Poetry 3 (kc)

STREET WOMAN

Cloaked in soiled, ragged clothing,

Heavily weighting her down,

She goes on—ever slowing—

As she plods her way around.

Stooping to snare other’s litter,

Un-noticed, it goes into her cart.

It’s as if no one can see her:

She’s an outcast—a caste apart.

Her bowed head sways back and forth,

A pigeon, pecking pavement.

Eyes searching for things of worth:

Shiny cans for half-a-cent.

Her arthritic back always sore,

Constantly twisting and bending;

She labors late, hoping for more,

‘til her body’s beyond mending.

Worn down, she goes to her lair,

Crawls thru the flaps of her cell,

Shivering, barely aware:

Entrapped in a living hell.

Hiding inside her cardboard nest—

The old woman accepts the cold.

Rales and rattles deep in her chest,

Trembling with the fear of the old.

Resigned to non-existence,

She has no more tears to weep.

Past the point of resistance,

Finally, she falls to sleep.

She dreams of days colored yellow,

Sunshine, and soft, marshmallow clouds;

Strolling Broadway with her fellow;

The two of them, one with the crowd.

Deeper dreams of days long gone,

When life knelt down before her;

When choices were hers alone,

And the future held no fear.

While dreaming of this better day,

The outside dawn began breakin’,

But this last night, her dreams held sway:

The woman chose not to waken.

SHADOW PUPPETEER

I sit here—

Twilight drawing near,

Painting shadows,

Deeply grayed by time—

A shadow puppeteer.

Shadows show

Events long past,

On dusty, cobwebbed walls;

Blurred pictures—

Erratically cast.

I sit here—

Grayed night growing dark,

Feinting shadows

Closing in on me—

A shadow puppeteer.

Finger shadows

Losing substance

From murky, waning light;

Shifting scenes—

Arbitrarily placed.

I sit here—

Night is fully black,

Hidden shadows

Seen only by me—

A shadow puppeteer.

Shadows depict

St. Vitus’ Dance

On coal black nothingness.

Passing thru—

A fleeting instance.

So the shadows

See naught but, black,

I see but you, you,

Passing thru,

And I am gone: black.

PORTENT OF MADNESS

Do you ever awaken, my love,

To glistening goldenrod meadows?

Do the crisp cobalt skies above

Still chase away the shadows?

The cerise ribbon in your golden hair,

Reflected throughout the deep, blue skies

Now seem to streak aimlessly there—

Without meaning—unread by loving eyes.

The deep, blue skies now turn to slate;

The cerise ribbons to jagged ochre.

All the words of love have turned to hate,

Leaving me cold—and growing older

I sometimes look with hope—held high—

Of regaining the magic we once had,

But all I see is alien sky,

That portends to drive me mad.

(I did not go easily into that goodnight; the night I realized I was neither loved, nor had ever been loved. I was beginning to wonder if I was worthy of being loved…I am starting to think I am…Thank you, M)

2011

TRAVELLER

Frolic with the tonal spectrum

In spaces of a dream,

Vibrate in synchronicity upon

The colored stream,

Merge within the rainbow overture

Of fugues in golden browns,

Straddle chords of vivid hues to

Visit far away suns.

Dive into the cosmic core

Of glossy pink sonatas,

Rested, flit from star to star

On brassy bright cantatas,

Float thru the vast in-between

On velvety nocturne blues,

Spread throughout the galaxy.

As colors and sounds diffuse.

(This is somewhat how I view traveling—both on the road, as well as through life. Dunna know if it makes any sense to anyone but me, but to me it is a powerful imagery. Every journey whether our meandering through life towards the inevitable, or walking/ driving/ sailing/flying—even mind-trips are far more enjoyable and rewarding, when one begins the trek with an open mind, a child-like sense of wonderment, expecting the awesome and receptive to the sometimes mundane (I find so little mundaneity [a Ken-ism] in my journey), and a laugh burbling in the heart and expressed at the least provocation.)

2002

THOT JOT

You who lack knowledge

Revel in your short-comings

You know of neither Babylon

nor Armageddon

Rejoice in ignorance

Flaunt your innocence of intellection

Disregard the ivory towers

Unawareness is your animation

Aware, I am fading