The Adults are not in the room

The Adults are not in the room

Lest now it is our turn

Hurricane's gale turns All to jade

Impede our ears to learn.

Passions and faults storm citadels

Wild words must war absurd

And yet success in Circuit lies -

Wholly and well-preserved

inspired by Emily Dickinson

Strainer

1594 strainer in debrief 

Metallic basket, glinting shell bereft 

Slashed and in thirst of cure or relief. 

Its purpose clear, yet an email behest 

An MOC to strip you of your sieve. 

No aegis from ERG could keep Ops, 

Against all engineering combative, 

From doffing your screen, midst OEM squawks. 

Without a filter mesh, your barren cage 

Returned to the snaking metal domain 

Awaiting sludge to dance upon its stage 

A day before, a penny saved, no pain. 

Until startup, its purpose fully found 

To keep the cold box's flow pure and sound. 

Today is not Bad

The cloud passes before me
and i choke to take a breath
industrial grey
paints the sky away
but today is not bad

and those shining stars
once myriads and millions more
have faded now to select few
and dimer yet except for the one
but today is not bad

Today we fight and struggle
against ourselves and each other
and argue over the littlest things
all while church bells ring
but today is not bad

today the world speaks
and harbors the weak
and pushes to new frontiers
we are kind gentle unaustere
today is not bad

Liminal (This Doorway)

Across this doorway which I step
I leave the former me behind
The pain and wrong are gone away
As I step out of my bind

The floor is never smooth or soft
Upon on felt I stand
The hook and nail on the ground
Cut my feet and hands

The door of not heavy oak and iron
But of the lightest elm
To be opened at the slight touch
To access another realm

The way is dark, nor bright as day
But along the way I ponder
The records of people who
Stopped along this wander

Though this Doorway I shall cross
One hundred times a day
But always open is the door
And clear is the way

And in the end when time is near
To being completely gone
The amount of times the door was closed
Was always close to none

Anonymous

Scratch and scribble
Of the unsung hero
his words over his name
to gain credit and the fame

He strengthens the fallen
embraces the forgotten
Helps the lost remember
kindles tomorrow's embers

Without the fear from others
or taking words of another
choosing the right words
to free steel-caged birds

His face hidden behind the page
But his eyes glow of the rage
Never boasting but always seeing
Touching all without a being

The men walking down sidewalks
We are surrounded by oeuvre Bachs
An empty bar, the last to leave
Inside all of us, if you believe

Shadow of a Lesser Man

Upon the dim window I throw
The shadow of a lesser man
Than he who once fought for freedom
And saluted for the marching band

The spits of light across the sky
Brought forth dreams of past lives
A doctor, lawyer, or engineer
All were so close, now not near

I was told we were the greater
That we help those who are in danger
But after the last man fell before
Me lay the hollow goal

The dream of this country lad
was to travel and to protect
From the greatest danger to mankind
Men with the views of reject

Looking out looking glass wall
watching the world pass myself
all the whilst wandering inside
what was the great thing in hide

The shadow is darkened by the old
And face is set stone cold
But behind the curtain of shielded light
Lays a child of sorrow and fright

Good Enough

The greats don't come in second
The best don't finish last
The top isn't at the bottom
Or lost within the pack

They stand before it all
And be champion above
The seconds are forgotten
And with them their love

The good enough Has to be
In order for greatness to shine
strength in numbers Does not apply
When comparing human lives

While them below look up
And cheer for my own success
The ones above laugh and snicker
Without a thought to repress

If I were better I'd accept greatness
And worst accept my failures
But in the middle of the two halves
Is distance far for voyagers

To those one wish I were better
And those who see my greatness
Both pluck the fatal string
That strikes the note, good enough

The Path

For once in my life
I thought I knew
I thought the path
Was straight and true

But going down
The road looks bleak
With a surface worn
From a thousand feet

The weather forecast
Was daily sunshine
But by noon each day
Storm clouds aline

The rain is hard
Machine gun rattle
Which causes me to think
Or possibly prattle

Am I the one who
Deserves the road?
Or the one who paves it
And softens the load?

