On Wednesday, October 12, 2022 at 1:22:59 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 11, 2022 at 7:50:08 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > Start posting!
> > -------------------------------------------------------------
> >
> > Cotton Candy, Buttered Popcorn and Cobwebs
> >
> > Why must I drift back to the Wonder Wheel before sleep?
> > It's far from a lullabye, those pipe organs remain a bit off
> > and the clowns always looked sad when throwing confetti water
> > to the front row.
> >
> > You're gone, nowhere to be found inside this house of mirrors
> > though there is one painted wooden pony, riderless, its rotation
> > never reaching a destination never stopping to breathe
> > before I finally drift off.
> >
> > How, we wondered, did they spin that cotton candy, a pink cobweb
> > of sugar, we the spiders complete with sticky kisses.
> >
> > I cooked a popcorn bag tonight, watched it expand
> > inside the microwave until the very last pop told me it was done.
> >
> > I didn't eat any, we found seagulls like to land, garb a piece
> > and head off, their movie about to begin.
> >
> > Never a kernel left by morning,
> >
> > You're gone as well.
> >
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.
> ----------------------------------------------------------

The Others

You decided to piss on me,
out of relief or pure ignorance,
bury me next to the dumping ground
of your shovel-full flush.

During your sleepless nights,
do you think of someone looking through the window,
hats stacked on hats
wanting on that cigarette you promised
or perhaps the ex sends out a familiar ghostly giggle
while packing her bags, seeking another--
a need to bring comfort to the confusion.

Seems you've pissed on everyone and in return,
you'll get no pat on the back, no 'jolly good fellow'
sing/song toast at the farewell party
and if that is fine with you, it is absolutely fine with me.

I was happy for the dinner invite, I smiled, glad to attend,
finally, a place of like-minded folks with common goals,
but the chicken served, was undercooked, the potatoes
had, eyes as the guest list became filled
with desperate 'love me' people, all words posted by those
that have failed in every aspect of life.

Imagine being put into the poetry corner by those that only survive
minute by minute, the future being a place of make believe
comic panels as the real-world crumbles at their feet.

Edward Rochester Esq.

^

On Wednesday, October 12, 2022 at 9:08:57 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Wednesday, October 12, 2022 at 1:22:59 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 11, 2022 at 7:50:08 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > Start posting!
> > > -------------------------------------------------------------
> > >
> > > Cotton Candy, Buttered Popcorn and Cobwebs
> > >
> > > Why must I drift back to the Wonder Wheel before sleep?
> > > It's far from a lullabye, those pipe organs remain a bit off
> > > and the clowns always looked sad when throwing confetti water
> > > to the front row.
> > >
> > > You're gone, nowhere to be found inside this house of mirrors
> > > though there is one painted wooden pony, riderless, its rotation
> > > never reaching a destination never stopping to breathe
> > > before I finally drift off.
> > >
> > > How, we wondered, did they spin that cotton candy, a pink cobweb
> > > of sugar, we the spiders complete with sticky kisses.
> > >
> > > I cooked a popcorn bag tonight, watched it expand
> > > inside the microwave until the very last pop told me it was done.
> > >
> > > I didn't eat any, we found seagulls like to land, garb a piece
> > > and head off, their movie about to begin.
> > >
> > > Never a kernel left by morning,
> > >
> > > You're gone as well.
> > >
> > >
> > > Edward Rochester Esq.
> > ----------------------------------------------------------
> The Others
>
> You decided to piss on me,
> out of relief or pure ignorance,
> bury me next to the dumping ground
> of your shovel-full flush.
>
> During your sleepless nights,
> do you think of someone looking through the window,
> hats stacked on hats
> wanting on that cigarette you promised
> or perhaps the ex sends out a familiar ghostly giggle
> while packing her bags, seeking another--
> a need to bring comfort to the confusion.
>
> Seems you've pissed on everyone and in return,
> you'll get no pat on the back, no 'jolly good fellow'
> sing/song toast at the farewell party
> and if that is fine with you, it is absolutely fine with me.
>
> I was happy for the dinner invite, I smiled, glad to attend,
> finally, a place of like-minded folks with common goals,
> but the chicken served, was undercooked, the potatoes
> had, eyes as the guest list became filled
> with desperate 'love me' people, all words posted by those
> that have failed in every aspect of life.
>
> Imagine being put into the poetry corner by those that only survive
> minute by minute, the future being a place of make believe
> comic panels as the real-world crumbles at their feet.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan’s Last Dance

Should I swat the flies
that gather around my tired song,
dredge up the old smooth past croon
gargling out their once soft beckon,
only now, a chainsaw vocal
rendition--they will not mind
those blue haired folks.

2000 Holiday Inn check-in’s,
the sheets brittle from past lovers,
me alone on the third pack
of rolled and filtered peace offerings.

Do I look to quicken the end?
Bow into collapse in front of those
thinking I shall rise again--no
it’s just me, noble in my cause,
the prize resting next to
that filthy telephone that will ring,
soon enough…is it Anchorage next,
Peru, perhaps, I’ll ask whoever comes
to grab my belongings that no longer
belong to this restless traveler,
perhaps a perfect head covering
will do--today a cowboy hat
or helmeted knight in shining armor,
sword and shield ready to do battle
with the weary Fender.

