The mind is numb and the throat is sore from a slog of singing and roaring in speech.
With the onslaught of people and rooms smelling of feackle or asparagus scented pee.
Alone on the bed half glad half dead from the energy given to all.
With Vampires and fascist whip their tongue on you lashes
not letting you speak your mind as clear as you wish
You meander through thought and trail to talk the drivel of all this great nation
Now the muscles are sore and weary and the bed is so inviting
But the worn out knees and pinching back give little respite in the lying
Eyelids flop and waver, dreams flash and go
as your heat melts the matteress and irons the sheets below.
Wake before it's too early and call me in the morn
for tomorrow we head south once more to follow the rivers run
and up and down this highway of life we peddle out bikes and wares
Singing of life gone before us and wondering if somebody cares
Mise le meas Sept 9th at 1am reaching deep for inspiration as I lie in my La Quinta bed in Little Rock, AR, worn out from 900 miles in the last few day with two big spins to come before I get home to my own bed which I grave as overdue comfort. Must come back and revisit the stanzas here.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
First day out with the Red Bag
My feet burn from all the walking in the waking hours,
as a fan blows it's soothing vornado in my ear
I lie back on a pull out bed from what seemed a harmless couch
in a New York flat on the Sunnyside of the Queens borough
In the early part of July
Tomorrow hold the keys to yesterday
and both are tormenting me in stereo
as my back is starting up again
with all the pulling and dragging
of a jet setting red bag
and two grey Samson like companions.
What seems to be the delight in laptopping
so late in the evening stretch
That keeps me from getting that beauty sleep
which is what for my muscles ache?
To see that life ain't so bad?
To keep up with what the Jones are at
On facebooks twittering stream of consciousness?
Tomorrow will tell all about today adventures
and reap the stories of the day before
as an new audience of ear lay before me
and the act begins once more!
Mise le Meas
12.18am July 6th 2011 in Flat 2F on 49th St. in Sunnyside with a nice breeze coming from the Vornado fan Donie, the man of the house, set up for me. The bed is grand and I won't be long falling of only to put away the laptop that keeps me up into the night that was already too long!
The red bag is the new case for my drum which is looking to be a big feature in the future and the great story of it's capture will last a far while as everyone needs to hear it, in small groups of course. The two grey companions are the Samsonite bags full of my stuff which were heavy enough dragging on de wheels but hard going when it came to the stairs. The rhyming ing here is awful, but I may come back and redo. rhyming
as a fan blows it's soothing vornado in my ear
I lie back on a pull out bed from what seemed a harmless couch
in a New York flat on the Sunnyside of the Queens borough
In the early part of July
Tomorrow hold the keys to yesterday
and both are tormenting me in stereo
as my back is starting up again
with all the pulling and dragging
of a jet setting red bag
and two grey Samson like companions.
What seems to be the delight in laptopping
so late in the evening stretch
That keeps me from getting that beauty sleep
which is what for my muscles ache?
To see that life ain't so bad?
To keep up with what the Jones are at
On facebooks twittering stream of consciousness?
Tomorrow will tell all about today adventures
and reap the stories of the day before
as an new audience of ear lay before me
and the act begins once more!
Mise le Meas
12.18am July 6th 2011 in Flat 2F on 49th St. in Sunnyside with a nice breeze coming from the Vornado fan Donie, the man of the house, set up for me. The bed is grand and I won't be long falling of only to put away the laptop that keeps me up into the night that was already too long!
The red bag is the new case for my drum which is looking to be a big feature in the future and the great story of it's capture will last a far while as everyone needs to hear it, in small groups of course. The two grey companions are the Samsonite bags full of my stuff which were heavy enough dragging on de wheels but hard going when it came to the stairs. The rhyming ing here is awful, but I may come back and redo. rhyming
Friday, June 17, 2011
Can't seem to...
What stays my hand that I can not let my mind recall the thoughts so deep inside?
What holds my tongue as I try to write them clearly down in black and wide?
Who knows what way the truth should flow from me into your own eyes?
Who says it will turn out as wretched as the view so dark within me lies?
