Allegory Poems (898)

So you think that perhaps I’ve lost my ability?...
I’m stable, I’ll never lose my agility...
I’m docile, with twisted sick fragile fragility...
But seriously, I’ll twist the best that you can throw at me...

I’m fully accessible to those that can accept me...
For those that can’t, I do have some humility...
I’ll flex what seems inflexible at the moment...
For example, I suffer pondering ‘The Atonement’...

Some here have known me for quite some time now...
Most of you haven’t, ....I feel your highbrow...
It matters not either way what you think...
These wordplay words, are the last missing link....

you shook rattled and rolled me when I smelled your sweet perfume
you brought me some happiness and took away my gloom
you entertain me when my thoughts are wrong
when I see you, you tell me to hit that rattle snaking bong
you take me on a trip that I never forget
you put thoughts in my head and that when you said
its time to rap a rhythm off the top of your head
out the words poured with hardly a thought
and that is when I realized exactly what I got
the gift of writing words in a big crazy mess
but after I have tasted you is when I write the best
so out the words poured one after another
the hardest part is just putting the words together
in any form or fashion the words can be put
so when it is all said and done they will go in a book!

My intellect detects...
The things that I select...

I inspect what I inject...
To protect what I project...

I correct what can't connect...
And reflect what can deflect...

I reject all your respect...
I dissect what you protect...

Emotional detector, the supreme protector...
Dissector selector...
Deflector respector...

Corrector connector...
Protector projector...
Injector inspector...
Expect hurt...

A perfect reflector with a painful rejector...
You are the ultimate emotional detector....

Only you can

Open my eyes

You can see

Nothing to hide

Better than one

Day by day

Let just say

We’re on our way

Each of us

Here to stay

For ever

And ever

Can you feel

I am near

In your head

In your heart

We all arrive

To survive

In a world

Flags unfurled

In a swirl

A majestic ride

Drifting out to sea

We make believe

What we conceive

Rising on waves

Setting out

Towards tomorrow

And beyond

Should I drop U a note
naturally again l am eating alone
waiting on a bowl of gumbo.
Ur a no-show
likely doing the three famous maestros
Larry, Curly and I hope
U choke
on Moe.
I'm sorry but feeling pretty low
losing my Piedmont pillow.
I remember U long ago
U tried to corner the market playing the blues on a banjo
Made sense nobody knows
Maybe since lock in cellar sits a dusty jazz piano
Then Lock jaw denied U fame and fortune blowing the piccolo
always known for Ur solos
this was before wearing out Ur welcome on the cello,
Started as a joke
writings odes
to The Twilight Zone
staring the fallen saint, Billie Joe
who had an episode
when she lost her halo
when rain turned to snow
It slipped from her dome
while dipping her bent toe
into the dark cosmos
but caught the eye of fire breathing hippo
in mid-pounce on a giant translucent minnow
So the story goes
like a Viking's fine paid thru the nose.
Plunging halo
now traveling at speed of light heads for ground zero
was caught on film in slow mo
oddly snatched up by a swooping sparrow,
but dropped like a dirty ho
on seeing a dancing scarecrow
doing the tango
with a Hispanic gringo.
Never scare off any crows
Each of them having a mind of their own
Scavengers are at home
grilling up some squirming lizard toads.
on the sun baked roads,
like on US 95 thru Mosco
not in Russia but Idaho
and yet the halo continued to roll
for years through God only knows
til it finally landed in Chicago
on the Antiques Roadshow
shown off by an old crone
or St Joe incognito
with big nose
who lived alone
making a cameo
drooled over its host
a fat sweaty fellow
who smelled like pork roast
sampled his ear lobe
on toast
out doing Van Gogh
Anyway my hat off to poor bloke,
with necklace yoke
now a foot off the flo,
at end of his rope,
swinging low
to tune of Desperado
fading in and out on solid state radio.
Once again The Silent Landline Telephone
takes another mofo.
dreams he gives up the ghost
but wakes up surfing down an ice flow
in hills of Glasgow
tripping too much Gingko
staring past where horizon aglow
but alas seeing nothing that doesnt show

Park was the head officer on the border crossing between North and South Korea. He had a problem.

Two weeks ago a woman, let's call her lin, pitched up at the crossing gate with a jute bag of soil attached to the front panniers of her well maintained Honda 50 motorcycle.

The inevitable menagerie of sniffer dogs, hard bitten counter intelligence staff and regular army, checked her story.

Her papers checked out, she had permission to cross.

The soil was.. well.. just that.. soil. No contraband.. no diamonds.. nada.. zip.

Odd? Yes. But illegal? No.


Lin altered her days, but usually twice a week, she made the same journey:

Same bike
Same colour
Same bag of soil
Same papers
Same checkpoint
Same result.

It pissed the men off. Lin was beautiful and smart, and it seemed she had someone on high who was protecting her. The word from Park's superiors was simple:

"Unless you find something illegal, let her pass"

I guess it was tough (the first year) for Park. He was a proud man. A nagging doubt festered in his subconscious..

"What is she up to?"


Then, somewhere north of year three it stopped. No more Lin. No more bags of Earth.

No more reports by Park about the square root of nothing.

Park retired. Life moved on. Except.. not quite.

He tracked her down.
He confronted her.
He explained his retirement.
He wouldn't prosecute.
He just wanted to know.

"What was in the Bag!"

"Soil" said Lin.

"But.. what were you smuggling?" said Park.

Lin took a long look at the frazzled military man... and spoke a single word..

"motorcycles".

Hearts? yes
be they a bell
still dimly
all a chime

though faint and pure
it sleeps a'rest
neath the fraying
canvass of time

yet
what is
comfort friend?
what is rest

and what balances
the ledger
of your heart
when all her mores are less?

subtle guile
commutes
to inferior shores
tís true..

and how can a man
love his girl
when every
heart is blue?

the only place
a fearsome heart
will only
ever hide

let me sleep
in the valley
beyond the reach
of every horse and guide

I took a walk in ancient clothes
across your face, a mile
and as I tired I took a rest
in the corner of your smile

my crops slept in barren fields
before my primary death
then your eyes became a sun and moon
as birds danced in your breath

to me you are a woman
vast fields of shimmering hair
in the hardest trials I see you
when no-one else is there

I sailed across your angry tides
when I bowed to grief and fear
yet I always find safe anchor
in the harbour of your ear

Nights of mysteries and feelings,
Nights of dreams and plays, and vice,
Nights of musings and misgivings,
Nights of skies overcast with stars.
Nights of colds and chills, and quivers,
Nights of pleasure, grace and love,
Nights of treasures beyond measure
Of the verse made one by one.
Nights of darkness, pierced with candles,
Flames that flicker in the night.
Nights of sadness, thoughts of people
Friends and lovers that have died.
Nights we pass in tranquil leisure,
Nights we pass in raging lust,
Nights that give us heavenly pleasure,
Nights that last in toil and fast.

Night, my friend, please hearken to wish,
Just give me peace of mind and sound sleep.

I was all alone again last night with nothing much to do...
Staring at old pictures with bright thoughts of me and you...
Inspired by lit stars at night, I looked up in the sky...
And what I saw, was two stars fall, two stars that were so true...

Trailing memories with cosmic dust just streaking through my heart...
Sparking off sensations that require all our part...
Trying to trick the hands of time, I tried to push rewind...
Only to find, these hands of time, only work when you push start....