Talisman Needed

 

I could use a little of your A negative blood

and a friendly razor blade

the ice water flowing in your veins

can I borrow your talisman?

the blue and white stone to bring good fortune

or so you say - can you live without it a while?

the power of thoughtography burning images  

into film and old silver plates

going into the dark twisted tunnel

for an experience like no other

the damned seeking their revenge

leering faces, distorted sounds and images, evil colors and laughter

billet reading and coming up with all the wrong answers

poltergeists making themselves known

throwing down, down on the ground, throwing all around

making a shrieking terrible sound

vases, books, record players, coffee cups full of scotch

what a waste of good scotch

werewolf running amok under the full moon

seeking out his next victim

close the windows lock the doors

hide underneath the floors

the darkness is full of monsters don’t ya know

real and imaginary waiting to pounce

Dead End

sometimes the road you’re on comes to an unexpected dead end
always wanted to buy a house on a dead end

just so I could have the morbid pleasure of saying I live on a dead end

now what? no left no right no straight -- nowhere to go but down down down in the ground 

deep and you don’t hear a sound 

dead to the world whether you know it or not

when you’re dead, you’re dead

dead right or dead wrong, it don’t matter now

the misshapen branches in the wind don’t care as they nod in agreement

you fall under a dead silence

six feet in the ground or some ashes spread around

an ocean, a bay, a mountainside

death sometimes comes with a sudden thump 

sometimes it comes with a whisper of the wind 

a tap on the shoulder, an unexpected visitor wearing black shroud

always happens to others///

now you and the sea scrolls have something in common

until then

evening and then days come and go

make some tea and retreat to the darkness of the bedroom 

light a candle, mumble a prayer--what could it hurt just in case

reflections of flame bending in glass

dragon’s blood incense burning, a favorite

sooner or later your number comes up

contemplate your mortality over your coffee

what can you do? nothing, nothing

memories fade, tombstones grow moss and weeded over

some begin leaning over like they’re going into a fierce wind

hollow winds blow across the stone garden

iron gates creak in squeaky tones in dense fog

leaves scatter like distraught mourners

Ships To The Far East

lifter of veils set to sail
across the gypsy ocean

aboard a ghostly freighter with a strange bewildering captain

dark, deep set eyes, dressed in black

captains hat pulled down low

speaks little and if any at all

in a non-decipherable low grumble

not at all like the jovial gray bearded ones you see in movies

foghorns sound, bells ring; a clang seemingly for every star in the sky

sounds of an ocarina eerily play - favorite instrument of old pirates

those with peg legs and a hook for a hand

sailing from the port of honolulu

from docks teeming with suspicious characters 

suspicious passengers too

some seeking a fortune to be made

some seek a voyage respite

others seek to slip away for nefarious reasons 

steel guitars and fragrant flowers

steel drums and fragrant hair

steel men and wooden ships

trade winds from distant islands

blow across the far reaching oceans

a thick fog envelopes the ship

as it rocks across the waves

the moon all but invisible 

the old ship groans and creaks as it sails

in seek of a distant port

Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai

a place of refuge in the mysterious shadowy orient