Some Assembly Required


Cover of "Love Once Again (Arabesque)"
Cover of Love Once Again (Arabesque)

Another relationship, another failure,

His feelings had become traitors,

He was broken, shattered into pieces,

He had fallen into life’s little creases,

Fears and doubts had to be embraced,

Lost hopes and dreams had to be retraced,

Symptoms of failure had to be addressed,

Passions and gifts had to be stressed,

Until he moved through his own limitations,

He would refrain from any other relations,

He wasn’t sure if he still could trust,

He could hesitate no longer, he had to adjust,

He was a bud tightly shut, waiting to burst,

Wanting his flowering talents to be dispersed,

 His friends and kin gathered about to comfort him,

But quickly he discovered their demeanors grim,

And their words were hollow and mean,

As they reflected on each relationship they’d seen,

 He dismissed them, deciding he’d walk and talk alone,

But afraid his heart would turn to stone,

He had to find a way to put the pieces together,

To rebuild his life so he could love once again,

Help was needed desperately so he could begin,

 

From a business quarterly he saw what he needed,

There were steps to success if he just heeded,

1) Socializing with a purpose of something to gain,

2) Selling his personality without looking vain,

3) His public image he would have to maintain,

4) Then convince his audience he was what she wanted,

5) Letting everyone know he was not easily daunted,

6) He would present himself well using all his skills,

7) And be well received in social media’s frills,

He knew he couldn’t be fooled by the masks he saw,

And he wasn’t concerned about someone with flaws,

He was looking for someone who didn’t pretend,

Someone who knew herself and was true to him,

He had pieces missing he was on a mission to get,

She, too, would have baggage, he was willing to bet,

He would be vulnerable, his passion and love set free,

He would be ready and eager for his destiny,

He was optimistic, no longer in disarray,

At a milestone in life where he could proudly say,

“I may be disassembled, but my future is gold,

I’m ready for someone to love and to hold,”

He placed his information on a social network,

Trying to sound like he wasn’t a jerk,

“I’m currently seeking someone who strives,

To reach dreams and goals, and thrives,

When she’s treated like a queen,

Self-motivated to help me cook and clean,

Ready to share and work together all your life,

Willing to join me as man and wife,

Ready to face whatever’s in store,

Bonded together, richer or poor,

Committed to love till death do us part,

She’ll also need to be a mechanic of the heart,

Helping romance along as this vision transpires,

The future is ours, but some assembly is required,”

 

He waited patiently for a reply to his ad,

If no one was willing, he would be sad,

Maybe he was expecting love too soon, too deep,

He went to bed troubled, afraid to sleep,

“I’m too broken for someone to care,

Nobody is willing to chance it out there,”

Like a child at Christmas he stared at the screen,

Hoping and praying for one name to be seen,

But he was shocked at the scene before his eyes,

There was page after page of interested replies,

But one special note got him all inspired,

“The future is ours, but some assembly is required!”

 

 

 

 

 

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“Love is an Act, and That’s a Fact!”


German actor Daniel Brühl and actress Anna Mar...
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“I’m here to audition,” I explained to the old man,

He remained sitting, he didn’t bother to stand,

“So you’re the hot shot actor,” he said with a smirk,

“Do you think you’re made for this line of work?”

“I’ve had good reviews, so I think I’m good,”

“You’re playing opposite that young singer,

Her star is on the rise,” He shook his finger,

“Before you get too content, let me vent,

And perhaps there’s a problem I can prevent,

I’ll tell you a little story that happened to me,”

He was at the casting desk;  I had to agree,

So he told me how his story came to be,

With sweeping gestures his hands flew,

Telling the story dramatically, as only he knew,

“Our two lives converged in a moment of time,

The world was our stage and we the cast,

Expected to play in a love story with passions prime,

It was meant to be ongoing for a lifetime,

But somehow my starring role was surpassed;

She was the consummate artist in her prime,

She became a new persona, with skills so vast,

In the moment I got caught up in the story line,

Believing I was hers and she was mine,

She played her role and I was outclassed,

Two lives diverged in that moment of time,

My chance at glory so quickly passed,

Her career was still on the climb,

A riveting actress with skills sublime,

Her stardom was sure to last,

In the moment I became lost in the story line,

Believing I was hers and she was mine,

In that moment I lost my heart,

I was real but she played a part,

In that one moment my world stood still,

All my dreams were fulfilled,

Now I see love as just an act,

Whimsical, not matter of fact,

And all the world is a stage,

Where love is the rage,

It’s just an act,

That’s a fact.”

