Pocket Rockets

By Paolo & Sting

In the zone this is not a game of chance
Others don’t understand why I play
Because I don't play for respect
Winning piles of chips is not my way

I deal the cards to find the answers

This is a love of mystery, not of game

The hidden laws of a probable outcome

To determine the odds of my aim

I know that the spades are daggers of waiting

I know that the clubs will bash a skull in

I know that diamonds aren't forever.

But that's not the shape of my heart

I may play the Jack of diamonds

I may lay the Queen of spades

I may conceal an Ace in my hand

Accepting the memory of it must fade

I know that the spades are daggers of waiting

I know that the clubs will bash a skull in

I know that diamonds aren't forever

But that's not the shape of my heart

That's not the shape, the shape of my heart

And If I told you that your eyes were so bright

You’d perhaps wonder what had I done

I’m not a puzzle that needs to be broken

My absolute desires are second to none

Simple talk means very little to me

And when others fall by my hands it’s a shame

But it is never the toss of the dice in the end

It’s the simple psychology of the game

I know that the spades are daggers of waiting

I know that the clubs will bash a skull in

I know that diamonds aren't forever

But that's not the shape of my heart

That's not the shape of my heart

That's not the shape, the shape of my heart 

20 More Haiku - That Makes 60

Thousands of odd things / All jumbled inside my head / Thimbleful of sense

Call me “Perfection” / I will pretend to not hear / the adoration

Castaway dreamer / As night tugs away the light / Tell me a tall tale

The broken pieces / Hit the hard floor and scatter / If I were to fall

Delicate flower / A dark shadow in my mind / So much forgotten

I merely listened / The whisper of her swept by / Time did stopped quickly

Victorious course / March to the tune of battle / Wake of destruction

Sixteenth amendment / Progressive revolution / One hundredth year

Actually blonde / With a head of long brown hair / Daily deceptions

New day has begun / Fiery anger subdued / Outrage is over

In isolation / Beholding the empty page / Beware the terror

Welcoming a guest / A kindness of attention / First time impressions

Set sights far above / On a death defying edge / It was left unsaid

To stop and began / A silly song in the wind / Fleeing sanity

Short-handing of tears / The shocking horrors of fears / Pleading forgiveness

Opposing the now / And foregoing yesterday / Live for tomorrow

Endless loveliness / And continuously runs / The cup overflows

Brimming at the seams / One step ahead of the curve / Full of real reasons

Into the sunlight / Climbing just a bit higher / To dream a new dream

Many of these days / Playfully turning the mind / Spirit of the soul

Prancer

I wish a gift that could not be extinguish.
 If possible I would extend a moment,
Formulate a year to last blissfully forever.
Glowing petals would never fall from,
A red rose of passion on it lustful lips,
Lock in a lively love bounded in its grips.
Water to its heaven, valleys to it peaks
A cycle to its rhythms, a heart to it beats
I speak of what is and what is meant to be
For wedding bells will toll not once,
They will surely ring freely and yearly
Asked a zillion times, edged in stone
The question has but one answer
May your marriage be a prancer

Frederique Turns One

Soon you will be turning one and this is splendid to me;
‘cause this will be the first of many more to be.
You had your first fall and I've seen your first step.
Then will come your first tooth Your first jump, your first skip.

Your first sentence will be soon after that.
So many firsts it is fair to wager.
That the number will seem staggering
when you are old enough to attend very first grade.
But the number will grow everyday that you age.

Making a Withdrawal at Willard Street Bank

I took a fist full of dimes and whacked him upside the head
A girl with red ribbons in her hair started to cry
“You killed my daddy” she sobbed
“No I didn’t" I corrected her. "He just hurt real bad”
“But we were supposess'ed  to go the carnival” she exclaimed
"Ah that is a shame" I sweetly said
Hopping over the rope barrier I handed her $1000 in $100 notes
"Give this to you Daddy when he wakes up"
Then I patted her on her head and went along my way
I do enjoy the weather on a wondrous winter day

Family Life

When things are delightfully sunny
And the breeze is blue a lighter hue
I find the world still stopped at hope
With a pumpkin pie browning in the oven
I’m always shaken with lively debate
If not weekly battles on the tube
Then scrimmages over on the stove
For life can be a blessed thing with family
Having the simply things mean more.
A brother in arms
A sister to adore
A father of faith
A mother of endless love.
There I have my blue skies.
Hope on the darkest nights.

