The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

seaside autumn sunset sonnet

Accompanying music:

by the colacolored waves

whispering their swaying sounds

sun this sunday early lays

’pon its waterbed o’ clouds

blanketing these cooing gales

mintsweet firs to kill the chills

counting ships those reekcreep snails

sail its walls o’ frosty hills

days descend like paper sheets

yellowing synced with leaves whose trees

shiver black with tea & seas

Posted in Metered, Mezunian Sonnet, Photos, Pictures, Poetry

summer october sonnet

Accompanying music:

fall the goldsoft resin treasures

crispbrown jalapeño chips

palm o’ palmates blushing gestures

roughhewn arms flick wrists in wind

cloudridden icarus my sun

casting lines to warmcool lakes

under gusts from sparrows’ lungs

sleeping ’way the shrinking days

wake from drunken summers sober

finding helios’ reign’s over

leave streets red for black october

Posted in Metered, Mezunian Sonnet, Poetry

Mockingbird

The hummingbird said to me that day,

<Just whistle & I will fly you ’way>;

but I couldn’t whistle,

but only make pathetic puffy-lip spurts,

& so it left me to be devoured by vultures.

Posted in Metered, Poetry

I Miss E’en November ( diga más, nunca no quiero a hablar de eso ) [ DER JUNGE HAT KEINE VERDAMMTEN KLASSIKER ]

So cozy is the evening o’ the year;

but the new year…

               it’s opening blinds to blinding light

& yanking all the blankets off me…

                                                                      ¿Why?

The grandest meal that lasts is that last supper

cooked warm on death row.

                                                        But now

I’m leased to nothing but the clear-skied breeze.

& the’ain’t e’en any leaves.

                                                        But wind…

Posted in Metered, Poetry

Die Herbstzeiten eines Volkes


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Accompanying music:


Ich möchte dich festhalten —

weicher Atem, schlagendes Herz;

während ich in dein Ohr flüstere,

ich will dich verdammt auseinander reißen.

You gorgeous gothic autumn withered firs

put on the perfect play for these uneasy zephyrs

round this o’ercrowded theater I attend.

Marvel as I push past

too many poems for this tired eye to render —

crowd maple feathers with their rockin’ letters

crying for ’ttention on these building signs &

uncomfortable cars, their neck-ache news screws tightened —

akin to pallored skin on fretting lightning —

a swoonful, sure, but omens ill inviting

as the smoke spread by my unspoken words

creep up to kill the sky without a thought.

Too much abundent love will smother us

with floods o’ sun. But I don’t dare stop —

Posted in Metered, Poetry

Day o’ Rest in Peace

( Note: due to internet outages, this poem comes 1 week after the event ).

Accompanying music

Sunday morn in peace ~

lone, pieces fall together.

February snow.

Sunday day in pieces ~

e’en the tree I’ve known fore’er

falls dead.

Not so silly anymo’ ~

a fir’s yellow scarf.

Me dejaste aquí como un contorno de tiza

en la acera esperar para la lluvia lavarse, lavarse.

Sigues volviendo al lugar del crimen,

pero los muertos no pueda hablar y no queda nada decir, de todos modos.

Those were the words I heard in summer 2012,

when 1st I learned that no foundation keeps its build;

higher than 5 years following, you remind me

the prophesy forgotten fell fulfilled.

Posted in Española, Haiku, Senryu y amigos, Metered, Poetry

October Friday 13 Sonnet

Accompanying music:

Lemon drops on milky clouds

bound this wistful field above

pewter lakes — ¡but wait! ¡Look now!

¿How’d this specter enter such

verdant film now ill, when it

wasn’t there before. Before I

eat my harvest, fix on this

ray of sunlight staged for sore eyes.

Superstitions won’t sway trees;

what a day to buy tea leaves —

October Friday 13.

Posted in Metered, Mezunian Sonnet, Poetry