it hung in the light from a nearby window
a black and white portrait of an old man
with wise eyes and a flowing beard
he was an elder and he was revered
oh, the stories he could tell
if he hadn’t died and went to hell!
Month: June 2019
Living In A Redwood Tree
there was a young woman named Bethany
who lived in a Redwood tree
her little hut was something to see
perched like a toy inside the canopy
society had caused her to flee
to the giant tree in order to be free
a friend brought supplies to the tree
and never questioned her idiosyncrasy
and she lived there like a refugee
but happy as happy can be
for she was a nature devotee
who did her best to avoid reality
A Salute to Aurora Borealis
here’s to saluting a beautiful night
with a shifting palette of colors so bright
hail, Aurora Borealis!
your show is like no others
your gas particles shoot into the night
colliding with gas atoms and admitting light
emissions from atomic oxygen flow
causing a greenish and dark red glow
the stream of particles across the sky
flow freely and are pleasing to the eye
Gonzo Poem: Sign Your Name Right Here
if you believe in UFO’s and a magic mirror
sign your name right here
if you believe Bigfoot drinks beer
sign your name right here
if you think there’s no pollution in the atmosphere
sign your name right here
if you’re into kinky sex and like to domineer
sign your name right here
if your looking for a long career
sign your name right here
in order to make your wishes crystal clear
sign your name right here
if you enjoy getting attention with a Bronx cheer
sign your name right here
do you have days when things are unclear?
sign your name right here
have you ever thought about being a volunteer?
sign your name right here
The Train Leaves at 4/20
all aboard the pot train my friend
your time is here
the demonization has come to an end
it’s really mind blowing seeing marijuana legit
to an old hippie like me
that’s as good as it can get
back in the day pot was a crime
no such thing as legal weed
with arrests going on all the time
those who smoked Mary Jane
risked their very freedom
running in the fast lane
more than half of the USA
has legalized marijuana
and more states are on the way
I really didn’t think
I’d live to see the day
Diary Reverie
the writer waited until he hit a century
before releasing the rights to his diary
while flipping through the pages one night
his still-active imagination took flight
and he was a young man again
as far as he could ascertain
and a young lady came near
and whispered in his ear
they went for a walk
and had a lovely talk
and
when the writer’s son
came to visit the next day
the old man had passed away
with a smile on his face
that showed
he was in a better place
Graffiti In High C
golden lightning bolts streaking along ghetto walls like a snake in the Garden of Babylon intent on conveying anarchistic values to the viewers who gaze upon the colorful buildings in shock and awe...
graffiti in high C playing in the neighborhood
it’s art to the homeboys who make noise while spraying their gang names and playing games and it’s all understood
graffiti in high C playing in every city
the world is crazy
about an artist called Banksy
who secretly
paints murals of damnation in every nation
but the critics don’t get it
because they think it’s about money and fame, but graffiti’s real message is not so tame, it’s a reality check warning things will not always remain the same
A Small Town’s Pride
the residents of Rogueville loved listening to their bell ring out from the town’s highest tower, the church spire
but the bell had a history
it was a thing of mystery
it’s origin hotly debated
the bell was silver plated
over brass and steel
that mighty bell did peal
three times a day
calling people to pray
until the word got out
what the bell was about
a souvenir from a war
a symbol of the horror
so the town took down
their symbol of pride
sadly setting it aside
Requiem for a Hoarder
decades of newspapers and magazines cluttered every room, silent witnesses to bygone eras, nestled alongside a lifetime of eclectic collections in the gathering gloom
when the coroner came to collect the old man, his worn-out body in his favorite chair in front of a fan, he was surrounded with trinkets and displays from his good old days
every room was piled high with one man’s treasure yet another man’s junk, standing lamps, piles of clothes from ages past that stunk worse than a skunk
boxes and crates with no labels butted against couches and tables, towers of books with subjects ranging from science to early fables, rolls of cables, and an assortment of turntables
souvenirs from other countries, plastic children’s toys that still made noise, clocks off all kinds, dried food, ancient weather vines, and assorted other sundries
missing were photos of family, a lonely man severed from humanity, living in an alternate reality, his life a mere triviality, his collections becoming his center of gravity
they said the old man had a mental disorder, a condition not unknown to many people trying to install order into their chaotic life, and turning into a hoarder
School Of Hard Knocks
when I was growing up my grandfather use to say
that boy is going to find out everything the hard way
if he comes out of his childhood alive
there’s a damn good chance he’ll survive
I was an eager student of the School of Hard Knocks
my troubles were never pebbles they were always rocks
taking the least traveled pathway had a price
I come close to losing my life twice
there was never really a choice for me
I’ve always been on the verge of tragedy
but in these later days of my life
I look back and appreciate the strife
and accept my past and my destiny
whatever that happens to be
The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff 