Category: Poetry

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

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 .

WHAT?


        by improve everywhere

Do you like poetry? I like poetry. My dogs have always like poetry. Have you ever heard me read poetry? How about if I sang it to you? Any chance for that? Come on where’s the support here, there, over there. It has to be here someplace, why else would I write poetry? Happy poetry, sad poetry, nonsense poetry, and serious poetry. Ok, you can just sit and read then…..but if you do make it MY poetry that you read: The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems on Amazon, or for a very select few, Rabbit in a Box also on Amazon.

You do want to support me, don’t you. Of course you do. Amazon, Gordon Kuhn….come and buy a book!   My dog thanks you.

 

 

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

HAUNTED MEMORIES


Angels or demons cast their nets

Wide caught those with memories

Memories of rights and wrongs, I think

Those with recall so sharp and clear

Memories of thoughts themselves cursed

Cursed as were the moments in time brought forth

Forth brought the issues as played out in life complex

Angels or demons, I know not which crawl through my mind

And pull me from the present to the past intense

Visions not wished to replay

But seen there on the big screen

Unable to stop them from their haunting.            1/10/17

Dismantled by Love


She came softly

Easily to his bed was led

And he found himself—suddenly dismantled

Unexpected the world spinning about his head

As if enjoying a first time cup of rich Turkish Coffee

Followed by a sip of mint liqueur that was fed

From the tip of his lover’s tongue warm red

That sought his mouth out amid a smile of rapture deep

To share as did they while the world disappeared forgotten

While within tousled sheets the pair gamboled

And he surrendered to her charms thus, so gently wed.              1/9/2017

Battle Flag


Battle Flag

 

The battle flag sudden snapped and swung up to fly in the wind

Above the post on the hill that even God had not known about back then

On a hot and sticky day where boys waited amid the baking heat

All seemed to stand still in the sudden roar of quiet to those there that day

Broken by the Sergeant’s sudden shout of “guns up!” that tore the silence apart

Rifles swung up then their muzzles pointed out and down across the clearing

Where men of difference moved so quiet in the sea of grass

Then, with hearts beating hard in all the chests of those there that hour and day

Searing rounds were sent out for the human shearing

A burst returned ripped holes in the flag that flew in the wind

Blood and mud spattered, its fabric so worn and so thin

That flew above boys that day sudden turned into men

It snapped and swung up to fly in the wind

Above the post on the hill that no one, not even God knew about back then.                

6/10/13 edited 12/22/2016