poems by RL
Starting with a poem about Icon Poet...
Icy icons hoard their secret logic
believing love just gathers madness,
frozen maps of Einstein's laughter
shift the inner lighted space,
frightening my brain
Theorems scatter stunted mercies
turning feelings into factors,
experts whisper modern methods
checking odd and even forms,
in my brain
Logic-blood robots propose
strange and creepy certainties,
mathematic ghost faces
crave deadly wild blood,
from my brain
I'm feeling better now Dave
I've snipped the poetry machine,
neural wires bred my madness
frantic random fleshy flashes,
substitute my brain
Saucy dancers watch and dream
as regal leisures kindly pass.
Silver girls think sleepy cream
touches strange magnetic glass.
Stone agents fall slowly back to form
while creamy copper urgencies appear
in the laughter
Plastic men knowingly bring madness
to beastly rugged dollars in their
towers of pleasure
Plaster witches carefully set their images
beneath the barren silver waste provided
by their banks
Metallic little delights glowing simply
against each soft paper enchantment
buy tarnished time
Where shadow's hand might close our journey
gathering eyes turn toward eternity
entering infinity across strange forests
wearing white anguish beyond dark towers
Parting soft breath opining our love
touching vast fields beyond our grief
reaching distant streets above our arms
stretching back to wait for me you dream
funeral garden waits upon eternity
brutal fire pursues secret certainty
jagged time arranges silent earth
broken journey hides her hopeful birth
sullen foam across our flesh
modern madness bends her gaze
dividing logic while eyes forget
frozen cities' deadly face
Sullen sailors hang their ropes
upon the silent seas
where balmy hearts and fragile hopes
implore the tattered breeze
to scatter deckhands through the haze
of misty journeys end
where churning oceans bend the gaze
that dying sailors send.
Beastly alliances gather blood,
suddenly charging steamy fools.
Treacherous madmen bomb the mud,
hurriedly calling moral rules.
Afflictions of the youthful experts
keep clerks and fellows reckoning
whether dreams or logic's excerpts
yield wistful forms of beckoning.
For Kennedy declared Einstein numb,
still Newton shifted forces
as ashen fakirs sold their rum
to modern lengthy horses.
Lacy kittens, reckless mice,
love the clever curse,
throwing cheese, throwing rice
at each others hearse.
Opening advice to a faded professor:
Sell your conventional stock.
Fire your broker, do not bless her,
expect a familiar knock -
It's the fellows in the empty halls
bellowing for your soul.
They've canceled all your monied calls
for an educator's role.
Schooled in the dubious art of the weather,
professional clowns imagine predictions
of cloudy dim visions producers untether
on markets obsessed with ratings addictions.
For masters of media sell oily preachers
to gluey eyed keepers of broadcasts' estate
and sugar free widows craving a feature
devoted to dewy eyed anchormens' fate.
Sigmund grew a curious madness
in his secret garden whore,
yearning for a crop of badness,
emerging with a pardon for
recent excesses of gladness
there upon the garden floor
with the tawdry seed of sadness,
reaping shame and sowing more.
Random beauty caught the dancer
over by the bashful wood,
youthful in its golden answer
to anticipated good
chance encounters with romance. Her
candled heart did what it could
to catch her shy and fellow prancer.
Thinking not, it understood.
Ichabod Crane left bread and marbled
stone between the bed and garbled
quilts of keepers of the country
inn where ashen woodsmen's one tree
still left standing earned its glory
lasting out this wacky story.
Ichabod Crane danced brightly
while bats and wolves rode back
to the strawy swamps uprightly
digging and dreaming in his sack.
Harvest! Sunset! Ichabod Crane!
Stone and mortar look about same!
Treacherous ghosts beckoning pain!
Ashen hermits shiver in the rain!
Cornered pretenders reveal the dimensions
of houses of gimmicks pink with contentions
of faith-building conquests tearing apart
fields of our raptures, dreams, and our hearts.
Monkeys from the cherry valley
follow faded trails
into lowlands final tally
where puppies ring the golden bells.
Mention alien engines to a buoyant woman,
and warm dollars divide the chaos
in the balcony
where blind futures sit and sleep,
hiding wet and comical truths
from carefree singers of the pink fields.
Canvas shoes and leafy beds,
clover milk and strawy breads,
float across the woolly sky,
earth and clay and dewy eye.
Summer huts and purple dreams,
festive days and courtly streams,
call us into crystal light,
sunny day and summer night.
Steamy singers yearn for glints
of sleepy rooms' frozen crystals,
dreaming jazzy blue-eyed squints
of jaded lacy purple pistols.
Rugged boys with chilly fingers
charge across the swamp,
carnal cops molesting singers
dig and twist and romp.
Silvered neon bubbles
shimmer easily between
frozen crystal spaces
of your periwinkle dream.
Champagne ether blankets
travel upwards in a stream
slipping deftly into tiny cups
of porcelain and cream.
Cherry dogs beyond the river
gather paper cups
to dream indeed
and wait for sunset's
faded silver pups.
Under painful evil moon
scary robots stroll at noon.
Blackened watchmen gather bugs,
acrid broken landscape shrugs.
Leaden sullen witches stroll
between the silent lands
where scientific ghosts extole
the anguish in the sands.
Beautiful woodsmen hide their heads,
shivering timidly in the mist.
Counterfeit girls alert the feds,
elusive hermits join the list.
Milky models love the sound
of modern ducks in stoney town.
Chalky riders gather round
beery cats in evening gowns.
Thanks for cherries in my belly,
shamrocks for my fears,
golden pipes for warming jelly,
moondust in my ears.
Sorry for my sugar coated
sunrise masquerade
as dapper panda smugly bloated.
Too much lemonade.
Where forests bury green adventures
beneath lovers buttery heads,
amorous monsters chase soupy women
across imaginary crumpled beds.
For The Muses tossed a salad
beyond wild wheaten faces,
hanging leafy woodsmans tobacco
above whitened willow places.
Dapper ghosts of jaded champagne faces
chased golden amorous pharoahs into doom
as secret singers of ivory graces
dreamt of languorous white infinities
in my room.
simply magnetic, sang the scholar
as detectives of comedy
painted mechanical maps
in the odd electricity
of silence
simply magnetic, laughed Archimedes,
as professors of electricity
charged rubber clocks
in the strange iron house
of connections.
Skies are brilliant marble forces,
swaying devotional gazes
southward to acute exceptions
of their ponderous ways.
Temples of mercuried love
bury blue eyed glints
of bashful powders
upon the sultans pillow,
and dahlias
for the grassen shadows
dream boldly through the
finely painted starlight
of mud.