The front row can count my cavities,
the rest will pretend to understand why
I’m still tangled up in blue.

Edward Rochester Esq.

^Encore^

Cross Winds
by NancyGene

Witch winds now blow a cross, the swamps
are ringing with dank muted whomps
on bones of travelers armed with faith
whose minds had never known the wraiths

that drift and chill and decimate
the fools who scoff, then hesitate
on paths worn smooth by evil breeze,
and all who pass feel ill at ease.
Religion has no strength to save
the ones who fall in unmarked graves,
bleed out before the knife’s withdrawn
from hearts that beat while gnawed upon

by crones whose loyalty is mine
and rise above the land to dine
on entrails, brains and fatty flesh
of those who wander, get enmeshed,

and slaughtered be it wench or squire.
No beads or crosses shield in mire
swept through with winds forever cursed
to wrest your soul this 31st.

On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 6:44:49 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
> Cross Winds
> by NancyGene
>
> Witch winds now blow a cross, the swamps
> are ringing with dank muted whomps
> on bones of travelers armed with faith
> whose minds had never known the wraiths
>
> that drift and chill and decimate
> the fools who scoff, then hesitate
> on paths worn smooth by evil breeze,
> and all who pass feel ill at ease.
>
> Religion has no strength to save
> the ones who fall in unmarked graves,
> bleed out before the knife’s withdrawn
> from hearts that beat while gnawed upon
>
> by crones whose loyalty is mine
> and rise above the land to dine
> on entrails, brains and fatty flesh
> of those who wander, get enmeshed,
>
> and slaughtered be it wench or squire.
> No beads or crosses shield in mire
> swept through with winds forever cursed
> to wrest your soul this 31st.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe Next Time

I can't walk any further
and reaching a ridge ahead,
the sea stops me.

Jetty fingers extend
from earth's hand
as Gulls bask in an ocean spray.

I don't belong here,
a place of nature reserved,
for crab and urchin and bird.

But I'll visit at times
as unwelcome as I am,
for this is their house
and I intrude.

Seagull squawks tell me this
and with a quiet look,
they're assured of my
well meaning.

And I watch long grass
dance in a breeze,
housekeeping and nest building,
their job today.

The young will appear
within a month's sunrise, sunset.

And I'll be back
admiring how easy
life could be.

Heading back to my nest,
horns squawk, telling me
not to linger, move on.

Radio's blast today's carnage
and I can't help but think
of the quiet life
I just left.

Maybe next life
I'll be on the wing.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Thursday, 13 October 2022 at 21:27:22 UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 6:44:49 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
> > Cross Winds
> > by NancyGene
> >
> > Witch winds now blow a cross, the swamps
> > are ringing with dank muted whomps
> > on bones of travelers armed with faith
> > whose minds had never known the wraiths
> >
> > that drift and chill and decimate
> > the fools who scoff, then hesitate
> > on paths worn smooth by evil breeze,
> > and all who pass feel ill at ease.
> >
> > Religion has no strength to save
> > the ones who fall in unmarked graves,
> > bleed out before the knife’s withdrawn
> > from hearts that beat while gnawed upon
> >
> > by crones whose loyalty is mine
> > and rise above the land to dine
> > on entrails, brains and fatty flesh
> > of those who wander, get enmeshed,
> >
> > and slaughtered be it wench or squire.
> > No beads or crosses shield in mire
> > swept through with winds forever cursed
> > to wrest your soul this 31st.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Maybe Next Time
>
> I can't walk any further
> and reaching a ridge ahead,
> the sea stops me.
>
> Jetty fingers extend
> from earth's hand
> as Gulls bask in an ocean spray.
>
> I don't belong here,
> a place of nature reserved,
> for crab and urchin and bird.
>
> But I'll visit at times
> as unwelcome as I am,
> for this is their house
> and I intrude.
>
> Seagull squawks tell me this
> and with a quiet look,
> they're assured of my
> well meaning.
>
> And I watch long grass
> dance in a breeze,
> housekeeping and nest building,
> their job today.
>
> The young will appear
> within a month's sunrise, sunset.
>
> And I'll be back
> admiring how easy
> life could be.
>
> Heading back to my nest,
> horns squawk, telling me
> not to linger, move on.
>
> Radio's blast today's carnage
> and I can't help but think
> of the quiet life
> I just left.
>
> Maybe next life
> I'll be on the wing.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 9:27:22 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 6:44:49 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
> > Cross Winds
> > by NancyGene
> >
> > Witch winds now blow a cross, the swamps
> > are ringing with dank muted whomps
> > on bones of travelers armed with faith
> > whose minds had never known the wraiths
> >
> > that drift and chill and decimate
> > the fools who scoff, then hesitate
> > on paths worn smooth by evil breeze,
> > and all who pass feel ill at ease.
> >
> > Religion has no strength to save
> > the ones who fall in unmarked graves,
> > bleed out before the knife’s withdrawn
> > from hearts that beat while gnawed upon
> >
> > by crones whose loyalty is mine
> > and rise above the land to dine
> > on entrails, brains and fatty flesh
> > of those who wander, get enmeshed,
> >
> > and slaughtered be it wench or squire.
> > No beads or crosses shield in mire
> > swept through with winds forever cursed
> > to wrest your soul this 31st.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Maybe Next Time
>
> I can't walk any further
> and reaching a ridge ahead,
> the sea stops me.
>
> Jetty fingers extend
> from earth's hand
> as Gulls bask in an ocean spray.
>
> I don't belong here,
> a place of nature reserved,
> for crab and urchin and bird.
>
> But I'll visit at times
> as unwelcome as I am,
> for this is their house
> and I intrude.
>
> Seagull squawks tell me this
> and with a quiet look,
> they're assured of my
> well meaning.
>
> And I watch long grass
> dance in a breeze,
> housekeeping and nest building,
> their job today.
>
> The young will appear
> within a month's sunrise, sunset.
>
> And I'll be back
> admiring how easy
> life could be.
>
> Heading back to my nest,
> horns squawk, telling me
> not to linger, move on.
>
> Radio's blast today's carnage
> and I can't help but think
> of the quiet life
> I just left.
>
> Maybe next life
> I'll be on the wing.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.
-------------------------------------------------------

