Friday, December 31, 2010


Every new beginning comes from 
some other beginning's end
This line from Semisonic's "Closing Time"

"For last year's words belong to last year's language.

And next year's words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning." 
- T.S. Eliot 

 Photo: some_other_beginning__s_end 
by snikkio in DEVIANT ART

Wednesday, December 29, 2010



 I used to be the manipulator,

Then the manipulatee

Now I am neither nor

My God just lets me be.

IMAGE: The Manipulator by BadInfluenceOnYou--in DeviantArt

Sunday, December 26, 2010


The One Stop Poetry Picture Prompt Challenge inspired me.  Here is my contribution:

HE and SHE conversation:

SHE:  Gabe, would you like to go with me to a concert tonight?

HE:  Sure! What time, and what to wear?

SHE:  Pick you up at 6 PM and your uniform would be nice.

HE: Can I bring my trumpet?

SHE:  Are you ever without?

HE:  Answering a question with a question again, Huh?

SHE:  OK, you can come blow your horn.

HE:  Maybe they'll give me a job!

SHE:  Oh would pursue that as a career?

HE:  Well Sweetie, there are worse occupations than

Standing tall
Having a ball
In the Grand Hall
Of the Shopping Mall

Saturday, December 25, 2010


Little ones--picture this sight
Bethlehem shook and shivered
As Child was born that night

Inside  stable--the real Body and Blood
Enough warm love inside His little chest
To make water out of snow
Engulfed the whole world in flood
Gifts from His warm Heart flowed

Roused from blanketed sleep
By sweetest music in high fidelity
Bunch of old fellows with sheep
Found their way fast
At last, into the barn,
And warm
First midnight mass

Animals knowingly bent
Their knees, witnessing
Most spectacular event

See what happened after that
They rode in with the wind--
No limos, but on camels sat

Three wisest guys
One totally black
With squinty eyes

Followed the slow-moving sky light
Many weeks, many miles
At Most Bright

Lamb of God has now met
Lamb of man.
Son shall live; Sun will set

In the following span of time
Third of a century, by count
He spent humbly sublime
Appeared a donkey to mount

He rode through the streets
Hail the King they shouted
Thousands of folks he meets
Along the way--routed

That little Babe,
Child of wonder
Now became man
Life broken asunder

Died to sounds
Of tympanic

So the curtain dropped

While life..


....................and started

image: Deviant Art

Wednesday, December 22, 2010


This is posted in ONE SHOT WEDNESDAY

Rode in with the wind
Rode out in style
Brother, I have sinned
And loved every mile
 We slept on
Beach and
And tall building beams.

Down mountain streams
Flew with feathered beaks to
Quench thirst therein
Soared over highest peaks

Breathless, we stopped to rest
Flapping wings and things
Decided to build our nest
And there exchanged rings

Oh my love remember
That night held no bars
Sweetest night of December
Full moon, and above--stars


Why do I
Sometimes wonder and ponder
To write one line of thought
When night like this I use
Four minutes time of Muse
For which an hour should have ought.....


Photo by The_people_in_the_attic_by_Muse1979, found in DeviantArt

Sunday, December 19, 2010


Occurred to me a thought today--
(a unique happening, you say?)
That many of us are insane
Maybe all of us....or

Could it be
Only me?

Long ago it seems
Yet could've been
Last night's dreams

Received revelation
Curtain pulled aside

Was placed between
This moment of being
Where your absurdity
And mine collide

You realize you are crazy
My own I see only lazy

Buried down deeply
Down inside of me

Idiocy, silliness, madness
Show me frequent sadness
Never truthful gladness

My profile:

Comes to what I choose
Prison bed or bedlam
Either...I lose

Photo: DeviantArt: Old_Bedlam_by_Corvidae65

Thursday, December 16, 2010


Sonnie is her sweetest name
My first really hottest flame
She plays the piano--and sings
As that big bell in my head--rings

I'll drink one more to-ya!
(Reader, I wish you to know
This was so long ago...)

