Tiger

prose or poems.

o’holy find love!

move toward a goal.

what was that she said?

stop now.

maybe not.

continue.

rejoice.

drugs. drugs. drugs.

stop now.

what did I say to you?

I miss the mother and son who sat behind me, my seatmate, the comfort.

No one makes noise from Roc to Cuse. The Lady who took my seat eats

crackers quietly and rubs her finger tips in the aisle. She flips vanity fair reading

the ads and plows another cracker into her beaked face.

15 minutes till noon, when I’ll allow myself to start drinking the booze I brought along in my bag.

9-10 more hours until Boston. I bought the ticket, I’ll take the ride.

she refuses to

hold conversation. I hope

they sell bottled wine.

All stops went quick, hoping to get into Boston early. Slept from Albany to  Schenectady.

Too many hits of tequila in the bathroom. Just left Springfield, headed toward Wooster.

Had noodles and coffee to burn off some liquor. Both were terrible.

Dinner lady, forty something, black and from Chicago.

Hope to find a sandwich shop in Portsmouth and a good coffee and maybe flowers.

I want time to sit and enjoy a Marlboro.

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The Gray Of Consequence

Originally posted on Writings of the UnKnown Mr. Taylor:

The clamor was heralded as the end
The last particle of dirt thrown down
And deep sadness spread.
That was the last night a word was spoken
Through whispers or yells
Over the phone or through writing
Nevermore was a single word spoken
The dark shadow had descended,
A Curtin of dismay and misery,
To heavy to lift for anyone
Now shoulders hunched against the weight
and walking head lowered against the rain
Solider on weary, and broken
And pray not to vanish in the shadow.

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Dall’altra Parte

The sun is mocking me as it sinks low,
Beneath the horizon promising me,
Another night where beauty does not see,
Terror lurking all over and below;
Summer’s heat is jaded (going away)
Leaves shriveling up taking away shade,
Exposing everything to what has been made:
Beauty becoming a slattern each day,
By sable lands ruthless tongues borne on wind,
That they themselves forsake the evil within,
Which we entrap in the deep of the night-
So we run, we die from our time sinned-
It catches up with us creating a din,
Cutting us (faster then time’s scythe) with might.

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Haiku: 34

I want to go to

Pennsylvania to find the

knowledge of truck stops.

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Uncharted Sea

Originally posted on Writings of the UnKnown Mr. Taylor:

I see it now as a delusion of a confused mind.
Sailing out on an uncharted sea-
on a decision to follow you-
love blew off without me
on the winds whipping up this storm.
I don’t know how I’ll be.

I’m drowning form her memory.
All I need is a paddle or sails
to get me out of this storming sea.
Though, it is her perfection and beauty
that prevents any of it to become accessible to me;
a mental blockage sinking me on this sea.

I thought I knew what was to be
from sailing out on these waters;
the beginning voyage of two lovers.
But these bruising wave are all I feel and see.
This is all and only my fault.
I let my hope sail me out on this sea.

He commanded the storm winds
and wave surges of the sea
to halt me.
Were you…

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Drive North on 95, Over the Merrimack, Leaving Newburyport. Watch All The Steel Ships Float.

I’m not exceptionally old,

but I feel like I’ve met all the types

of people there are to meet.

I sit in this training room and

look around at all these faces

I’ve seen before. There’s the loud Italian

girl, she has so much to say, the young wanna-be druggie boy

(oh he’s just so mysterious), a mother beyond

her prime, an elder who should just retire,

a man roaring about his joyous divorce,

two gossipers at my table – trying to figure out

why I didn’t talk for the first week but now choose to

ask and prod at topics less discussed (I might be at this job

longer than I hoped), a girl with a pinched nose whose mother

never yelled at her, another with tattoos and opinions because

she “sometimes goes out for drinks with friends” and other times

makes comments just to look out the corner of her eye to see if

anyone still cares, and of course someone gives her that attention she craves,

there’s a man with a bald head, quite but pretentious, another with military boots

who drives his motorcycle into work and talks about

how he was a barber, one trainer loud and old and

counting the minutes until her smoke break,

another loud and young, who “hates having the serious talks,

but they have to be had,” and a little queer human resources

man who doesn’t come around much, an old mail room man,

who I’ve never heard spoke, a security guard who focused too much on what

you see above the desk line, and all

their doubles and triples, and me – watching and biding my time.

—————————————-

Old trees and iron,

Take me where you took them all,

I’ll breathe in and love.

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Leave Me Here

I left the lights on
made promises on the wind;
Unknown to us both, this simple dark con
Plaguing us of what we couldn’t find;
The promises I broke apart.
“Without purpose?” you say through tears.
I can’t tell sweetheart,
so get out of these affairs.
I can’t stand seeing the pain I’ve inflicted.
Leave me here to be alone-
Leave me here evicted!
I’ll sit here in the unknown
not deserving of a second chance.
I beg of you not to think of me.
Just wave goodbye leaving your broken stance.
This lesson you’ve been given is a guarantee,
for you to move forward into a better romance.

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