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

June 26, 2010

Things I Found While Looking for Something Else

           Heaven-Sent  &  Nice  Adolescent  Advice


We all recall how dreamy faraway

Train whistles calling sounded

In  bed  as  kids,

So very near to dreamy nearby



Resist running away, way too far away from home.

.-   –   –   –   –   –   –  –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –   –


June 22, 2010

Private Investigations

Though the car windows were covered,

Two inches & a quarter of new snow,

The hood had indicated

It was warm for way passed four.

My thought was they had brought him

And left what was left of him,

At a darker corner of this

Shithole, corn-fed hoosier town.

He shoulda gone and left this place.

His spirit, I bet, wasn’t in this place,

And also, where we found him,

And looking at his brown scabbed face,

No spirit in his fight.


My outlook.. has her sons there.

They took up their arms

Again & again against him.

They’d looked up to him.

Now,  their duty  had

Them barely looking down

When they booted him.


I’m bettin’   Mom upended

His private world.

Motive  was all in a  journal.

Maybe   how he merely   saw things.


It  hurt her  to not be let  to not know him.

Now  all,   & no one,  would be let  to not know him.




                                                                                                                                              for my wife, K

June 20, 2010


(from two years ago, for laughs)


         C H E E R S


I own my own muse
uncannily, I can amuse me

it’s fairly common knowledge,I think, that some Irish may
consider a spot of poteen and a pint at the end of a well-spent day…
God’s pay for a day’s good work. Earned.
when I get home, I spill a half swallow of irish whiskey in my glass, turn to look out the back window,raise my glass some, and to the sunrise’s orange and yellows,to the trees & water
I’ll whisper “yes, here’s to ya,then”.

Coupla nights back, I noticed there was just half a swallow in the bottle I might savor in the morning after work, and get the empty bottle out to the recyclable bin before the early truck. Before I headed off to work
the night before though, it was apparent that my sweet & neat mate, thinking logically that the bottle was another empty to go out the night before, took it out.
the next morning, after getting out all the rest of the trash out to the front that needed to go,walking the 30 yards back up my broken driveway to the house, I stopped. I smiled, then started laughing as I walked back to the road, all the time thinking of the imaginary guy across the street, opening his blinds for the sunrise, slippers & robe,looking out and seeing the real life guy across the street walking out to the road, lifting the top up, and reaching down into the bin, pulling out a bottle, unscrewing the top and tipping it back for that last swallow.

June 17, 2010

Slighter A Wind Than

Despite  &,

With all her antics,

Winds still  move her

Like it does a half-dozen

Tiny tea roses

Before they’re right,  & hand-picked.

The slightest wind breezes

Will prove to move her

To a profound,  but protected


Slighter a wind than

Unkind words might make

Wafting  at  her soft skin.

June 12, 2010

Advice to: Open Minded And Playing The Field

Dear Open Mind Field

Read Right to the clauses

Stuck right in the gut of things

Thin like a seeless sword.

They’re for forbidding more freedom.

They’re for hidden costs.

You make take me for my word

Or be taken by your thoughts

Or be taken by your throat

Or be taken for a ride

Or be taken for a fool

Or be taken by your thoughts

Or be taken away

any minute now

June 10, 2010

Lunch Break

Filed under: poetry, prose — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 7:28 am

muscles settle some

my soul eyes off

to whatever nothing offers.

Zen enthusiasts

have been happy hunting

for Art on empty wall space

for most of this time,

most all that time ahead.

“I’ll have just a slice, please.”

June 5, 2010

we talk

In a world when women and men

Are children w/games,

Playing hard  truth seeking

And harder  at hiding,

In a world where words barely matter,

Rarely more than chatter,

Her talk is straightforward tender

As after rain haiku.


Gee  no   gentle  rain.

Our muffled kisspers serve as

Counterpoint to gods’…


Lightning up this sacred joint