City and Soul

City and soul screaming out of a black man’s horn.
Tearing down the avenue with unmatched care and pace.
Marching with the procession, to the distinct rhythm of Summertime.

Performing on a stoop, he keeps his seat with trumpeting pride.
Turning in the air hitting ears 'round the brick-laden boulevards.
No surprise, the stomping feet pass by in cadence with his melodious despair.

His piercing voice rejects love long lost, like a guitar without frets;
The town’s pounding heartbeat arranges behind each crashing song like a cymbal keeping time.
Tapping feet results to dancing in the saintly streets as the lonesome man cries.

The misery strikes a chord within stumbling tourist's trails.
Smooth as sorrow, the gliding tone of the tempered tunes tremble in the twirling alley lights.
Each French Quarter-note adds to the blue atmosphere sighs; blasting bass overtakes market square.

Thumping hopeless pitch shapes the community-laced sidewalks before waltzing boots.
A cheerless speedy laze spills from each timbre of the night.
His drumming sadness strikes the steps he graces with harmonious sounds
of his heartbreaking in disaster for public amusement like a clown.

Sitting Like Fruit

Sitting like fruit, the snowflake decays.
Waiting to melt away, in the dimming afternoon,
laying on the injured window frame.

Within the silent residence,
a piano slowly comes to life,
drowning out the blizzard’s shriek
resuming where it left off one night.

Brittle skeletal hands
press musical breath into the room.
The ivory fingers haunt the ying-yanged keys,
rattling those notes awake.

The remembered limbs work the tones,
bellowing the closed doors with a whistled breeze.
Fighting the freeze that spills from outside,
the aching sounds warm the house with melody.

Then, with a quick click,
unlocking the red front door,
the music went dead,
as I walked into the comatose home
frozen to the bone and alone.

Chicken Earl

I’m gonna get me a chicken
and name him Earl.
He’s gonna be my very best friend
until he is no more.
We’ll play and he’ll cluck and I’ll laugh and he’ll eat;
all the seed I feed him.
Then, nature willing,
he’ll grow nice and fat for winter.
He’ll peck and crow,
I'll smile and high-step around the yard with him.
I’ll even let him find a mate; and encourage it,
but he’ll never officially procreate.
nor will his widowed wife be a mother,
but all the same, fun will be his gain.
It’s the least I can do to be fed a happy meal.

Remember When We Were in Love?

Remember when we were in love?
When our two hearts fell into one.
Lying silently together in bed, with nothing said,
Only our eyes, gazing longingly into each others,
whispered all that needed to be expressed.

Can I Distance Myself From My Friends?

Can I distance myself from my friends?

Can they let me leave?

When I’m sitting all alone,

on some western shore,

will they notice I’m not at home?

When in plain pleasures I snore,

locked in some forgotten motel room,

will they pretend I don’t breath?

If I sit,

on shoulders rolling flat tires,

with no spare hand to help heave.

I'll shout to them pleased, "I exist!"

When I crossed the Bible belt

I felt an absence of pride.

Will someone shake my hand to pen?

“Most of life is a lie!”

Dionysus’ Stiletto Heel

She moves down the blueprinted sidewalk;

tight fake animal print stalks her legs.

Overseen black tank-top covers above

like having blonde hair doesn’t matter who you clutch.

Unnatural step; dropping Dionysus’ stiletto heel…

deliberately embarrassing his spirit.

Jingle of clinking adornments,
Shaking sounds as she comes near.
A little snicker as we pass glances to each other…

Lovely lady loiters on anti-sober trips

with the moon hugging help

to streetlights that shine under-bright.

Her bubbled shouted voice,

shackles to the tufted path

as if neither of us gave a fuck.

And passing under spotlights
She extends her slender arm
and grabs a proper tug just to say hello.

I Stand on Skyscrapers at Midnight

I stand on skyscrapers at midnight

like curtains draping out the morning light

with the heated violent world below

each summer breeze magnifying surrounds me

An escape worth holding on for

Planting on a church tower at sunset

like sand holding a seat I won’t forget

with the cold preying world below

each tickle of snowflake chills me

Heavens soft touch I suppose

I sleep on a creaking tree limb at sunrise

like a man’s eyes sheltered after he cries

with the warm rustling world below

each spring fancy fling excites me

Pinching my attention awake

I lie on top of mountains at night

like a fib I’m scared to recite

with the bitter tumbling earth below

each shouting wind surprises me

Shaking my existence to the core

I jump on slanting rooftops at high noon

like a noose I’ve seen stretched for a silver spoon

with the falling playing world below

each slipping tile startles me

Sneaking shivers keep me froze

I reign on top of the world at dawn

like an all encompassing yawn

with the reluctant world accepting below

each crying sigh of shattered hopes depresses me

Drowning my dreams at shore

I sit at a small wooden desk at midday

like I’m wondering if this is all a charade

with the combusting world speeding outside

each clicking letter humbles me

Mashing my boredom to bits