Ash Annointed

....and so, a black crayon is pressed
into the muzzle--soon, a crude Picasso smile
appears and when one thinks all is wrong,
that drawn grin reveals all is right as solemn temples fall,
making an escape from iron shackles, a magician's dream.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Saturday, 15 October 2022 at 17:44:33 UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 9:27:22 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 6:44:49 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
> > > Cross Winds
> > > by NancyGene
> > >
> > > Witch winds now blow a cross, the swamps
> > > are ringing with dank muted whomps
> > > on bones of travelers armed with faith
> > > whose minds had never known the wraiths
> > >
> > > that drift and chill and decimate
> > > the fools who scoff, then hesitate
> > > on paths worn smooth by evil breeze,
> > > and all who pass feel ill at ease.
> > >
> > > Religion has no strength to save
> > > the ones who fall in unmarked graves,
> > > bleed out before the knife’s withdrawn
> > > from hearts that beat while gnawed upon
> > >
> > > by crones whose loyalty is mine
> > > and rise above the land to dine
> > > on entrails, brains and fatty flesh
> > > of those who wander, get enmeshed,
> > >
> > > and slaughtered be it wench or squire.
> > > No beads or crosses shield in mire
> > > swept through with winds forever cursed
> > > to wrest your soul this 31st.
> > -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> >
> > Maybe Next Time
> >
> > I can't walk any further
> > and reaching a ridge ahead,
> > the sea stops me.
> >
> > Jetty fingers extend
> > from earth's hand
> > as Gulls bask in an ocean spray.
> >
> > I don't belong here,
> > a place of nature reserved,
> > for crab and urchin and bird.
> >
> > But I'll visit at times
> > as unwelcome as I am,
> > for this is their house
> > and I intrude.
> >
> > Seagull squawks tell me this
> > and with a quiet look,
> > they're assured of my
> > well meaning.
> >
> > And I watch long grass
> > dance in a breeze,
> > housekeeping and nest building,
> > their job today.
> >
> > The young will appear
> > within a month's sunrise, sunset.
> >
> > And I'll be back
> > admiring how easy
> > life could be.
> >
> > Heading back to my nest,
> > horns squawk, telling me
> > not to linger, move on.
> >
> > Radio's blast today's carnage
> > and I can't help but think
> > of the quiet life
> > I just left.
> >
> > Maybe next life
> > I'll be on the wing.
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.
> -------------------------------------------------------
>
>
> Ash Annointed
>
> ...and so, a black crayon is pressed
> into the muzzle--soon, a crude Picasso smile
> appears and when one thinks all is wrong,
> that drawn grin reveals all is right as solemn temples fall,
> making an escape from iron shackles, a magician's dream.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Thursday, 13 October 2022 at 21:27:22 UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Thursday, October 13, 2022 at 6:44:49 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
> > Cross Winds
> > by NancyGene
> >
> > Witch winds now blow a cross, the swamps
> > are ringing with dank muted whomps
> > on bones of travelers armed with faith
> > whose minds had never known the wraiths
> >
> > that drift and chill and decimate
> > the fools who scoff, then hesitate
> > on paths worn smooth by evil breeze,
> > and all who pass feel ill at ease.
> >
> > Religion has no strength to save
> > the ones who fall in unmarked graves,
> > bleed out before the knife’s withdrawn
> > from hearts that beat while gnawed upon
> >
> > by crones whose loyalty is mine
> > and rise above the land to dine
> > on entrails, brains and fatty flesh
> > of those who wander, get enmeshed,
> >
> > and slaughtered be it wench or squire.
> > No beads or crosses shield in mire
> > swept through with winds forever cursed
> > to wrest your soul this 31st.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Maybe Next Time
>
> I can't walk any further
> and reaching a ridge ahead,
> the sea stops me.
>
> Jetty fingers extend
> from earth's hand
> as Gulls bask in an ocean spray.
>
> I don't belong here,
> a place of nature reserved,
> for crab and urchin and bird.
>
> But I'll visit at times
> as unwelcome as I am,
> for this is their house
> and I intrude.
>
> Seagull squawks tell me this
> and with a quiet look,
> they're assured of my
> well meaning.
>
> And I watch long grass
> dance in a breeze,
> housekeeping and nest building,
> their job today.
>
> The young will appear
> within a month's sunrise, sunset.
>
> And I'll be back
> admiring how easy
> life could be.
>
> Heading back to my nest,
> horns squawk, telling me
> not to linger, move on.
>
> Radio's blast today's carnage
> and I can't help but think
> of the quiet life
> I just left.
>
> Maybe next life
> I'll be on the wing.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 9:24:52 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Start posting!
>
>
> Cutting Board
>
> They once fixed a hole in your heart,
> now you cut your arm's flesh, begging attention.
>
> Did you forget the attention, the five year wait
> until your newborn body could handle such a job?
>
> You were told of the prayers, handled with care,
> watched around the clock.
>
> Then they opened you up, breastbone spread
> as if a clam shell, the heart pulsed in gloved fingers
> and the repair was complete.
>
> And now you're nineteen, confused and cutting--
> not deep enough to sever a vein, just enough to scab
> and you're asked about the damage.
>
> Now the prayers start over and you'll be taken for help,
> hopefully realizing the attention you now seek
> has always been there.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

