Archive for the ‘Chronic Chronicles’ Category


in a study of five long years I found

time is meaningless in its measure

necessary in its application

breaking down our movements

into boxes securing blindness

making dark a thing, like enemy,

dragging the cold along, and

light, like a wanderer, like lost love,

drives by your house slow ,in long slow

circles, never a thought of reaching the

porch steps.





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Where did my legs go this time?

perhaps, into the waters off Oahu,

Tiger sharks at my feet.


Tonight my loving wife and

my sweet mother won’t sleep

the machines will go beep beep beep.


Yes, count your friends

count them on one hand.

whenever you are ready.


This has been such a long siege.

swallowing pride, choking on pain,

do I really have to do this again?


Eric Clapton’s, “How Long Blues

plays again, I have washed myself up

to wreck, presently to be broken.


Whatever breaks was meant to be

broken. Who said that? Maybe me, I’m

too close to the floor now to write poetry.


This is gonna hurt!

My shoe!

Copyright2015  Sunontiepost*

*a penname*

Note:  Yes, #7 was supposed to be funny.

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No shout to come forth
Is needed today
Where the sun shines so
Complete and in the wind
” A miracle”, he says
then stepping boldy
From the garage in
Halos of smoke
Looking strong in the
Reaches his hands towards
Heaven and swears
“No pain!”

What spirit did this?
Hiding beneath a stone
that’s just one place
It, she, he
Calls home.

I think we need to
Keep looking
Look closer, look
You see
I’m not sure he lives, at least,
Not like he once did and
There will be those who
Cry foul.

Lazarus! Your good
Fortune offends

So maybe

Choke them with their own
Ties so they scream
For a Jesus who has
Left the station to bless
The burning trails of a
Failing nation
And ask for the hatchet
of its legislation
Be buried alongside the
Soulless corporations

So we can get on with this
Beautiful day.


Copyright 2015

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That thought I can’t follow to it’s end breaks like water

with the force of the sea

onto cold rocks and drifts away leaving me in the

fog and mist baptized against

any certainty.


My eyes sweep the floor as if your

words could fall and be found arranged

so when I get to the


I will scramble to put them together

tell you what you want to know

You see me do this and it’s a place

you know you can’t go.

Just know that the love has not been burned

out of me.

but, one more thing…


In this place I swear at the devil

on approach in his long black coat as

he dangles a silver garrote

moves very close

makes me promises

wants me to choke on my pride

make me painless

live or die how I want

If I would just say some words for him.

Pain. It’s the only thing.

I know not to answer, try to look away, except

he  put his arm around me when all I wanted was to be like the man I was once or thought I was or was I dreaming and dreaming of… what am I now ?

the devil gets his last words in, “one in the pipe waiting for you mother fucker see you soon!”

Fire and lightning run through me.


I will stand up again to tell you

what I’ve learned

even though I lost your words

I am certain that by

love , we don’t always know

what we’ve been saved from …


copyright 2015







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In the day room it is common
to catch one talking to the wall
the one with the clock.
There is something to be said for
observing time this way.
Not with words.

I move to the window, I don’t know if
It’s March or April, but contemplate the
rain anyway in the morning, it might still
be May of another year
or later
I can’t remember
today Her name was something
I could not put up with
this evening
Her hands take careful measure
making sure I see the way she snaps
the tarot cards down,
like a glass in a drinking challenge
I think
then I get her name from the air
and she says I could love you but I won’t
tells me I’m already tethered to the natural
world by the spirit of the wolf and adds
not for the first time
my heart leaps into the wind
on black wings, so fuck you
she says to me
lastly, looking down
Visiting hours are over
so I make my way quietly
across the room under the
nurses eye
towards the pouring rain
in whatever month it falls
It falls on us all,
lovely broken creatures.

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Today I described a red bush as burning
It has a name, but that hardly matters to me
Mary, though I know you wouldn’t feel the same.

I have on other days described the world this way.

I keep looking for the grieving Dove that lives
In the Bradford Pear.  She won’t leave this place, and
Watches me mistrustfully.  She knows  very well what’s
Waiting for us. 

You know and I know we’ve borrowed our way
Through, up and over the top of this planet that
Screams in it’s countless ways at all our mistakes

And today the rain rocks between a casual pace and
Then one meant to wash away
My indifference to the names of certain beauty.


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I keep past due bills as bookmarks
for poetry and when I reach for
The Song of Napalm   I burn perfectly.

Every fiber of my American exsistence
is casual and insistent
about the cruelty dealt out to pigeons
in my part of this little city
gasping for breath beside the

I stare at amounts due then turn
my attention to what it was like
burning shit barrels at Akn Kne
keeping my thoughts to myself because
I live alone and this
might be
 All I

               Watching children play so close to the streets
                giving what scares them friendly names

Parade is when the fire trucks
police cars and meat wagons come
racing down the road
over and over

I too, can give it all one word, one smell,
one name.


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