With his story over he picked up a broom,

And quickly swept out of the room,

Just before a woman entered and looked around,

“I hope that old man didn’t bother you much,

He tells a crazy story about his acting and such,

He’s been the custodian here for ages and ages,

I’m not sure he even gets any wages,

He thinks he’s in love with a certain actress,

I think he was overcome with stress,

But in his case, it’s just an act,

That’s a fact.

Now don’t worry about him,

I want you to meet Kim,

In this love story she’s your co-star,

She’s good and I’m sure she’ll go far.”

Your Eyes Speak From the Heart


These Words
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I hear the words you are saying,

     

  

But your eyes talk too.

They tell a different truth.

Your mouth whispers what you want me to hear.

False words of undying love,

Words claiming forever.

Your eyes, your beautiful eyes,

Tell the whole story,

From beginning to end,

With all the details at hand.

Your lips are convincing

But they change their mind,

And move without the truth.

Your eyes, portals to the soul,

Speak from the heart.

They cannot lie,

They separate themselves from excuses,

They speak straight and true.

Oblivious to your silver tongue,

Those orbs contradict the words

That slide so easily from your mouth.

I do not believe your words,

But I believe your eyes,

They speak from the heart.

Run Where The Flowers Grow


Photo of Cocker Spaniel Ch. Obo II, published ...
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I couldn’t believe my eyes,

Dad had brought home a surprise,

A black and white cocker spaniel,

Just a puppy, but she meant the world to me,

She was happy, playful, and made me smile,

Lady came when I called her, eager to please,

We were two friends, always at ease,

The two of us discovered the world anew,

Bonded by our hearts, our friendship grew,

Sniffing flowers, chasing birds,

I read stories and she listened to every word,

When she was two she followed me down,

 The dirt roads to the grocery store in our town,

We encountered few cars that hot summer day,

 Crossing the two lane county road on our way,

Before I got groceries the owner and I had a debate,

 But he said, “No dogs allowed. She’ll have to wait,”

When I looked for her, she had crossed the street,

Busily sniffing flowers, or looking for bugs to eat,

My first thought was, “She shouldn’t be over there.”

 Without thinking, I whistled, loud and clear,

The shrill sound hanging expectantly in the air,

It was then that I saw a speeding car,

And realized that it wasn’t very far,

At the same time I saw Lady raise her head,

And obediently towards me she sped,

Smiling with every stride,

“Stop, Lady, stop!” I wish I’d cried,

But I was frozen, watching this nightmarish scene,

The car and Lady, the gap closing in between,

There was a loud “Whump!”

Time stopped and I had no need for air,

The car had hit Lady and the driver seemed unaware,

He slowed, then sped up, I knew he didn’t care,

I ran to her and dropped to my knees,

 “Lady, get up! I’m sorry, please,”

But I held a lifeless form tight,

Wishing with all my might,

That this was just a bad dream in the night,

I walked home in a trance,

Angry at myself for what I had done,

“Why did I whistle without a glance?

Why had I done this to my friend?”

Blaming myself over and over again,

 Tears streaming down my face,

Somehow managing to carry her to our place,

Where Mom took the groceries,

Telling me to hold Lady for a few minutes more,

Until I collapsed spiritless on the floor,

The next day a private ceremony with a prayer,

Only family was invited there,

My heart pounded and my head hurt,

And with each shovelful of dirt,

I thought I could hear a whistle blow,

Before I left, I leaned down and whispered softly,

“Run, Lady, run, where the flowers grow.”