Closing Time

I was asked,
does death die?

I answered, only with the last breath
from the last life on earth."

I was asked, can war die?

I answered, not as long as there
is breath on earth.

I was told, then death is good,
if it means the end of war.

I answered, death can be good,
if agony is the only other choice.

I was told, I hope there isn't any more agony.

I answered, then death wins.

I was told, it does seem best, given the choice.

Seems we had figured out life,
by 'last call'

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Sunday, October 16, 2022 at 9:58:31 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 9:24:52 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > Start posting!
> >
> >
> > Cutting Board
> >
> > They once fixed a hole in your heart,
> > now you cut your arm's flesh, begging attention.
> >
> > Did you forget the attention, the five year wait
> > until your newborn body could handle such a job?
> >
> > You were told of the prayers, handled with care,
> > watched around the clock.
> >
> > Then they opened you up, breastbone spread
> > as if a clam shell, the heart pulsed in gloved fingers
> > and the repair was complete.
> >
> > And now you're nineteen, confused and cutting--
> > not deep enough to sever a vein, just enough to scab
> > and you're asked about the damage.
> >
> > Now the prayers start over and you'll be taken for help,
> > hopefully realizing the attention you now seek
> > has always been there.
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.
>
>
>
>
> Closing Time
>
>
> I was asked,
> does death die?
>
> I answered, only with the last breath
> from the last life on earth."
>
> I was asked, can war die?
>
> I answered, not as long as there
> is breath on earth.
>
> I was told, then death is good,
> if it means the end of war.
>
> I answered, death can be good,
> if agony is the only other choice.
>
> I was told, I hope there isn't any more agony.
>
> I answered, then death wins.
>
> I was told, it does seem best, given the choice.
>
> Seems we had figured out life,
> by 'last call'
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

Artist

I try to smell the sweat
of the poet's
anguished words
or the sweet scent
of Monet's garden.

Was the wine
spilled on tabletops
or ashes mixed
on the palate
of those, giving us
reasons to cry or
smile?

Did they eat
a bit of cheese
or forget food,
all together
until stomachs
inverted,
hands shook.

What is this passion
that negates the
every day, only
allowing brush strokes,
or lines of words?

Was sleep damned,
an intruder
of creation,
something to fight,
until lids fell
under the weight
reality?

The sacrifice of everyday,
the misunderstanding
of many, but read
and viewed in awe.

