Rewired and poetic,
words light up the night
Casting darkness back to hell
—demon out of sight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
A Writer
The only way to become a writer
—is to write
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Something For Gregg
I was somewhere deep in Kansas,
on a Triumph 69’
When your song came on the jukebox,
and hit me from behind
I was headed for a bad place,
and cared for nothing much
When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
my heart and soul were struck
Entranced, your lyrics captured me,
like nothing had before
When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’
I headed for the door
But something made me turn around,
and grab another dime
Ten more times in that diner’s booth,
still lost within your rhyme
Now back inside the bus station,
and sleeping on the bench
I scratch your words into the wood,
last dollar gone and spent
My bike outside against the wall,
the kickstand now long gone
And out of gas, my hopes have dashed,
that unrelenting song
Waking up at ten unsettled,
across the street I pushed
The sign said Triumph-BSA,
the owner Mister Cush
He asked, “What’s with your motor,”
I said “nothing—out of gas,
“But worse I’m out of money,
can I sell the bike for cash
“Would you please just buy my Triumph,
I know it’s old and worn
“It got me here through seven states,
runs great both cold and warm”
“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,
on that can we agree?”
We walked back up inside his shop,
three bills he handed me
I thought about a bus ride home,
my thumb looked more in line
Facing East on old route #50,
my heart in deep decline
The first big rig that came along,
was bound for York Pa.
The driver said “If you like dogs,
I’ll take you on your way”
In York I caught a fast ride out,
two ‘dodgers’ going North
And got back home with hat in hand,
your song to guide me forth
Two years then passed, I met my wife,
four more and our first child
And we named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’
her dad back from the wilds
Now forty years have come and gone,
my beard and hair both gray
I owe you Gregg, and always will,
your song, her name—that day
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
For Gregg Allman
I Sent This To Gregg Last March. It\'s on His Website.
We Spent Two Days Together In Richmond Va. In A
Blizzard In 1982. Please excuse if published before.
Now Others Sung
Poets write from experience,
dilettantes rave and rant
A price demanded to feed the Sage,
wishing and hoping can’t
Magic to wrap around the words,
feelings and thoughts hard won
Beauty when lyrics belong to you
—in songs now others sung
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
That Lonely Road
Is your poetry now dusty,
abandoned on the shelf
Have your dreams become dismissive,
do you live for someone else
Is there mold inside your memory box,
questions all long gone
Do you walk that lonely road alone
—your heart to drag along
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)