Grandpa's Tricks

Old man mountain
From far and wide
Had great strength
And great pride.
He left the plains
For me and you.
He left the plains
To learn anew.

Old man mountain
Sawed the world in half.
To make homes for the animals
He cut with his thumb.
And tarred with the plants
To make sugar, tobacco, rum.

Old man mountain
Is great and wise.
That he fought for his country
Is no surprise.
Old man mountain;
He can settle down too.
To work projects,
Have a garden,
Learn harmonica to play the blues.

Old man mountain
Is a friend to me.
He knows many things
And he know me too.
Old man mountain
I greatly respect.
He was my mother's father...
So he can be mine too.


ISA

Midnight Rose

They met her under a willow bloom,
Dahlias spread under her feet,
Weeping for the scattered moonlight;
Not fit to move, She slept.

The plum trees grew wherever she walked,
And the sunset rose and fell.
The world wept for her tragedy and balked
At the guile of we slavers.

We saw fit to shackle her beauty;
A gift for kings and queens.
We hurt inside so much we went loony...
And her tears did continue to spill.

We had come to a the river;
Run kingdom, red and gold.
To sell her off to the lord of the castle.
Our sweet Owari rose.

The night did fall in glorious majesty...
But she cried and cried and cried...
So she pricked her thumb on nearby thorn
And cried and cried and died.


ISA

Ultimate Nihilism

A life doesn't matter
in how you live or die.
It doesn't matter if you give up.
It doesn't matter if you cry.

It doesn't matter if you heal,
It doesn't matter if you hurt.
It doesn't matter if you break,
Burnt or broken, Life's curt.

It doesn't matter what you learn,
It doesn't matter what you know.
It doesn't matter if you stand still,
It doesn't matter if you grow.

***

Needless hours
are spent withering away.
Stress: life or death aren't worth getting it to stay.

Endless echoes
Resound off the wall.
Yet for the echoes of others,
It isn't worth existing at all.

And isn't worth keeping all the money in the world.
It'll soon be gone,
And there'll be nothing left but portals on the wall,
Nothing will be left, Nothing left at all.

So it doesn't matter if I care.
It doesn't matter if I die.
If it's all the same to you:
I will live.
I will love.
And I will lie.


ISA

Moments spent pondering the nihilism of others gets me to recognize that to them, simply giving way to philosophy is pointless. It seems nihilism is the perfect 'religion' for existing in the present.


 

March Hare

Regal clovers of elaborate gold;
Clipped in the hair of the bride
On the sunny day.
Three leafs, four
More and more and more
Surround the garden
Of white and green.

Joy sings from the young woman's heart.
Happiness is all she sees.
Love is in the air
And it seems almost too much for her to bear.
And she waits for the fated hour.

The sunny day goes by.
The girl worries,
Worries...
Meaningless hours tick and time
Slows to a standstill.
When it starts to rain.

The makeup falls,
The dress is ruined.
The guests are gone,
The she is marooned
On a tiny isle with no name.

The rain:
Drifting by in steady streams.
It takes it all.
Party, guests, food...
But not the clovers,
Because the clovers stay.

And as the rain drips on,
A song they play.
And the groom she's yet to meet,
And her friends are far behind,
Are nothing in the field of clovers.
And the clovers sing.

~"I will love you,
Whatever you go by.
Your name is joy
And that's all I need,
When I lie in your embrace."~

***

Gone is the party,
Gone is the bride.
There's no one left to run...
There's nowhere left to hide.
Dreams of gilded roses
And clovers smelted into golden hues
Linger in the rain-soaked field...
Where you left you...



ISA

Happy belated Birthday to a dear friend of mine, born on St. Patrick's Day. Even if you aren't here, I wish you great happiness.
 

Centuries in the Waiting Room

Perhaps, as like lullabies
And frenzies of a time too long,
Madness lurks in every corner;
Every feat covered by wrongs
Every miracle much too...
Harsh... for the cues taken from thee.

Hate lingers effervescent
Among the tideless and the tidekissed
For those first beyond the door's cures.
No injured sick beyond medic gates
Jealous of another's hope:
Only health, happiness... or dead.

Too much time lingering broke.
Stomach empty, hale or hark comes
The angel dressed in Rosemary
Holding a yew branch to guide
Towards tomorrow inland,
N' Chrysanthemum wreathed tombstones.


ISA

For those trapped in Hospitals, Waiting on Cures.
 

Forgot

"Where am I?
What did I say?
Who am I?"
Said the masks where they lay.
A lonely monk turned the clock again,
As the outside continued in rain.

"See the butterflies?
And the moths that draw close to the flame?
See how they make no sound
And live without hate."
The monk is tired.
The monk is late.
The monk naps for tomorrow,
When he repeats today.

The mask's discomfort rises,
But they wait,
And they wait...
And continue,
Continue goes the rain.

ISA

 

Rail Lines

Taking the steps up
To an empty rail-line
To sit on the bench waiting for the train to come...
Dayflowers line the dirt road
Surrounded by the boughs of oaks,
Old and new among.

The sky is blue,
Clouds are white;
Wait for the line
That comes only at night.

Soon the streetlamps light
Up, the sky with stars awakens.
Sight the engine
Of a dark machine gliding on the rails.

Board the coach
With faithful steps
And sit in an empty car;
No one left.
The engine chugs,
Rhythm churns the mind;
To take it away,
And with rope: it binds.


Everything moves as the landscape changes.
The car's color,
 The passengers leave and gather.
Still sitting as the forest change to beach.
Oceans pass and cities gather
But you stay around as the scenery of desert
Turns to mountains and valleys.
Rather than get off, quiet
The ride goes on
To whatever destination guides.

Soon whispers gather.
Around and around,
Demon's blather
And angel's groan.
Whatever lingered died
And in Rome, Romans
Gathered round the square
To watch us roll by.

Around the world and once again:
Travel here and far
With what used to be men;
The fantasies and nightmares
Back at home
As you roam,
As you roam.

Nod to sleep on the passing's by.
Wake up as you start to cry.
Walk back home
You missed your chance
At adventure, The Train's Romance.

And still...
The sights glide by...
Passing on the rail line...

ISA

Accompanyment if you enjoy music with your reading. A major ispiration.