But yet here I am in stagnant state and rigamortis grows ov'r my fingers
No grieving squirm can move me from such apathy and so neglect lingers
And dries the ink before it sets itself upon the page so crisp and willing
Another day goes by and no explanation of the long awaited spilling.
If I had but a chance I would speak of the Common Yellowthroat outside my door,
Constantly watching while picking at the feeder and leaving a mess upon the floor.
And tell of the geese flying overhead as they honk directions from Billy to Pat.
And loud annoying dogs who whimper and the smell from a long dead decaying rat.
If I had a piano over my bed I could save the poor boy from such monstrosity.
So give me strength to scribble the vague shadows of my dreams with curiosity
Then I will show you what has been held at the damn of my mind
To give sound to the deaf and sight to the blind.
Mise le Meas, June 17th very late at night sitting at home after a massive absence from showing any effort to write poetry. This morning at home in my insomnia a Common Yellowthroat I spotted at the new bird feeder which gave fierce light to my heart. This week news told of Freddy Mercury having a piano over his bed and so he wrote Bohemian Rhapsody after a insightful dream...
What holds my tongue as I try to write them clearly down in black and wide?
Who knows what way the truth should flow from me into your own eyes?
Who says it will turn out as wretched as the view so dark within me lies?
But yet here I am in stagnant state and rigamortis grows ov'r my fingers
No grieving squirm can move me from such apathy and so neglect lingers
And dries the ink before it sets itself upon the page so crisp and willing
Another day goes by and no explanation of the long awaited spilling.
If I had but a chance I would speak of the Common Yellowthroat outside my door,
Constantly watching while picking at the feeder and leaving a mess upon the floor.
And tell of the geese flying overhead as they honk directions from Billy to Pat.
And loud annoying dogs who whimper and the smell from a long dead decaying rat.
If I had a piano over my bed I could save the poor boy from such monstrosity.
So give me strength to scribble the vague shadows of my dreams with curiosity
Then I will show you what has been held at the damn of my mind
To give sound to the deaf and sight to the blind.
Mise le Meas, June 17th very late at night sitting at home after a massive absence from showing any effort to write poetry. This morning at home in my insomnia a Common Yellowthroat I spotted at the new bird feeder which gave fierce light to my heart. This week news told of Freddy Mercury having a piano over his bed and so he wrote Bohemian Rhapsody after a insightful dream...
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Flyin' it!
My eyes have grown too tired to read anymore my book which is quickly growing less engaging.
As the babies continue to scream and roar from fear and ear effected by the altitudes a varying.
The massive lump of a man 'longside me reeks of a day and half's travel by camel all the way from Jordan.
And my phone now, the only relief left to me, is fading faster than myself for it's charger ne'er got in.
If I only had my chewing gum left in my laden bag lofted thick and high in the turmoil of being Paddy Last.
I'd wind the wind out of my popping ears and sooth the pressure of dissent in the compact cabin dropping fast.
Nurse Ratched is on the ward and would love to throw off the children and their mammies too.
Her cold gray eyes that hear the pain of youth and soaks in the high pitch as if it was mountain dew.
Is this the feeling the cattle have as they travel o'er the road to the Bandon Mart shoved tightly in a trailer cold.
With the urge of release while propped next to a brother and taste the odors of the others and fart and burp so bold.
Ah, but to be a bullock now with none of the reasons to wait till your journey be at end.
I'd let go the pain and flush out the strain as free and feckless as a bird before the wind.
Mise le Meas, March 7th 2011 on a smelly, noisy, packed AA flight from O'Hare to Fort Worth.
As the babies continue to scream and roar from fear and ear effected by the altitudes a varying.
The massive lump of a man 'longside me reeks of a day and half's travel by camel all the way from Jordan.
And my phone now, the only relief left to me, is fading faster than myself for it's charger ne'er got in.
If I only had my chewing gum left in my laden bag lofted thick and high in the turmoil of being Paddy Last.
I'd wind the wind out of my popping ears and sooth the pressure of dissent in the compact cabin dropping fast.
Nurse Ratched is on the ward and would love to throw off the children and their mammies too.
Her cold gray eyes that hear the pain of youth and soaks in the high pitch as if it was mountain dew.
