Tenterhooks

 

Painting by Sir Anthony Hopkins

 

stretched between maybes

tremble tissues of batwings

extended suspended from

overhead recesses dark and

theatrically cavernous damp

taut and fraught with the

flopsweat of uncertain endings

anxiety shudders with cold

possibilities membranes

divide when from then hanging

curtains of skin in proscenium

attitude blinding the actor

to obvious outcomes no sense

of the audience all of his choices

of speech caught on tenterhooks

black iron forgings catch drop

of the drapes veined in turn

with their coursings of pulsing

soliloquy colloquy obloquy

no loss for words among thespian

creatures the trick is to draw

down the right form of rhetoric

this is no time for embarrassing

truths from some too-honest

leadership life and blood loyalties

hang in stark balance and

consequence augurs for quick

stepping out to the footlights

performing whatever deceits

keep concealed the real nature

of sharp-toothed insectivores

 

 

From my book Ephemera

Kick the Can

Image From Pinterest

 

raise the ceiling
more room for incompetence
it’s only play money
borrowed with unborn hands
gilding funhouse promises

 

 

From my books Bohemian Scents and Riverthink

 

Solutions

Book Cover Illustration by Tom Adams

 

the magus knows all

secret sorcery

stirred in the boneyard

by light of ill moons

poison potions for sale

to panjandrums

in want of some wisdom

congenital addlepates

desperate for any advantage

to compensate moiety

minds of half measure

in need of black magic

some potent elixir

to grow common sense

where a wayward

tomfoolery flourishes

nothing too difficult

quick easy answers

the coin of the realm

spare the prayers

theirs is not holy work

no souls in danger

when they do not believe

in the soul to begin with

the prize demands

pay any price

and they will

fingers crossed that

the devil’s own agent

this once and this only

won’t sell them a lie

but if worse comes to worst

what’s a few dozen more

of our children who die

Throwing Shade

“2016 Throwing Shade” by Shara Hughes

 

tell me if you can

what the hell is your point

as you demonize vilify

spill with hostility

toss easy epithets

bomblets of bile

all it does is present you

as hateful and small

teaching wholesale distrust

of the bullhorn and microphone

worst are your wicked

mean underhand subtleties

backhanded compliments

leaving no doubts

of your bitter convictions

irrational compulsions

transparent becomes

truth of falsity evident

even to sophomore citizens

wanting at least from their

organs of commonwealth

honesty simple straightforward

discussion of problems

with tenable tidy solutions

no shadows or shade

cast by smug institutional ego

just light shining bright

from the grounded good sense

of more principled hearts

Claptrap

“Composition with Three Male Figures” by Egon Schiele

party faithful
automatons
steal our
good faith
mugging trust
sleight of hand
misdirection
in each retail
handshake
each devious
pose struck
for lens of
the camera
sly insincere lips
drip with stale
dusty words
pious claptrap
when anxiously
clamoring ears
demand answers
when outraged
grieved eyes
demand actions
the commonweal
heart needs real
heroes not hacks
needs their pledge
to real truths
and this agonized
era of murder must
once and for all
be seized kicking
and screaming
by hands of
uncompromised
moral authority
brought to a
final and firm
denouement

Mountebank

Charlatan Image from Pinterest

 

I am the scourge
spewing oaths unto the winds
my name is legion

Conundrums

Image from pinterest.com

in the swamp
lives leviathan
nostrils alert
for the scent
of men’s lies
jaws engaged
set to snap
the black bones
of deception
and here does he
thrive never once
going hungry

in this fetid
arena where
speeches are
riddles and
trust the frail
province of fools
are great ethical
quandaries civic
conundrums
enough to try
sanity shatter
the mind of an
optimist citizen

no one to pick
up the shards
but the duped
who’ve been led
to embrace the
conceit that the
broken man’s
pieces result
from what surely
must be his mean
sinister judgments
and not from
enlightened
conviction

this dangerous
dark oily place
cannot ever let
truth find escape
it must die here
on tongues of
impostors whose
campaigns contain
empty rhetoric
only to govern as
solipsist rogues
rooted deep in
the slime of all
dead and decayed
noble purpose

 

 

From my book Ephemera

Perfect Pitch

“Hearing” by Jake Nordstrom

it’s all in the ear

the unconscious

eidetic discernment

of decency’s sounds

perfect packets

of audible memory

set-pieces pitched

as esthetic ideals

within deep

secret centers

electrically charged

limbic episodes

bearing distinctions

of pure synesthesia

a rarely placed gift

that must suffer

great pain to endure

through a lifetime

cacophonous discord

and dissonant speech

of unflinching

political hacks

who assault the

intelligent senses

of citizens

yearning for

elegant music of

justice and truth

fairly played in a

most human harmony

Of the People

“Crooked Politicians” by R.L. Alexander

 

legislate keys
to secret back doors
framed and fit
to the slouch
of your arrogance
cut off the
citizen rations
of vinegar wine
and stale bread
meager leavings
from those fed
too well at your
sumptuous sideboards

hide in plain sight
among statues
where duty
can’t locate you
crank up the
partisan static
in microphones
mimicking empathy
tell us you love us
then piss in our pockets
and shit on our shoes
to remind us just
how much we matter

 

 

(originally posted October 2013)

Congressional Stealth

“My Abstract Floral Landscape” by Linda Monfort

 

they present

bouquets of bullets

to credulous quail

whose darting beaks

peck at pick up and pull down

insufferable insects and grinding gastroliths

from shallow mud puddled by shallower promises

never quite finding their gizzard’s desire

delectable larvae of inchoate truth

while politics’ counterfeit blossoms

discharge all their secret ballistic fury

on waddling unwary duped columns

explosions of plumage snowflake the air

some settle in improper diadem

on the worried white brow

of a passing old bald

mournful

eagle

 

 

(originally posted April 2013)