Twenty-Four people . . . two rooms apart; Jury Selection, a Criminal Court. Each one, a stranger, another won’t know . . . but after some hours, affinities show. Everyone hungry by mid-afternoon . . . Sitting . . . Just sitting, Inside a locked room. “You look familiar . . . “Have we met […] Continue reading
Each time the mirror mirrors his face, the old man inquires his ominous fate – How has this come, from young to undone? How have I come to this time in space? Time has just taken my life away in drips and drab trickles and plopped down in place This Face! This Face! The face […] Continue reading
How! Thou art strange! One day, sound fabric; Another day, change. Some say by havoc Brought out in fringe – O Tempora! O Mores! Thou art, impinged! What would thee, common, Follow, instead? The dictates of Mammon? Whose body, thy bread? What now dost thou wear? What skin to be current? Again! Thou has changed […] Continue reading
once in all time of time immemorial back to the day where day immaterial beyond all of history before there was story even before ever was something first out of nothing came number four four was the number no whys for why four but first just this word and the number of four four was […] Continue reading
~ There’s just so much non-sense a soul can endure, From trivial minded, decided, obdure. I met one, one time, demeaning for sure, The current machine as debase and impure. Oh sure, they still do it, again and again; Forever and ever, and on to no end. Things just get bad for whoever is in. […] Continue reading
~ Who am I? What is my Purpose? What is the Meaning of Life? How should I know my Role in the Cosmos? Why do I have to die? What is this Love, and Sorrow and Laughter? What is this Yearning to Try? And why does it Turn, all that we Learn, Back, into Dust […] Continue reading
~ By its shapes, how it smells, and by looking to tell all the whats, wheres and whens to the senses, a poet survives by bringing alive all those thats, theres and thens to the pensées. And all, by deceit! Word-verbiage feat! Ah well. What the hell. What’s the metaphor for, but conceit. And you […] Continue reading
~ I am so happy, safe and content; a self-made man, I am provident. Long on my laurels, I’m short in the gains; where fate shares the fortune, I’ll take all the blame. Though now I am here, I’ve been somewhere else; on every occasion, I’m not the same self. A self-made man, but I […] Continue reading
~ William H. Bonney had nowhere to go, But history, written in pages. So, memory serves the moment to show What’s hot at the moment, some moments ago. But nobody knows who must be chosen, When someone must stay in history, frozen. Strange be the phases of changes by stages, Where memory stays and no […] Continue reading
~ Does your Mother know which things, that you were into? How could she know, when you’d up and grow? What names would your friends eventually call you? The red hair you had? That comes from your Mother; The seeds to be bad, from your Father. You did your three years, and then you got […] Continue reading
…. Pass away, Pass away – on to Oblivion. So much is for us And the Great Macho Nation. ~ Two boys, eighteen, one some months older; so close were their ages, they could have been brothers. But for the customs of a great nation (still great – not late, like those, which came prior) […] Continue reading
~ And Sixty-Seven ended much different, and different it was from the decade before. The Fifties were nifty, but sad and a bore; the Sixties had plenty of hope held in store. One decade long is not a long span, compared to the world, a flash for the Man. The Age of Experience – You […] Continue reading
~ Wherever I’ve heard the bird’s mellow tune in Central Virginia or Stuyvesant Town, Monet’s Giverny and old Santa Fe, I’m carried away, transfigured therefrom, to any such place as mentioned among. In inner-state ramble, I wander away to Central Virginia, Stuyvesant Town, Monet’s Giverny or to old Santa Fe. I haven’t changed, the world’s […] Continue reading
Now, here is a word which seems somewhat special, in the Naming-Of-Things, de rigueur. Poingiant’s not heard, nor is it smelled – the Thing-In-Itself, not the word. Nor is it seen, which makes it quite hard to take it and taste it, as well. A door mat, floor mat, a mouse will avoid; for mice […] Continue reading
~ Out! come the Honeysuckle, to meet Amorae; the lovers, called Cuckolds, among the array. A wild child, these Pixies, white petals at play; where stamen, their venom, put pistils to spray the odors of ardor – aroma bouquets. Smell This! they kiss; Free love here today. Come closer, sweet Lover, extols coquetry. O! Cuckolds […] Continue reading
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 