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Mumblings / Poetry, Midsummer 2017

Like mentioned on the 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-exactly-new-anymore digital poetry book, Brief Tales of Compromised Solutions

Sundries Aflame

The sundries are aflame

It's in the smoke where the trivialities lie, I tell you

This was going to the change in the weather

The excuse to pass the bad news on

To unclench an old fist of father's

And pat the ground to give it blessings and rest


Still trapped in offices

Moving towards the still golden fields, you tell me

To find a homestead beyond the crinkled map's edge

Like it was written inside book covers

From the bible back to leaves of grass

And to provide energy for our tired gnarled hands


Standing in the rain now. For the sake of future sunny days

A pre-loaded accompaniment. Of chattering teeth and ocean wet clothes

Frozen like an ice statue at the moment. To go crazy from the heat later

This was the forgotten favour. Promised at the darkened corner

The taste of an eager young sailor. Swallowed by the broken chain of command

Under a heartfelt direction. Atop an aging purple sky

Holding another wizened grey hand. Across an endless crooked street

Lost in future reflections. Which when catalogued have already passed

This was a never. Ending long after it truly should have

Holding on to an ancient. Feeling like it can become new again


Calling through the traffic

Will fix itself up around the bend, we tell them

Because no one ever turns down a good story

The brake is beside the gas for a reason

Patience is a noble feast

And better to prepare for the inevitable famine


Feeling up the grain

Like the difference is on the fingertips, they tell us

If you believe that you can trust our knees

Bruised from lack of proper trying

Scared of a hot summer night

And hoping truth doesn't wake from graceful slumber



Everyone Is Nuts

Everyone is nuts.

You are nuts.

I am nuts.

Your friends are nuts.

Your roommates are nuts.

Your neighbours are nuts.

Your co-workers are nuts.

Those people over there are nuts.

The people disappearing into the distance in the corner of your eye are nuts.

The people you can't stand but for whatever reason are always kind of around are nuts.

The people you see only through pixels on a tiny screen are nuts.

The person you love is nuts.

The person you secretly love and can never tell them this is nuts.

The people in power are nuts.

The people without a single shred of power are nuts.

The quiet, thoughtful people are nuts.

The loud, ridiculous people are nuts.

But don't worry because everyone has always been nuts.

Your parents are nuts.

Your aunts and uncles are nuts.

Your grandparents are nuts.

Your supposedly impressive ancestors are nuts.

Your mysterious records-free ancestors are nuts.

Everyone who has ever existed throughout history were nuts.

People who sat on thrones were nuts.

People who tilled the fields were nuts.

People who fought with clubs were nuts.

People who tried to make gold out of iron were nuts.

People who thought dancing made it rain were nuts.

People who said god told them to tell everyone else what to do were nuts.

People who have the world eating out of the palm of their hands are nuts.

People who are one bit of bad news from jumping off the roof are nuts.

People who wiped away the tears in their eyes over the treatment of dancing beers are nuts.

People who gave up everything to shake hands with the reason they get up every morning are nuts.

People who play for the win are nuts.

People who slip into the loss like cool bedsheets are nuts.

People who charge the ref are nuts.

People who twiddle thumbs on the sidelines are nuts.

People who save the next breath forever are nuts.

People who push air out like the next Big Bang are nuts.

 Everyone is nuts.



The Roof

A fight is for the roof

And I see the lady shall win it

The work of cloven hoof

Is simply how to spin it


A fight is on the roof

And I hear the startled cries

One man remains aloof

So off the edge he flies


A fight is near the roof

And it is due to summer rain

Call it a meteorological goof

But the bailing must remain


A fight has left the roof

And has bolted for the stairs

Blows against some truth

Will settle cheap affairs


A fight against the roof

And the way it protects the few

So go call me uncouth

And I'll tear it down with you



It Was a Wasted Day

It was a wasted day

But those fall through the cracks sometimes

With broken clocks and off key chimes


It was a wasted day

Ready at first light to crash and burn

Pocketing medals we could never earn


It was a wasted day

Promises made against our will

Settling down with the bitterest pill


It was a wasted day

The wind ignored our faded flags

Our suitor came in last year's rags


It was a wasted day

The stores reflected but just stayed locked

Roads showing support by going blocked


It was a wasted day

Guns didn’t shoot and bombs wouldn’t blast

Revenge was on hold but that wouldn’t last


Rusty Mirrors

Rusty mirrors

That yellow brown age in the corners

I've been handing out opinions up and down them


Fruitful gazes

Along the still dour spruce cut fences

Where the boundaries are aligned with time before space


Blank refusals

Without so much as a springboard reason

Throwing us high in the air and off the bloodhound trail


Soaked dreams

Bathing with these possibility bubbles

And they pop just as we prepare our down-payments


Polite Decisions

Mounted upon a forgotten basement wall

Left as a time capsule no one breathing would recognize


Familiar sunlight

Rolling its eye at our trivialities

Confident there are better reflections than a rusty mirror



Again In the Oceans

Again in the oceans

And still behind the scenes

Up to your second necks

And sewing up the seams


Again in the oceans

And hoarding down below

The ships are running aground

And the dirt is made of snow


Again in the oceans

And the house is finally sold

The signs hit the sandy beach

And sink beneath the folds


Again in the oceans

And it's all left turns from here

Running around a broken loop

And stuck in an inverse gear


Again in the oceans

Feeling a prickly coldness within

You might think you're drowning

But float around for a second opinion



Happier trucks on the fashion runways


Happier trucks on the fashion runways

Around the world that looks better with glasses

Asleep clutching the hot warm wheel of progress

Decisions made in grey morning reflections


A series of planes in beautiful delays

Vision gets blurred after another drink with the masses

A tea near the accident helps the memories digest

Possibilities run screaming in a thousand directions


Inside the car nodding yeses and okays

A needle in the eye at the end of the classes

Getting out of the ditch when it's time to invest

Before a bet is made on the reverse elections


Escaping on foot is just endless relays

Get lost in the horizon as only one vision passes

The first bit of trouble is when the cowards digress

Then give the truth some added protections


Do not deny me for I am the distance

Refuse my gifts and you will fall inside me

Not out of personal malice but of fate's insistence

I've no mouth to have a say in the matter


Beyond the art that builds resistance

Crossing fields of hard concrete and grass

A word and image blesses persistence

And the world still can't decide at our feet


Trying to get by on rumpled shirts and squashed bugs

Lending a hand until you're chained at the wrist

The answers from colonels in the form of love letters

Is the latest way to get to the gist


He's been half as clever for twice as long

And in lovers' eyes this has now gotten old

Remember that hearts wait for no one

When it's time to return to the fold









Wise men do not require masters, and fools do not deserve them