ABANDONED HOUSE, BUFFALO MOUNTAIN:

a sad, abandoned country house
withers upon it's tiny hill,
what once protected, now is open,
and winds blow over broken window sills;

deeded now to bird and mouse,
to spiders and to who-knows-what,
sagging porch and empty rooms,
a kitchen wall with grease still spattered

from someone's long-past breakfast,
beside this crumbling kitchen door
children played and pattered,
laughter, cries, -- prayer-- used to fill this air,

No more.

ancient glass fragments, and
something like putty on the floor,
a frying pan, pieces of a shattered crock,
and --did someone throw it?-- a rock.

outside, a rusted plow, and this rubble
that might once have been a wagon,
nearer the house, lesser artifacts:
a medicine bottle, a shoe,

like the kin of those who strove here
-- scattered.

sunset and sadness come
as I stand among the runes,
trying to honor
something that mattered.

'Effluvium'

When a bowel is dense and turgid
the sphincter flutters, [ it is urge-ed ]
struggles, relents, and finally passes
a tiny cloud of noxious gases.

Caesar, Brutus, Marc A and Cassius,
every single Roman --Gaseous
Garbo, Monroe, and Mork's sweet Mindy
None escaped -- ALL these were windy

Since ‘The Fall’, our recompense:
mortal man has flatulence
-- jorge999

'Still Single After All These Years'

No great career or monuments,

a simple single life,

inconsequentially I've lived

(no doubt for lack of wife)

Oh, I've known women --had my woes,

but I ran away from joining,

for this I took their many blows

--and one, in fact, this morning,

from women scorned and weepy

who wanted to be joined,

from lovely ones, --and creepy--

 whose feelings I'd purloined,

I've battled to stay free, you see

till my brow's a sea of creases,

but as my little life runs down,
and spirit flesh releases

I'll take the blows I have to take

[ their fury hasn't ceased ]

and one claim I can proudly make:
I'm lashed, but  I'm not leashed.
-jorge999

'Faith Etc.'

" When I state myself as the representative of the verse, it does not mean
me, but a 'supposed person'. " -Emily Dickinson (Letters)



Now, there are some --the doubters and the flouters-- who regard the
likelihood of being born-again with so much mirth,
--they won't be laughing though, when the rapture comes and they're
left standing, blinking, on a smoking chunk of earth!--

but, I digress, renascimento's what I'm really pondering,
not those someday sorry souls of lesser worth,
you see my preacher says you can be born-again 'Kinda gradual-like',
that it's not always 'All at once' with lots of halleluias, cryin', and grinnin',

He says sometimes it can happen so darn slow that you don't even know
that you've been saved, so you might just keep on enjoyin' sinnin',
until it catches up with you that is, and one day as you're walkin' out
the door
you say: "Oh! I get it! I've been saved! I guess I won't be sinnin' anymore."

Anyway, I was jest thinkin', "Lord, if you're gonna have me born again,
and for awhile I'll have to hang around all these sinners here on Earth,
Can't you help me twice, and do something nice about my excess girth?"
--jorge999

'Flame' (from: 'Notes To J.D.' 3-23-03)

A flashing, blazing, fiery, hue
pure energy and passion,


But sometimes
slower, lower,
blue,
all tenderness, compassion,


An uncommon hero with a pistol on your thigh,
A tough-tender enigma, who can kick ass
and then cry.


You make it very clear to all that your boots
are made for walkin'
until you take them off that is,
and let your armor fall,


and then sweet
sweet talkin.'

--jorge999

'Posie'( From 'Notes to J.D' )

Tall, and strong,
A very curious
kind of flower,

that will not wilt
with just the sweetness
of an hour;

You wilt not,
Though this storm
would have you cower,

battered, yes. . .
but standing,

like a beacon tower.
-jorge999

'On Your Birthday' (For Sarah)

I’ll add my small appurtenance to this agglomeration
and say you’ve earned a boodle of familial adoration,

unlike the Lally usual --the verbose circumbendus--
this will be brief [ “Ha, ha, that’s rich!” ] I swear by my suspendahs,

Oh happy day! good luck! Good health! -- each wish to you I send,
My clever, caring, lovely niece: a Lally-Victor blend.
--jorge999

'RETURNING TO THE FOLD --AGAIN'

Undulating piles of sordid duds outstretched upon my bedroom rug

hung over chairs
bearing all the stench and stains,

worldly accretions, and body-secretions,
wrinkled, malodorous

--like tired aging sinners
yearning to be cleansed!

each week the sacrament begins anew,
each week they’re born again:

industrial strength baptism
at $1.75 a load,

yet even as I fold them now, I see the future clear:
they’ll be soiled, and they’ll be saved,
then they’ll be pure and bright,
and I’ll be folding them again, next week on Wednesday night
-jorge999 :-)