Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

February 27, 2010

Yes, The Sequences Go

Yes, the sequences go, this sets pro-

gressing.  We stand in our streams,

Study up storm weather

We’re all under the weather.

Yes, The compass is no good.

Guessing; Push the river?

Willfully  take  steps?

Or wade on down  downflow?



Rest on it.

It will come

February 25, 2010

“No, You phoria”


& for her, right back

“No, You phoria”

Our joy was stacked,

Pallets!   Muy high

We’d ballet,  & Bali Hi

We’d dip, over deep,  & sleep some

We’d awaken  our way, um,

We’d make our way, best we can

To our best Russian waitress and

Have our own hashbrowns, eggside

She’ll pour our coffee for our ride


February 21, 2010

“In Held Twas In I”, lyrics Keith Reid/Gary Brooker/Procol Harum

Filed under: music, poetry, rhyme — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 6:56 am

would just Have to be included in my imaginary list of  300 favorite songs (“it might be read,nothing’s better left unsaid”)


“Glimpses of Nirvana”

In the darkness of the night, only occasionally relieved by glimpses of
nirvana as seen through other people’s windows, wallowing in a morass of
self-despair made only more painful by the knowledge that all I am is of my
own making. When everything around me, even the kitchen ceiling, has
collapsed and crumbled without warning. And I am left, standing in the eye
of a well looking up and wondering why and wherefore. At a time like this,
which exists maybe only for me, but is nonetheless real, if I could
communicate, and in the telling and the bearing of my soul anything is
gained, even though the words which I use are pretentious and make you
cringe with embarrassment, let me remind you of the pilgrim who asked for
an audience with the Dalai Lama. He was told he must first spend five
years (in) contemplation. After the five years, he was ushered into the
Dalai Lama’s presence, who said, “Well, my son, what do you wish to know?”
So the pilgrim said, “I wish to know the meaning of life, father.” And so
the Dalai Lama smiled and said, “Well my son, life is like a beanstalk,
isn’t it?”

Held close by that which some despise
Which some call fate, and others lies
And somewhat small for one so tall
A doubting Thomas? Who would be?
It’s written plain for all to see
For one who I am with no more
It’s hard at times, it’s awful wrong

They say that Jesus healed the sick and helped the poor
And those unsure believed his eyes – a strange disguise
Still write it down, it might be read
Nothing’s better left unsaid
Only sometimes, still no doubt
It’s hard to say, it all works out

“‘Twas Tea-Time at the Circus”

‘Twas tea-time at the circus
King Jimmy, he was there
Through hoops he skipped, highwires he tripped
And all the while the glare
Of the aching, baking spotlight
Beat down upon his cloak
And though the crowd clapped furiously
They could not see the joke

‘Twas tea-time at the circus
Though some might not agree
As jugglers danced and horses pranced
And clowns clowned endlessly
>From trunk to tail, the elephants
Quite silent, never spoke
And though the crowd clapped desperately
They could not see the joke

“The Autumn of My Madness”

In the autumn of my madness
When my hair is turning grey
For the milk has finally curdled
And I’ve nothing left to say
When all my thoughts are spoken
(Save my last departing verse)
Bring all my friends unto me
And I’ll strangle them with words

In the autumn of my madness
Which in coming won’t be long
For the nights are now much darker
And the daylight’s not so strong
And the things which I believed in
Are no longer quite enough
For the knowing is much harder
And the going’s getting rough

“Look to Your Soul”

I know if I’d been wiser
This would never have occurred
But I wallowed in my blindness
So it’s plain that I deserve
For the sin of self-indulgence
When the truth was read quite clear
I must spend my life amongst the dead
Who spend their lives in fear
Of a death that they’re not sure of
Of a life they can’t control
It’s all so simple really,
If you just look to your soul

Some say that I’m a wise man
Some think that I’m a fool
It doesn’t matter either way
I’ll be a wise man soon
For the lesson lies in learning
And by teaching, I’ll be taught
For there’s nothing hidden anywhere
It’s all there to be sought
And so if you know anything
Look closely at the time
For others who remain untrue
And won’t commit that crime, yeah…

It’s all so simple, really,
If you’ll just look to your soul

February 19, 2010

1st Draft Frippery

This man risked squandering 2 quarters,

Despite the nights rain,

He’d fight to stay the payphone,

Risked squandering  2 quarters,

Meant to be spent on a quart when the day was done.

   So he’d hang up quick as Go

   So she’d ring back

   If she was in a curious mood.

   It wasn’t too late

   (But maybe that’d help)


He’d be ready,  with his 1st draft.

Damn, ink already ran onto his icy hand,

Trailed off his folded page

Of  falderal,  frippery,  & doggerel.

Worthy words  to win some time.

He’d force his forte’  over the phone

If she called back

If any  would entertain

A curious  mood

This time

Of night.

February 16, 2010

I’m Lucky You’re Born

She sends a song about  “Lucky”.

She says it is our song.

I rub her belly, She rubs me the right way

It really is righteous; Us in a sarong.


We’re delighted gods like us.

I’m sure some mere

mortals disapprove.

We delight in each other,

mortals  are mere. We’re proof we’re

lucky to meet

we’re lucky to meet up

we’re lucky the time’s good

we’re lucky we’re good


we’re lucky we’re good

I’m lucky you’re born

I’m so lucky you’re born

February 15, 2010

Annual Renewal from An Ancient Porch

Winter winds could

only find us cold

on our old

and ancient porch

perched high here in our new air

searching here through our new words

The latest launch on,

off this roof porch in

an old haunt,

this chilly sleepy village,

Off this nest




                                                                                                                     thanx Cedar Key

February 9, 2010


I heard some guy say

that he was more in debt

than an honest man could pay.


I bet I don’t check my check book but

My needs are nameless

And exceed;

 what a deceitful man might utter,

 what a sweet woman might offer,

 even all a clever man can never call.


I’ll ache,  Cah  Rist! icy bone fingers,

I’ll arch-stretch wide and hard, outward to  outsides.

To outsides,  otherwises,  outreaching,

beseeching, imploring.

Discretely exploring

the notion

the ocean

of need