Death by Drowning

My brothers Hedeyat and Poe would know this vast
void within my soul manic depressive that I am
I ride the highs and lows like a roller coaster
life is a constant state of bobbing up and
down in the sea trying not to drown
dead children strewn across
the beach paying the price
for our stupidity, their
little souls fly
towards
the
light
at the
other end
of the tunnel
we can’t see without
an altered state so far
and few between what
Dark Age are we living in
we are all condemned men
condemned to ignorance and
profitting from other people’s sins
how quietly the ice retreated leaving
flattened fields strewn with stones from
other places without names and all alone as
once again Antigone admonishes the general
that “you are mistaking a grave yard for peace”
“Per chance to dream,” aye Willy? “There’s the rub…”

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Sins

is there a forest big enough to hide our sins
an ocean deep enough to drown our fears
I want to toss out all the sand bags so
that this balloon can rise into
the clouds where all things
look the same although
their shapes are
always
shifting
perhaps
I could be
the waves
which crash
upon your shore
and you the sand
so we could rub away
all sharp edges of beach
glass to turn them into smooth
Roman tears like the one once I
found walking along a gravel path
in old Rome, I passed the hippodrome
where chariots once raced and thought
I heard cheering of a crowd upon the distant
wind, there is an eagle high up in an ice blue sky
I know he reads my thoughts as I try to have none
like Zen friends I have known beneath the dome of eternity
in total silences rises the golden moon just as it has done for
every night since it was born, she’s run away from the court and
her hand maidens left to cry and beg forgiveness when sun god
comes looking in the dawn for his daughter; once more I hide within
trees in the woods of my youth with a sense of urgency I never had before

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Goddess of Women

although I have loved many women in my life
Don Juan I am not because he loved them not
I didn’t realize at the time that I was
loving the same personna in them all,
the same entity all along hiding in
their bodies, the goddess of
women who lives inside
each one…if I were
an ancient Greek
Hera would be
her name
how she
has eluded
me for decades
shape shifting more
than her husband Zeus
I made love to her despite
how she appeared, she is every
mother, every daughter, every aunt
every sister, every lover, she is there
and I can only love her and own her not
or like a cat overwhelmed by too much affection
she will scratch and bolt longing to be free and if
I struggle to hold onto her she will slip away like sand
from my fingers and be gone looking for another body
to possess, so I must content myself with the few glimpses
I have had of Hera at her best before she turned me into stone
like the Medusa or a stag like Actaeon by Artemis or into a pig by
Circe who knew men’s true nature the best for she is never content
to leave men as they are and in this perpetual trial I’m on I rest my case

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The King Must Die…

no matter how good a friend, a brother he has been to me
it is wrong to be ruled by a king, no more room have we
at the inn for kings anymore and he must abdicate
and abscond and not plunder the public treasury
on the way to exile in Spain like all the rest
or he will be murdered by an angry
proletariat whom he cheated
out of their lives in the
name of God like all
the other Caesero
Papists, he will
have his head
cut off like
old king
Louis
or
be
shot
against
a wall like
cousin Nicky
let them eat bread
said Marie Antoinette
before a 40 year reign of
terror while the nobility without
port folio day dreamed about old
times in their Belle Époque, but we
say Sic Semper Tyrannis, the king must
die, Et Tu Brute asked Julius incredulous
after all he had done for Rome, well life goes
on and soon Ozimantius is forgotten by the youth

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Good Night

Like a hawk I’m hanging in the wind watching
the waves come in, the uncharacteristic
silence of this place tells me the
magic will begin as soon as
I am between sleep and
awake in that state I
long to be in and all
the hills and
dales
we passed
during the day
I will visit in the night
when all spirits take flight
and I can sing basso profondo
with all my might and no one will hear
me in these barren mountains where mankind
does not go and wander off for fear of getting lost