Not knowing the whys
but understanding that
void of without.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Sunday, 16 October 2022 at 10:20:57 UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Sunday, October 16, 2022 at 9:58:31 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 9:24:52 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > Start posting!
> > >
> > >
> > > Cutting Board
> > >
> > > They once fixed a hole in your heart,
> > > now you cut your arm's flesh, begging attention.
> > >
> > > Did you forget the attention, the five year wait
> > > until your newborn body could handle such a job?
> > >
> > > You were told of the prayers, handled with care,
> > > watched around the clock.
> > >
> > > Then they opened you up, breastbone spread
> > > as if a clam shell, the heart pulsed in gloved fingers
> > > and the repair was complete.
> > >
> > > And now you're nineteen, confused and cutting--
> > > not deep enough to sever a vein, just enough to scab
> > > and you're asked about the damage.
> > >
> > > Now the prayers start over and you'll be taken for help,
> > > hopefully realizing the attention you now seek
> > > has always been there.
> > >
> > > Edward Rochester Esq.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > Closing Time
> >
> >
> > I was asked,
> > does death die?
> >
> > I answered, only with the last breath
> > from the last life on earth."
> >
> > I was asked, can war die?
> >
> > I answered, not as long as there
> > is breath on earth.
> >
> > I was told, then death is good,
> > if it means the end of war.
> >
> > I answered, death can be good,
> > if agony is the only other choice.
> >
> > I was told, I hope there isn't any more agony.
> >
> > I answered, then death wins.
> >
> > I was told, it does seem best, given the choice.
> >
> > Seems we had figured out life,
> > by 'last call'
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.
> Artist
>
>
> I try to smell the sweat
> of the poet's
> anguished words
> or the sweet scent
> of Monet's garden.
>
> Was the wine
> spilled on tabletops
> or ashes mixed
> on the palate
> of those, giving us
> reasons to cry or
> smile?
>
> Did they eat
> a bit of cheese
> or forget food,
> all together
> until stomachs
> inverted,
> hands shook.
>
> What is this passion
> that negates the
> every day, only
> allowing brush strokes,
> or lines of words?
>
> Was sleep damned,
> an intruder
> of creation,
> something to fight,
> until lids fell
> under the weight
> reality?
>
> The sacrifice of everyday,
> the misunderstanding
> of many, but read
> and viewed in awe.
>
> Not knowing the whys
> but understanding that
> void of without.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Wednesday, 12 October 2022 at 09:08:57 UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Wednesday, October 12, 2022 at 1:22:59 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 11, 2022 at 7:50:08 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > > Start posting!
> > > -------------------------------------------------------------
> > >
> > > Cotton Candy, Buttered Popcorn and Cobwebs
> > >
> > > Why must I drift back to the Wonder Wheel before sleep?
> > > It's far from a lullabye, those pipe organs remain a bit off
> > > and the clowns always looked sad when throwing confetti water
> > > to the front row.
> > >
> > > You're gone, nowhere to be found inside this house of mirrors
> > > though there is one painted wooden pony, riderless, its rotation
> > > never reaching a destination never stopping to breathe
> > > before I finally drift off.
> > >
> > > How, we wondered, did they spin that cotton candy, a pink cobweb
> > > of sugar, we the spiders complete with sticky kisses.
> > >
> > > I cooked a popcorn bag tonight, watched it expand
> > > inside the microwave until the very last pop told me it was done.
> > >
> > > I didn't eat any, we found seagulls like to land, garb a piece
> > > and head off, their movie about to begin.
> > >
> > > Never a kernel left by morning,
> > >
> > > You're gone as well.
> > >
> > >
> > > Edward Rochester Esq.
> > ----------------------------------------------------------
> The Others
>
> You decided to piss on me,
> out of relief or pure ignorance,
> bury me next to the dumping ground
> of your shovel-full flush.
>
> During your sleepless nights,
> do you think of someone looking through the window,
> hats stacked on hats
> wanting on that cigarette you promised
> or perhaps the ex sends out a familiar ghostly giggle
> while packing her bags, seeking another--
> a need to bring comfort to the confusion.
>
> Seems you've pissed on everyone and in return,
> you'll get no pat on the back, no 'jolly good fellow'
> sing/song toast at the farewell party
> and if that is fine with you, it is absolutely fine with me.
>
> I was happy for the dinner invite, I smiled, glad to attend,
> finally, a place of like-minded folks with common goals,
> but the chicken served, was undercooked, the potatoes
> had, eyes as the guest list became filled
> with desperate 'love me' people, all words posted by those
> that have failed in every aspect of life.
>
> Imagine being put into the poetry corner by those that only survive
> minute by minute, the future being a place of make believe
> comic panels as the real-world crumbles at their feet.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Wednesday, 12 October 2022 at 01:22:59 UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 11, 2022 at 7:50:08 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > Start posting!
> > -------------------------------------------------------------
> >
> > Cotton Candy, Buttered Popcorn and Cobwebs
> >
> > Why must I drift back to the Wonder Wheel before sleep?
> > It's far from a lullabye, those pipe organs remain a bit off
> > and the clowns always looked sad when throwing confetti water
> > to the front row.
> >
> > You're gone, nowhere to be found inside this house of mirrors
> > though there is one painted wooden pony, riderless, its rotation
> > never reaching a destination never stopping to breathe
> > before I finally drift off.
> >
> > How, we wondered, did they spin that cotton candy, a pink cobweb
> > of sugar, we the spiders complete with sticky kisses.
> >
> > I cooked a popcorn bag tonight, watched it expand
> > inside the microwave until the very last pop told me it was done.
> >
> > I didn't eat any, we found seagulls like to land, garb a piece
> > and head off, their movie about to begin.
> >
> > Never a kernel left by morning,
> >
> > You're gone as well.
> >
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.
> ----------------------------------------------------------

On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 9:24:52 AM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Start posting!
>
>
> Cutting Board
>
> They once fixed a hole in your heart,
> now you cut your arm's flesh, begging attention.
>
> Did you forget the attention, the five year wait
> until your newborn body could handle such a job?
>
> You were told of the prayers, handled with care,
> watched around the clock.
>
> Then they opened you up, breastbone spread
> as if a clam shell, the heart pulsed in gloved fingers
> and the repair was complete.
>
> And now you're nineteen, confused and cutting--
> not deep enough to sever a vein, just enough to scab
> and you're asked about the damage.
>
> Now the prayers start over and you'll be taken for help,
> hopefully realizing the attention you now seek
> has always been there.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

DOA

I destroyed you,
touched where delicate, promised
complete fulfillment
while keeping realistic intentions
a hidden flaw in plain view.

You waddled next to my once lean stride
and soon the offspring, tried to get it right
from my upbringing of all wrong.

Where to turn? Perhaps the artificial world,
for mine was more a carnival ride
and I killed you, not with gun or knife
but strangulation.

You ran, struggling to breathe,
I folded back into a world designed
to fail as the clock ticks off
the final seconds of the game.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start posting!

A note to Michael and those reading, my intention is not to flood the AYos with my work and have expressed to Michael to feel free and discard all that isn't worthy of publication.