Cleaning Crackdown

Books, magazines and other things
She is a regular organizing queen
When there’s a bunch of clutter about
There’s only one person to count
Never rests until every surface is clear
Her scorching spunk is nothing to fear
For timely goals are always met
Here you can make no losing bet
Every over stuffed shelf is in danger
‘Cause her plucky effort will not waver

The Men in White

Phalanges play pianissimo,
Metacarpals just wave “hello”.
Like a bulge on a old inner tube
That ganglion really needs to go
“Keep the hand elevated higher than your heart”
Reminds the kindly Orthopedic Surgeon 
“Is the pain significant?
Want some tylenol with codeine?
It might aid in your recuperation 
If your fingers still tingle. 
Commit to memory that 
Like a soothing melody 
The tenderness will ritardando.”

Deep in back of the kitchen
Suds and hot water wait
For the pots and pans forte
A figure in tall paper hat
Waits outside the dining room
The towering Chef commands
Looking down the Hot Foods line
And finds the Saucier on the job
“Use a Cheesecloth to strain the veloute”
The chinois simply will not do”
Soon plates are going out by the dozens
While the pots and pans starts their banging
A regular concert of percussions
And the night has just begun.

Blueberry

Cooks boil you into a purple coulis
By grinding and bleeding you dry
But you were never purple to me
Not red, orange, yellow or green.
I think of you, I truly do at night
When the skies have no heavenly lights
Sitting around counting my toes
While rain clouds crowd the skies
I am kinda blue when eating my
Blueberry Buckle
You’re so wholesome and sweet
I can eat you up by the handful
For when there are no stars
I have you frozen or fresh
You are one and only star-berry.

Cactus Flowers and Hummingbirds

I listen to the lazy melody of the rustle of trees
Family memories I delight with in harmony
Why is one’s loves a question I cannot know?
Or when received without pleasure ignored? 
When the sun lit raindrop prisms aglow 
Dark clouds must also shadow the lands below
Life has vast ties of intangible connectedness
That strikes back to a spark, a starting source
Fragmented thoughts doubt the wisdom of this
But there is always a bond no matter how faint 
A whimsical state between child and mother
In all time the moments builds on another
Cactus flowers and hummingbirds,
A wish on this day I bring
That songs of peace will play,
And pleasantries will ring.

End Is Nigh

In a moonless night that doesn’t outshine,
A mystic wisdom turns the starry wheel
These pinpricks of insight in the sky foretell,
The greed of a swift thief, a master of sin 
Awashed in gems that befuddles his mind
His end is nigh, the law he has cheated
Traveling the same path, wishing for another.
Always failing to take his heart to song
Forever detouring down in constant flutter,
Wasting his only life alone in the gutter.

Lights and Bows

The frost on me when I have said:
"Lights and Bows who hardly knows
What lies below the tree unread"

"The big blue box isn't for you," the wind blows
"That's 'cause life in heaven isn't red and green
No winter chills nor socks on icy feet"

"Oh yes," I say "no hunger or pain in my head
But what is there to eat? Will any of it be sweet?
What of the charms and the honey smells?
What of the want? Will there be no take?"

"No waiting, no wanting below the tree knell
An unopened gift leaves nothing to forsake
Winter bells ring and simple things sings
Wonders of living is an animated thing."

Acquiescence

Hearts and Stars
Questions and dopes
Things that ring up
And others that don't
Words that play on the tip of the tongue 
Whistling a tune that you can hardly hear
In a game where times and rules appear,
And come as quick as they come

The King That Knew He Was a Fool

Fools and Kings
Reason and dreams
Horror and trills
Silliness and seriousness

I’m going to die.
I’m going to die.
And I don’t know why.
And I don’t know why.
If I could touch the sky
Still the breeze
From your hair
Remember the blue & greens
And every small thing.
If I could live
Simply & Stupid
Instead of knowing I blow it
Maybe I wouldn’t be spending time
In the darkest corner of my own mind

Goodbye.
Old friend,
Goodbye.
You were once so kind to me but,
Goodbye.
Time has played the notes—the same notes
Once too many times and the melody
Has becomes just noise
When now old friend
I need to say goodbye.

Small Things

I dream of small things that come and go
Like a warm steady wind over the cold
A cool shower on a dry, hot day
Friendly daisies on an empty table
A thank you
A hug
Time to think
A chance to correct a wrong
A new thought
A clever line
A dark quiet night
The dawn of a new day
A simple "YES"
A way around a "NO"
The power to forgive
The ability to say "I KNOW"

Blessedly Simple Things

There is always a click, when a minute shifts
One new tick tock between the beats.
Some speak to pins and the cloak of the old
Other seconds are blessedly simple things

Dark whispers that touch the skin and the soul
Pushin' the past and pullin' in the day
Hiding the future in a fog just long enough...
To frame the time by envisioning the moment

Spells that are all too small to count,
But can never be forgotten, never really.
Bits of poems I find fractured in space

Floating freely, a myth of rhythm and melody
Where sweets and bitters play on the tongue
Like lemon sour syrup on a perfect icy cone.

