erratic beat, out of rhythm
lovesick hearts don't dance
you traded love for indulgence
I went and lived by the sea
factory work grew your money
high rise housing and cocaine
the street rose up and took me
oh but the weather was nice
i abdicated before the coup
gone like a thief in the night
good to be back home
you said home was your arms
my feet didn't fit the shoes
no need to look nothing to see
the phone calls lost their lure
you used up the fool in me
The Poet
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Restless Souls #4 by Ron Porter ©2013
There's a bar down at Four Corners
where good dreams go to die.
The place is dingy and dirty and
the back is dark enough
nobody sees the tears if you cry.
They got misery on tap
for fifty-five cents on a glass.
You can maybe get laid
or maybe get played;
On a wild night you just might
have somebody kick your ass.
The smell is always a little sour;
There is never any happy hour.
The minds are all bleary;
all the hearts are full of holes
and, if you look outside
the streets are paved with restless souls.
where good dreams go to die.
The place is dingy and dirty and
the back is dark enough
nobody sees the tears if you cry.
They got misery on tap
for fifty-five cents on a glass.
You can maybe get laid
or maybe get played;
On a wild night you just might
have somebody kick your ass.
The smell is always a little sour;
There is never any happy hour.
The minds are all bleary;
all the hearts are full of holes
and, if you look outside
the streets are paved with restless souls.
Restless Souls #5 by Ron Porter ©2013
failed hopes line up at the bar
to drink away the bitter taste
of dreams that never flew too far
frustration reeks! disappointment leaks
to rise with secondhand streams
of cigarette smoke, man what a joke!
money talks and bullshit strolls
and, the street is paved with restless souls
unreal expectations crowd the floor
moving to the music-the mating dance
with vain visions of romance
as the girls size up the fellas
there ain't no more cinderellas
happy ending? not even a chance
every smile is a lie as they play the roles
outside, the streets are paved with restless souls
the rubberneckers crowd the stage
all caught up in in hormonal rage
on the beat with the bump and grind
man she's a looker, maybe she's a hooker
is she looking at me or
is that all in my mind
man she sure can work them poles
filled with lusty alcoholic glow
and the streets are paved with
aw hell, you know....
to drink away the bitter taste
of dreams that never flew too far
frustration reeks! disappointment leaks
to rise with secondhand streams
of cigarette smoke, man what a joke!
money talks and bullshit strolls
and, the street is paved with restless souls
unreal expectations crowd the floor
moving to the music-the mating dance
with vain visions of romance
as the girls size up the fellas
there ain't no more cinderellas
happy ending? not even a chance
every smile is a lie as they play the roles
outside, the streets are paved with restless souls
the rubberneckers crowd the stage
all caught up in in hormonal rage
on the beat with the bump and grind
man she's a looker, maybe she's a hooker
is she looking at me or
is that all in my mind
man she sure can work them poles
filled with lusty alcoholic glow
and the streets are paved with
aw hell, you know....
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Wow! This One Surprised Me by Ron Porter ©2013
Sailing ships; potato chips,
leather clad women snapping whips.
Blood drips from fingertips
my legs gone-up to the hips.
I know that I am dreaming;
mentally I shake myself awake;
look around for the pills I take.
I look down and start to shake
My bed looks like a blood filled lake.
I lift my covers and,
then comes the screaming....
leather clad women snapping whips.
Blood drips from fingertips
my legs gone-up to the hips.
I know that I am dreaming;
mentally I shake myself awake;
look around for the pills I take.
I look down and start to shake
My bed looks like a blood filled lake.
I lift my covers and,
then comes the screaming....
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Black Night Bleeding by Ron Porter ©2013
somewhere in my black night neighborhood
somebody plays an old sad song
someone who's been wounded in love
i can tell cause he plays it over and,
over, and over again
like a repeated prayer to bring her back
or at least to relieve the pain
and, a group of old dudes in the alley
pass a bottle of Mad Dog and talk
about how they were slick and cool
way back in the day when they
were kings of the street;
how good they hustled pool
And, hope walks with a limp
through yards without fences, looking
for anybody who still believes
siens cut the night like a blue steel
double-edged, hollow ground razor
and the black night starts to bleed...
somebody plays an old sad song
someone who's been wounded in love
i can tell cause he plays it over and,
over, and over again
like a repeated prayer to bring her back
or at least to relieve the pain
and, a group of old dudes in the alley
pass a bottle of Mad Dog and talk
about how they were slick and cool
way back in the day when they
were kings of the street;
how good they hustled pool
And, hope walks with a limp
through yards without fences, looking
for anybody who still believes
siens cut the night like a blue steel
double-edged, hollow ground razor
and the black night starts to bleed...
