Some Oldies...

Here are some poems from about 4 years ago...


"Busting Up a Chifforobe (Part I)"

In order to bust up a chifforobe
You must come with an axe-in-hand
You’ll need the strength of millions
To even walk this chifforobe land

He hired me to bust it up
In a gallant axing swoop
But to bust it in just one swing
Would require the strength of a troupe

So instead of swinging with all my might
I’ll swing with my head and say
"If you want this chifforobe busted up
I’m going to need more than just one day"

And then we started to dream…

I asked him if he could define chifforobe
In a couple words or less
He looked in the dictionary and found nothing
And he knew he was in a mess

How are we going to bust this thing up
If you don’t even know what it is?
What’s more likely and "common" would be
Knowledge of the bundle of his

Such is the heartbeat of every man
But this we don’t even know
So how the hell do you want me
To bust up some rusted chifforobe?

And then he started to think…

Chip away at the chifforobe
You must chip chip chip chip chip
Chip away at the chifforobe
Yes, chip chip chip chip chip

Can it really be so simple
With the axe in only one man’s hand?
Yes, it is so simple because
It all started with the one-armed man

Why is it that the sons of black robins
Always sing the most beautiful song?
If you want to know that answer
Grab an axe and sing along

Chip away at the chifforobe
You must chip chip chip chip chip
Chip away at the chifforobe
Yes, chip chip chip chip chip



Echo: Crisp December

12/24/04, Torrance Beach

Brisked blue resonates the iris
Matching hues in Winter’s beauty
Piercing contrast to discontent times
Dolphins echo waves’ receding rhymes

Ebb y tide y tide y ebb
Surface dwellers dive inside
Into the great unknown unless shallow shores
Echo out the game some more

Sensual peel disrobes right to left
Soft shore crash exhales heavenly breath
You’re glistening…and you can’t hide your smile
Echoing along the cliffs

Your description escapes me
As a gull dive-bombs your plane
Sensual echo in a mist
Gasping only to return to beauty
Echoing the all of me





Down went the Generation
12/22/04

We sat on the bus
Brothers
And loved one another

Striding with a grin before games begin
Broken tongue without a win
Knowing that we were all brothers

We used to cheer each other on
And push the other through the finish
Dinners every other night
Homework nowhere in sight
Wish I may kick ass tonight
And come back to do it again tomorrow

Ten years later and something changed
Forces of fraternity rearranged
Busted dreams in a tabloid age
Sages pained in a sterile rage
Let me out of this polished cage
Burn the book or turn the page
Monsters drink in shortened days
Trotting into a dusty haze
What was it that started this craze
Brothers no more?

Moonlight dominant, sunlight fades
Silky shoes lined with jade
Working want for wanted wage
Battle yet to even engage
No mas es el mundial un stage
This cannot I even gauge
All the world’s ablaze
With an unnatural hue

Wronged man receiving praise
Before games no flags raised
Stunned history in such amaze
At such silly displays
Of egregious ecstatic apathy

What is it that daily pays
Prism bent sunlit rays
Summed up by one fat phrase
Brothers no more are we




I opened up the newspaper today

I opened up the newspaper today
And my name was no longer there
But it wouldn’t take a newspaper
To tell me you don’t care

Haphazard is the state of print
What does and doesn’t make the news
But perhaps ‘tis not so random
When a winner starts to lose

The ink so bold begins to fade
And the trident’s hold just slips away
And waking up to another day
Will never be so easy

What is it then that makes the story?
Not the passion but just the glory?
What did they say about Robert Horry
When he missed all those three-point shots?

Tomorrow when I walk the hallways
Where you had said you’d be there always
Echo…

He hears himself think
He sees himself drink
He tastes himself think
He feels himself drink
He smells of failure

Haphazard is never the state of mind
Dwelling never for the color blind
Flowing red has turned to rash
Decisions locally let to hash

It must be this or it must be that
But certainly, it must not be that
“I thunk he as wily as a cat…”

Cats can be loyal as well
Affectionate frequently like the distant knell
Of the bell
That tolls for the fading ink of me

Tomorrow if you even see my name
Faded letters that will never read the same
“Your yesterday’s news pal
Read all about it
Johnny Ringbearer is a piece of sh_____”