~ By Sixty-Seven Things would be different. Enter the picture, Of marginal man. By Sixty-Eight It was too late, To ever go back There again. The difference, Appearance; A difference, Began. Many’s the moon, In the end. ~ Ed was a cousin, Ed was a friend; We never saw Edward Ever again. One decade long […] Continue reading
Tales of the Tribe http://wp.me/p102ON-E6 Synopsis: Society creates the stories it tells itself: factual, specious, apocryphal, dishonest; by any rendition, according to Wallace Stevens, will still be a fiction. Myth wears the clothes of its culture, will always be a social fact, and those who would eschew these basic facets of humanity, will prove […] Continue reading
An abstract journey through concrete Americana with a lagniappe through the “Great Discussion.” From serious humor to light-hearted gravitas, this is a trip you need to enjoy. Poetic postcards of Americana will be provided for. Our trip commences upon your arrival at Union Station, and continues until we arrive at a Paradigm Shift – […] Continue reading
~ The birds all fall in accolades, on mornings in Central Virginia. Colorful chorals that escalade – pro forma, concerti, eudaimonia. On and on, no stoppage the song, way long when morning’s forgotten. All in all, a sound, a funk; melodious risings, to mountains! I might hear Thelonius Monk. […] Continue reading
I hate to leave but have to go there’s no way of getting around it
One day, mid-day, maybe noon, not before, there came a loud crashing and thrashing at door. I was resting from reading an old poem of Poe’s, and I’d just laid back when I started to doze. The noise now awoke me, and my senses still slow, a flutter then flapping, would stop and then go. […] Continue reading
…. Once, we were soldiers, Boys of eighteen; Intrepid and stupid, One just sixteen. Some were rock stolid, Caught-up in fraught; In rightness of action, Righteous, we thought. We were the children Of the Great War Our fathers had fought in, So there’d be no more. Dearer to children, O Lord! Give us pause – […] Continue reading
Oh, come now, Virginia, why look so dark? Why not just smile, and be out? The day’s not so long and soon we’ll be gone, in short time, Virginia, no doubt. So what’s that you say? For me, a short stay? For you, it’s been a long while? Well, that may be true, but what […] Continue reading
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
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
~ I’ve still more pages! More verse-rhyme to write. Pent-up the Crages Last long into night. The Crages are Rages, Too Crazy to fight. My wage is More Pages! More verse-rhyme to write. Offer me water, Proffer me bread! I’m just a prisoner, Inside my head. My Penance, the Sentence – It’s writing, instead. “Write […] Continue reading
~ I still write on paper, I still use a pen; Made in the Fifties, The Sixties I am. Bless me, sweet Mama, Bless if you can; A turn of the cent’ry, A teenager again. The turn of the cent’ry Is where I now am, But born to the Sixties A Rock-n-Roll Man. My Pop […] Continue reading
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 
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