For the one after
Who needs to find
The end of the road
As the design

A worthless one
One of the rest
The ones who are never
Remembered or addresses

We straighten the path
Blanket the ground
Until tomorrow
When we aren't around

We or I are not here
For a grand purpose or plan
But only to be the mass which those
Who are chosen look grand

Are we, am I, one of the mass
Through which the special ones pass
Who can shine the bright gleam
If I am within the great mainstream

Thule

Thule is before me
Where the sky touches the sea
Beyond human comprehension
The edge of reality

I skirt the edge around
Staring at the expanse
My heart races as the thought
Of making the advance

A place never sung for
And a world never visited
Somewhere lost before
But discovered once again

I traveled for so long
Without knowledge before
But stumbled upon
The lost Atlantis shore

Thule was a fictional place
The land beyond the world
The grounds so real and sturdy
Maybe it's really not here
Maybe I'm not here too

Desire Paths

I must follow my desire path
All the way to its pot of gold
Through a forest or a river
Whether scared or bold

The wind may be at my back
Or have me shivering cold
Hoping that there is an end
I have nothing else to hold

What can I use its treasure for
A Mercedes or a yacht?
Or is there even a destination?
The path of no afterthoughts?

The Ship

The ship sails the crashing hills
Tumbles through fields of sea
I plot my path through the stars
And steer past previous debris

For ships past through here
Long ago, before my time
Their captains experienced of ocean
My knowledge is not maritime

I sail straight, without delay
For time is precious to me
The destination close at hand
Will give my name legacy

The bow hits the worn dock
Where men I admire stood
And now I take their place
On the wet resinous wood

Once moored to the landing
I dismount and take my stride
For the ground below is cloudy
But I'm firm with my pride

Legends surround, congratulate
Me on my speedy journey
As the lead me to the gate
I return my eyes to the sea

Did I ever see a mermaid?
Or sail to foreign Islands?
It didn't last forever, over so soon
should I have taken some diamonds?

Whata-Sonnet

Lorry of friends, sailing o'er the blacktop.
Paintbrushed red skies above, onset twilight.
Rolling castle house king and page and knight,
behind the round table, Sir Lancelot.

Tales told of quests, most true or from Aesop,
until the stomach growls its most polite,
a hearty meal before loss of daylight|
For squire's pay, a king's banquet; "Pit Stop!"

Orange A-Frame; raised high a double-u
Quenching even dragon craves for burger
With the additional large drink and fries,
The knights unite in feast, taste not eschew
When all in all it was but ten plus quarter.
The orange hue soaks Texas summer skies.

UnTitled

The whistle blows and I arise
To start the day before blue skies
The dark water sits cold from past
Morning but a mug it goes in at last

The walk amongst the velvet leaves
Paired with the smell of a ending breeze
Allows myself the stop and dream
To look to the hope of tomorrow

The steel and stone building arose
From beyond the horizon such an impose
As the ants flow into the mound
And grey smoke billows along the ground

The hustle and hassle of a hundred men
Passes below the eyes that tend
And through the gates of heaven I pass
Or what is my final mass

Card punched and beaten
I leave utterly defeated
To see the dark walls of my dwelling
The feeling so compelling

To break down and sob on my knees
All trying the find the proper key
For the doorway opened and into it I walked
The future of things never talked

Seaband Sonnet

Mermaids did not preside that sea.
Metallic seabirds and their screech
Tormented tourists on the beach
While rhymtic waves beat at the quay.

"Perfection, to rid malady.
Again, again!" does he beseech
Upon the mountain which he preach
Fall on the ears of Galilee.

Yet I would not trade it for all
The treasure in Poseidon's vault
Or puddles, lakes, rivers, and ponds;
The drops never really enthrall.
Noisy ocean spray of sweet salt
This sweaty Band of vagabonds

Sonnet #1

You leap into the corners of my mind

When I'm surrounded by milky moonlight.

The days, the grains, disappear from my sight

Falling, swept away by the autumn wind.

Sirens sing that saddest song which does bind

and the abyss of my warmth they plight.

So extremes bring relief ever so slight

And Passion whether wrong or right defined.

