Gogglelagoshee
I am the house ghost tonight
making the floors cry out
as I try my words out
on my half lit house.
Tonight this restless soul
wanders the halls,
listens at doorways
for God,
or someone like God.
Love waits
in some of the rooms,
pain waits in others
and the ghost asks little
of either,
only a taste to say
I was
here
I need to remember to
write a poem before
the reaper takes me
takes me,
takes me like he took all the others.
Those
fallen down pieces of
granite were people just like
us,
fallen and unremembered by
everybody,
like my father.
There are many now
who don’t remember my
father but who
may remember me
and may someday read these
scribblings which
a nobody moron
loser like me
at least took the time to
write.
So write,
leave scribblings on the walls
of your cave.
***
Posting poems in the night for
you who read me,
somewhere in this world.
Oh I have done it for so long now.
I may have published
the first poem on the net.
It went
Hello World.
“Hello Ball”,
said Art Carney.
I roll the ball toward
some overwhelming question
without an answer
and tell you that
beauty is truth.
Then a few judge
whether I
said it
well enough.
when all I wanted, really,
all you wanted
was to hear the words
rain drops fall off the leaf.