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| g-l-o-r-i-a |
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| G-L-O-R-I-A by Pattee Mack 11.14. 2004 The red tip of her cigarette glowing in the damp dark I’m listening as she’s talking wisps of blue smoke trickling up above her head like a halo: A grounded angel watching from the wings. As I tell my story the stage dark except for a dimming spotlight on closing night of my predictable romantic drama. Gloria listens, flicking ashes off scuffed black knee boots torn ebony stockings we’re talking about broken hearts and men we’ve given up on and life as we know it. What we wish we knew now we were wiser at 18 wondering where we’re going and who we’ve been and I’m no longer sure of anything by the time daylight cracks under the dark doorway Another night spent crying over how great we thought it was maybe it was. We were fools in love drunk on first kisses, the roughness of masculine cheeks against our silken ones. First nights spent wrapped up in a new man’s embrace rolling like a deep wave under his taut skin. tenor whispers in my ear: listening to that lovers’ music in a moonless night, the stars eclipsed by his appearance on my horizon in the dark. His hand fingers woven into mine: The first connection. Now many years later the electric flow of that signal interrupted by static interference breaking the connection transmission fading connection lost. The blue flame of a match striking another cigarette smouldering Gloria listens to the outcome I wish I had her brittle combat game face on armed with contempt when I encounter the firing squad at dawn instead of collapsing in tearful surrender when the blindfold goes on and the gunfire cracks. his parting shot. Leaving me tuning into an alternative station on another lover's wavelength. I’d like to be tough with her cigarette between my lips To laugh cynically at the outcome close the book on love. move on. not caring. game over. |
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| Added On: Sun Nov 14 2004 | Hits: 1 |
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| Fuzzy |
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| Once upon a summer evening As I stood upon my back porch pee-ing I saw out of the corner of my eye A small furry being strolling by Too large for a rabbit – too small for a hog It wasn’t a possum a coon or a dog By the time I pee-ed and zipped up my pants The furry little being started to dance I stared quietly at the funny little thing Then, to my disbelief, he started to sing What could it be? Was it really there? All I could do was stand there and stare It had big black eyes and a little pink nose Short stubby legs with long fuzzy toes It skipped and it hopped and it played like a kid Then, behind the old oak tree, it stopped and hid As I stepped down from the deck to get a better view The bottom step cracked and my foot fell through Then I fell to the ground with a loud bang The creature was frightened and out he sprang It ran and it ran – with tremendous speed As I lay in the puddle – where I just pee-ed He crossed the yard and leaped into the woods I clumsily scared him away for good I searched for weeks but never did see That funny little creature that so amused me |
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| Added On: Sat Jan 10 2004 | Hits: 1 |
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| FROM A WINDOW |
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| FROM A WINDOW Between two stones that grind by night, between two hammers that pound by night - - the cold flat face of an old iron anvil - - I awakened to sirens screaming in the dark a dream of a dream within a dream. I looked from a window and saw you sitting alone in a tavern, waiting perhaps for the fabled Godot, some Queen of Dreams, a Prince of Peace or the Son of God while I danced with mannequins in the red-velvet, multi-mirrored alien discotheque next door. From another window I glanced and noticed that the late afternoon sun shown a warm gold on your shoe-less feet, as you walked to the Fountain of Mirrors by a river of glass to cast your wishes and precious medallions into the riffling waters, filling phosphorescent Pools of Fate. Gazing through yet a different window, I saw you solitary in Venice, naked and feeding birds at a far edge of the square. There were tears in your eyes… I knew you sensed the coming of winter with its warning of incoming gray - - clouds sandwiched as slate diagonal across leaden skies, summer’s warm laughter so soon to be gone. Went sailing, but the sea was too rough, had to turn back and I was startled then, to see you standing in a gondola passing as if in movie camera ‘slow-motion’ from under the Bridge Of Sighs. It wasn’t your face but I knew it was you. None of your disguises could hide that knowing look in your eyes. I cried out to watch your step, lest you lose your footing and slip down into some bottomless void. Fatigued, I slept for a month in the expansive emptiness of Idaho by a campfire that never burned out fire which I built on a barren plain that resembled a landscape view of Jupiter, Mars or the Plain Of Jars. You had said you’d be away in England but a messenger told me later - - during a dream…deep within lost warrens of the nightmares - - that you were really in France. In midnight desperation, I boarded a great ocean liner and knew you were on it. The corridors I walked in search of your room were narrow and long, dank, compressed and stifling chambers of seemingly thousands of doors. Claustrophobia came in nauseating waves like sickening and fevered psychic tides until