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Lady Love by Ron Porter, a Pantoum © 2013
Lady
Love - She winked at me
I
was shaken by surprise
Rapture,
transported, suddenly
I
saw life through brand new eyes.
I
was shaken by surprise
Purple
curls and eyes of green
I
saw life through different eyes
Prettiest
smile I’d ever seen.
Purple
curls and eyes of green
I
was conquered by her charms
Prettiest
smile I’d ever seen
Heaven
waited in her arms
I
was conquered by her charms
Joy
dismissed all my old sorrows
Heaven
waited in her arms
She
is promised all my tomorrows
Joy
dismissed all my old sorrows
Love
she offered for eternity
She
is promised all my tomorrows
Lady
Love; She winked at me.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
When You Awaken, A Dizain by Ron Porter ©2012
When you awaken and find me gone,
What words, I wonder, will you say?
Will you feel better or worse alone?
maybe i could have waited another day;
Perhaps found the right words to say.
Why buy more time to waste?
I miss that little mark on your face.
I presented my ticket; I'm in the air.
Where I'm headed- a brand new place;
Somewhere where you won't be there.
What words, I wonder, will you say?
Will you feel better or worse alone?
maybe i could have waited another day;
Perhaps found the right words to say.
Why buy more time to waste?
I miss that little mark on your face.
I presented my ticket; I'm in the air.
Where I'm headed- a brand new place;
Somewhere where you won't be there.
No More Bake Sales, A New Beatnik Rant by Ron Porter ©2012
Jello molded, cookie-cutter, suburban, midnight fantasy
warmed the malformed, uninformed, non-conformist travesty
Bothe difference and the sameness of you and me
is we don't have a family
like the ones you see
in the mind-slime, portrayed on prime-time, network T.V.
And the politicians scream to the sky
Everybody's gonna get a piece of the pie
Remember, Marie Antoinette said Let them eat cake
I'm a little weary of this whole Bakery motif
I will not got to the bake sale
or the bullshit on a bagel banquet
at ten thousand dollars a plate
Push the party line-Promote the agenda
tender agendas, agenda benders, spin the agenda
lay down your liberties, quietly surrender
Always remember
A House Negro is still a house negro even
when him lib up in de White House
Right massa Soros? (wink-wink, nudge-nudge)
Oops, better be careful here
It's like the Neville Brothers sang
It's freedom of speech...
... as long as you don't say too much.
Don't say too much; stay out of touch; do not think
do not surmise
just sit and consume the lies from the big screen
High-Def, surround sound,LCD, lie machine
make sure the lawn stays green
bullshit keeps it fertilized
fertile minds in which to plant
seeds of complacency
The bigger the lie-the bigger the hook
they will swallow and
the bigger the hook the bigger the fish caught and cooked
Can you smell the grease cooking?
And, I mourn the living dead
born and bred
to wear the chains forged in their own heads
where the deceptive words are said
that Uncle Sugar, Big Daddy Government
will: buy your cell phone, stamp you some food
pay for your cable, supply all your needs
from cradle to grave
if you just stay a slave
working on the plantation in the mind
how can so many be so blind?
And the Judas Goat with Mickey Mouse ears
keeps on lying. Man, freedom is dying.
while the deluded keep on buying
the false hope of non-interest loans
and low mortgage rates for communities with gates
where everybody rides hybrid roller skates
and eminent domain owns all of the homes
Suburban nightmares, quite disturbing
and the Jello-molds shape how they think
while cookie cutters punch
out another drone like hive-mind bunch
and to those who understand what I'm stating
cleans your guns and be ready and waiting
when... the taxman... busts down your door!
warmed the malformed, uninformed, non-conformist travesty
Bothe difference and the sameness of you and me
is we don't have a family
like the ones you see
in the mind-slime, portrayed on prime-time, network T.V.
And the politicians scream to the sky
Everybody's gonna get a piece of the pie
Remember, Marie Antoinette said Let them eat cake
I'm a little weary of this whole Bakery motif
I will not got to the bake sale
or the bullshit on a bagel banquet
at ten thousand dollars a plate
Push the party line-Promote the agenda
tender agendas, agenda benders, spin the agenda
lay down your liberties, quietly surrender
Always remember
A House Negro is still a house negro even
when him lib up in de White House
Right massa Soros? (wink-wink, nudge-nudge)
Oops, better be careful here
It's like the Neville Brothers sang
It's freedom of speech...
... as long as you don't say too much.
