agoodguy2have Poetry (283)

there is beauty and violence here
is there beauty in a hanging body?
of course! the beauty of conviction
the streets mean and rivers raging
the people vanish in waves, torrents

can more be said as the innocent
bake in deserts of desolation
while shimmering mirage beckons
with shade and cool water just ahead
turning to oasis of redeeming reality

as senseless violence continues
unabated whilst beatified altruism
surrounds each villainous accretion
of rock on heart that just won't end
always another happenstance of will

a small boy helps his grandmother
in any trivial way, gladdening
then drowns in the afternoon pool
fates, oh, the fates always stringing
pulling this way and that, the lives
of all the actors, some passion play

the part cast trivial or challenging
when the angelic take center stage
and say their eloquent lines,
bringing the audience to its feet
applauding the meaning of life
it is after all a worthy endeavor
and bowed, the grateful of accolades

© agoodguy2have 2010-08-03

It seems like we've grown jaded.
That the past was more better,
more nicer, more innocent,
than things seem today with
all the hungry, and the homeless
the jobless, the angry, the hopeless.

But it is the myth of the now.
Our mothers, grandfathers, and
back beyond reckoning to distant
times, were sad with heartache
that time forgot, that we forget.

We imagine it as friendlier,
more wholesome, good for the soul,
a slow walk down cobbled paths.
A less hurried and harried life.
Watching mother cook fresh eggs.

The dings and blings of youth
today seem incessant and unyielding.
Yesterday's time was chalk hopping
rope jumping, and frog leaping.
But we've always been hungry...

For a simple time when truth
is given quietly and shamelessly
as a good dog comes to it's owner.
And love isn't so distant that
we can't reach out and scratch it.

© agoodguy2have 2010-04-02

can we conjure something worthwhile
with magical hat and secret potion
something to entertain and beguile
turn wasted time to forward motion

the brave and wise to turn it better
days of valuable enchanted bliss
a valuable asset from forlorn debtor
tomorrow's memories sweet reminisce

pick on ground for philosopher's stone
black, white, yellow and red stages
some elixir of life, the end postpone
mystic great work down through the ages

let this life's quality be foretold
and not be what we all most dread
life’s alchemy changing lead into gold
not richly lost, change gold into lead

© agoodguy2have 2010-08-09

she served him up a fair-served shot
which he returned with speed, a lot

and back-n-forth they balled and turned
but never did a point they earn

the match was always love to love
no clear advantage for either thereof

he said she was fifteen to his game
she maintained she was 30 just the same

and that his love would always be for nil
and that their games must continue until

she lobbed a shot right over his head
he said no way, she'd be the loser instead

so on into the day they volleyed the points
their court was covered, no judge to appoint

a delicate push right to her net
she'd dash to return his balls and get

another chance to keep the point in play
and continue their game on into the day

when nighttime came and they sat down to rest
they still couldn't agree on who was the best

but finally agreed they could amicably assume
they both were equals and went to their room

to end their love match alone in their bed
make love not a score, but their passion instead

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-14

I trust I'll get to my funeral some time
procrastination being a timeless trait
I meant to end this life sublime
But I seem to be terminally late

I apologize to you making my eulogy
I really am sorry to make you wait
I appreciate the kind words you'll say
But I seem to be terminally late

The pall bearers stand by idle
While will readers prize the estate
I just knew I wanted to be there
But I seem to be terminally late

The flowers look splendid I'm sure
The songs are lovely and sedate
The choir's never gonna sound better
But I seem to be terminally late

Don't worry about me or my soul
If ol' devil comes lookin' I'll skate
Cause I've loved this life I been livin'
But I seem to be terminally late

Sign the guest book please, I thank you
Say hello to my sorrowful soul mate
I'll make it up to you all, someday
But I seem to be terminally late

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-25

the schisms of the ism's

capitalism, socialism,
liberalism, conservatism,
consumerism, anarchism,
libertarianism, militarism,
imperialism, patriotism,

rationalism, individualism,
darwinianism, moralism, pacifism,
pessimism, humanitarianism,
globalism, existentialism,
ostracism, factionalism,

impressionism, freudianism,
plagiarism, perfectionism,
magnetism, sexism, idealism,
favouritism, criticism,
pointillism, postimpressionism,

protestantism, catholicism,
judaism, mohammedism,
puritanism, rastafarianism,
evangelicism, fundamentalism,
antidisestablishmentarianism

schisms of the ism's divide
all the humans worldwide
pulled apart, pulled asunder
violence, betrayal, thunder
for what! for why!
for who calls the shots?
for who gets to die?

what's the point?
what's all the ends?
who are our enemies?
who are your friends?

are we not all sapiens?
are we not all brothers?
do we not love our sisters?
can we not love one another?