I Do, I Do

I wonder why.I do.
I wonder why.
I do, I do.
I tell myself no.
Am I wrong to do so?
But my heart speaks of many things
Freestanding temples that stand on lush parkland
Gleaming glass towers that are steely strong
Shaded thoroughfares and common commands
Where fingers of sunlight dance the day away
A jumble of sounds that buzz the air
Somehow it all makes sense
This freewheeling rumble of logic
These nights that never sleep
These days that never end
Hope that never fades
Somehow I fit in it.
But the question,
Still remains:
"Just how"?
"Just"?
"How"?
Do I, Do I...
I wonder why.
I do..

Crisscrossed Love

A promise made in amorous account
Kept to this day, for this remains quite true
Where reflections are made and soon breakout
It is always easy in the end to construe
But in this there is hope for happiness
Hold fast to the sweet songs which you encase
And then heartfelt pleasantries could egress
Turning fiery conflicts into an embrace
Perhaps a moment might abide a day
Time so truly full it lasts forever
For those who endeavor, love finds a way
Binding us through the unknown together
   And in all love, there is never a lost
   Be it passionate and a little crisscrossed          

God Be You & I

If there was no heaven or hell
And God be you and I
Time could not rob what was before us
Because I would not let it die
Power of Death over Life?
I wouldn't even blink an eye
I've been dead before my friend
It was like a broken lullaby
When hope skipped a beat,
Hands chained from behind
Forced to think, "Don't you try"
Not knowing how to laugh
Too empty to even cry.
Wondering who would remember me
What of it of what I wrote or said
Mozart and Shakespeare
What of them now, they're dead
What does a compliment make now?
Like the applause at a silver screen
Acclaim a living actor can only dream.

Something In Common

Realism is achieved by using the painstaking method
Of trial and error, a palette of shading and proportions.
The search for perfection, an artist tries to capture the image
Constantly tweaking value after value.

A chef attempts to find order in confusion.
A chef is the anchor, keel and sail.
Every dish must have the look, the color, the taste.
Despite the disaster in the dining hall,
The kitchen is kept shipshape.

A heap of tangled wires, fuses and grommets,
A potential fire hazard to anyone, but not to an electrician.
To the layman this would be quite the conundrum,
The electrician can find its solution.
Now the computer will work,
And the air conditioner will work too.

Streams of blood and a screech of fright.
The tragic event, a lost of limb.
In walks the surgeon like a knight in the storm,
A different age another time
They might have called you lefty or righty,
Now it almost works like new.

They cannot step into each others shoes,
Be lost to which brush to rise,
Which wire to snip, which sauce to use.
But they all seek for the peak of perfections,
In the worlds that they rule.
To find the answers they keep looking,
And even though they may never see it,
The wise one would know:
That they are like us, we are like them.
Never all the answers, always an eye on the horizon.                      

Bluest Breeze

While waves beat, break on shore
Days are short and nights are long
On the bluest breeze white birds soar
With passion played softly like a song
Still in life there is a glowing amber
A firebird that flames up, below the ash 

High on spirit wildflowers clamber
Albeit the whole affair is a little brash
Questions float unanswered upon my head
While the sky is painted yellow and red
I looked thru a door I cannot walk past
Forever knowing the skit will never last
Life may dull, but it is never formulaic
Even when the intone is a bit prosaic 

Whispers at Sea

Colors plainly rippled, rolled and swayed over the horizon.

I thought I heard a whisper there that thumbed the waves at sea.

Feeding a wish; fathering a dream not yet answered,

As it steadies the storms and circles the breeze.

As weeks leap to years,

some colorful melodies are carried away from me.

But I listen to the quiet roar of these waters.

Sometimes I catch a whisper if I listen closely to the sea.

20 More Haiku

Cannot death be sweet? / New and fresh free of despair / a kind friendly face

To the city lights / leaving home far behind me / moonless nights beacon

Square away an hour, / Cut some seconds off your time. /Grab a few minutes.

Try happy endings / Even when they don’t apply / Hope might find a way

Falling forever, / Far down a pit of despair, / Away from the light.

