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Mumblings / Poetry, Early 2020

Like mentioned on thsomee other poetry pages, it's James Dickey-inspired poetry. Not sure why all these ended up on yet another separate page. It seemed necessary to break up the uploads of dazzling, brilliant prose. (heh, heh)

NOTE: None of these are repeated in the not-new-anymore digital poetry book, Brief Tales of Compromised Solutions

What Has Changed on the Animal Farm?

 

The sun still rises

The grass still grows

The sky seems blue

And the water still flows

 

They pulled off their blinders

But the fences didn't change

A different sort of freedom

For a home on the range

 

Really, what has changed on the animal farm?

 

What about you, cow?

Can you say that new rules benefit all?

Are the animals you put your trust in sowing what they should?

Working your hooves to the hilt

Because the milk cannot be left in your hands

And your rump still goes for five dollars per pound

 

What about you, pig?

Can we trust that you roll honourably in the slop?

Are the policies regarding the portioning of truffles to everyone's liking?

Curling your tail to the base

Because negations needed a hard-snout approach

And you've never been afraid to make an ear of someone else

 

What about you, chicken?

Can you sense a change in the humid air?

Are the fallow days and nights really coming to an end?

Clucking over a too familiar ground

Because the new dispenser has a pecking order

And you've chosen the worst time to lose your head

 

What about you, farmer?

Can you recognize the changes before you?

Are your arms too tired or your stomach too empty?

Being hung up and out on a scarecrow post

Because that morning was one step over the horizon line

And your family is strung up right beside you

 

The sun should rise

The grass will fret

The sky goes grey

And the water stays wet

 

They swapped out the titles

But the pyramid stayed

The levels are set

And the debts aren't repaid

 

Really, what has changed on the animal farm?

 

 

Bringing In The Bottles

Bringing in the bottles

Might get ruined in the rain

I'm listening to both of them

And waiting for the wet

 

There's a kind way about the summer wind

Saying hello like a flustered friend

And leaving without a parting shake

It's all the nature we could get

 

Dreams of towering trees from eras past

'They reached for the twinkling stars!'

Is the laughter and mocking from today

But it was a simple plan well set

 

To the watches and the wrists

Running the world with one free hand

The sun doesn't know it follows us

But still wins the longest bet

 

Rolled the dice with old lions

Hid cards in too short sleeves

It was never about refusing

It was about what to finally let

 

The best kind of permission

Come from a sense of duty served

A topping up of sugared water

In glasses by those well met

 

Felled by time's arrow

Shot through the heart or hand

Another toast is finally burned

And the bottles smash regret

 

Out, Out Damn Thought

Give me a moment's rest

I want to feel the air 'tween my ears

There's the need to flip familiar letters

And create a blot from a deep breath

 

It's just that feeling at the now

Passing with album speeds

And something we don't have a word for

Which is why I post record quotations

 

Working half as hard because that's what it pays

Using hands we no longer need

Falling behind all together so we think we're moving forward

We're following our backwards steps

 

Grey stones line the hill

And the wind's not charming either

Feeling most alive between stations and stops

If a man is his castle then we're inside ourselves a lot

 

When I talk about butterflies

I am certain they want to raise hell

Sweet lovely November

Before the winter that brought so little

 

Pay attention to me not worrying about it

Speculate my heart rate from across the street

Present to me your terms via textbook seizure

I can handle it I've got decoys for blood

 

Stressing the syllables after the final edit

Pushing for change too close to the cliff

Waiting with the rooms that go nowhere

I can make sure this doesn't make the magazine

 

 

Windy Trash Factory

You make peace

I make mistakes

One falls into deep sleep

The other always awakes

 

A farewell to new friends

Having trouble with first and last names

A bond that breaks but never bends

A hazy memory of rumours and claims

 

I only breathe the secondhands

And so I rarely act alone

The blame is spread across the lands

Where you had to steal to own

 

Rows of houses knocked on the door

It's same-time knock echoed across the plains

Blowing trees across the floor

And wiping out a year of hard raised gains

 

Forcing words before their time

Untimely ripped and wounded

With the sun up it's time to rhyme

But it gives no pleasure like the moon did

 

 

 

 

Less Than Words

When you get to thinking

About the lines that cut into your face

Deeper with every morning

You realize that it's time pressing you down

 

I allowed the waves

And I wasn't even drunk

Deeper with every step

I knew that the future pulls everyone under

 

Only the living hate surprises

Takes the air right out of the lungs

Deeper with every breath

And never as rich as when you were too young to care

 

They knew the pieces fit

Why they had to throw them in an open flame

Deeper with every season

A solved puzzle is no fun at all

 

They found love on a Sunday morning

It must be something in their heads

Deeper with every breath

Time stops beneath the sheets

 

 

It was Here

 

If you can't die you're not alive

It was here

The point I made did not arrive

It was here

 

The water kept rising

The stakes kept holding

The heads kept cracking

The whips kept snapping

The neck kept turning

The wheels kept rolling

The eyes kept closing

The windows kept rattling

The bones kept breaking

The waves kept splashing

The water...

 

And I was disbelieving the words of the dark rain

Cousin of the black rain

Friend of the hard rain

Not out of suspicion but desperation

I was getting too strung out on lies

And asked for the truth

But it was like a cold hand on the throat

And I wrenched away from it with my weakness on full display

My soul as naked as birth but pitiful and pale

 

Mark the bodies with yellow chalk

It was here

Move them to the ancient rock

It was here

 

The people had changed

The barriers had failed

The towns had flooded

The stories had changed

The hands had closed

The walls had cracked

The lakes had drained

The forest had burned

The decisions had reversed

The silence had erupted

The people...

 

And I was ravenous for another slice of life

A chunk of time

An apportionment of memory

Not out of the ordinary

I was getting just enough of the nine two five

And asked for a hand

But it was an open palm across the face

And I pulled away from it with a humiliated shock

My cheeks as red as blood as on snow

 

Save the ideas within reach

It was here

Bury them on a faraway beach

It was here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A real plan B has it's own plan B