Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a hearth afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Three Poems and Paradise Lost [One for Hell, One for Heaven one for an Inca King]
The Torrents of HellHell's furnace-
Likened to a chimney
Vomits her torrents
Into the air
Through earths crust
And the earth's trembles-!Agitated, she projects
A thick curtain of smoke
To heat the feet of those
Who provoke her every wish.
Like molten iron
She waits for the soul(the moment)
Then molds, into her enclosure
Out of savage flesh!No storm, no struggle
No eruption, no typhoon,
Just a terrible phenomenon,
Hell is capable of producing;
And upon death,
Back into the Abyss
The Merchant of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Merchant of Copan
[480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras courtyard in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the founder of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the spouse of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins.
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic comment that just welled up inside my head - why cant we just do something - before many more are dead?How pious those politicians are,
When up there on T.V.
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Summit [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many people contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The reason for this is that the majority of these poems are boring.
Song of the Great Zimbabwe, and Silver and Inca Blood [Poems and notes]
"Song of the Great Zimbabwe"Across the African, winter's skyIn the Southern edge of Zimbabwe
Looking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Ancient Rock
O'er the mountains steep-:A, vista I've longed to see, residesA site, I've longed to meet-;
Thus, dwells, within this African Valley,Among the greatest of man's feats?
The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these ancient wallsSome twelve-fathoms, fathoms high
That seems to reach unto the sky;Some say: a fortress, and palace, it is;
And perhaps-, the legendary 'Ophir!'#747 7/2/05Silver and Inca BloodIn the Great Silver mines of Potosi-(Inca Indians)
Conscripted mine workersCarry
Quotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-steps
For don Francisco de ToledoAnd
King Philip II, of Spain-;A farcified vision to becomeRich-off Inca blood,
In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the assumption is often that the Inca Empire was a large enterprise of its self; a common mistake at best; complicated for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were subjugated into the Inca Empire, similar to the Roman, which was a city nation [Empire] you might say, who subjugated the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I huddle down, inside my coat,a commuter clone, just waiting for a train.Insidious rain, just drizzling down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old coffee cups,blowing past, look so forlorn.
Truth is stranger than fiction according to many people who have seen what happens around me and to them, on many occasions. Sometimes I have had others affect me in the same way.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the arctic night-
In its deep northern skies,
Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?!
Even the stars of the arctic
Seem silently stone frozen!Here, here is where you find
Peace and the beast within-!
Remote, no ears or wordsTo clutter the mind
To entrench the throat;
Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyes
Eyes with cosmic tides
Tides that never rest: they warWith the Universe-
Likened to a dark deep abyss;
Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and search
In countless hours, ebbing and
Sweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless-
Are the cosmos, the heavens?
Here resides a strange peace?Here, resides a strange peace
With an army of stars to defeat
Shinning, silently in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark;
Time has no relevance here,
Here, resides a strange, peace?Cold and oddly numb are my feet,
As I look up, upon the many bridges
One star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens were
Guarding them-the Hosts-
O-Yes! A strange, strange peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee
Flaming, blazing firmaments-ye,
Ye, remind me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never rest
Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeI hear music, harmony from afar (there)
There are storms hidden in a storehouse,
For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust;
There, there the sun is dim to bleak.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn lazily in front of the doorThey open wide showing mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn another bright and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe silken scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking straight at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she elegantly sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
Two Poems Written During Recovery
Since my wife and I are moving, or preparing to move, we've been going through our things as most people must, to prepare for the new location, and in doing so, I found two poems, ones I wrote in 1990, now 15-years old, never published, and so I'd like to publish them today. I was a heavy drinker up to 1984 (some twenty years drinking), when I quite, and so these poems must have something to do with it, a slight reflection perhaps.
House of the Goblin [Part Two of Three/with notes]
House of the Goblin
[Part Two of Three]Here is where, where the air is stillAnd the mountains shadows disappear!
Here is where, unnumbered spirits dwellWhere harp and memory expire?Where the rainbow-leaps, from itsStoreroom-keep, and cries;
And the sands along the oceans coastEcho then die?as in sleep?;And where enchantment turns into ghouls!..
Tale of the Brick Maker, of San Jeronimo, Peru [In English and Spanish]
Tale of the Brick Maker,
Of San Jerónimo, Peru
[A Cup of Sorrow]-1In the Andean mountains, within theMantaro Valley region of Peru,
Isolated, secluded, tranquil, is the littlevillage of San Jerónimo.
Near the village, here lay the fertile valleywith bent-grass, and huge
Mountains stretching northbound,And heading towards the ocean's coast.
Life is a Fantasy
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms filled with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only through himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her mother NEEDS to see the bestHe answered her God requestTo have a roof to comfort bringA yard where all the birdies singTell me how she could really knowWhat source for learning could she go?Her mother regularly beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can endure many idiosyncrasiesShe could not make him defendant beDenial, avoidance? she disbelievesThe rabbit hides beneath tall trees.At thirteen a step-grandfatha'Finds a well-trained girl that oughta'Do what powerful men requestNever knowing what is bestAnd run away she does at lastFreedom can be such a 'blast'A rabbit's foot upon a chainThe FANTASY her 'safe' domainHow long in life must it remain?To protect her from these menWho always for her lips, do 'yen'A state trooper in Tennessee
Like every other man does see
Her lips so full and luscious red
Through the bars, not in a bed.
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