Catatonic in Milwaukee


Stiffness of mind can be a problem and should be noted to tend along with a great deal of anger. I deal with anger. I have problems with anger. I can be very un-nice with anger when it overtakes me and lately it has been  near me too much. I think it is just that the world is moving at such a strange pace and what I hope for is not actually happening but the reverse is. Maybe that  holds true for you as well. In any case being catatonic would be a problem not only in Milwaukee but in Bradenton  as well.

I wonder if people can really change or is it just backwash that we get when we think we changed and then something happens that drags us back into all the same shit. I don’t know. I just known that when looking at my life I can see too many mistakes.

Its a new day and hopefully a day where anger doesn’t creep in to my life or yours.

Oh, and I have never been in Milwaukee but I understand they brew a very fine beer there.

 

The Three Stooges


Death speaks thru the window of the train

While we travel going nowhere from the past to the present

in our clothes from best to worse and back again

looking for the answers to the riddle of questions

wanting to know who the Three Stooges represent

in our lives spent deceived by the world surrounding.     5.23.17

WHY DO WE TEACH LIES TO CHILDREN?


Why is it that we teach children to lie? Why do we tell them lies? Santa Claus! Adults think it is cool to tell children all about Santa Claus. Kids get around older kids and the older kids berate the younger kids making them feel foolish and then the heartbreaking truth is revealed that the adults … parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles….lied to them. And you expect them to learn to be truthful doing this? What about the Easter Bunny and egg hunts? …..bunny = eggs?

YESTERDAYS MOAN


 

Standing naked on the lawn

alone he was one sunlit dawn

the grass beneath his shoeless  feet

cut like broken glass in the shimmering heat

with no one for miles around in sight

memories screamed in silence and turned to flight

while each separate living  haunted thought

echoed off mental walls of stone

trapped there,  held there apart from others’ sight

while caught up in a wind lifted moan

he stood naked beneath an unmoving sun

that dried his flesh and burned his bone

his life before him seen in a looping rerun

while he stood naked there on a grassless lawn

alone, he was, one sunlit dawn .

VOICES UNHEARD


The poet speaks in voices  unheard

Their words are spread upon a page unread

within the confusion of mind speak

the poet’s pen travels on, and on, and on

and where from does the lighted darkness come

where from does the need arise

to shake the hand of God, I suppose

and yet no one shall ever know.

 

What haunted inquiries doth possess

The soul of a single man

What creatures known but by him

Shall raise their faces from the darkness

From the vault kept locked within

Where memories persist to crawl

And slither then upon the walls

Where with a sublime poison touch the soul from within

To cradle him and bath him in memories of his sins

Cannot the treasure once spoken of so profound

See past the surface marred with scratches

Caused by the fight for life and light within

The casket of memories held tightly unexposed

Nails seeking a spot so soft to break into the day

And yet, my friend, darkness looms ahead

Darkness seeks the firm foundations grown so weak

Where only memories of evil purpose takes to peak

On a mountain never climbed and waiting

Waiting for the final curtain to descend

Upon the poet whose voice is silent from within.                                                              02/02/17

Eric the Field Mouse conti.


Eric sat up in the smother of hay and looked at the two other mice whose faces had emerged from behind a pile of damp fiber. “I told you he would wake  this day,” said the one to the right. “I cast stones and they said it would be today.”

“Oh shut up,” said the one to the left. “What do you know about stone casting.”

“Ha, more than you.”

Slowly  the both emerged from the shadows.  “You’ve been asleep a long time,” they both said almost in unison. “Mind if I touch you,” the one of the right said and extended a paw.

“Who are you and where I am I,” Eric said pulling back as he realized that both of these field mice were much larger than he, almost like rats.

“Ah, you don’t need to worry yourself about who we are but as far as where you are well, that is another matter.”

“And the time. The time and day of the year is important.”

“Fine,” Eric said angrily. “Where am I. Isn’t this Farmer Gragers’  farm?”

“Yes, but another time and day and you’ve travelled here. You would think you have come forward a hundred years but in reality you slid sideways. We tell every arrival that they have gained a hundred years. It is just easier that way.”

“Yes,  Easier.”

“How so? Well, when are able to you will see and find you are different.”

