Category Archives: Fate

Paper Maché Identity Sonnet

The remnants of my dreams cling in fragments

Like the torn strips of wetted news paper

Soaked in Wheatepaste and glue to be pliant

I’m only a paper maché cover

The pasteboard mask that I present to you

Made up of the finest linen paper

Is a simulacrum that is untrue

Made to help me pull off this bold caper

Who is anything more than a puppet

Strings leading up to the bold puppeteer

(Or a hand reaching up to control it?)

Once we know this we can play without fear

The script that we are performing each day

Was written long ago & far away

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Rhyming Review: •The Gargoyle Hunters•


New York’s mood during metamorphosis
The “now” seems particularly cruel
Thus •The Gargoyle Hunters• will begin us
(This is today’s true literary jewel)

The meditations on what New York means
Complete with adolescent adventures
Of a free-range private school nerdy teen
All of which brought back my teen-aged culture

The relegated and crazy mother:
In an informal commune of borders
& the dashing obsessive father
Scavenging & barking out orders

A family painted on black velvet
Of private middle school dilemmas
Puberty and thievery’s strange couplet
Trapping our young Griffin in its clutches

Seeking approval & confederates
A scandalous collaboration’s made
Of two romantic thieving delegates
Who predate architecture’s colonnade

The father’s long term goal, disrupt the son’s
Immature middle school romances though
(But they do infect all the grown up ones)
It turns out we become the man we know

Iconoclastic rev’rence for icons
Is their spiral staircase of DNA
Though their collections give New York lesions
Their compulsions they cannot deny
Personalities’ personal suburbs
Those individuals on the outskirts
Of the mover’s & the shaker’s worlds
Are unfortunately too often hurt

The workers became shock troop of dreams
Marching right across convention’s front lines
To achieve the goals that the dreamer schemes
Little men enabling grand designs

In the end the dream is the loyalty
An all encompassing fidelity
That will become middle-aged pleasantries
Wrapped in older people’s sweet vagaries

Doubt in an Uncertain World Sonnet

Our beliefs are just what we think about
Even if they build these thoughts a cathedral
They’re merely thoughts: we can choose to opt out
Belief is freedom for ourselves: simple

If I choose not to believe in magic
Should not spoil your enjoyment of the show
I am an agnostic heckler tragic
Believe in religion: the way you know

The agnostic or atheist’s freedom
To (dis)believe in all your rituals
Is how the God that I doubt made it, son
So we each have “spiritual victuals” 

Believing in Yahweh, Allah or Christ
Does not mean that I have to sacrifice

Subway Slashing Sonnet

train victim diptych

There are two unfortunate souls right here
The pregnant woman whose young face was slashed
Thinking about being a new mother dear
(& how to keep herself together lashed)

The other’s ridden life’s roller coaster
Hoping the bottom of the descent’s near
When younger, perhaps she was a “toaster”
Angel Dust, Dope: starting with pot & beer

So onto train ventures the mother new
Avoiding she that’s fighting her demons
(Beelzebub says: “don’t let her dis you!”
Sitting elsewhere was what that was seemin’)

Into her bags she reached for the bright shiv
Payback for dis was what she did give

http://nypost.com/2017/05/28/woman-slashed-on-subway-platform-at-grand-central/

Ode to Eternal Justice

  
Just remember every soulDispatched to his or her maker

Was murdered by all of their goals

God, were Faith not dreams of fakers!
Would there were an afterlife

Where Hitler could meet the dead Jews 

& be acquainted with the strife

& pain that wanton killing strews
Then Bush, Powel, Rice & Rumsfeld

Could be justly tried, convicted

For the war crimes they should be held

Murder for their “dreams” inflicted
Dante’s Inferno’s last circle

Where there is fire’s heat, but no light

Dissected: no rehearsal 

For their denying humans’ rights
There are predator drones waiting

To mete out corporate rapture

Over poor brown people’s playthings:

I wish Devils would them capture
But there’s no justice eternal

Only the lives lived here on earth

There’s no penalty infernal 

Of long term revenge there’s a dearth 

http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/politics/news/a35397/bush-cheney-war-crimes/

David Bowie Has Died

david bowie tube sonnet

David Bowie has Died, as must we all

He is a part of our sweet memories

With prolific production musical

Who helped us to see the world differently

None of us could know him personally

I wonder if someone so prolific

would have hung out casually

While driven to write songs so beatific

The songs he created captured our lives

Danceable, thoughtful: he made life more fun

Dancing & thinking we feel more alive

His death reminds us “all will end their run”

We mourn Ziggy’s passing as a sad truth

But what we’re really missing is our youth

Snippet of Mortality

  
Resist or concede it doesn’t matter

Only your mortal coil wanders these cells

Participate or fight: it’s just patter

For the duration these walls are your hells