Considering the state of the AAPC, I have little choice left but this thread to post what I consider my poetry and my hope that more poets will fill this space...

Spread the word.

Jim

On Monday, October 17, 2022 at 9:25:49 AM UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Start posting!
> A note to Michael and those reading, my intention is not to flood the AYos with my work and have expressed to Michael to feel free and discard all that isn't worthy of publication.
>
> Considering the state of the AAPC, I have little choice left but this thread to post what I consider my poetry and my hope that more poets will fill this space...
>
> Spread the word.
>
> Jim

Talk to the hand.

On Monday, October 17, 2022 at 9:25:49 AM UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Start posting!
> A note to Michael and those reading, my intention is not to flood the AYos with my work and have expressed to Michael to feel free and discard all that isn't worthy of publication.
>
> Considering the state of the AAPC, I have little choice left but this thread to post what I consider my poetry and my hope that more poets will fill this space...
>
> Spread the word.
>
> Jim

Your poetry is always welcome here, Jim.

On Monday, October 17, 2022 at 3:43:05 PM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Monday, October 17, 2022 at 9:25:49 AM UTC-4, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 4, 2022 at 12:17:50 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > Start posting!
> > A note to Michael and those reading, my intention is not to flood the AYos with my work and have expressed to Michael to feel free and discard all that isn't worthy of publication.
> >
> > Considering the state of the AAPC, I have little choice left but this thread to post what I consider my poetry and my hope that more poets will fill this space...
> >
> > Spread the word.
> >
> > Jim
> Your poetry is always welcome here, Jim.

Thank you.

Evil grins, umbrage and such an assortment of sins
On it's head, the world and the truth now spins
Freedom is at mercy of the not so tender druthers
Of hanging judges of the business of one another
Know that the noose can sway both ways
But the gallows only falls one way

So crusaders and heretics, know this to be true
Your savior took a spear for you and so can you
Pharisees still rule and know not what they do,
Just remember that when they crucify you too.

Too soon it all will come to pass
so soon none of it will matter
like dust to the wind scattered
like sand of the shore, to be shorn by the storm
swallowed into the dark forgotten depths of the ocean

I speak of sincerity in purpose
selflessness in word and deed
Purity of purpose, serenity of being
Free of the terrible weight of the world
To shed its shackles and rise above its discord

And I finally gotten to know the rest of peace
But your bleeding hearts just had to drag me back
Perhaps because you couldn't face your griefs
Your foolish hearts have poisoned the well
Filled it with wishes of what you believe

~~Ash Wurthing

On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 11:33:27 AM UTC-4, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> Evil grins, umbrage and such an assortment of sins
> On it's head, the world and the truth now spins
> Freedom is at mercy of the not so tender druthers
> Of hanging judges of the business of one another
> Know that the noose can sway both ways
> But the gallows only falls one way
>
> So crusaders and heretics, know this to be true
> Your savior took a spear for you and so can you
> Pharisees still rule and know not what they do,
> Just remember that when they crucify you too.
>
> Too soon it all will come to pass
> so soon none of it will matter
> like dust to the wind scattered
> like sand of the shore, to be shorn by the storm
> swallowed into the dark forgotten depths of the ocean
>
> I speak of sincerity in purpose
> selflessness in word and deed
> Purity of purpose, serenity of being
> Free of the terrible weight of the world
> To shed its shackles and rise above its discord
>
> And I finally gotten to know the rest of peace
> But your bleeding hearts just had to drag me back
> Perhaps because you couldn't face your griefs
> Your foolish hearts have poisoned the well
> Filled it with wishes of what you believe
>
> ~~Ash Wurthing

The Wallpaper Knew Halloween Night

 
THE CRIME WITNESSED:
 
I wondered
if yellowed horror
could be extracted
from aged wallpaper--
the scream
from last breath,
the busy tones
of detective's huddle
over a heap of
all that's left
of the resident.
 
I saw the shadow
that night,
a quick run from room
to room,
not giving thought
of carnage,
until flashes of red,
slapped at my eyes.
 
And they called,
wanting to talk to me,
the shadows I saw
intrigued those assigned
and I had to get the story
straight--
my whereabouts
on a rainy night of mayhem.
 
I hid the dress.
 
THE INTERROGATION:
 
"So, sir, you saw a shadow,
could you make out anything?"
 
"Just a run, back and forth
from window to window."
 
"And you watched?"
 
"Yes."
 
"You say run."
 
"Well faster than a walk."
 
"And did you see this person leave?"
 
"No."
 
"And you left."
 
"To go home, yes."
 
"But our background check
says you live there."
 
"Where?"
 
"That house up the hill."
 
"I did, once."
 
"You say once... many years ago?"
 
"Yes, but I moved out."
 
"May we search your home?"
 
They'll get a search warrant, I know.
 
"Sure."
 
"Your free to go at this point."
 
I've got to get to that dress.
 
She wore that dress many years ago
and I stole it the night she threw me out,
my own mother casting me out as if an old
fish dinner and once a night 
I'd smell her sweet perfume stained
on that dress,
until it turned foul with my sweat.
 
THE SHADOWS:
 
"Mother?'
 
"Why are you here?"
 
"To kill you, as you killed me."
 
