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Editing - rough draft

Paul's Big Secret

We could never understand the secret.
Lasagna my Ma made only Sundays.
All friends would visit and that was OK,
What there was about it only Ma knew.

Like Paul’s dark peach cobbler back when we roomed.
Springfield State College had all you could eat.
Cafeteria was state of the art
Back in the early 1970s.

A Phys Ed was no big deal in a class
But to be on a team took much talent.
Football, wrestling all cause for laundry,
Laundry stinking with dry body fluids.


When the higher still resurrect
Continuously playing with their masquerades
The evil they should speak against
Has always become a duty
The officials shamelessly use a jargon
And their voodoo means help them to build an empire
Deeply, no one is his Excellency
They do not have dignity and integrity
Who will question those mortal lords?
When they have their godfathers who always defend them
They lavish their strength setting up a panel in the Kangaroo court.


Home to umpteen secrets
witnessed over time
lets them all ease out
on soft cottony clouds

a cushion to cease the storms
raging of losing a war
through darkest of those hours
till the ammo runs out

on the cover are gentle strokes
of sunshine and rain
with rainbow that too is lurking
behind cumulus clouds

like a bedfellow patiently waits
to comfort a loyal mate
to listen to the untold stories
only the two can share

Ode to the Guard

I am a cloud of probabilities,

the infinite number of versions of self.

There are moments of presence

when I know all of them collapse in one.

It could be pleasant but most of the time

precisely knowing who I am hurts.

I send the thought to the back of my mind

and continue my blissful absent-minded

gliding over the hills of time.



When squares disappear
and edges burr,
when a root of the round

When anathematic steel
succumbs to rust

Then, horsepower will
revert to horse and –
the kingfisher
will truly be king.

And the trees will thrum
and grasses dance
in the old bluebell wood,
the oak
the ash
the elm
everything will be
as it should --
with the green man-
at the helm.

Radio Man

Back in the Summer of eighty five thank God I was still alive
music was filling the streets as I chilled by the strip
here's the trip many girls were dressed with flames both were not ashamed
the innocence of the day as I raged in a cage
there was folks with love swinging on its sod
there he stood the radio man with stereo in his hand
would rap to his music calling it sonic fusion cause he knew what he was doing
Break dance pants and folks playing hacky sack gave me a heart attack

The Long Gift of Time

There are those days
That feel like getting stuck
Behind a double wide trailer

Like getting caught
In a swirling eddy
In the river of life

Like being put on hold
That damn elevator music
And the message repeating

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience,
We’ll be with you
As quickly as we can”

"Please stay on the line"

As quickly as you can
Feels slower
Than petrification

But those days become

Banners across the back
Of our lives


I travel back in time once more
by way of aroused memory
using that fantastical door
to revisit the childhood me.

To young woods on my uncle's farm
beside two track road which ran a ridge
on a bright fall day middling warm
barely in view of an old bridge.

There reclined an old sawdust pile
and a huge rusty old saw blade;
no house for nearly half a mile
a hundred yards to closest glade.

Of Love

LOVE IS the essence of all existence
central to all humanity

I exhort you all
read some of love
romantic poems
smilingly see

how love flows like a river
from one to another
like it does to the sea

but mistake it not for sex
did you not love your mother
sister daughter aunt and cousin
if not
then you must learn
first, the spelling of love

meaning will come thereafter

/\/\/\/\/\ [Unpoetic]

My thoughts don't walk straight line
they thrive on electrolytes
to purge the calm
transporting me into
asymmetrical zigzags

I prefer an elixir
to be bitter sweet
than bland


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