Bright starlight beckons / The breeze blows her raven hair / Time comes to an end

Your apology / A soft sound I might not hear / It’s but a whisper

And faced with failure / When a mighty fear did show / Completely shell-shocked

Raindrops on lush leaves / Dark clouds loiter overhead / Absent is the sun

Picture in its frame / She was caught in a moment / Sitting on the shelf

Wishing I am dead / Melody keeps repeating / A song in my head

A word of passing / A small gesture of farewell / A tale of goodbyes

A glass of water / So very simple and pure / You replenish me #haiku

My short exhaled breathe / The humming roar of a fan / A golden silence

It’s warm to the touch / The drink is smooth and robust / Good morning coffee

Walking on the edge / While seeing the long way down / I hear the moments

Turn a phrase funny / Sing pleasantries a plenty / And stifle all fears

Questions keep coming / teetering on disaster / Hope spinning away

The goal has been set / Daily path to walk upon / A prize to be won

Flicker of a spark / Hot hungry burn of a flame / Consuming nature

Frederique’s Haircut

In the midst of a haircut you are quiet and sure,

Patiently waiting in a turquoise cutting cape

With a mosaic of smiling faces up and down the sides

Inviting and stylish and full of good cheer

All of them had haircuts like you are having now

Many got it cut short and others had it cut long

A few buzzed it off while some fluffed it out.

All of them asking, “How are you going to wear yours?”

Are your pretty brown locks going to have a barrette?

Perhaps they will be topped with a red a bow

Or maybe with flowers neatly tucked in a row

They might shake and roll to the blare of music

Or hang peacefully with the reading of a book

How you choose to flaunt it will be your decision

The way you tease your hair can be a daily revision. 

Hating Thyself

I don’t mean to cavil the situation

So I’ll strive to be as laconic as I can

We mustn’t ever seem too venal

Expunging all the foibles at hand

 

Living in a dearth of emotions

Free of ostentatious conversations

Censuring everyone around us

Never assimilating into other lands

Being occupied with austere attitudes

With the only solace of erudition

No quandaries are ever protracted

Only the fervent violence of demand

Too egoistical to ingratiate anyone

Mind to hateful to be quiescent

Soul far too lost to be ameliorated

And too circumspect to ever stand

20 Haiku

Some tranquility, / Between some rough daily beats. / Lost in a moment.

Locked in writers block. / When I require them most, / Words fail me at times.

Walking in circles, / Following tweet after tweet, / But reading little…

Who knew the answers, / Holding all worldly delights, / In the whites and blues?

Love is in a thought, / Memory provides a cry, / Hope grows in a try.

Sailboat in the wind. / Crystal waves brush the white sands. / Lofty palm trees sway

Very cold comfort. / All thru dark nights and bright days. / She always follows.

Spring wind in the trees / She walks the tall grass alone. / And watches the leaves.

Morning alarm clocks. / Cell phones with stylish rings. / Time a fleeing thing.

Sands slip through the glass \ Hours fade into minutes / Words blur with seconds.

A costly habit. / Hot or iced cold. Black or sweet / I like coffee drinks 

Tiny fingers hold / Onto a pinky tightly, / And rattle its hand. 

Give the wheel a spin. / When there is a chance to win. / Don’t tell me the odds. 

The bringer of death, / Has a kindness about her, / Face of poetry. 

Precariously. / Wry characters spring to form. / As words turn on page. 

Moonlight in her eyes. / A steady calm on her face. / Few moments give peace. 

Sailboats hug the wind. / The sun peaks behind the clouds. / Sands warm on sea shore. 

Love a good story. / Can beat a novice at chess / I’m good at foosball 

Thoughts speak no reason / And always lead to despair / Darkness has its way 

Cannot sleep a wink / maybe it was the coffee / it is what I drink.

Bird Island

Summer came quickly and was almost forgotten.

Time on the seashore just a passing memory,

The birds up above and the wind in my hair.

Everything that wasn’t tied down was blown away,

Even words that didn’t carry were scattered like leaves.

To brave the bay and go where I haven’t been.

Spinning tall tales of knightly battles along the way,

To the place where a great giant was vanquished.

When this giant fell he broke off a bit of land,

Not enough for a man but plenty enough for a bird.

“Sail around Bird Island!” Hollered my father

It takes a steady hand to navigate the course.

One wrong move and we will be marooned,

Yet I am able to slip by the shoreline

And sail out the other side.

Ode to the Train

Across a rough desert landscape and blue skies,
The railroad cuts a track through the countryside.
Passing fields of greens, peppered with pine trees,
Undeterred the train rolls on a wondrous sightsee.

On the horizon there is a sense of the unexplored, 
When day turns to night as the miles linger onward. 
At the dining car it is both full of food and good cheer,
As ever closer to our final destination we move near.

