Poems: 050224 - February 5th, 2024

[Robert Morpheal]

070124
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Dreading to think
about
dreading
and dreading thinking
in both more generalized
and specific terms
as to dreading to think
about what is
and what is to happen
or what it is
that will not happen
standing in relation
to variously wanted
and unwanted
bits and pieces of life
imagined being lived
based on remembering
selective portions
imagined as the experience
that is then believed
a true facsimile of lived
along with those others
that are anticipated being
and those not being
a part of what is lived out
as what is and is not yet
but only imagined
might become and be
deemed to be desirable
in that wishful imagining
that lurks so darkly
between what is desired
and what is dreaded
whether only imagined
or believed to be real.
There is new discomfort
in sparse thin strands
hanging as would streamers
from distant events
indicating obscure presence
stretched out as a horizon
vaguely in mere outline
forming dangling tangles
of obscurant verbosity
that mostly hides the truth
behind political chimera
translated too politely
for sensitive audiences
warned in advance
as to disturbing images
juxtaposed with travel adverts
providing a nexus
as to where to go
and where to avoid
in terms of personal dangers
from plagues
nature's furies
and violent acts
all being explained
in terms of the gods
residing on other channels
that one can subscribe to
in moments of frailty
and interludes of boredom
that then stimulates craving
for what pass as answers
as to why some are able
and some are not able
inclusive of chasing
the blue of their blues
somewhere far away
but always connected
to planet Radio
headed out into the blue
of blue waves
under those blue skies
over blue seas.
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170124A
-----------
The places we have not
and cannot
that we have not been
and cannot be
that we have not seen
and cannot see.
We want to be going
somewhere
to look at something
that is not yet or long gone
so we can celebrate
another coming and going.
We search through
rock piles and monuments
as if we can find ourselves
reading our own names
on uncertain pebbles
gathered from beaches.
We are adrift on various seas
with our tangles of moorings
holding here and there
but never taking us
to where we want to be
which is not any place known.
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170124B
-----------
It is never good
and it never will be
but we follow the details
in those vague hopes
as to something to say
about whatever
makes no real difference
to any actual relations.
We are caught up
into the disconnects
that serve to connect us
in those odd ways
connections are made
or not made at all
leaving us to contemplate
stories of puppet masters.
The horses of our dreams
carry us
away from the realities
of our fragile flesh.
The horses of our dreams
carry us
away from the realities
of whatever and when.
Dreams not ever our own
because they are never
and not what we wanted
as we are carried along
unimaginable conflations
of different tragi-comedic acts
that we then have to watch
sometimes watching ourselves.
At least it is different
from a routine day
and a little more real
than a day dream
made up of improbable
scenes invented
purely out of boredom
as morsels of distraction.
Those are too sweet
and when will we ever
wonder at blossoms
appearing on dead trees
the dry tinder straining
at making joyful sounds
about when we will live
again as if springtime.
The desires of youth
being the willy nilly
markers designating fields
and what is plowed under
leaving faint traces
of all the usual tragedies
in moist hollows
and adjacent stone walls.
Running up against
unyielding surfaces
in the pursuit of
whatever the name was
kept in memory or not
as what was thought
seemed wanted
and sometimes remained.
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180124A
------------
The accumulation
and the discarding
of appeared reasonable
and seemed useful
sorts of things.
Each such thing
related to an idea
that was abandoned
prior to the fact
of actual disposition.
Pondering whether
we gave up on it
too late or too soon
mistakenly begun
or falsely ended.
Consideration given
to what it was
that we expected
in comparison
to what we got.
The balancing out
of the rare more
and the much less
than our optimism
of onset to surrender.
Putting bones out
heaped at curbside
for foraging men
come panting as dogs
to take as blessings.
Those relics
of peculiar worship
originally venerated
then feared
in scorn of meanings.
Rather the meaningless
comes of lost meanings
and scourge of progress
most likely leveling
sources of false pride.
It meant sacrifices
and often the largest
follows after
the rituals of use
have already ended.
Things made holy
by exhaustion to monument
standing commemorative
of a purest intrinsic nature
as common sacrifices.
Then it is history
being mostly nameless
and faceless doings
more undone than done
but all done with.
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180124B
-----------
We go gully up
a gorge down way
to the chance into
the recompense
of the muddied face
along the jibber jab
after hours social
delves the precarious
treasure hoppies
the way the birds sing
diddly dack do
gracious and sensible
doddle wack drop
into smooth clear
rims the sexy ice.
Precious piddle
drools a sharp candy
on the tongue flame
denials of any intent
and disparage of emotions
locks the gull whistle
squawking drift dodges
pronounce of weather tangles
entertains any curious
between credulous boasts
the cheap thrill recitation
of sandwich board poetry
along the surf edges
gone monkey toss
sky floods of blue screen
indicating unsubscribed.
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180124C
------------
We make moves
in the quests for solace
and in the vague desires
for sanctuary.
None of them are ever
to be deemed satisfactory
but mostly we make do
with shades of meanings.
Acquiring or culling
another hair's breadth
of satisfaction
is an obsessive pastime.
It can entirely eat up
lives and fortunes
funding expeditions
into dangerous places.
Until we realize
nowhere is really safe
and there are warnings
on and about everything.
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240124A
------------
A gull shivers
among crystals of air
spying the encrusted
bits of gulp down
dropped from loaded
over fast food
bucket edge of trays.
A lot of beginnings
end that way
in any final analysis
hitting the pavement
between odd jobs
and foggy visions
of imagined relations.
Not very much
in the usual dialogues
that is more honest
than hunters and prey
telling the truth
about different hungers
driving the conversations.
Step forward and back
looking to who follows
as to coming across
invited or inviting
the way that it begins
concerning new deals:
conditions of consumption.
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290124A
-----------
In a nice place
in a nice time
getting some attention
and some satisfaction
but it always leaves one
craving for something.
We are all full of wanting
something more
that we do not have
among what we are tired of
giving up on
and tossing out.
If we had gone faster
and if we had been smarter
in the gotten and given
of the chanced into
and as to the something
always seemed missing.
Urged to hold on
when we should have let go
and pushed to let go
when we should have held on
for all those reasons
we knew nothing about.
What went wrong
on the way in
and on the way out
among all the reasonings
into unreasonable
twists and turns.
The nights are sweeter
than they were before
and good morning arrives
a while after the dawn
but that is not what it was
that was missing or gone.
You wonder what it was
that was missing or gone
where you lost
what you never found
but you still do not know
what you were looking for.
---------------------------------
290124B
------------
The wreckages
of our own exploits
along forbidden shores.
Cargo that we took
from foreign ports
of sensual lingering.
Memory is the wreck
eroded and decayed
in tides of time's events.
Flesh gradually melts
holding on to the edges
of harder things.
Desires ever clinging
to what is most fragile
and washed away.
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030224A
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A red bird hops
tangle branches
of bared perch.
Seems being here
is a long time
arriving yesterday.
That place before
moments ago
a short while.
A sense of comfort
is a feather pillow
resting a sunbeam.
Window eye
looks to familiar
strange worlds.
The way it looked
to child explorers
of near distances.
If only it could be
so very new again
each bird song.
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