Yuma

~

by Rawclyde!

~

Yuma’s “good morning” skies

are

the desert goddess’s eyes

barely open now

and awaiting

her nausea to go away

while radiating more n’ more

solar rays

tainted pretty pink, tainted gothic purple

and finally flashing their blue baby blue

all over the place

and the desert goddess moans

“Is this Goonsville or

is this the ghost town called Love?”

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2011)

~

 A Ghost Town Called Love

poetry collection

2012

by Rawclyde

!

Advertisements

Ah Shucks, Let’s Go For A Ride

~

with

Rawclyde!

~

Hop on up

T’is my favorite mode of transportation

Pegasus is a good friend of mine

Come on now

Here

Take my hand

It don’t bite &

Neither does this flying horse

Ah yes

Let’s go

!

Flying low flying high

Let’s go find some sky

!

Ah yes

Each cloud a smiley face

Each patch of blue endlessly

happy happy

What?

Feeling kind of crappy?

Well well

Let’s go

Find some ghoul

Whose head

You can puke on ’til

he’s drowning in a pool

of disharmony &

We’ll fly away full of

happy happy again

Oh my

We’re higher than all those

puny skyscrapers below

The wind singing awesome songs

We’ve never heard befo’

You’re smiling so much

My goodness

My goddess

You’re smiling so much

So so much my goddess

!

Text:

Copyright Clyde Collins 2016

Art:

B&W of Pegasus by Daniel Eskridge

Spitball Fury

    by Rawclyde!                                                                                                             ~

The small sphere

Hurls Ghost Face

Deeply into space

~

“Where did she go?”

He grits as the metal ball spins

Over Hong Kong

~

There’s so much space out here

His eyeballs

spin too

~

And his head flies off

Knocks around

Seeking a way out

~

His body goes thru a

Transformation

From weak to weaker

~

Slows down to such a degree that

His cantankerous head decides to sneak back onto

The top of his neck

~

Ghost Face secures it there

With a few pieces of duck tape

Leans on the stick

~

The spitball burps

farts &

Speeds forth

~

(Text Copyright Clyde Collins 2016)

Favorite Moms

Hillary & Brittany

~

When

my mom

was

my favorite toy

~

When

I

was

a little boy

~

I’d

pull a chair

up

to the sink

~

And

get me

a

tasty drink

~

Of thee

olde

  Colorad-

 ohhhhhhh

~

Way over

‘dare

  in San Dieg-

 ohhhhhhh

~

Brittany & Son, Marina Del Rey, 2009

~

San Diego

~

Deep Desert Blues

by

Rawclyde

!

Democracy Now

http://www.democracynow.org

independent global news

Repercussion

~

Oh the repercussions of

what I have done

are haunting me no end

cries out the soul of

~

Town

Sheriff

Isom

Dart

~

He slips the key into his vest

straightens the badge on his chest

throws open the jail-cell door

walks out into the morning sunshine

~

There are birds chirping

a train hoots  in the distance

a child is at play on the porch

but it’s all just the ghost town moaning

~

Then a bullet sings thru the air

splinters the wall nex’ his eyelash

a foul burst of dust blurrs his vision

alas, this is not Memory Lane

~

It’s

happening

right

now!

~

Sheriff Dart tumbles behind a

rusted chunk of mining works located

just right for the occasion

3 more bullets slice the air

~

“You shoulda never killed him, Dart!”

it’s a female voice

unmistakable

more lead smites and clangs

~

“No more excuses, Dart!”

zip

zippitty

zippp

~

How many lady friends did this feller have anyway?

muses the town sheriff

under the porch now

   digging his elbows into the dirt…

~

~

from

Rawclyde!

~

Spiritualities

our beloved one

http://www.regalrena.com

~~~

I met a woman

she wasn’t there

not even air

words & pictures made of light

~

She was

what I have come

to behold

a spirituality

~

Alas, our fingertips danced

oceans apart

something was there

besides air

~

Words bounced around

balls of silly putty

‘tween us & then poof!

she was gone

~

She had a whip

and a smile

to employ

in a dark place

~

But I saw something

completely different

in the lady’s

smiley face

~

T’was

an

angel

a spirituality

~

These pictures

they’re made to steal

with a click

do with them what you wish

~

But there are consequences

yes, she’s here, she’s gone

touched yet untouched

an internet spirituality

~

Beautiful warm

so vibrant & real

hair flowing, shoulders with

a smooth firm curve

~

Eyes of color of soul

make my heart glow

make my words bounce

across the sea

~

Silly

putty

spirit-

uality!

~

Another woman come along

smoothly chirping

a bubbly brook

a fluttering floating song

~

For what is she looking?

fingertips deftly dive into my pocket to find

the prayer of a tramp

a coin-less hole

~

An exquisitely well mannered dove

she too welds a whip

but it’s for me to use on her

I won’t, I can’t!

~

Click

whoa!

I find pictures more pictures

pictures galore

~

She’s born-again gorgeous

has no whip

nor

is she a whore

~

She’s simply there

dressed up & dressed down

in a thousand dresses

for any old horn-dog clown

~

She

is

Catholic

as can be

~

And I am

old

poor

yet free

~

Beloved spiritualities

flitting in & out of

my eye ~ how can I

not love you?

~

Love ~ is it

really there, really here

made not of brick

made not of air?

~

from Rawclyde!

~~~

palace restaurant prescott

http://www.historicpalace.com

~~~

Are you coming up or going down?

Featured

prettylittleliarssmh021411

~~~

The Ladder of Saint Augustine

by

H. W. Longfellow

~~~

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said

That of our vices we can frame

A ladder, if we will but tread

Beneath our feet each deed of shame.

~

All common things, each day’s events,

That with the hour begin and end,

Our pleasures and our discontents,

Are rounds by which we may ascend.

~

The low desire, the base design,

That makes another’s virtues less;

The revel of the ruddy wine,

And all occasions of excess;

~

The longing for ignoble things;

The strife for triumph more than truth;

The hardening of the heart, that brings

Irreverence for the dreams of youth;

~

All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,

That have their root in thoughts of ill;

Whatever hinders or impedes

The action of the nobler will ~

~

All these must first be trampled down

Beneath our feet, if we would gain

In the bright fields of fair renown

The right of eminent domain.

~

We have not wings, we cannot soar;

But we have feet to scale and climb

By slow degrees, by more and more,

The cloudy summits of our time.

~

The mighty pyramids of stone

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,

When nearer seen, and better known,

Are but gigantic flights of stairs.

~

The distant mountains, that uprear

Their solid bastions to the skies,

Are crossed by pathways, that appear

As we to higher levels rise.

~

The heights by great men reached and kept

Were not attained by sudden flight,

But they, while their companions slept,

Were toiling upward in the night.

~

Standing on what too long we bore

With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,

We may discern ~ unseen before ~

A path to higher destinies.

~

Nor deem the irrevocable Past

As wholly wasted, wholly vain,

If, rising on its wrecks, at last

To something nobler we attain.

~~~

st-augustine-2-1

~~~

Artwork:

Pretty Little Liars

St. Augustine

~~~