.

DSS

Lilacs, Satin and Lace

Lilacs, satin and lace
Missing satin and lace
Looking out my window
at bridges spanning diagonal frames
Eating alone
recalling words to long forgotten love songs
Unspoken
and hearing only the muted sounds of voices next door
Remembering our favorite names and soft words,
and the sound of her over-bite lisp
Like the smell of lilacs
Swept away
She was swept away.

DSS

High Water

The black mud that caked between his toes and had partly dried down the backs of his heels and ankles felt oddly comforting as he paused for a moment and rested in the warm drying sun. Repeatedly flicking his disposable lighter, ridding the dampness from the flint, he was hoping his last few cigarettes were not soaked and disintegrating.
It had been years since he had seen the water this far beyond the tree line. In the 100 yard trudge from the house to the higher ground of the tool shed, the mud from what used to be his newly plowed garden had sucked his tennis shoes from his feet. Wading barefoot in the thigh high water, thoughts of what unknown things may be below the surface loomed in his mind with each careful step. As Gerald rested on the high ground, he watched as two rabbits paddled from the water to safety within his easy reach. Unconcerned with his presence, they shook, licked and scratched the water from their fur. At this moment they were all fellow survivors. “I’ll find those shoes after the river goes down” he thought as he took a deep drag from his last cigarette.

DSS