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Morning in a Topanga, CA gulch

In unstirring whiffed cottage jammed
stepping over those scattered
slumbering tightly, mushroomed, crammed
Surfaces gleam beer splattered

Morning of the young artist
tall still in hope, slim hipped
no 9-to-5 trudge ‘valse triste’
bearing still straight, rose lipped

Indolent black cats stir both
white pawed, green marbled eyes
now stretching, compassion loath
killers in cutesy guise

Morning dawns subliminal
in night’s lingering haze
Above rocks ravinial
sun’s first tenuous rays

From above stillness violated
through mufflers crescendo aggrieved
dawn’s purity adulterated
nature of her stillness bereaved

+)
-from above = here: from the road above the gulch
-ravinial = (by license) anything in or of a ravine

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Life’s true bestowment: The fleeting moment

Finally, at long last
done with my past unfolding
slammed the door shut, steadfast
without regret or scolding

For the wizened dawdler
is not life’s true bestowment
as for the rushed twaddler
peace of mind in the moment?

When focusing on a worthwhile current chore
we may find peace now & the next twenty-four

+)
twenty-four = 24 hours

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Entrails twisted by Regret’s Blade

When young he hid out in the shadows of life
only in shallowest waters he’d wade
Reluctant to engage Life’s beauty & strife
rarely testing whether would make the grade

Pedaled quietly head down
flaunted Life’s ‘how & why’
with a ‘look am busy!’ frown
hoping just to glide by …

His Earthly Welcome now overstayed
turned old, cold, bowed, slowed, frayed & staid
His entrails twisted by ‘regret’s blade’
The ‘grave digger’ fingers his spade

A geezer mildly fearful of Hades
long time now since in his modest heydays

 

 

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Channeling my inner changeling

When young I truly had no inkling
that I was but incipient
My alarm bell was never tinkling
while acted out my idiot

Traits that might disenchant
were so far constrained
My inner sycophant
kept grinning harebrained

Pathetic but hadn’t been in a rush
to question much my attitude
Middle age laid bare with horrid blush
my erstwhile lack of rectitude

Seems still that part of my essence
might consist of channeling
in blabbering omnipresence
my hapless inner changeling

It ain’t what I would like to see
or not who I prefer to be
although afraid it’s somehow me
from whom I’m unable to flee

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Bestowed a second chance

He hid out in life
fearful of all strife

Engrossed amply, had a ball
dinked around without clues
lead no worthwhile life at all
thought Life here to amuse

Then rosy hued vigor drained
he veered off course, pace dropped
a purpose no longer feigned
Pretense gone. Thank God, flopped

Then bestowed a second chance
to pull his weight, not just prance

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Right now my ear you got

While short time now remaining
got all time presently
(in real-time, without feigning)
to listen pleasantly

While I was listening
to understand too harebrained
my heart wasn’t enlisting
back when ample time remained

Could only have playacted
as feeling compassion
when so blithely distracted
not the youthful fashion

I’ve been clueless of a lot
but right now my ear you got

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Grins above chins, scowls above jowls

Youth’s breezy wide grin:
‘Have got it handled!’ look
Chiseled upbeat chin
behold the crisp paged book

Aging’s wheezing scowl:
‘Can’t figure it out?’ look
Sagging dangling jowl
behold the well worn book

So act while you’re still a prancer
when got every quick, right answer!

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Life’s unrivaled antic

Up the rose strewn trail scented

rushes the frantic fool
dizzy, common sense dented
like a kid out of school

We’re unfazed
hasty, dazed
our eyes glazed
all sense razed

Aroused to love romantic
what thrilling perception
our life’s unrivaled antic
of passion, deception

A game by a Creator ‘demented’
assures new generations tormented

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Such is the life of the drunken sailor

Once young, when in Djibouti
Life Herself in the guise
of an enchanting beauty
gave him her deep well eyes

But she feigned not giving a hootie
when while blushing he praised her wrap
She pretended coy, cool & snooty
flustered, he could only tip his cap

Callow, thought he’d been rejected
so he told himself: retreat!
To a dive bar he defected
to nurse his awkward defeat

Under blistering sun in zenith
back later aboard his freighter
with in his sweltering bunk beneath
hangover on the equator

Once again hoists anchor his ship
such is life of the drunken sailor:
Off on another lonely trip
he sails away as his own jailer

+)
-Djibouti = a port on the southern entrance to the Red Sea
-freighter = cargo ship

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Flotsam windswept, left in wake, wept

Watch the ephemeral waves
on oceans eternal
those wary warrior braves
their persistence vernal

Days raced in the froth of my youth
like driven waves, white capping
while now I’m a laggardly sleuth
usually caught napping

Am a poseur among knaves
a most tiresome recluse
one who cowers from the waves
gushing pretexts profuse

Flotsam on stormy ocean
oblivious, obtuse
swept in howling commotion
in existence abstruse

+)
-flotsam = floating wreckage