“THE TENEBROUS DEATHBED SCENE”, VERY LATE,

FROM FAR ABOVE THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR

 

 

 

near the end

Violaceous  clouds could stir to nearing.

My mise en scene set,  I’ll be blocking the shot,

Readying my stand-ins,

Cueing the soundtrack.

I’ll need special lenses to capture the light,

To be faithful to the script.

 

Our years had passed, right alongside our precious bonds of memory.

One  light came into here, far brighter than the full- moonlight did.,

Dead onto here

She had signed off   on a missive  to me

With

“Love, “

 

 

It might have been one long neon light

In the laundromat that set her off

When it flickered & popped

At us/ Everyone up late

Our eyes were hypnotized some

All bets were off

On what might happen

She was the first to go

To distract us from our books & hand-machines,

Pull us from our puzzles, also  our magazines

Her  saying all that nonsense  AA

Interrupted that late night scene

Her calling names out

All intense, her pleas   fowled by fire

We stared some  & stuck out someone’d stop her

Her call to fallen reveries

Her own  effin reveries

 

 

 

8

INSIDE BACK BOOK COVER

March 20, 2020

 

 

.

I can’t handle it, passing yr window with yr candle lit

I’ve turned away love when I’ve most yearned for it

I can’t face the other face of my malaise

And to what end/ all its pretense/ all it portrays

My straight ahead headshot locked in a frame

Up hiding in an inside back book cover

And inside that book (confides a wife, lets on a lover)

A furor of my own all interior dialogue,

A fever I must mist over my own mirror, fog.

 

 

 

 

A YOUNGER  AUTHOR UNKNOWN

MIRROR 6

F I X

November 18, 2019

finding re-regrets

and vexed reveries prove more

pronounced this evening

.

find the fix is in

sleeplessness is a cozy

unsolved misery

.

.

.

sleepless

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

.

.

.

.

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”
.
.
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
.
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
.
I’m secure in
It’s recouring

That’s some comfort
.

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”)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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.

.

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.

.

.

.

.

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

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

.

.

.

.

.

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

 

.

.

.                                                                                                                       (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.

.

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