And she struggled from room to room, with a scream to no one
and I followed, with blow after blow
until the scream whimpered to silence
and I was finally free from the agony of her.
 
Those shadows, me and her and the chase
for love or nothing. No compromise.
She left me no choice.
 
AFTERMATH:
 
They'll be here soon, those cops,
I'll dress pretty, maybe 
splash on a little perfume--
she wore it once you know,
when she loved me.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 12:33:46 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 11:33:27 AM UTC-4, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> > Evil grins, umbrage and such an assortment of sins
> > On it's head, the world and the truth now spins
> > Freedom is at mercy of the not so tender druthers
> > Of hanging judges of the business of one another
> > Know that the noose can sway both ways
> > But the gallows only falls one way
> >
> > So crusaders and heretics, know this to be true
> > Your savior took a spear for you and so can you
> > Pharisees still rule and know not what they do,
> > Just remember that when they crucify you too.
> >
> > Too soon it all will come to pass
> > so soon none of it will matter
> > like dust to the wind scattered
> > like sand of the shore, to be shorn by the storm
> > swallowed into the dark forgotten depths of the ocean
> >
> > I speak of sincerity in purpose
> > selflessness in word and deed
> > Purity of purpose, serenity of being
> > Free of the terrible weight of the world
> > To shed its shackles and rise above its discord
> >
> > And I finally gotten to know the rest of peace
> > But your bleeding hearts just had to drag me back
> > Perhaps because you couldn't face your griefs
> > Your foolish hearts have poisoned the well
> > Filled it with wishes of what you believe
> >
> > ~~Ash Wurthing
> The Wallpaper Knew Halloween Night
>
>
> THE CRIME WITNESSED:
>
> I wondered
> if yellowed horror
> could be extracted
> from aged wallpaper--
> the scream
> from last breath,
> the busy tones
> of detective's huddle
> over a heap of
> all that's left
> of the resident.
>
> I saw the shadow
> that night,
> a quick run from room
> to room,
> not giving thought
> of carnage,
> until flashes of red,
> slapped at my eyes.
>
> And they called,
> wanting to talk to me,
> the shadows I saw
> intrigued those assigned
> and I had to get the story
> straight--
> my whereabouts
> on a rainy night of mayhem.
>
> I hid the dress.
>
> THE INTERROGATION:
>
> "So, sir, you saw a shadow,
> could you make out anything?"
>
> "Just a run, back and forth
> from window to window."
>
> "And you watched?"
>
> "Yes."
>
> "You say run."
>
> "Well faster than a walk."
>
> "And did you see this person leave?"
>
> "No."
>
> "And you left."
>
> "To go home, yes."
>
> "But our background check
> says you live there."
>
> "Where?"
>
> "That house up the hill."
>
> "I did, once."
>
> "You say once... many years ago?"
>
> "Yes, but I moved out."
>
> "May we search your home?"
>
> They'll get a search warrant, I know.
>
> "Sure."
>
> "Your free to go at this point."
>
> I've got to get to that dress.
>
> She wore that dress many years ago
> and I stole it the night she threw me out,
> my own mother casting me out as if an old
> fish dinner and once a night
> I'd smell her sweet perfume stained
> on that dress,
> until it turned foul with my sweat.
>
> THE SHADOWS:
>
> "Mother?'
>
> "Why are you here?"
>
> "To kill you, as you killed me."
>
> And she struggled from room to room, with a scream to no one
> and I followed, with blow after blow
> until the scream whimpered to silence
> and I was finally free from the agony of her.
>
> Those shadows, me and her and the chase
> for love or nothing. No compromise.
> She left me no choice.
>
> AFTERMATH:
>
> They'll be here soon, those cops,
> I'll dress pretty, maybe
> splash on a little perfume--
> she wore it once you know,
> when she loved me.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

Ghost Parade

Squeals ricocheted
off falling confetti
as Joltin Joe rode
an open-air Cadillac
down the canyon of heroes’
while back out of sight
down an alley,
a song was sung
from the cracked lips
of a city minstrel.
 
The outside cheering reached
his ears and it became
a make believe concert
starring the back alley Dylan
cranking out
another poetic gamble
from the narrow honky tonk
of filled ash cans
as the parade, outside,
continued
until dusk brought
the street cleaners
and left over stumble
of revelers.
 