Recall us loving on the beach,
Smelling...the warm salty spray
Sea-oats bend and sway
As we twisted, each to reach

That place of well-known bliss
--Which started only with a kiss.
We had fun, like a couple mating bees
I ended up with two very sore knees

Sonnie remember, we toweled the sand off one another
And that very beautiful night, you became mother
To our future first-born, a baby girl. She survived...
You died--that terrible morning she arrived

(I must Pause)

Sonnie, only ONE ever could match your beauty
Yes! Right! Our little girl, a darling cutie
Named Sonnie-Two!

Graphic: Love is Over by `gilad (Deviant Art)

Tuesday, December 14, 2010


Reading books is not something I do.
Without reason--I just am not in the habit.
There is no pride in that statement, simply a fact.

Some blogger friends were discussing recently--in comments--
a certain Portugese author and Nobel Prize winner, Jose Saramago.

This very morning I biked past a familiar old building, one which
I've  frequently wondered what was hidden inside. Huge alphabet letters
in bold and gold beckoned me: PUBLIC LIBRARY...

Once inside (ah! warmth) I just walked aimlessly among the stacks, and
guess what? My eyes literally (pun intended) fell upon the name:
"Saramago, Jose". Of the several books (English) by him on the shelf,
very carefully did I choose one--by closing my eyes and
pulling down whichever book my hands touched.

The title of the book in my hands: "ALL THE NAMES".
It was that very same book which had been discussed.
Too cold to ride any longer, I sped home to read,
a new practice for me--like opening the door to a new room?


 Image: Jose_Saramago_by_COVO
(Deviant Art)

Monday, December 13, 2010


Cold. Cold. Frigid. Freezing. Brrrrr! 
wind howling, snow blowing, eyes and cheeks  burning.
any small amount of heat my body is yearning.

long-haired horses and cattle stand with heads down to avoid.
my heart has slowed, back is bowed, fingers froze, my very soul shivers.
everything, all creation frozen, even calm lakes and mighty rivers.

as wildlife instinctively go away,
humans like me threaten to leave
but stay.

why?  why? 
why do i? 
Why do i not go...
just go?
must go!

my body actually is shaking as i write, this room is so old,
so cold--
opposite curving of the globe is aglow with sun's warmth,
no snow.

i was told--so as to believe
tomorrow might be better, warmer,
freshly breathless scented air.


same old cold is in store for days following.
i must get out of here.

to where i neither hear nor fear
howling, blowing, burning
of frigid freezing

where inside and out, warmth
of heart and hearth made for
loving. only yearning
to give freely.

and praying peace for all seasons
for all reasons
for all--
that peace
which surpasses
all understanding


Saturday, December 11, 2010


First by those brandy-colored, slightly parted lips this attraction began, as she, facing me, smiled so lovingly. Then (my God, see them laughing, squinting, glowing), eyes were smiling also with their own brand of love. But what next happened, she turned, beckoning me to follow. From the beach up the marbled staircase, I two steps behind...

Speaking of behind, never during a lifetime of observing female charms had I witnessed a more 'moving' pair of--well, perfect roundness, beneath a pantied suit--not for swimming.

My hands wanted not to touch, but maybe leave just an impression, sensation, one fingered palm print on each quivering globe. Still following behind and below, my view of that sight--her centeredness, her essence from within, merging itself outward--which branded her "SHE".

My now-girl-friend walked, sort of mimicking the walk of an over-confident athlete, her shoulders swaying a natural flowing grace. This moving upper-bodied exquisiteness resulted in an astonishing ass-swing in unique fashion. Wearing flat-heeled shoes showed her gaited movements nicely enticing to me.

A more direct description--maybe a bit rude--is to characterize her walk as that of one who was trying to hide a package of illegal substance, by squeezing it tightly between her legs, all the while while walking the bit faster. And I, the 'official observer' asked myself, "Why-Oh-Why is this ass such a complete turn-on? After all, its functions are practical, and but barely few!"