Time and space fall distant in the pale moonlight,
As small talk falls to sleep ever slowly tonight. 
And pleasant dreams to not wake my peace.
As the slight turns and light rocks finally cease.

My mood is joyous when the train does rest,
I don’t have a care and in no way distressed.
Everyone is well situated in heart and in mind,
Traveling by rail is always the best way to unwind.

Hourglass

Caught in quicksand and I fall forever,

Time funnels and moves with gradual pace

While binding the minutes together,

There’s no need to see the world as a race

For the moments turn with overall peace,

As the end nears finishing the circle

When the sands stop it will be a release,

Soul might extend but body is brittle

Life is but the passing of sinking sand,

Filling up the bottom of the glass

With Death smiling and kept close at hand,
Thoughts of your every move being your last;

     For life can be fleeting like a flower

      And no one may know their final hour

Tabula Rasa

Nothing has been written down.

The colors of chalk are absent;

Free are the moments played,

In-betweens the few sundry beats.

Missing are the bygone hurts,

Of my many broken promises.

And heartfelt goodbyes

Of my cherish love ones passed.

With these hints of yesterday gone,

Conveniently wiped away

Like chalk on a blackboard,

I walk without not knowing.

My mind has become slippery,

Like black ice on a cold dark day

Where memories are wrapped,

Up in a series of daydreams,

And then misremembered;

Like trinkets and mementos,

Emptied from a dusty old box.

When the keys of the present

Can no longer echo the past

Life teeters on meaninglessness without,

A soundboard of histories to resonate.

Captain Hook Retires

Upon the poop deck it was plain to perceive

The sea was just a wetter version of the sky,

Below he bellowed commands to his crew

And they moved with much purpose and skill

Within the sail rigging and about the ship

He was in his element plotting revenge,

Thinking he would have forever in Neverland

To study his trusty dog-eared maps

And hatch schemes against Peter Pan

But he was forced to retire to Arizona.

When he failed to read the fine print

On his piracy contract it spelled his doom

One small clerical error had done him in

He failed to file every other thousand years

And was replaced with dopey first mate

On his wall a dueling sword gathers dust

For poker games replaced his old reprisals

He lives in a western ranch house now

His new rocky seas are mountain ranges

With succulent cacti scattered in-between

Being landlocked he has lost his sea legs

For the only swaying was the gait of his horse

Muddy cowhands replaced salty sailors

And being stationary was his only course.

His one concession was buried treasure

Of Spanish doubloons and jeweled goblets

I wouldn’t cross him and steal his plunder

The question if Hook will kill is a certain bet

Not with a sword or by walking a plank

For he has gotten good with a six shooter

And it won’t be loaded with blanks

A Deciduous Delusion

Flash fires burn fast but they will burn out

Moon falls to sun without a wink of sleep

Testing limitations is a matter of doubt

I can play God well for at least a week

Moon falls to sun without a wink of sleep

Music and movies must run endlessly

I can play God well for at least a week

Some sounds continue and others repeat

Music and movies must run endlessly

Plenty of celebrities cover the walls

Some sounds continue and others repeat

I can achieve the most amazing feats

Plenty of celebrities cover the walls

Everything is connected, all is one

I can achieve the most amazing feats

I’m on top of the world, second to none

Everything is connected, all is one

Everyone is part of my master plan

I’m on top of the world, second to none

I’ll control the whole world in my life-span

Everyone is part of my master plan

Time moves fast like I am under the gun

I’ll control the whole world in my life-span

Out thinking people is a lot of fun

Time moves fast like I am under the gun

When it comes to answers I’m the go to man

Out thinking people is a lot of fun

I’m their king and they are pawns in my hand

When it comes to answers I’m the go to man

Testing limitations is a matter of doubt

I’m their king and they are pawns in my hand

Flash fires burn fast but they will burn out 

The Worst Poem I Have Ever Written

These were my experiences

Many occupational hazards

Daily trials

Hopelessly devoted to toil

Days would not end smoothly

For time moved slowly

Tedious tasks always repeated

Moving about to and fro

As a dutiful public servant

Carrying out orders

Endlessly circulating

Trouble at every turn

Since we are open on weekends

There might be no rest in sight.

My heavy schedule runs continuous

Every single day of this month

Sometimes I will stop for a moment  

And contemplate where I am

Talking to co-worker on occasion.

After the rush hour had pasted

Post-work talk enters the Equation

Toward the finish of the work day

Time moves slowest to a quiet crawl

Customers have mostly vacated

And we wait for the last call.