ribbons

*
inscribed cursives on ribbons unwinding,
untwirling thru time in rivulets of air,
in half-enclosed spaces, needing
the benefit of a good exhalation
as do lungs confined to a dusty room
suffused with sunlight but not freedom.

divinity’s minions append the trailing talismen
enbraided, layered, aggregately encoded
as cumulative rorshach of the experiential,
interpretive, cognitive faculty of various members
of the homo sapien species to decode.

in other words,
i write - you read.

capisce?
*

(Source: lebuc, via lebuc)

thanks, tedibear1 for you support. I really appreciate your attention.
peace to you.

thanks, tedibear1 for you support. I really appreciate your attention.
peace to you.

Thanks, editors

…for the poetry feature - and to you who read the poem, as well.

With all the content posted here, it is an honor to be considered, in any fashion, by anyone. P & L to you all.

Thank you, curvypervyme - for your attention and support. i really appreciate it.

P & L to you.

Thank you, curvypervyme - for your attention and support. i really appreciate it.

P & L to you.

barefoot and nude

*
blue coral snakes underfoot
new blue moon’s overhead
a diminishing horizon route
an endless path of dread

my trusty axe in one hand
my tool pouch in the other
to buck me up upon demand
‘fi meet with one tough mother

the locals tried to warn me
back home they think i’m looped
deep inside my own guide line
i’m sure i’ll glean a scoop

lopping off the past that hinders
doubt ‘treaded’ underfoot
amping up my treasured wanderlust,
and trusting in my root

the long hard route won’t smite me none
i’ve crawled thru muck and sludge
withheld applause can’t spite me, son
my truculence won’t be budged

barefoot and nude, deluded
into thinking i’m the stuff
upending shirkers, yet denuded
thought they were up to snuff

this is the wounded glory hole
my modern stygian quest
this is the under forty goal
this one’s the cheesiest

i love my mac-n (joking now)
i love my inner peace
i love my fabled big black cow
beneath the vis-a vis

just me vs. the great beyond
unto the cosmic wow
the activation mandate in
a wildlife wedding vow

it’s dam the wall and hold it
it’s take the ball and run
it’s play the hand, don’t fold it
it’s acting like you’ve won

believe me, i’m no shlepper
know when you call my name
you’ll get a testy stepper
who’s ramping up his game

inside this tropic jungle row,
inverted mis-en-scene
cast in a comic bungle, low
out where hyenas run

this is the fall impending
beyond the primal scream
this is the viral trending
onto fate’s trampoline

so shall i cross it over
and leave this dreck behind?
to range the plain as rover
cause i’m the gaming kind?
*
packed up my grandest attitude -
to track the trail, barefoot and nude.
*
4/14

sky writer

*
saw you floating by
figured i’d hitch a ride with you
to the moon
or somewhere else new…

you were singing:

'i'm just a child writing in the sky
you happen to see me floating by,
come follow me…”

i wondered why
you happened by,
where you are going
on your pace through space

so with a hop, skip and hearty jump
i leapt and joined you,
then i started singing…

"just a child writing in the sky
you happen to see me floating by,
come follow me…”

and i flew -
on my own heft
no longer lagging, bereft

now it’s my song, too
i’m singing with you,
and the new verse we made:

"we are children of the sun, having fun -
come along, make it soon -
so we can soar in the light of the moon”

together we sing this tune -
jubilantly, in easy harmony
one summer night in june;

you graced this place
leaving behind a song
for any to hear - and heed

on a space pace, singing -
a trail, winging, indeed…

both of us writing in the sky -

who will follow
you and i?
*
4/14

mash into meter

*
poets distill,
brew, ferment -

cooking, condensing,
transforming experience
into art:

see a sunrise
produce a reverie-laden
sonnet;

get heartbroken
pen a haiku’d dirge;

pissed off?
write a freestyle rant;

get bored
stare at the dregs
in an empty oaken barrel.

the artist in me
craves the grapes of life -
knee deep

to step into and let my feet
mash it into meter -
or not.
*
4/14
.

