Old Friends

The annual Halloween 'get together'
Even though it wears a mask
...For the kids sake, you see
With old neighbors long moved away
Good nonetheless to see their faces
...I suspect they feel the same
The best treat I could have had
As my mind plays tricks on me

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

American Dream

one lottery ticket
and hand-me-down dishes,
...five year old shoes...
dining on Ramen noodles
and grilled cheese,
living large brother,
living large

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

The Civil One

From Charleston to Appomattox,
Manassas on to Vicksburg,
and all points in between -
'minimal blood' they said,
it was the 'Anaconda Plan'

620,000 dead, all told
...can't even begin to tabulate the injured,
the maimed and distressed

sabots the size of a man's thumb...
heavy of lead, both conical and round -
devastating damage done when bullet hits bone

saber thrust thru the heart of man;
bloodletting on friendly fields -
as family and friends choose sides
...The Civil War

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

mother

Africa, matriarch of all -
Hominid and homosapien - tap roots both of your loam
As I glass the globe, even at this diminutive distance,
I take note of the varying shades of blue
...ebbing and flowing over reef, trench and shoal,
to reach and round your horn
...Indigo, Tanzanite, and Lapis Lazuli...

Arabian Sea lapping at your vulva,
a gentle, yet forceful push, and withdraw, push, and withdraw...
ever widening and eroding the stricture of your gulf -
the scent of your innermost lushness beckons me
...my anticipation on the rise

Ah Aden, open and wanting!
You draw me into the cervix of your Red Sea
I bring fertility and life to your thirsting desolate soul -
45 degrees long and 12 degrees lat,
you will find her there

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

Untitled (3)

fifteen and one fifty, an ambiguous cipher -
an enigmatic strand, of which you were the one...

Tokyo Rose...

I first heard her shrill broken voice there,
raw, lean and scared, barely a man...this wasn't the Iowa I knew
My rifle barrel...hardened steel...and bedroll in hand
A word from the Chaplain (we called him 'Charlie') ,
and then the voice came to 'dismount'...I did not look back

My manhood felt the warmth of your salty water
I was just a kid...only nineteen...perverse in retrospect;
erotic to a nineteen year old at fifteen and one fifty
...to be honest with myself, and to you, I am envious -
envious of the feel of the eroticism, as I recall,
of my manhood in the spring of life

I lay with you on the beach that day,
while the others took their positions
And during the lonely nights I gave you my seed
...several times over...
(loneliness will do that to a man, you know, especially in a time of conflict)
...and many times over you accepted in silence,
as though you never knew you had been defiled -
or as though you approved

I have since heard that a pearl was borne out of wedlock
...in the south pacific

fifteen and one fifty
my Marianas

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

Untitled (2)

Glassing you
from across the room,
trying not to stare
at a lady,
...I steal glimpses

Below the waist
swathed in blue blue -
A fiery appeal;
chili pepper heat
...I suspect

Gently I guide my sloop,
lengthy in the keel,
deep into your basin
...leaving wake as I come

'ah! Brazil'...
south of the equator
...one of many I've loved
from the shelter of this cell

Tomorrow I will be off,
as spin the orb I will

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

Untitled (rev. to 'Replogle')

A mystic she was,
framed in bezel
of pearly white

Exotic woman -
moonlight gave way
to her shapely dark form

Curvaceous and fluid...
thru the mist I could see...
veiled with white tiara

The mist of her warm
undulating and orgasmic
coming and going

She came to me
warm and wet,
licking at my lengthy keel

Whispering 'shhh'... 'shhh',
as if not to wake my mate
...a secret rendezvous

At dawn she withdraws
to her innermost depths,
a brief respite she takes

worn from an evening
of pleasuring up and down
upon my still rigid keel

closing her azure eyes
...tanzanite gems
until the moon beckons

With a spin of the globe
I set sail to my next chance meeting -
my next secret lover

I bid you adieu
Arabian Sea

By fate or by friction
we will meet again
one day

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

I loathe you plastic man

Yeah man, I see you...is that highlight on your hair?
You, who point a finger at me
You, with your plasticized hair
How much gel did you use dude?...Goddamn I hate the word 'dude'!
Who do you think you are...to mock my silver locks,
my tail and my ring?...fuck you man, I lived it!
I earned my way...I paid the dues
By the way...your jeans dude
How did the knees get torn?
A razor you say?
I wore a razor as an earpiece,
and one around my jugular
So back off...dude...you know nothing of who I am
Do you not see I've done time? ...someone should warn you
Are those Birkenstocks?...steel toes kick the best
I never had a car bought for me, dude...I paid my own way
I know the street, dude
The street on which you live

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

Life Under the Bodhi Tree or 'Spare My Rib'

Sir Isaac God, you -

dropped your apple
on my head,
you set the wheel in motion -
you let the knowledge begin

it was plucked
and fed me once,
oh suffragette snake,
you, who fooled the man

so no more apples,
bullshit, or doctor a day -
bring me fresh ripe cherries,
and give this foolish man
another chance

I promise this time
to push the snake deep
beyond the loins
of this lady earth

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

can't seem to find my pen...

...or mask to hide behind

in these times of e-can't see,
man is woman, and woman man

sometimes multiplicities arise,
give way to not what I am

a name that sounds of whit and verse,
perchance something with an alpine feel

Chardonnay, trout almondine and truffles -
a worldly feel to hide the fact
of what is true and real

because I'm nothing of the sort,
and live not up to the task

I hide behind the shelter,
the shelter of the mask

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.

The Casting Couch

A cast of characters is at play,
veiled behind the 'Houdini like' illusion
of schizophrenia, bullshit, and pseudonyms
of the neurotic and self-absorbed

Here we are...whoever we are

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.