Faintly I heard someone saying, "Keep working him over, he may come back to us, don't give up.  Any BP yet?  He looks whiter than white".

Another spoke, almost reverently  "Must have been a hugely traumatic experience, whatever he's been through. Hope he makes it, I'd give  anything to hear his story".

And I, listening to the work and words of EMS technicians, knew I had been somewhere, somewhere, but where? Maybe heaven?  I cannot talk, only hear and think. I believe I am immobile, maybe in a coma?

Last memory I have is of my Sweetheart slipping her thumbs into the sides of her suit-panty, and......right there it all goes blank...............except the words of a song keep flowing through my brain:

"Something in the way she moves,
Attracts me like no other lover.
Something in the way she woos me.
I don't want to leave her now,
You know I believe and how.

Somewhere in her smile she knows,
That I don't need no other lover.
Something in her style that shows me.
I don't want to leave her now,
You know I believe and how...."

Thursday, December 9, 2010


Vera Graf was her name
this message is to her
my Argentinean flame

i was there month of December
in Buenos Aires--how i remember
there she, beauty in the park
shouted eureka in my heart

quickly chose "our" bench.
we set, became instant
with one another

she, artist and model
me, drooling idiot
breathlessly we planned
all while holding hands

dreamt in tomorrow
fragrant bloomed galleries
sharing bravos, bravas galore
and yes, much more!

like a stage performer
graced her art with flair
music from a golden flute,
mine--filled the air

walking in a park
one wonderful night
she and i shared
huge red apple unison
hand-in-hand we
felt some special
moment glorious
profound, spiritual.

floating above
minds, hearts, souls,
our very beings:
we were in love!

there the moon
holding stars in its
crescent palm

ahh! quiet of night!
peace and calm
cool breezes light
all in togetherness
so blest us

leaves 'leafing'
shadows abounded
summer surrounded
birds calling, and
in that same park
i knelt, she prayed...

Whispered "are you Jewish?"
my heart split open
shocked, broken
eyes leaking
teardrops did
their own speaking
without breath, "i am not."


night after night alone
i walk the same path
each time
passing that place
bathing my face
with flooding tears

the stars, the moon
soft cool breezes of
summer nights

puzzle-like shadows
leaf-strewn patterns
the same park

all were there;
the elderly, the homeless
in their stillness

missing only were
the hand-in-hand
two of us..........

Vera, even this day
my fondest Memory

Don Carlo

in Deviant Art

Monday, December 6, 2010

Please Release Me, Let me Go

to cherish forever
do we realize
this thought
that our love
our need to be together,
our attachment
is maybe because
we are unable
to keep
our love?

to be together
is forbidden
not forsaken
forgotten never
nor renounced
lovers are we
of the impossibility.

paradise gained
and lost,
predictable, inevitable
cannot desist nor cease
cannot release


Filed in One Stop Poetry

Saturday, December 4, 2010


who are these things?
they came to me on wild winds
amid bird-songs and world-sounds

after the moon, before the sun
in faint rosy-colored fingers
which signal to half the world
that dawn is about to enter the room

hurriedly without turn
totally unaware of
my tendency to spurn
these type thoughts

fear has gripped me
tightly into immobility
ending is ever so near

what must one do?
the time is passed
help is nowhere seen
so this is finale, end

writing now is paramount
that is all which will count
until curtain descends
until life ends

in the sky are signs
clouds gathering
earth shaking
nothing in align
i am hopeless

image: deviant art

Thursday, December 2, 2010


my name i cannot remember
only know it is december
the cold
made me old
tomorrow i shall die


because I
have decide
it's time high
It is nigh time
to end this silly rhyme
of my life

no strife
no joy
no reason to live
no wife
to forget, to forgive

friends all forsake me
let them
this is my thought:

i still have you
maybe i have ought
that too, forgot

this life, heaven-sent
something borrowed
something lent

end of the show
time to go........

POEM: Carlo Benevento

PHOTO: "As I Lay Dying" by mcneal in Deviant Art