the years I lived slept

autumn beginning of winter

to the rising tone of the trees

above me on my green hill

the wind whipping through

a gentle roar that never grew

to a full howl or decline

until the snows came

bringing their hush

stoppage to the day

the wind the dark night

all now in half light or blind glare

foot paw prints that appeared


of white ghosts gone to sleep

wants me to listen

he got

that hyperbole

stringing out the lines

the excitement

of enticement

to push others

commit the crimes

in response

to his sweet words

covering the hate

& I’m saying louder

listen people listen

wake up

before its too late

but they say hush

hear the great words

the whoosh of his rhetoric

weft of well crafted words

creating space

for things to happen


I heard the words

he is so pompous


hush here he comes

& I’d sit with them for a while

pulling in the ideas

drawing down what they wanted done

suggesting this

maybe that’s

to go away write up what they needed

& we’d meet again

they’d pull faces

where I’d missed a point

huff where I’d been too crude

to go away start over

until it was done

& I guess they hated

they couldn’t do what I did

turn their half assed ideas into flesh

something that could be reproduced

in the minds of others

make it straight make it clean

make it mean what we mean

they’d chorus happy young faces

& you & I know

to know pompous y’have to be pompous

pretentious is as pretentious does

the hardest thing to do is love

& smile when the piranhas bite