far-flung near

December 3, 2018

far-flung bits thereabouts

are gone as nowhere is

friends who’ve fled, I’ve cared about them

can surface, fish

bubbles, sun-lined,

but stream-lined washing by.

fled friends & lovers come by,

off the map,

if the hour is late enough

for the final nightcap

I guess there’s a blur there on

my best point-of-vistas

that insists

that remnants that wear on

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Imaginary Friends, My Readers listen up
December 7, 2018
Brand new website without all those effin adverts, commercial interruptions,
basically uninvited strangers. distracting us
But You…I re-invite you
So if you are subscribed.. subscribe again! there’s gotta be a subscribe button somewhere
namelessneedblog.com
(just drop the wordpress)
(I think there must be a mailbox there too I’m thinkin)
if you wanna paste me into favorites (where I was before, right?) I paste easy enough
let me spill my guts for you guys. like Tom Waits sings “Step Right Up!”

S W I N G S

July 11, 2018

“What you gain on the hobby horse,
You lose on the swings”
-Van Morrison, from “Thanks For The Information”
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Before me, befitting my day’s end
I can make sunrise’s spray  a sandstorm
I can take salsa splayed on something cheesy
I can carry time’s weight easy
And that’s a comfort

Before sleep, I’ve always shunned introspection
An unexamined life ain’t worth missing sleep
I can forget my regrets
I downplay the way-unsound passionate
That can sorta be a comfort

.When men & women must contend
That son of man will first extend
A hand to broken men
That’s some comfort
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In a faraway hometown here
With a faraway feel
This dream is a theatre feature
They some seem to run off track
Reel to reel
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I’m secure in
It’s recouring

That’s some comfort
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I’m finding  the fix is in

 

The re-regrets  &  vexed reveries

 

Prove more pronounced this evening and

 

Soft  beats  a  sleeplessness

 

That only a cozy unsolved misery

 

Can sidle up too

A W A Y

May 16, 2017

Sudek

photo credit: Josef Sudek (“the poet of Prague”)

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They some time may say/ Time  dwindles  away/

I  say   swindles.

 

-gray r. melvin (“the poet of vague”)

MY OWN PARADE

April 18, 2017

 

Walking, mostly neat in clockwork close meter,

Warmer ghosts  from my former  features;

All the roles, All the resume’,

Falling in line,  Just the crew to rescue me.

Faded as sad old soldiers, parted.

(Vain fantasies say  old glories stay guarded)

Again, always, They had  heaved it all in a heavy chest.

Again, always, they had heaved in their chest

Taking it to heart & head.

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I’ll call it for you  my own VFW

hall. I have my own tall tales to tell,

We’ll share lies, & libations.

I’ll wear my  mightier  pen.

I’ll share  sham wisdom  wide open.

But first, false memories in verse.

& what’s worst,  I’ll con, & confide  open.

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“I’m ready to go anywhere/ I’m ready for to fade/ Into my own parade”

—————-Dylan (the troubadour one), from “Mr. Tambourine Man”

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“Every hero  becomes a bore,  at last.”  -Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

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.                                                                                                                       (5 yrs back)

ARISING SOME RHYME

June 28, 2016

I’ve had a bad rhyme

A  sour note

I was not remotely awake

When I had the prime of my years.

The  ones  now  are  worn.

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I’ve made a dull matinee idol

A dreary ticket draw

I’ve been not nearly awake

I’d shied away my fears

The near ones now are warm

E A S T

December 16, 2015

Maybe there’d be no way/ I could pay the cost/

Of  her  loss.

Far from that regular regret/

I’d be sure to be insular

Damned with that debt

Of  her  loss.

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Waking away from that fast break, not

Scraping out that last brick (at last), not (at least)

Escaping, sky free,  to flee East.

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I bet I’d get her a pagoda.

 

porcelainPagodaBerthaLum36

 

(image: “Porcelain Pagoda”, Bertha Lum, 1936)

I guess I’ll go slow

To better spot

My  placid  place

Destiny’s  tiny  dot

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Must not allow the powers that better be  not

They’re  sure  to  supersede

at Their break-neck speed

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Some other man wants

Another  chance

I’ll take mine in

40  years

(in unmarked 10s & 20s)

SENTIMENTAL BREAKDOWNS

December 19, 2014

tumblr_mjddb5XC541s2xab7o1_500

Have been staving off

Seeing we’re sick of ourselves

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It’s been sentimental journeys  for me.

All these holidays  I regress, I see

Regrets, old loves I love.

Bets say  they won’t  see me.

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Have been staving off (often) (or else)

Seeing we’re sick of ourselves

CLIFF TERRACE

September 2, 2013

Should I get older

I recognize me,  more blind,

Crinking my neck back, there, as

I look up at the cliff terrace

And A windowed hideaway behind,

Not so unapproachably high,

Fixed over our Pacific, finally,

That we thought might couldn’t be.

Hard rain, hell, wept down a wet

that mixes well w/regret, on my shirt

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                                                  2

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One can look past all our four shoulders

From inside the glass wall

On to the backside of our Adirondacks

And maybe just make out

What we’re watching and talking about.

A man closely following his own footsteps

The long stretch of the shore,

But looked up at the both of us,

Hand in hand, and how then the heavens poured.