To Ignore Them is a Mistake


Creativity (magazine)
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Rules are made to be broken,

I’ve oft heard people say,

Rules inhibit creative thinking,

So I won’t follow any today,

Regulations are sterner stuff,

Written in blood and sweat,

Underneath crisp words of order,

Lie coiled venomous threats,

Laws are for those who follow,

What society deems to be fit,

Customs whether right or wrong,

Expecting all to quietly submit,

I’ve seen rules that made sense,

Others that were rather lame,

As a youth I reasoned them out,

And rules became a game,

Regulations were not to be trifled with,

Unless I wanted to be locked away,

So I followed orders I received,

And kept my objections at bay,

Laws made were often flawed,

And burned those under their tread,

Until ruling society was brought to shame,

By all the blood that was shed,

Laws can be guidelines to build a box,

Where dreams cannot climb or fly,

Tired and worn, with little fire at all,

While all the world goes by,

Rules, regulations, and laws take their toll,

Keeping imaginations and hearts quelled,

Everybody marches to the same tune,

Until they choose to rebel,

Thus I follow laws of physics and science,

Because those laws men did not make,

Nature’s rules are fast and true,

To ignore them could be a mistake.

A Man’s Home Is His Castle


Forgive Me This
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A Man’s Home Is His Castle

From the ramparts I stood searching,

A majestic wonderland just outside,

The brightness of the snow blinding,

Diamonds sparkling on every side,

A wealth of beauty on display,

Three deer have crossed my Sherwood,

Cardinals perched on empty tray,

Not far from where I motionless stood,

Upset that seed was gone, boldly had their say,

A man’s home is his castle it is true,

But without a queen to stoke love’s fire,

His heart becomes frozen through and through,

Now the wilderness and all I command,

Stand stark against the evening sky,

Soon darkness will sweep across the land,

And all I can do is wait and sigh,

She was strong willed and independent,

Not willing to quietly listen and obey,

Outspoken, she followed her own bent,

Disruptive in each and every way,

And yet, It was as if the world shook,

When she was there to play her part,

With each delicate step she took,

It was clear she loved with all her heart,

But to let her be so independent was absurd,

She was not what I expected her to be,

I sent her away with terrible kingly words,

But now I see, she was meant for me,

I’ve waited through the coldness of night,

I’ve climbed to the top of this tower of ice,

Where I can catch the first sight,

Trusting she learned of my new decree,

Hoping she’ll forgive, and it will suffice,

A king on my knees, willing to plea,

Hoping she’ll forgive and return to me.

The Perfect Woman


Dear Dead Days, with The Addams Family on the ...
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The Perfect Woman ( Your People Will be My People)

Wherever you go I will go,

There are a few conditions, though,

I’ll follow you to earth’s ends,

But I won’t camp out with your friends,

Of course it matters where we are,

I’ll only stay at hotels, three or four star,

Roughing it is not my thing,

I might lose my diamond ring,

I’ll be by your side and help you, too,

As long as it’s reasonable to do,

I’ll give you a list regarding what it might entail,

Because I don’t want to sweat or break a nail,

Twice a month a manicure and pedicure I’ll get,

So I can’t help you then, please don’t forget,

Your people will be my people, my dear,

That’s why I mention this here,

When I say I do and I will,

That will mean forever until,

I check out the skeletons in your closet,

Do your kin have sins of scarlet?

Because if there is anything wrong,

We won’t be around them long,

Your people will be my people should we wed,

But I’d rather be with my kinfolks instead,

And because you’re my significant other,

You’ll have to tread lightly with my dear brother,

He’s wanted by the police,

And ignore my simple minded niece,

If she keeps reminding you of my uncle’s release,

Or my pretty Aunt Linda, just suppose,

What if she has a wart on her nose?

You might like my father, Bob,

Although he could never hold a job,

And my children, they’re all so sweet,

Their fathers you’ll just have to meet,

We’ll probably see them in court,

Because they’re all behind in child support,

I will go wherever you go,

Treat me like a queen, but remember though,

I’ll always love you, forever and a day,

As long as I’m happy, and you do things my way,

Your people will be my people, my dear,

But I’m moving next to mother, because she’s near.

