Showing posts with label warrior poets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label warrior poets. Show all posts

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Warrior at the Bulk Discount Club


some solitude
amid the bustling shoppers,
rain-spattered, unshaven,
somehow proud
cart-pusher
cubicle sharecropper

weaving past
old and young,
dodging evidence
of decline
to get the provisioning
done

focused
like a beast of prey,
bringing the kill home
to start the day


Saturday, March 11, 2017

Rebellion of the Cluttered Mind Warp


submission grows slowly
without time to think
numbed with the circus
our gossip
and drink

rancid workthink
bleeds into leisure time
these precious hours
somehow no longer mine

and thus
the chase for daily bread
cascades the worry
in a dreamer’s head

but lo and behold
with such lust to lash out
and take hold of that lightening
to bring real life about


Saturday, December 10, 2016

Winter Night



the sweet bite
of a hard wind
alerts a certain kind
made strong
with a sharp
winter’s mind

pace the cold streets
unbending
feeding glorious
waking dreams
unending

let us be
unbound warriors
burning for the night
made immortal
with the star-glazed
machinery of might

Friday, November 4, 2016

At the Campbell Apartment



an old safe
in a faux fireplace
prays mutely
for greater purpose;
the guests
don’t think about
its great secrets
or former treasures
as they swirl their wine

chatter echoes on,
words falling
uncounted
on the dusky walls

minutia of business,
hollow words
stream endlessly,
keeping us from
going home
to real life
and our better selves


Friday, October 21, 2016

Happy Quotidian Murder Story



one small step
can snuff  a whole day
cast a dark pall
every which way
churn with nervous burn
while stomach butterflies
struggle to keep pace

whiff of death air
permeates everywhere
when sufficed to stay
at one’s own station

it’s the glory of breakage
the carnage of liberation
that makes the most
of life’s celebration


Saturday, November 28, 2015

Nightlight


There is a giant nightlight in the sky.
It is the opener of possibility,
It is guide and guardian
To young boys skinny-dipping,
night-swimming in an off-limits beach;
To mischievous teens lighting up
in Vermont graveyards where weeds
grow in depressions left
by collapsed coffins and reading
tombstones wondrously on their way
back to where the women are;
To children playing flashlight tag
in odorful, green fields at night,
unproctored;
To drivers who say to themselves:
“Why isn’t anyone else slowing down
to take a look at this?  This is
justified rubbernecking!”;
To campers who urinate on trees
and must wrestle with thirsty mosquitoes
and the danger of hungry bears sniffing
out their plump hot-dogs
and inexpensive beer;
To partygoers who stare out
across the Hudson River toward New Jersey
-- Yes even New Jersey can bask in its light --
and see the George Washington Bridge lit up;
To people wandering outside
to escape indoor life.

Those stars; they move from dwarf
to giant without complaint
and at their own sweet pace.
They may be dead already.
But Earth’s nightlight is
awake every night.
It changes its appearance
to fit the changing seasons.
It has its moments of brilliance.

It is like you.  

Monday, October 12, 2015

Ten-Dollar Blackjack


Real life happens
at the ten-dollar blackjack tables
where elderly Asian men
school business travelers,
where warrior poets
rest for leisure,
turn aside the free drinks,
and learn the math
of risk and good living.

Wondering where the night has gone,
we count our chips and think of home.

The dealers change over,
the game remains. 

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Summer Party

In the hot New England woods
We come to confess
Our need.
Ourselves alone,
Workday false face
No longer
In our steed.

Among
The humble friends
Who know
Our youthful
Means
Before these our
Glorious ends.

Fortressed, trapped, well-wrapped
Among the
Bug bites
And the trees,
We make
Drink
Laugher
Music
While we conjure, sing and feed.

Rip away
The worry layers
And lay bare
The stuff of youth.
Soul fire lights
These summer nights
For warriors
To recoup.