A Knowing Kind of Love

     "Frank!
   Get over here,
     quick,
  Its starting again!"
     Old Martha Barnes stated,

"What!
     Martha I can't hear you,
   when you talk,
      from the other room."
          Old Frank Barnes complained,

       Martha,
  hobbled through,
      the screen door,
        through the kitchen
   and into the living room,

         She noticed,
     the tvs blaring,
        as loud as can be,
  Frank Barns sat,
                Unknowingly, 
     
   She snuck up behind,
 her unsuspecting husband,
         and jumped in front,
     Yelling "i love you",

       "God damn it,
 Martha,
        You scared me half to death."
      Frank stated exasperated,
           Clutching his chest.

    Reaching for the remote,
 Martha turned the TV down,
       To a respectable level,

      "The neighbors are at it again"
        Martha Smiled,
            "The chitting and the chatting?"
                   Franks repression changed

"Oh no they're already yappin."
                           Martha left to the kitchen
            with frank close behind,
      pouring two fresh glasses,
          of lemonade.

   They sat down on the porch swing,
           With voices growing louder,
        Across the way,

                 "Let the squawking commence"
            Frank cheers-ed his wife,
                  a lifetime of memories
       is about commence,
           

       "You never listen to me do you!"
            A women's voice shouted
                 "NO, NO, DON'T PUT THIS ON ME"
           I TOLD YOU I WASN'T GOING
                        LAST MONTH"
                    A mans voice replied with the same intent,

           "Your not going galavanting,
                     with your friends again,
                  When you promised to come with me,"
              The woman stated,

           Old frank barns had 4,
                   fingers up,
             galavanting,
                      what a word,

          The curses came next,
                 and Martha counted,
            Those nasty words,
                    sequentially played,

           Old frank barn,
                 finished his lemonade,
            and placed it on the ground,
                grabbing his wife's hand.

           They danced to,
               the music,
                    of a tune they long forgot,
             and kissed her gently,

                  when the music finally stopped.

Circles : The Mountain Hideout : Part 10

Stratus clouds,
Litter the sky,
Periodically allowing,
          The sun
             To break Through,

  Like heavenly TV,
          on cue,
    Emits an easterly shadow,
  Casting darkened imprints,
     To follow our footsteps,

    By,
  Gazing a far,
        The meandering trail,
   A maple,
      A oak,
  A walnut,
         A birch,

   Randomly placed,
       Across a mountain side,
    Stripped of all color,
        Persephone's curse,

     Only a lone evergreen,
 Greets our passing,
        blocking wildly,
   the northerly chill,

  From a distance,
 Pursuers,
   Beat their drum,
 Rhythmically trying,
     to catch up,

    The fear....

   We must hide,
 But where?
    Another horizon,
    another after that,
          anoth....

    It came to me in,
      Mid though,
         Charley is just playing,
        another one of his games,

  There in the distance,
        a token force,
     guarding a pass,
          long forgotten,
      
    We set up camp,
  and plan our assault,
      drawing in dirt,
    on a distant hill,

    We'll pass the gate,
 at 19 hundred,
    clear the building,
  room by room,

         With,
    Groups of two,
        Moving fast,
    Eliminating all,
       In the resistance force.

To part 9 or To part 11

Tatters

Your words,
      breath life,
 that ripple,
      Through life,

  Which Fray,
    The bias,
   of uncontrolled,
     chaos,

     Now worn,
    from battle,
   and decent,
    debate,

   The Colors,
     are Faded,
    surrendered,
        States,

      Love,
     is blood,
    with holes,
      in the wind,

   We rally,
     around,
    a fallen,
      Friend,

   Saluting,
       the memory,
     the immortal,
       souls,

      Awaiting,
           first light,
         of a new,
             dawn.

The Search

I can't say,
     Why I love you,

 But its beautiful,
     When our minds,
    Are In Tune,

  At first,
      I shivered,
   At your slightest touch,

   Cuz I realize,
        That I wasn't quite whole...................

Train Station

Waiting for a train,
     Here in Conshohocken,
  I hit my baby up,
         I ask her what she's watchin,

  She says the tvs out on the whole damn street.

         She's bored to death and waiting for me-e-eee.

   For into the city,
     We'll escape this mundane day,
        I'll save you,
           If You'll save me too...

        Round the bend,
                 That whistle blows,
            Its coming for,
                 All these displaced souls,

      Were heading hooo-oo-oo-oome,
                  to Philadelphia.

       The train packs full,
              here in mayniyunk,
         but I got you on my mind,
     
          A sweet little lady,
              tries to move on in,
          but this seat is taken,
                   my hear is waiting,
                               for you.

   For into the city,
     We'll escape this mundane day,
        I'll save you,
           If You'll save me too...

        Round the bend,
                 That whistle blows,
            Its coming for,
                 All these displaced souls,

      Were heading hooo-oo-oo-oome,
                  to Philadelphia.

   

Scorched Earth

     There's love in these veins,

That is meant to be shed,

         Dripped on the floor,
  
              Again and again.

    Just sleep it off now,

           And forget all about,

    That chill,

        Crawls right up your spine.

     Let it dig in its claws,

        And race though your soul,
 
    A welcomed embrace,

         Again and again,

    Within this abyss,

          Were burning it all,

   With a pathological,

     conscious control.