All, Too Soon... by Ron Porter ©2016

midnight madness; fever dreams
it's clear I married much too young

through time tunnels, draped in blue
innocent voices sing guilty songs
trying to do right things that are wrong

plans best laid often go awry
from ruins, golden cities rise
succeeding empires crumble in time

deaths dire dirges and hymns of hope
float, intertwined, upward to the wind

it profits not to question why
live as fully as you are able
 for we all, too soon, shall die

Can You Hear Me Calling? by Ron Porter ©2010

Broken circles, empty houses,
traces of footsteps fading away.
Every sorrow has been vanquished;
all the ships have sailed today.

Over valleys, under mountains
faces frozen in amber of time.
Can you hear the distant voices;
do you want to join the play?

I've known triumph; I've been broken,
still I stand upon the hill.
While your kisses, I remember,
dance with me just one more time.

Yesterday's love and tomorrow's
sin drips like blood, from my hands.
Take away this shroud of mourning;
mingled tears wash through my soul.

Stolen friendships; mended hearts beat;
keep step with me, through the dark.
Standing, once more, arms enfolding;
watch the sunrise renew the land.

i just don't know by Ron Porter ©2016

i looked away then you were there
when i looked back you were gone
you were the crowd i lost myself in
now i find myself solitary and alone
where you went i did not see
nor understand what made you go
what will i do now that you're gone
so many choices i just don't know.

Rainbow In The Night by Ronald S Porter ©2016

indigo night
blue saxophone
we planned to paint
the town bright red
fresh like green
in early spring
out on the dance floor
like autumn leaves
dried orange and yellow
we fall, upon the bed
weary yet refreshed
after a fashion
we turn the night
purple with passion.

In The Rain by Ronald Porter ©2016

clowns stand in the rain
and cry
they line the streets like lampposts
lightning cuts jagged sections of sky
I smoke in a doorway
trying to stay dry
in the cigarette smoke, I see ghosts
faces of old chums
some dead
some just gone
visions of city lanes
and highways I've known
show clearly the path
that I have taken
yet reveal no things
as to how I ended up here
or schemes and dreams forsaken
it's easy to know when and what
but there is no clue why
how long will this downpour last
I look up to the sky
and inside, I wonder
why do these clowns cry?

Jes Walkin'Home by Ron Porter ©2016

Yeah, Brady Street is really drunk tonight,
rolling and unsteady under my feet.
The closed barrooms' windows are paranoid,
they suspiciously watch me down the street.
I've an unredeemed dream in my pocket;
I got a broken heart in my shoe;
memories dangle from the traffic signs but,
I neither miss, nor think, about you.
Don't panic; the buses are still running,
and the cops are guarding the doughnut stand.
It's my mind, not my heart, hung on my sleeve
and, I'm just about all out of lies to believe.


Everybody listen with your left ear
a secondhand watch marks  time on my hand.
I was thinking about visiting Suzie the floozy;
shes a real wild one, and very prolific.
But, I got a stubborn case of urethritis and,
the doc said that it's nonspecific.
And, there ain't nobody waiting up for me.;
Solitary, independent, my time is all my own.
I'm my "one and only" and i don't get lonely,
I just like spending all of my time alone.

Ascent Out Of Madness by Ronald Porter ©2016

Along cold concrete paths, we wander, 
hoping to escape the pain.
We walk slow with heads hung low, 
like clowns crying in the rain.
Grief stains remain in vain, from dreams, 
left abandoned long ago.
The mask behind another mask smiles; 
the heart beneath the mind wears a frown.
Life is downside up and outside in ;
 taste the colors and smell the sound.
I remember more of the forgotten,
 than you ever got to know.

And, the tears of the clown (hear them crying),
etch lines in the grease paint (listen to the roar)
while flowers turn faces to the sky,
to drink the falling rain (let it pour, let it pour).

Bloody footprints  slowly wash 
from the sidewalk into the gutter;
False preachers, false teachers 
and, false lovers keep on lying;
there is no antidote for all the things 
fools choose to believe.
'Tis the reason that clowns stand, 
in the storm's fury, crying.

