budd

blackbeard the pirate and sinbad the sailor went to sea with joe the jailor who looked upon the waves of blue and said o fellows this won't do some form of order we must tailor the waves stretch out in all directions no blocks, no cells, no numbered sections how can you bring me to this place can you not see in my poor face the terror of infinite disconnection sinbad was silent, blackbeard beguiled the ship ran on a thousand miles the waves grew furious, then meek they saw an albatross - in its beak was the treasure of a thousand isles they cried out as the great bird neared but wept when it then disappeared and then above the surging flood they saw the face of billy budd who dropped on them a single tear

hesitation

thanks to nooshin azadi, for the idea for this poem

i dreamed in another life i was a monkey sitting on the shore of a desert island trying to catch a fish and behind me in the jungle a terrible beast roared i was all these things i was the monkey that sat and the fish that swam and the beast that roared and i was a grain of sand on the beach and a wave in the ocean and a beam from the sun i was all these things and more because life is a dream yes, life is a dream i know this and yet i hesitate to jump off tall buildings walk in the traffic or sleep in the river

different

different people lead different lives some are con men, some work nine to five some are on welfare, some are movie stars some spend their lives in libraries, others in sports bars some people love the whole human race and greet the world with a smiling face others take exception to their personal circumstances and think they don’t get fair chances some are born with silver spoons in their mouths, but still sing sad tunes some are happy just to exist some disappear, and are never missed some people just can’t get along everything they do is wrong others always provoke a smile and have no bad info in their files some folks have to rise and shine and rush to get to work on time others can lie around all day whether the skies are blue or gray more and more folks “work at home” and spend their lives on the phone or sit all day in front of a screen what does it all mean? yes, my friend, the world is changing unseen forces are rearranging the human race into one big blob the new age is on the job when the aliens arrive hardly a soul will be alive who will remember the old days when different people went different ways

who is

who is he who never speaks but only laughs? who wants everything you have but settles for half? who will let you go along day by day? but when the time is right for him will make you pay? around every corner behind every door at every bus stop walking on every shore his collar over his face his hat over his eyes he will find you when he wants you but will make it a surprise listen, o wayfarer for this is the strangest part he wants to be your friend and write his name in your heart

tigers

the sky is as blue as tigers. the clouds are as white as polar bears. after a while, the sky turns gray, as gray as an elephant. later it will turn dark blue. it will not turn black - very rarely does it actually turn black. a street light will come on beneath your window. if you wait long enough, someone will walk down the street. if you wait even longer, someone will stop under the street light. and they will look up at your window and you will see their face. that is, you could, if the window was not so high. the window is as high as the sky. there is a sliver of moon in the sky. but it is hidden behind the clouds. the clouds in the dark blue night. you listen, but you hear nothing. not even a lonesome whistle. or the sound of tires in the rain. because it is not raining. it has not rained for a long time.

in the wind

american dog waiting on windy corner where is my old friend? american bum standing in coffee shop door i need a new friend no more sable coats or nights at the opera for you or for me right and proper, sir perfect room temperature the way you like it a good martini like a good faithful puppy should not disappoint but my dear fellow you expect me to believe you have no old friends when i was your age i had conquered the old world and threatened the new but now all is lost in the american night on the gray sidewalk in the rain, the rain outside on the gray sidewalk where are my old friends?

weary

as i walked through the wind and rain beneath the elevated train i heard the buildings laugh and the trashcans snicker of mercy's light i saw not a flicker the wind was playing a sad sad song but the rain just wouldn't go along it tried to pick up a happy beat as it squished into my weary feet violin music far away further and further away i'd like to sit down on the sidewalk and just listen to them play as i soon as i sit on the cold concrete to rest my weary brain and feet my dreams rise up like dragons and memories circle my wagons

sad

life is sad people are bad time rolls on like a ball on a lawn billboard smiles walk for miles sky turns gray birds fly away night is falling emptiness calling drops of rain feel no pain life is sad people are bad bus blows past shotgun blast whirling sky who was i? end of the line pal of mine

a walk in the rain

i decided to do something different and went for a walk in the rain and looked for signs in puddles the mystery of life to explain i met a cat with a serious face and a dog that was wagging its tail they passed me by with a look in their eye that said wisdom was not for sale i passed a bag lady drinking a fanta with the daily news spread on her head a taxi splashed me with muddy water i wished i was home in bed i entered a store of convenience a lottery ticket to buy the drawing was not until tuesday i returned to the street with a sigh i saw a man in a doorway and thought i knew his name but i passed him by without asking he might know my secret shame i wish it would rain forever and nothing ever get dry i would meet myself at the river and look myself in the eye

i already saw this movie more than once

i have walked this way before likewise, seen that moonlit shore this deserted garden looks familiar and oh those distant hills, yeah it’s a dirty shame but it all looks the same every night i return to this street but never learn who is looking down on me from that bridge above the sea from that ship in the night as it floats away from sight and the light that briefly shines through the lonesome pines as the car runs out of gas yes, this way we all must pass and the house on the hill i should get there, but never will i walk and walk and walk there are no numbers on the clock