The Lighthouse sings and I step to its stride

stepping into the Forgotten ether

the embers still glowing falls down like snow.

One to ache, one to soar, or two have died,

Ground her, to someone who is beneath her.

Now, in the now, will meet the better beau.

America’s Tear

The Lion of America, while a forelimb of oranges seated anterior 

The Maine-d head; aft a member composed on beef and oil,

Runs chasing the ever-fleeing horizon, pursuing the promise of

New possibilities, carnal in desires, coupled with an adverse impulse.

The single tear cried by the august creature,

A single mourn for the loss of the beauty within, 

Of the wild; the last preservation of the purity inside.

Shed of Providence.

Dwarfed - though size misleading - and abandoned,

Never fails to rattle the soul within myself

Instead attracts my being stronger than any lodestone.

Years passed since my maiden voyage,

Never ceasing in plucking my heart strings.

The Island in R’ Island, one of the last great places.

A last-minute addition to my itinerary, an afterthought,

An excursion, to break the beating rhythm of life.

Disunited;

Yet isolation fails to detract from fascination,

For any vagabond recognizes time between localities

releases the thoughts beginning to throng one’s mind.

A crawling speed contrasting the metropolis crouching

in shades beyond view, awaiting pounce.

Contemplation resides in the moments between.

When espoused are mooring line and dock

Does my heart flutter with eagle wings

Soaring into the steely sky.

Brackish aroma fills my lungs, reassuring

My soul of tranquility. A light offshore

Wind is freed, misty with Atlantic

Ambition kisses my cheeks and urge

Further exploration. My cerebral appetite

Unhinged from corporeal gut, consumed

All before me. Every step, burden is shed

From my shoulders, the smell of sea and sand

Fill myself anew. Beginning my pilgrimage

Along the coast, each wave overlaps one another, 

sending the white bubbling crests descending, 

masking the sea glass shrewd shore 

with the transparent fading water. 

As tide retired, I began walking along

The aquatic frontier, feeling ensconced 

By hidden coves around every bend.

The sun’s lances pierced the powdered stone,

Warming the boulevard I walked along.

Anchored before the immense, boundless

Sea, these alluring forms reside

Within my spirit; long after my being departs.

Beyond shores, cups of nectar dot the countryside

Three great hundred and five dimpled,

New reflectance for each day of a year,

Rarely wounded and soon healed.

Bluffs rise above the shore.

Climbing, troughing one step at a time,

Following cairns place along the path.

Upon cresting the apex I was greeted

With the most pleasurable view yet.

Gazing down upon the quaint town

Which this endeavor began, retracing

The path travelled. Residing upon the horizon

Stood the prominent island; named

For its grandeur, housing the jaws

Of the restless Lion. A freshening gale

Could be felt, tickling my raw, exposed skin,

Not potent with brine, instead moderated

By the golden and green grasses. 

Whispers pass my ears, spilling

Secrets; persons past who stood

And stared and cherished like me. 

Swallow and sparrow songs heard

Over crashes of bubbling waves below.

The golden orange became punctured

By the metallic teeth to the west. 

Following my descent from the summit,

I gazed longingly back towards those ridges.

On the bluffs above me sat the pale moon;

the moon waxing brightly on the crisp August night.

The dancing wafer on ponds mimics that of a spirit,

Shimmering and wavering, never still, intriguing me. 

As I stepped upon the terminal craft,

Departing from the watery diamond

I felt a part of my soul bide on the shore.

Gazing behind, the Prometheus pillar gleams,

Chained to the shore, urging stately ships

To the mystic so close within reach. 

Disembodied from such beauty palpably,

Notwithstanding shall my mind be so moved,

Further it shall stand stalwart, forgetting

Neither the delightful quaint nor the lapping waves.

The lofty bluffs overlook Elysium manifested.

Scrollwork

arabesque words fall upon the page

as the wail from the blacken nib

and the blood water of an acid pen

Stains the surface and the mind alike

Through straight lines and curlicues

The message becomes conveyed

arabesque words fall

from the blackened nib

the acid that flows

stains surface and minds alike

Straight lines and curlicues

Interpreted by each

The author's views

Of the subject in speech