finally I found you: surprised…with a shy smile but some how you knew I would come. Even then, you suddenly vanished with only a faint ‘rustling’ when momentarily I turned away to brush aside subtle glisten of tear and gaze through a porthole. I see your face sometimes in surreal shadows lightning flashes there and within those moments of eerie blitzkriegs raining down the blue-white light, a portrait hidden away is illumined and shown as framed in a dreamlike hallway of time… a remembrance of your lost child smile. From a window looking out into the past, I watch as a Salvation Army Band plays “Old King Cole” and crystal carafes of fine wine glisten deep red in prisms cast by firelight - - time seemed to pause and we laughed. Though unknown, it was really farewell. I looked for you on winter’s deserted beaches with platoons of gulls standing motionless and one-legged upon glistening sands, awaiting the end of a day. Noticed you once in a Lincoln at a high plains gas station, staring through the driver’s side window. I made a racing U-turn but you disappeared in shimmering heat waves like liquid air rising it was just an August mirage. I searched for you in the marble halls of a silent observatory with its giant telescope aimed up at a starless sky. Then gazing through the great lens, I thought perhaps to catch a glimpse of you floating through interstellar space or standing in Heaven amidst the glorious presence of God. I looked for you in the gray room among piles of clichés the millions of slogans…all so useless in heaps dangling conversations of the empty and trite tape recorder mouths set firmly in expressionless faces of ashen dolls…playing ‘figures of speech’ over, and over…without end the eerie gestures of the once familiar turned to strangers now I knew you were passing through - - your footprints lay on the floor in the dust and your fingerprints still clung to golden ceiling mirrors which like a vampire’s image, reflected nothing at all. In the blink of an eye, I caught a peripheral flash of your shadow as you left in a whirlwind without a goodbye. I fled the gray room with its lifeless, pale watercolors: the very air thick as cement and all the vacant people having in silence…each one…turned to stone the shattered music having fallen in a billion glassine shards the rows upon rows of petrified songbirds utterly unable to sing phantom zombie choirs with their empty faces and hollow eyes multiple groaning…clanking escalators which climbed up and down to nowhere and a grim smothering fog that blocked out the sun. Then out in the lonely night there was jasmine vaporous and intoxicating in the warm damp air. I heard haunting sounds of a distant train upon its tracks, no doubt making some journey to parts unknown perhaps a big city in the east, a great plains ghost town or maybe even down hill, to the center of the Earth. Feeling a sudden chill, I went to sleep under a half moon hanging as if hung from a lamp-stand by a lagoon we once knew: those nights so alive then with the music of frogs and haunting sounds of owls in the woods nearby. An hour before dawn, I awoke to the cawing of crows mysteriously awakened and restless in the trees. Standing up, I began somehow moving rapidly forward and passed through a thick, heavy ‘wall of time’ which offered no resistance and then stepped into a raging hurricane. The atmosphere cracked and fell in pieces like horizontal rain, driven by howling winds with dreadful force clocks, calendars, faces and years flew past me. Ten thousand sunsets and as many sunrises whirled round in a staggering blur, I put on my old uniform and looked from a window no more. David Bate ( a.k.a. David Lee ) Long Beach, Ca. September 10, 2001 . REV. Jan 6, 2002, July 30-31, 2002, and August 30, 2002 |
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| Added On: Thu Sep 16 2004 | Hits: 1 |
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| Free at Last |
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| Here I sit so lonely So discouraged and sad Wondering why my life Has turned out so bad I’m all alone it seems In this cold dark life With no one to love me Not even my own wife It’s sad but it is true, I must finally admit It’s true what they say I ain’t worth a shit It’s a mystery to me Why I’m still here Dealing with such sadness Darkness, pain and fear I should just end it all Right here and now Point my gun to my head, Pull the trigger and POW Then I would be dead Cold stiff and alone Six feet under ground Encased in cold gray stone Free – at last… |
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| Added On: Sat Jan 10 2004 | Hits: 1 |
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| FLUSTER |
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| I’ve been down all season— I’m sniffing for something new. So insanely sick of all the old stuff. Why is it you never knew? God, I’m standing on the corner Waving at you. Can’t you see I’ve changed my old dress? I’m surprised you never knew That when I told you no, It’s because I was alone and bruised, That when I told you no, It’s because I was in two. So, I’m standing on the corner And I’m waving at you. Can’t you see I’ve changed my old dress? I’m surprised you never knew That I like it when I’m with you, That I like your bald-faced stare— The way it makes me act a-fluster Watching flagrant feelings dare. And I'm standing on the corner, So I can wave at you. Can’t you see I’ve changed my old dress? I really wish you knew … |
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| Added On: Tue Dec 30 2003 | Hits: 1 |
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