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Lord Govan

A boon I’d ask of Sir Galahad or Gawain in a pinch
am I the Green Knight of yore that poets know
to rhyme, I could not like mother’s other
children be for that was not my
destiny if indeed they’re such
a thing, my cat beneath my
feet quite unconcerned
sheds hair and merrily
plays with string
forever more
in small
doses
only
can
it take
affection
do not tarry
long with her
unless you want
a bite or a scratch
in return for your attention
tonight a wizard comes to relieve
us of all doubts about the magic of
this place that we have earned in the
dragons heart so let the games begin again
and you will live to tell the tale another day if the
oracle was right when you came round begging at my
door in the middle of the night and I was fool enough to
let you in and wipe out all memory of your sins once more

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Bored

Before time began, I ran down to the ocean
and jumped in never to return again
to the place where I was born
the radioactive fall out came
down in the rain Hiroshima
mon amour, the cat
rubs and rubs
against my
shoes
to mark
them as hers
god only knows
what she wants them
for, it is not for me to say
nothing makes any sense
any more and I’m just along
for the ride, only the animals
seem sure of what they’re doing
so from them I should learn, the hawk
up in the sky circles round looking for mice
and manages just fine without ever asking why
make me the falling rain in my next life so I can slake
the thirst of the dry earth and make things grow in spring
and I promise I will never ask you for anything again my lord
nor from any of your kin nor jinn that rule the forbidden desert sands

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Passage to India

I found some ancient rupees in my jodpurs that Kipling never knew
if being blue like Krishna is what it takes to attract the Gopi
milk maid girls then I want to be blue too, I never wanted
groupies as a rule I always found one hard enough to
handle but perhaps they find their courage and basic
lust collectively in numbers chasing me through the
primevil forest trees in quest of carnal
knowledge amidst the borage
like pappa bear and his bowl
o’porrage and Dog Patch
on Sadie Hawkins Day
mixing my metaphores
like drinks to serve up
at the alter
of absurditee
I’m in a playful
mood just now so
come what may I’m
ready for you baby on
the road to Mandalay where
flying fishes play or so they say
oh mimsy were the borogroves and
pillow talk ruled the day if there is to be
a coronation in this Amazon nation why not today?

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Blue Hawai

Once I caught a naughty whale by the tail
and she took me for a ride around the
ocean but then she got the notion
to dive to the bottom leaving
me afloat in the middle
of the doldrums
hoping for a
passing
ship
and
one
of its
sailors
to lend a
helping hand
I floated about
for an eternity boiled
by the sun by day and
sung to by the moon at night
unless of course the clouds covered
her up when finally along came Honu
who gave me a ride to the other side of Oahu
where Pele shook me up like in the Elvis song
we danced the hula until the dawn she clad only
in a thong but then Mauna Loa did erupt and as usual
I could not finish what I started so here I sit pining for her
all along impervious to the endless train of wahini’s passing by and
somewhere on the breeze I here Queen Lili’uokalani singing Aloha Oe
from her prison in her palace if I were only man enough to liberate her now
I am no good without the ocean and the rocking of the waves along the shore

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Divas and Lesser Gods

some lesser gods wear their immortality upon their sleeves
just to impress us mere mortals here below and blow
by blow they regale us through the media with
everything we never wanted to know
about them from heart break
to ridiculous names for
their children and
their pets, I’d
rather
scoop
up all the
bourgeoisie
in nets and send
them off to sea in a
ship of fools never to return
and leave this mother earth for
all the animals to inherit while she
licks the wounds that we have left her
and in a silence greater than before the
dawn of man and womankind eternity sits
and ponders where to throw its cherry pits
if we could only shut up long enough to hear
what He has to say and I for one will sit upon
the bottom of the ocean looking out at the wall
of blue water where life was born and long to return
to the waves to recieve Aphrodite in my arms from her
scallop shell and if she were to bed me for one hour I’d
never complain again or so I tell myself but I am but an
elf running around the toad stools waiting for the rain to fall
while the busy ants go about their work always prepared for worse
poets like me and the grass hopper are here to entertain while we still can

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