“Yes,” the one on the right said excitedly.

“Can I tell him where he is?”  The two looked at each other  and then said, “Outside, just down the road is the town of Llandia. Do you know it?”                                                                                                                                                   1/13/17 Copyright Gordon Kuhn Unedited Text.

 

ALEEN Continued


And so as evening fell fully away from the day and
Those watching went their separate way
Speaking not of evil left there cloaked in dark wings
And left behind small Aleen to sit high upon the hill
The rocky hill that overlooked the city of LLandia
Where the mission keeper sat and looked past them as they left
Brooding about the mission sent him on
And snarled at those who turned to look back at him
For what was their want? Could they have found a better one.
His dark fangs revealed his mood and waited for the taste of blood.
That would run from throats slit by fingernail and dragon tail of wingspan spread
He would wait till fully dark and then mount his quest and deliver the blows
While the silly younger ones left behind who groveled at their teachers feet
Waited for a tasty treat and yet
And yet he recalled Anlock the Strong who spoke to him so long before
Long before the mission clear was in his mind and vision spell
There he had lain away so many days and nights until it became so very clear
That death, dear death would somehow come once again near
And as told when Anloch’s face was close, so close he could hear
The breathing from the lungs deep behind the lacquered armored hide
“Kill them swifty, little one. Surprise those of your kind larger than you.
Surprise them at your strength and keep in mind,
There will come a day when you will have to kill them too.” 1/12/2017

Eric the Tiny Field Mouse contin.


Eric suddenly realized something was wrong. The hay smelled stale, rotted actually. How long had he slept, he wondered? Hours? Days? No, impossible, he had never slept for more than a few hours and if he had someone would have woken him.

He heard shuffling and mumbling coming from off to his left and then to his right. Suddenly, little brown noses poked into the cavity. Field Mice noses. Then he saw an eye blinking at him. “He’s awake!” a mouse voice said to his left.

“No.” A mouse voice said to his right.

Then the noses and the eyes suddenly broke out of the hay and there he sat being studied intently by two field mice, one from the left and one from the right.

“It’s impossible,” said the mouse to the right.

“Well, it is what it is,” said the one on the left. “I told you he was waking up.”

“Yes, you did but….”

Eric suddenly sat up. “Who are you? I don’t recognize either of you.”

“Good God, he can talk,” the mice said together. “I think we should tell the Queen,” said the one on the left. “No, I don’t think that is wise,” from the right. “She’s been bashing people on the head with her club. I don’t even want to go near her,” said the one on the left. “Besides we need more information,” they said together.

 

 

 

Eric the Tiny Field Mouse Chapter Two


So it happened that Eric fell asleep for what appeared to be only a few minutes, but the reality was it was hours and days and months that had passed in a twinkling when Eric finally yawned and sat up in what was now a pollution of rotted hay for he had been left there as the others were unable to wake him. But then there was a shuffling noise in the far in of his den and out popped the faces of two who were his own age, except you had to consider he was actually over a hundred at the time, but not physically. Physically he was only 3 or was it 4. I’m not sure, maybe 5. Yes, let’s say he was 5 and be done with it except…..well….plus a hundred.

Aleen the Winged


He sat up high on the hill above the city of Ilandia  His six foot wingspan had been closed and wrapped securely around him more for warmth than stealth and concealment. He sat alone, disliking being near the others who were  mostly newlings out for their first hunt and kill mission. They were all several hundred feet below  him babbling about how lucky they had been too fly with such a  master.

“Master,” he snarled to himself after overhearing one of their comments. “What do they know of Masters. They are too young to know the virtues of such as Anloch the Strong who took out a thousand Betweens on a day many called ‘Judgement Day.'” He snorted and tightened the grip of his wings upon his body.

“Still strong,” he looked down at himself, at the muscle structure of his arms. “After all these years, still strong,” he sniffed in pleasure and recalled his first mission.

“They are missionaries,” Anloch had said in a snarl, his gargoyle like face close to Aleen’s. “Kill them swifty, little one. Surprise those of your kind larger than you. Surprise them at your strength and keep in mind,” his voice dropped low and his lips touched Aleen’s ear, “there will come a day when you will have to kill them too.”