Is this the feeling the cattle have as they travel o'er the road to the Bandon Mart shoved tightly in a trailer cold.
With the urge of release while propped next to a brother and taste the odors of the others and fart and burp so bold.
Ah, but to be a bullock now with none of the reasons to wait till your journey be at end.
I'd let go the pain and flush out the strain as free and feckless as a bird before the wind.
Mise le Meas, March 7th 2011 on a smelly, noisy, packed AA flight from O'Hare to Fort Worth.
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Larval Rising
Majestic was the view that once glazed my eyes and set my mind a thinking
How sweet was the hue of the morning sun laying over the land as the warm rays I a drinking
Glissening was the snow cool upon the ground with thoughts of melting away
As I aproached the centre of the sky on my long journey today.
When I return with bags of plenty and wieryness upon my back,
Will the white still rule the terriory as gentry keep the plough rains slack?
I pray for rain and soft winds and long for the migrant goose calling
And dream of warm breezes with thunder bolts and ivy leaves crawling.
Mise le Meas, Feb 18th on a 6.58am delayed flight to Chicago
How sweet was the hue of the morning sun laying over the land as the warm rays I a drinking
Glissening was the snow cool upon the ground with thoughts of melting away
As I aproached the centre of the sky on my long journey today.
When I return with bags of plenty and wieryness upon my back,
Will the white still rule the terriory as gentry keep the plough rains slack?
I pray for rain and soft winds and long for the migrant goose calling
And dream of warm breezes with thunder bolts and ivy leaves crawling.
Mise le Meas, Feb 18th on a 6.58am delayed flight to Chicago
Monday, February 14, 2011
Let me do
I want to dance like the crabs on Christmas Island
And swim like the fish in the Fjords of Finland.
oh, bring me to that place of wonder and delight
with the freedom of jumping wild at night.
I want to fly like the Geese going south
Knowing what winter is all about
And sing like the swallows in Autumn
as migration swings like a pendulum.
Bring me back to the days of childhood,
to nights alone where I once stood,
on the imagination of Independence
in a world without the sad pretense.
Let me be as free as the red Crabs at years end
Leaping and letting loose the notion that life can lend
A helping hand to others even as you pass
And sit and watch sand within the glass.
Then I will rest and know what I have said
Was not but noise from inside my head,
But my yes meant yes and my no meant no
As true and as white as the falling snow.
Feb 14th after seeing it last night as I fell asleep.
And swim like the fish in the Fjords of Finland.
oh, bring me to that place of wonder and delight
with the freedom of jumping wild at night.
I want to fly like the Geese going south
Knowing what winter is all about
And sing like the swallows in Autumn
as migration swings like a pendulum.
Bring me back to the days of childhood,
to nights alone where I once stood,
on the imagination of Independence
in a world without the sad pretense.
Let me be as free as the red Crabs at years end
Leaping and letting loose the notion that life can lend
A helping hand to others even as you pass
And sit and watch sand within the glass.
Then I will rest and know what I have said
Was not but noise from inside my head,
But my yes meant yes and my no meant no
As true and as white as the falling snow.
Feb 14th after seeing it last night as I fell asleep.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Come on will'a?
Pressure is on you have to get it done,
No one else can do it, you are the only one.
Make yourself go, push yourself further,
Look down deep and think of sunny weather.
No time left to just sit and dilly dally,
Sand are dropping and they are waiting in the ally.
Were am I going what do I need?
If I push any harder my eyes will start to bleed.
The continuous noise is through in my ears.
Has my heart beat to another drum these last few years!
Why, where, when has the time of pleasure gone?
Bring on the sunshine and wisdom of a new dawn.
Mise le Meas Jan 28th 2011 under pressure.
No one else can do it, you are the only one.
Make yourself go, push yourself further,
Look down deep and think of sunny weather.
No time left to just sit and dilly dally,
Sand are dropping and they are waiting in the ally.
Were am I going what do I need?
If I push any harder my eyes will start to bleed.
The continuous noise is through in my ears.
Has my heart beat to another drum these last few years!
Why, where, when has the time of pleasure gone?
Bring on the sunshine and wisdom of a new dawn.
Mise le Meas Jan 28th 2011 under pressure.
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