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-27

dimly waking in early morning
tears slowly well in my lids
i hear your sweet voice singing
a noteworthy morning surprise

a quick high note follows long chord
and angelic you appear in the room
I, now, down hallway look perplexed
unsure how we got here from dawn

remember back to front door stoop
toddling citizens passing on lawn
the tea iced our throats, mint cool
as ants lined the cracks of June

the peanut buttered crumbs bounced
from bread to knee to walk
the ants, mini Atlas's grab 'n haul
the newfound booty back to den

each kind cares for it's own
observers only in other societies
i look at you as you coo progeny
gently mentoring generations coming

be day or night, the time we got
together is what life's all about
sweet strains of song hummed 'n sung
bring me back to us, where we belong

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-29

in the belly of the line
peristalsis undulations
gut wrenching lamentations
emotions so hard to digest

the fullness of phrase
protrudes button
pregnant with meaning
there is life in words

and excrement too
the colon separates
balancing worth of word
from meaningless waste

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-29

life flight, plastered to our seats then float
oh...oh...the beauty of it all, take some notes
can I express what it now means...adequately
or will solemn words only ring hollow to you

just beyond the apex on the slightest curve down
he sees her looking back across the arc afore
when engines thrust fired hot, and so did love
and reentry was a thing to come...ahead

blackout is coming a few minutes down range
remember when we looked through life's portal
and saw all the earth before us, spinning days
to nights and back, all framed in India ink black

hardened and hot the free fall begins quickening
to the inevitable touchdown of life's recovery
Challenges and Discoveries were met and passed
to another time, reverently remembered

the roaring music now faintly smolders
a million million billion points in mind
all are here, but I can't hear you anymore
blinding...blinding...fade to white

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-12

surface tension,
. too clear to mention
best stick to brevity,
. and go for some levity
but need to dig deeper
. to keep her
just the finger tips,
. forget the lips...or hips

alienation,
. be it self, or the nation
leaves us thirsty
. for joint creation
just drink deeply
. of life's libation
and join in a chorus song...
. the whole throng

we can say it again and again,
. to explain
I jus' wanna be your man,
. any way I can
we'll live together,
. for worse or the better
make our bed, lie in it,
. live and let, to permit
.
everyone to make known
. a love to the marrowed bone
rising, setting, spinning 'round
. dancing on the common ground
jigs, waltzes, ballets and squares
. laughs, cries, and double dares
wanting never to ever let go
. just to tell you that I love you so

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-12

he goes down to the stacks
asking the captain where's
the air-dried, 'cause he knows
the kiln can warp a hard bored

he wants to build something
lasting and strong with rich
lines and scents, a few nots
for beauty, knot to weaken

his notion of what wood matter
to a careful carpenter, shaven
and blocked, straight and strong
the living would, the livin' wood

plane grain, a fine saw to see
edge to end he's got it pegged
cut it out, measure for measure
clamp on tight, she'll last

back to eyein' straight and true
the best the forest offered green
strength takes time, seasoning
and worm holes add character

he picks the best for intents
and leaves the warped to sun
knowing when she's home, back
he'll have something to build

© agoodguy2have 2010-07-09

i can see it all in your face
the slight smile, left side crooked,
a chip off your maxillary central incisor
from that bicycle accident in fifth grade

the couple of grayed lashes over those
deep blue eyes that many brightly regard
striking-looking, with crows feet splayed
like windblown tears of joy, to temples

those pock marks on your forehead from
chicken pox when you were home that hot
Indian Summer for almost a week and
your Mom looked so worried and doted

there's a little blood now in the left
eye's white, probably from long nights
worrying about those that you love, more
than days squinting toward a paycheck

whether through a looking glass darkly
or silvered glass back at you, it's all
there, faces give it away, for a gaze
at all that has been you, up to today

© agoodguy2have 2010-06-30