Meditations in Rhythm and Rhyme

            THE RHINESTONE SKYLINE

No plain pine boxes  or satin  lined coffins
just piles of people, all mangled together.
No final goodbyes or last minute confessions.
They’re doomed to share this sepulcher forever.

A gigantic mound of people whose cries resound
pathetically, mutely. They mournfully waft to the sky
in smoke.  It seeps relentlessly from the ground
carrying a trail of moans, echoing whyyyyyyyy.

This sepulcher will always hover between
buildings, as a black pearl in a rhinestone skyline,
clouding our eyes from a devastating scene.
The feeling of disbelief suddenly becomes divine.

There was a Holy Sepulcher  a long time ago.
It released a Holy Spirit of love and compassion.
May spirits from here be released as Doves to show
us how to defeat evil without more violent action.



            FREE SPIRIT

I first lay beneath the ground
wrapped in stillness all around
comforted by the love that did abound
by those who interred me to this mound.

Never before did I so clearly see
without my eyes.  Never again will I be
blinded by sunlight, the sprays from the sea,
or by the images created by man for me.

It is my bones that are trapped in this plight.
My spirit illuminates my grave.  It is the light
that enables me to see in this eternal night.
Soon we will escape and we shall take flight.

My spirit will visit haunts far and near,
just hovering there in the atmosphere,
remaining very close to those I hold dear
convincing them that  there’s nothing to fear.

With creatures of the sea, land and air,
as my companions, I can be ‘most anywhere
for I am now a free spirit without a care.
This is the legacy to which I am heir.



                 Calico

I sit on a windowsill curiously looking around,
twitching my tail at snowflakes that come down,
purring  as the steam makes a familiar sound.
Suddenly I notice him emerge ‘round a mound.

He’s trudging with head down, crossing the street.
I try to remember when it was we last did meet?
It was summertime and he looked real chic.
Now I shudder when I look at his poor frozen feet.

Turning my head I watch him aimlessly plod
from house to house looking for familiar sod.
His home is gone but he can’t see me nod
as I try to let him know that Flo is gone to God.

He would keep searching for her I know.
I wonder  how far he would be able to go?
Would he ever find another as kind as Flo
to take him in out of this cold wet snow?

I blink sadly.  I cannot watch anymore.
The clock is chiming by the big front door.
Worried about my Jane I jump to the floor.
She was never this late coming home before.