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Fleeing Autumn Skies

Innumerable rugged steps
Across the broken concrete
Of a desolate city
Have lead me to this place
Of spiritual dejection.

No one’s disposition
Is created in a vacuum,
No one’s psyche is established
In a single day,
No one’s soul is known
Outside the accumulated experiences
Of joy and sorrow.

My memories are woven
Into the fabric of my existence,
So many fibrous strands of struggle fray
And dreams unwind like balls of twine.

As a child, I fell in love

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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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What Better Gift

Best wishes.
Hoping you well with enough joy,
To spread for each day you are able!

It should not be only on holidays,
We come together
Full of cheer and anticipation...
To celebrate and make amends!
These connected days that tie into seasons,
Should overflow from stored up hope and love!
Had I thought of a gift?
To exchange in merriment?
Have I selected slots of limited time
Thinking of ways to stretch pennies, nickles
And dimes?
There's not a month that goes by
That I find doing that has become tradition!

I wonder if God wants me to shop at Saks'?
Or Macy's, Sears or stores that sell back packs!

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Nostalgia's Brutal Junk Heap

Yellow rainbows smile upside down from
Cheap liquor bottles
In those retired rodent neighborhoods where dogs
Take charge
And fleas hold circus; they are all in love with the
Gamy mermaid who takes her bath of tricks
Sometimes when right before
The ice-cream man perambulates with his cursing
Wind-chimes,
His balmy vanilla fireworks: She takes all the dimes
That would’ve been his
From the bicycles of adolescent kisses;
And then she swims away, swearing that she’ll make
It all the way to Spain,
But she never does- She just gets to Lake Worth
And then dances topless for bikers;
And I would have liked to see her before she was all spent
In a house of bruises underneath the palmettos,
Their suppliant cutlery that is peppered by cicadas-
But for these scars, they make me sad and agoraphobic

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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Do I Need This?

'Do I need this? '

Yes you do!
You have been overdue for a wakeup call,
And now that has come to you.
Not only will the clarity
Of the reality
Restore your vim and vigor!
But with that pettiness gone...
You will have your mind on much bigger issues,
To find you becoming centered.
With a desire of 'that' to pursue!

And that's good!
So needed.
And this couldn't be a better time!
For 'you' to be truer to YOU.

'WHY are you so optimistic?
You talk out of your mind!

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kaiser and Co. Or Hoch der Kaiser

[Being Wilhelm der Grosser's estimate of himself and partner, translated from the original Hoch-deutsch.]

Der Kaiser auf der Vaterland
Und Gott on high all dings gommand,
Ve two! Ach! don'd you understandt?
Meinself -- und Gott.

He reigns in Heafen, und always shall,
Und mein own Embire don'd vas small;
Ein noble bair, I dink you call
Meinself -- und Gott.

While some men sing der power divine,
Mein soldiers sing der "Wacht am Rhein,"
Und drink der healt in Rhenish wein,
Auf me -- und Gott.

Dere's France dot swaggers all aroundt,
She ausgespieldt -- she's no aggoundt,

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poem by Alexander MacGregor Rose
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The Tin Bank

Speaking of banks, I'm bound to say
That a bank of tin is far the best,
And I know of one that has stood for years
In a pleasant home away out west.
It has stood for years on the mantelpiece
Between the clock and the Wedgwood plate--
A wonderful bank, as you'll concede
When you've heard the things I'll now relate.

This bank was made of McKinley tin,
Well soldered up at sides and back;
But it didn't resemble tin at all,
For they'd painted it over an iron black.
And that it really was a bank
'Twas an easy thing to see and say,
For above the door in gorgeous red
Appeared the letters B-A-N-K!

The bank had been so well devised
And wrought so cunningly that when

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poem by Eugene Field
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Delicatessen

Why is that wanton gossip Fame
So dumb about this man's affairs?
Why do we titter at his name
Who come to buy his curious wares?

Here is a shop of wonderment.
From every land has come a prize;
Rich spices from the Orient,
And fruit that knew Italian skies,

And figs that ripened by the sea
In Smyrna, nuts from hot Brazil,
Strange pungent meats from Germany,
And currants from a Grecian hill.

He is the lord of goodly things
That make the poor man's table gay,
Yet of his worth no minstrel sings
And on his tomb there is no bay.

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poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Philiper Flash

Young Philiper Flash was a promising lad,
His intentions were good--but oh, how sad
For a person to think
How the veriest pink
And bloom of perfection may turn out bad.
Old Flash himself was a moral man,
And prided himself on a moral plan,
Of a maxim as old
As the calf of gold,
Of making that boy do what he was told.

And such a good mother had Philiper Flash;
Her voice was as soft as the creamy plash
Of the milky wave
With its musical lave
That gushed through the holes of her patent churn-dash;--
And the excellent woman loved Philiper so,
She could cry sometimes when he stumped his toe,--
And she stroked his hair
With such motherly care

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Take care of the dimes and the dollars will take care of themselves.

American proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Moonlight Lady

Whos gonna tell you goodnight?
Whos gonna put out the light?
I love you and love is almost crazy
Slippin through the so and sos
Over all the fields we go
Moonlight lady
Dont wanna tell you so long
Dont wanna mess up your song
Feelin like I do Im almost crazy
Choosin all the red blue jeans
Watchin people be so mean
Moonlight lady
Im on fire
And I can hardly breathe
Time goes by
And all alone
My poor heart grieves
I love you just cause I do
I didnt plan it with you
But now were here we might as well accept it

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song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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