The Skunk and the KKK


"White" and "Jim Crow" rai...
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I wasn’t sure if it was another dream,

It was so real I could hear Willie scream,

They were back again,

 Chasing me, chasing him,

Just because we were friends,

Sometimes Willie and I would meet,

Play basketball on the same dirt street,

But Willie was black and I was white,

It bothered those who were uptight,

They threatened to take it to the extreme,

I woke, glad this time it was only a dream,

As the sun crept over the mountains green,

I slid into my hand-me-down jeans,

Mindful of the cold, I buttoned my coat,

Looked down at my feet, they seemed remote,

Decided to go barefoot even on the rocks,

Rather than wearing wet shoes and socks,

I raced to the barn and checked the sow,

She would have her litter any time now,

But she was still big and round,

Lying in a thin layer of straw off the ground,

Wanting to watch her, a ladder I found,

In the barn’s side room I climbed to the top,

Positioned myself on a rafter so I would not drop,

Thinking the sow had no choice but to allow,

But a scratching noise distracted me now,

Dirt was pulled away, then a pointed black nose,

When two button eyes appeared, I froze,

Instant recognition that I was treed,

Until she left, there was no way I could be freed,

The skunk sniffed the air delicately to check for a threat,

She smiled, I’m sure she smiled, at my drops of sweat,

She went around the room searching twice,

She scurried away after finding no mice,

“Breakfast! Come and get it before I throw it away!”

Dad called out. “We’ve all got work to do today.”

My brothers and sisters did our assigned chores,

I left with Dad so he could work in the store,

But once in town I beelined it to see Willie,

This time with shoes, it was rather chilly,

We were going to sneak in a basketball game,

Knowing it was risky, we went there just the same,

There was but one gym in this town,

No one but whites, no black or brown,

We had saved money so we didn’t really sneak,

We just wanted to watch, just one peek,

Several teenagers met us at the door,

“What did you two come here for?”

“You know your kind ain’t allowed in this gym,”

He glared at me, “You’ll get the same as him,”

Willie and I took off like bats from hell,

I could hear the boys cursing when one of them fell,

“We know where you live. We’ll get you at night,”

We worried we were too small to put up much fight,

Willie came home with me after we told my dad,

He was calm and collected, but I knew he was mad,

A rifle and a shotgun were readily at hand,

He was ready and able to make a stand,

But I thought for awhile and came up with a plan,

“Dad, don’t worry, the Kwanokasha will help fight,

I’ll have strength to get through this night,”

Then using Choctaw ways that I’d been taught,

I rigged a box for that skunk to be caught,

She seemed to know I meant her no harm,

But I watched for signs she was alarmed,

Later that night three cars pulled into view,

We waited silently as the suspense grew,

Willie waited at the window as our lookout,

Dad at the door with guns ready to spout,

As silent as a shadow to the barn and back,

I returned with the box ready for an attack,

At the car, flasks were emptied as they drank,

Around them I circled until finally at their flank,

I crept closer to see why they would hesitate,

Gasoline soaked torches were to be our fate,

They donned white sheets and prepared to go,

Another example of the infamous Jim Crow,

They were lighting torches close to the cars,

Thinking they were the only ones under the stars,

They didn’t see me when I tossed the skunk,

It hit right in the middle of a trunk, “KERPLUNK!”

The skunk wasn’t too happy at this turn of events,

And doused four of those scheming gents,

They scattered quickly as the scent hit the air,

Their scheme interrupted but they didn’t care,

Ghostly figures ran stumbling into the woods,

But all of them had forgotten their flaming goods,

The gasoline they had carried became a bomb,

The cars exploded loudly, one by one by one,

Soon it was over and the night was calm,

But around town for the next few days,

Several sullen people glanced my way,

I’m glad no newspapers showed to get our views,

A  neighboring state grabbed all the news,

When a governor with a baseball bat,

Said , “No blacks can enter, and that is that,”

Times have changed but there are still punks,

One of these days, they might meet a skunk.

The Poem Not Written


The Old English epic poem Beowulf is written i...
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My poetry is a time of curiosity, of smiles,

And childlike satisfaction of using guile,

It is a gift, a talent, imagined or real,

That lets my heart express how I feel,

It shapes itself from thought to pen,

And stirs my soul to write again,

My muse is often witty when she has her say,

Mediocre poems are due to her really bad day,

They may be laden with imagery and flow,

Or fall flat on their faces with little to show,

But the worst poem of all is the poem not written,

It waits swollen with promise, as if snake bitten,

Stares forlornly as other poems strut their stuff,

And never ventures out, it’s not good enough,

Nor does it climb into one of my dreams,

Pestering to be written as a beautiful theme,

The poem not written gets left behind,

Forever out of sight, and finally out of mind.

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