And...the tears of a clown,
salty and warm (please, keep us from harm),
Soothes away fear
The answers wait, in that mournful sound
listen closely, you will hear

My Wounded Psyche (the myth of love) ©2015 by Ronald S Porter

The Sirens' song has tortured my ears.
Harpies tried to claw out my eyes.
Like Echo, of old, I called out for love,
'til all i was was a whispered voice.
And, you bent at the water's edge
as your reflection fell in love with you.
More than twelve labors, I performed
and wandered long in odyssey.
When I looked on Love's face,
in candle light, 
that's when love was lost to me.

Didn't It rain, Children? ©2015 by Ronald S Porter

Billy Joe and Bobby Sue
and, blind men in the rain.
Oh my brain can't stand the strain
of processing immersible images
obscured by sheet like downpour
which look like dancing scarecrows
and shimmering ghosts
flaying frantic in the dim light
of glowering storm clouds
bunched and lumpy like bruises
in the sad sepia shaded day.
come now Noah, bring your ark.
Come now Noah, lets embark.
We will ride upon the flood,
until the day Billy and Bobbi Sue
wrestle in the mud,
while the blind men watch
a new sun rise up
and rainbows paint the sky.

Lead me not ©2015 by Ronald S Porter

She slinks by slow and sinuous
mammalian magnificence above
buxom bottom bounces below.
More than my interest starts to grow.
heat throbs in her glazing glance
come to me paints her smiles
lead me not into temptation
I can find my way, I have a map
and a lot of frequent flier miles.

Married for The Night by Ron Porter ©2015

I met her working at the carnival, she was
the sequined, satin clad, shake-ass snake dancer;
not the type you'd call a romancer .
But, when i asked her the wrong question,
she quickly gave me just the right answer.
And, she said I ain't no long timer
I knew by her eyes to heed the warning 
We decided to get married, just for the night
and divorced first thing in the morning.
Mean and spiteful- she was just my kind;
she loved me 'til I was nearly blind.
That was quite a while ago and yet
she lingers in the back of my mind
and, to this day, every now and then,
I get excited when the carney is in town.
And we get married, just for one night
one more time, all over again.

The Explanation Of Absolutely Everything By Ron Porter ©2015

Straining to hear the silent words,
I cry out in language that can't be spoken
and the quiet, now, is broken
by the volume of a voice that can't be heard.
Madness settles into sanity now;
there is no why there is only how.
And, suddenly... it all grows clear;
both noon light and moonlight shine bright
they are not separate-half of day is the night.
Examine the lie closely, truth will appear;
wrong isn't opposite but, absence of right
and, where Love lives there's no room for fear.

Street Corner Watching, written 02/06/1975 by Ron Porter ©2015

Standing on a corner, five minutes in one place,
Watching the city life passing my face;
checking out the rats that are running the race,
Wondering how in hell the keep up this pace.

here comes Hairy hippie with his head in the sky,
A psychedelic gaze lights up his eye;
got twenty-five dollars sitting in his hand,
lookin’ ‘round town trying to find his man.

And the businessman behind the wheel of his fancy mobile
Starts sneering and wondering how it must feel,
wonders how anybody could live such a life
Then drives off to rejoin the none to five strife.

And, the mack eases to the curb in his hog’
he’s down for the action, this man’s a real dog
And, teh ho hits the street to get money quick.
And he pulls away with his partner, both talking slick.

A man and his old lady-hassling ‘cross the street
Cause he spent the grocery money on smack, instead of on meat
She screams he’s a jive-ass, a punk; a disgrace!
And he comes out of his nod and put his fist in her face

there’s the wino with his bottle, lying by the door
A baby’s wail screams from a window on the third floor
And, I’m on the corner, thinking, down below
about why people can’t take life easy and slow.

And my mind keeps saying to me “this is really shitty
but, what can you do man? That’s life in the big city.

The Wine Is Enough (For Now) written 11/24/1975 by Ron Porter ©2015

And, I placed the bottle of wine
on the counter and the dude behind it
asked Is that all you want?
and I thought

Wow it sure would be

nice to get back into school

cos, shit i really want to go into social work

not to save the world

but help maybe just one person

and save some money

and , hell it sure would be nice

to own a Cadillac and

have my poetry published or, most of all

I want a little piece of mind. But, I

also want to be loved and, have a friend

I want to appear on The Tonight Show

someday cause Johnny Carson is pretty cool

So, I answered Uh huh and nodded, and
paid the bill.
Then i walked back to the car.