But he was the lucky one
this day,
confetti makes a fine bed
and after all
there was a concert again
tomorrow night,
long after that Yankee slugger
is served breakfast in bed,
with a wink
from Marilyn.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 3:04:16 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 12:33:46 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 11:33:27 AM UTC-4, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> > > Evil grins, umbrage and such an assortment of sins
> > > On it's head, the world and the truth now spins
> > > Freedom is at mercy of the not so tender druthers
> > > Of hanging judges of the business of one another
> > > Know that the noose can sway both ways
> > > But the gallows only falls one way
> > >
> > > So crusaders and heretics, know this to be true
> > > Your savior took a spear for you and so can you
> > > Pharisees still rule and know not what they do,
> > > Just remember that when they crucify you too.
> > >
> > > Too soon it all will come to pass
> > > so soon none of it will matter
> > > like dust to the wind scattered
> > > like sand of the shore, to be shorn by the storm
> > > swallowed into the dark forgotten depths of the ocean
> > >
> > > I speak of sincerity in purpose
> > > selflessness in word and deed
> > > Purity of purpose, serenity of being
> > > Free of the terrible weight of the world
> > > To shed its shackles and rise above its discord
> > >
> > > And I finally gotten to know the rest of peace
> > > But your bleeding hearts just had to drag me back
> > > Perhaps because you couldn't face your griefs
> > > Your foolish hearts have poisoned the well
> > > Filled it with wishes of what you believe
> > >
> > > ~~Ash Wurthing
> > The Wallpaper Knew Halloween Night
> >
> >
> > THE CRIME WITNESSED:
> >
> > I wondered
> > if yellowed horror
> > could be extracted
> > from aged wallpaper--
> > the scream
> > from last breath,
> > the busy tones
> > of detective's huddle
> > over a heap of
> > all that's left
> > of the resident.
> >
> > I saw the shadow
> > that night,
> > a quick run from room
> > to room,
> > not giving thought
> > of carnage,
> > until flashes of red,
> > slapped at my eyes.
> >
> > And they called,
> > wanting to talk to me,
> > the shadows I saw
> > intrigued those assigned
> > and I had to get the story
> > straight--
> > my whereabouts
> > on a rainy night of mayhem.
> >
> > I hid the dress.
> >
> > THE INTERROGATION:
> >
> > "So, sir, you saw a shadow,
> > could you make out anything?"
> >
> > "Just a run, back and forth
> > from window to window."
> >
> > "And you watched?"
> >
> > "Yes."
> >
> > "You say run."
> >
> > "Well faster than a walk."
> >
> > "And did you see this person leave?"
> >
> > "No."
> >
> > "And you left."
> >
> > "To go home, yes."
> >
> > "But our background check
> > says you live there."
> >
> > "Where?"
> >
> > "That house up the hill."
> >
> > "I did, once."
> >
> > "You say once... many years ago?"
> >
> > "Yes, but I moved out."
> >
> > "May we search your home?"
> >
> > They'll get a search warrant, I know.
> >
> > "Sure."
> >
> > "Your free to go at this point."
> >
> > I've got to get to that dress.
> >
> > She wore that dress many years ago
> > and I stole it the night she threw me out,
> > my own mother casting me out as if an old
> > fish dinner and once a night
> > I'd smell her sweet perfume stained
> > on that dress,
> > until it turned foul with my sweat.
> >
> > THE SHADOWS:
> >
> > "Mother?'
> >
> > "Why are you here?"
> >
> > "To kill you, as you killed me."
> >
> > And she struggled from room to room, with a scream to no one
> > and I followed, with blow after blow
> > until the scream whimpered to silence
> > and I was finally free from the agony of her.
> >
> > Those shadows, me and her and the chase
> > for love or nothing. No compromise.
> > She left me no choice.
> >
> > AFTERMATH:
> >
> > They'll be here soon, those cops,
> > I'll dress pretty, maybe
> > splash on a little perfume--
> > she wore it once you know,
> > when she loved me.
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.

> Ghost Parade
>
>
> Squeals ricocheted
> off falling confetti
> as Joltin Joe rode
> an open-air Cadillac
> down the canyon of heroes’
> while back out of sight
> down an alley,
> a song was sung
> from the cracked lips
> of a city minstrel.
>
> The outside cheering reached
> his ears and it became
> a make-believe concert
> starring the back-alley Dylan
> cranking out
> another poetic gamble
> from the narrow honky tonk
> of filled ash cans
> as the parade, outside,
> continued
> until dusk brought
> the street cleaners
> and left-over stumble
> of revelers.
>
> But he was the lucky one
> this day,
> confetti makes a fine bed
> and after all
> there was a concert again
> tomorrow night,
> long after that Yankee slugger
> is served breakfast in bed,
> with a wink
> from Marilyn.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 3:08:34 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 3:04:16 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 12:33:46 PM UTC-4, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > > On Tuesday, October 18, 2022 at 11:33:27 AM UTC-4, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> > > > Evil grins, umbrage and such an assortment of sins
> > > > On it's head, the world and the truth now spins
> > > > Freedom is at mercy of the not so tender druthers
> > > > Of hanging judges of the business of one another
> > > > Know that the noose can sway both ways
> > > > But the gallows only falls one way
> > > >
> > > > So crusaders and heretics, know this to be true
> > > > Your savior took a spear for you and so can you
> > > > Pharisees still rule and know not what they do,
> > > > Just remember that when they crucify you too.
> > > >
> > > > Too soon it all will come to pass
> > > > so soon none of it will matter
> > > > like dust to the wind scattered
> > > > like sand of the shore, to be shorn by the storm
> > > > swallowed into the dark forgotten depths of the ocean
> > > >
> > > > I speak of sincerity in purpose
> > > > selflessness in word and deed
> > > > Purity of purpose, serenity of being
> > > > Free of the terrible weight of the world
> > > > To shed its shackles and rise above its discord
> > > >
> > > > And I finally gotten to know the rest of peace
> > > > But your bleeding hearts just had to drag me back
> > > > Perhaps because you couldn't face your griefs
> > > > Your foolish hearts have poisoned the well
> > > > Filled it with wishes of what you believe
> > > >
> > > > ~~Ash Wurthing
> > > ------