Gambitine

Gambitine by Richard Lynn Livesay

I. A System Exposed
The thought-belief that drove you stumbling out the closet door,
I cried for soft bird-branches forming sententious sanctions
knowing full well fulfillment was rightly confusing left brains,
I believe in normal entwined on lines, bordering insanity.!

Idealism laid this concrete wall of suffering, proclaiming destiny
then innate histories of “noble” sapiens tell me nothing exists,
for every form cannot belong to the elite incompetent hierarchies
but every rail and rage against the dying defeat of neurotic monarchies.

There is a time but it is manmade and not immutably inalienable
as sea-shore sands are washed into a glass of innocence, dropping slowly
the children when they are in the Caulfield rye, understand pain.
and think, remember and know why you let them fear your fear so
there is an art to life’s conclusions and delusion will bring a closeness.

Consider chopping wood, hauling water and cracking concrete lots
marginalize the hyper-mad essay of living blindly intentionally
submit and subvert reviews and plays; reacting to the game of posting,
minding the soul searching, twittering idealism if criticized correctly
believe, like me that thoughts transcend the grassy knoll of flux & flutter,
then grieve compiled post hypnotic blurbs that give us credit crunches
and form a oneness of noted purpose attracting messy sees and stares
to this aim collect some fame of fortune’s questions losing integrity,
shaming plays with words all day concocting etymological abortions.

II. A Poet’s Wonder
Go! but beware of wolves of gallant intuition, curly white and snarly,
spread thin a poet’s blanket upon the minds scansion in dark of night
there upon a callous rock inhale the moonlight’s greeny mosses
and drip willowed words into the dusty souls of anti-audio drosslings.

Be first to speak of wrongs that don’t belong on hallowed hills beneath
then standby strong to give a writing from South of Hell’s bequeath
but don’t belittle those that cannot see beyond the breathe of bets
be pleased to blow small holes in hypocritical lice infested odes to whales
.
Begin to print true spirit ink; alive of flight again within a leach’s heart
declare sm’mores in ardent showers of rainy petal-broken warps
unabiding in Poet’s paws, to pause and understand rules d’etre fair
spread out beyond the air to gauge control of critic’s auto-maelstrom.

Delight in bright of light and shout and share all wanton wordy words
welcome woody wares of stares to play the stage of tricky pricks
And there declare the attitude displayed, dismayed
that shines in distant darkened silence-screams, delayed

O’ hear me I say, I say again, ingest the wine of words and dance upon all rhythm’s fire to singe black blood of thought and trap the sentient senses.

A Fragile Trust

A Fragile Trust by R.L. Livesay

Straw filled, lost and empty men,
Hiding in shadows of rodent kin
Declaring wars to increase shares,
Exploiting gains in markets bears.

Burned out soils and burned out souls,
Destroying value’s and common goals.
Violent shadows who’ve lost their way,
Deceiving people that become their prey.

Deceptively covered in woolen clothes,
Hungry wolves devour our loaves
As angry hearts start wars with “friends”
Step on the weak, making no amends.

Tempest’s fires burn chaos ash,
As oily fortunes spill like trash.
Upon the air and water doomed
And soldiers die in depressing gloom.

We dance upon this fragile stage
And recreate the fury’s rage.
Season’s cycle, no grace is found,
Souls again become earth-bound.

Our Dream

Oh, silent soul
that never sleeps
as dreams I dream
within the deep.

I go beyond
And question not
the wonder seen
as wonder sought.

I stir again
and wonder why
it seems so real
I can’t deny.

As shadows move
beneath my eyes
And ancient whispers
Release their sighs.

Toward the light
I search for seas
and sail thru them
in pleasant breeze.

In distant stars
your form appears
Transcending light
defeating fears.


In silent thought
of true delight
Two spirits join
in awesome flight.

Reunion’s home
all known before
To stay or roam
through open door.

Before the past
you soothed my tears
The first is last
there are no years.

Again we’ll meet
and take a vow
embrace today
the here and now.

Richard Lynn Livesay

Chicken Bones

Stop! Let me off this bus of shame
I see the bridges broken,
Houses cracking,
Chicken boned children, starving.

Rib meat torn from their sides, trying to survive.
Lesser children of the garbage;
Unnoticed, unwanted,
Unloved, uneducated and unspeakable.

Bus ads want me to buy suntan lotion.
Drink tequila on sunny beaches and
enjoy my lucky heritage.
.
I sink uncomfortably into the seat of electro-introspection,
Thinking of oily bank accounts and Saudi harems,
I try in vain to re-write a poem.

Soon, we stopped for coffee in the city of critics.
I hoped to get a brain transfusion
Or maybe some new delusions, (grand or false)
The bathrooms were short on toilet paper
So I left them one of my manuscripts,
They seem to like my crap.

Then someone ask if I was famous.
“Yes”, I said,” I’m famous for not being known”






I adjusted my leg irons and re-boarded the bus,
Reported my SS number into the mic.

“When does this tour end?” I ask.
“There is no end” said the red faced driver.
I was perplexed.

I continued looking at the broken down towns,
Gagging in the smelly urinals
And forcing down “famous” cow burgers and oily fries.

Peering out, I
saw an unshaven soldier with one leg
drinking wine in an alley;
the chicken boned children
offering him a crusty piece of bread.

Uncomfortably a tear rolled from my eye
As I dozed, I thought about this species called human;
We kill;
We hate,
We fight and injure,
Lie, cheat and steal
And then hypocritically judge others.
I awoke to someone shaking me.
“Hurry, we’ll be late to church!”


Richard lynn livesay 2008

All poems are original and part of
"Poetic Perspectives", (35+ poems- $15)
a compulation of poetry by Richard Lynn.

What is Poetry?

"A poem is a performance in words" - Robert Frost
"A poem should not mean, but be" - Archibald Macleish

"In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
The raw material of poetry in all its rawness
And that which is on the other hand genuine,
Then you are interested in poetry" -Marianne Moore

"But even the greatest and most famous kings
Feared and with reason, to offend the poets
Whose songs are marble and whose marble sings" -A. Macleish

"Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light" -Dylan Thomas

Poetry

So be, my words like silent fog,
Feel not the harsh of Sunday's call
But give inspired, a new dialogue.

Fly with birds, to see the sights,
With open eyes before the pall.
Breathe in time with pure delights.

Be mute awhile and smell a rose
Bathe in sounds as bubbles fall.
Be still, dispeling sorrow's woes.

Just smile away the grey of day.
Forget bad memories upon the wall
Then love someone in your own way.

Write true poems through your own eyes
Painting a picture of feelings and all.
Reveal your mysteries, the chord of sighs.

Richard Lynn Livesay 2009