(Source: lebuc)

inside

*
inside the person you see

a whole other me
hidden and obscured
by a visage, distance and time

inside the person you hear

a soul, revered
oft incompletely expressed
or received

in a generous vein,
more i’d confess
if i felt
you were up to the test.

inside the person you know

you might find out
just how deeply
cooling rivers flow.
*
4/14

the tell

*
upon first glance
it’s missed

a behavior quirk
submerged

beneath expectant
output and receipt,

vital to the smoothly-oiled
machinations of the day

however -

instantly
a realization dawns:

all is not as it appears

there’s a subtle outlier,
an inflection amiss;

lets me know
as does a poker savant, that

you’re holding something good
in your heart.
*
4/14

(Source: lebuc)

"Heck, hack into my tumblr account -
maybe you’ll have more luck than me
scaring up some inspiration while you’re there…"

— le buc

Tags: bah heartbleed

domino theory

*
the vicarious thrill
awaiting.
the tip
of the proverbial iceberg.

the anticipated rush
of contact.
the aperitif
to a sumptuous feast.

the mystical truth
now unwrapped.
walking proof
of the domino theory:

stacked tiles
in arranged stasis
tip to their inevitable fall;

as shall you -

you don’t step out of that line
and haul ass
toward light.

*

4/14

(Source: lebuc)

elemental

*
i, gusting wind

over the rolling waves
become one with the waves
crashing against and engulfing
all land mass in my path;

i become the land mass
lending vital minerals
to the sustenance of the mighty oak
its prodigious heft and output
falling to earth in time, unperturbed

i then toss and foment
as earthquake within,
breaking the slumbering land,
revealing deep earthen crevices
down to its molten lava core, which

i dive into headfirst, fearlessly
& emerge, wearing it as a second skin
until the searing heat fully transmutes me 
into thin air -

as a gusting wind
over the rolling waves…
*

(Source: lebuc)

nothing much

*
I was walking in the park 
one afternoon, when I looked back -
thought i heard someone call my name
I stepped on a rock and fell sideways
into a small half-dried pond
near the pathway

found myself sitting hip-deep
in a pool of warm, sticky muck.
I looked around for a place to 
put my hands to try to get out
with some sense of style
and dignity intact;

then the sky darkened and
i heard booms, not of thunder,
like fireworks exploding overhead
with sparks as far as I could see;

I began to detect 
a heightening scent of a pollinated fragrance 
bursting, no exploding -
from the variety of flowers and bushes all around 

while the now brightening sky
was pierced by an intense, refracting sunlight 
projecting shifting rainbow colored shards of light
on the trees, the buildings and the people walking by;
and vivid streaming and pulsing hues 
strewn across the skies
as a visual backdrop to the fireworks; 

then, angelic male and female voices
could be heard from everywhere at once,
weaving in and out of the thundering booms of timpani
accompanying, then replacing the fireworks’ sound,
with a sudden rise of woodwinds and violins
seemingly motioned not by human effort
but the lilting and undulating breezes of the surrounding air…

I spied some folks who happened to be walking by
asked for a hand up -
so I could better ‘take in’ everything  

one of them looked at me and asked,
“Why do you want to get up?”

“We were actually just coming
to sit here with you -
we’re bored,
that mud looks kinda inviting.”

blinking unbelievably,
i looked from person to person in astonishment,
as one continued, 

“Might as well. 
Nothing much ever happens around here, anyway”.

Sunset Spectrum - c/o:
Matt Molloy’s Gorgeous Smeared Skies

(Source: lebuc)

vent trickle

*
flying daggers
of beauty and light
pierce my eyes as they enter;

i’m grateful for the pain,
the unattainable
represented

daggers

travelling 
through my skull
ripping through
my face and neck en route
to their target -

my heart

protected 
by a fortress of calcified shell, 
expectations unrealized,
real and imagined slights,
gestures of kindnesses
spurned

a perfect rationality 
that disbelieves that
good trumps evil.

daggers
don’t stand a chance in hell,
my fortress:
unbreached

surface pricks have only
caused a trickle
they have yet
to make me bleed red blood

they break skin
but only make me bleed blue,
only blue.
*

(Source: lebuc)

clean getaways

*
careful,
duck down low
don’t want to get made
porcelain doesn’t mix with cranium
in for a penny, in for the lot, 
we are

big league, now
no more footloose and fancy free
planning and execution gets us the good life,
the milk and honey, baby

lets focus -
timing’s everything, right?
you do the grab, I’ll lookout
I’ll move on ‘em if I have to, you know me;

we need to keep this score clean
and surgical

enough talk, now
get ready for the big dance…
ready?
Go!

I’ve got the duckies and boats
quick -
you got the bubble bath, squirt!
everybody in now
tub’s big enough for three…

who said having triplets
wasn’t cool?
*

(Source: lebuc)