Don't say too much; stay out of touch; do not think
do not surmise
just sit and consume the lies from the big screen
High-Def, surround sound,LCD, lie machine
make sure the lawn stays green
bullshit keeps it fertilized
fertile minds in which to plant
seeds of complacency
The bigger the lie-the bigger the hook
they will swallow and
the bigger the hook the bigger the fish caught and cooked
Can you smell the grease cooking?
And, I mourn the living dead
born and bred
to wear the chains forged in their own heads
where the deceptive words are said
that Uncle Sugar, Big Daddy Government
will: buy your cell phone, stamp you some food
pay for your cable, supply all your needs
from cradle to grave
if you just stay a slave
working on the plantation in the mind
how can so many be so blind?
And the Judas Goat with Mickey Mouse ears
keeps on lying. Man, freedom is dying.
while the deluded keep on buying
the false hope of non-interest loans
and low mortgage rates for communities with gates
where everybody rides hybrid roller skates
and eminent domain owns all of the homes
Suburban nightmares, quite disturbing
and the Jello-molds shape how they think
while cookie cutters punch
out another drone like hive-mind bunch
and to those who understand what I'm stating
cleans your guns and be ready and waiting
when... the taxman... busts down your door!
Monday, November 12, 2012
The Last Shot by Ron Porter ©2012
O! She was the huntress and, the crone,
Virgin mother, avatar of the moon.
With a monogrammed golden lighter,
she cooked smack in her silver spoon,
riding that White Horse to extinction,
where the sightless lead the blind.
Peace and escape, sought in oblivion.
Warmth to the flesh; numb in the mind.
The morning they found her cold in her bed.
Not a needle in the arm but, a bullet in the head.
And nobody mourned for we all well knew
Before the night she left, she had long been dead.
Once she told me It's just like flying.
She'd nod and smile while she was crying.
The body was interred sometime early in June.
Virgin mother, Huntress, avatar of the moon.
Virgin mother, avatar of the moon.
With a monogrammed golden lighter,
she cooked smack in her silver spoon,
riding that White Horse to extinction,
where the sightless lead the blind.
Peace and escape, sought in oblivion.
Warmth to the flesh; numb in the mind.
The morning they found her cold in her bed.
Not a needle in the arm but, a bullet in the head.
And nobody mourned for we all well knew
Before the night she left, she had long been dead.
Once she told me It's just like flying.
She'd nod and smile while she was crying.
The body was interred sometime early in June.
Virgin mother, Huntress, avatar of the moon.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sappy Love Poem, A Decastitch by Ron Porter ©2012
No longer do I sit and reminisce
about love lost or, the long gone kiss.
Because today baby, I have you
and, all my blues have flown away.
Rememberences of what did not last
belong buried with the painful past.
No more remorse stains my heart;
sorrow and sadness hold no sway.
Exit now emptiness; vanish now void,
My life is filled with you today
about love lost or, the long gone kiss.
Because today baby, I have you
and, all my blues have flown away.
Rememberences of what did not last
belong buried with the painful past.
No more remorse stains my heart;
sorrow and sadness hold no sway.
Exit now emptiness; vanish now void,
My life is filled with you today
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Ash Wednesday by Ron Porter ©2012
bloodied angel, you
cut off you wings
and took me to hide
in a room
with a number on the door
give me a sermon
you requested, commanded
demanded, beseeched
and i paced the room and preached
are you trying to punish me?
you asked
blinking through tears
standing in your eyes
my only defense
explanation, dissertation
was if you ask me for truth
i 'll tell no lies
i played music for you
on my CD boombox
and you hid me
covered me, loved me, gave
me joy and sorrow so sweet
i don't want to share you
with the world
you said. i said
don't worry, the world doesn't want me
and we went out to eat.
we talked and smiled
for a while
in the crowd, then
we came back to hide
you gave up chocolate for Lenten
a small sacrifice
because, bloodied angel in black,
you'd already relinquished your wings.
cut off you wings
and took me to hide
in a room
with a number on the door
give me a sermon
you requested, commanded
demanded, beseeched
and i paced the room and preached
are you trying to punish me?
you asked
blinking through tears
standing in your eyes
my only defense
explanation, dissertation
was if you ask me for truth
i 'll tell no lies
i played music for you
on my CD boombox
and you hid me
covered me, loved me, gave
me joy and sorrow so sweet
i don't want to share you
with the world
you said. i said
don't worry, the world doesn't want me
and we went out to eat.
we talked and smiled
for a while
in the crowd, then
we came back to hide
you gave up chocolate for Lenten
a small sacrifice
because, bloodied angel in black,
you'd already relinquished your wings.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
First They came For ... by Ronald S Porter ©2012
Ghetto was the Polish word
imposed by certain Germans
on the scattered children of Israel
confined to be controlled
all intended for the slaughter
with the homosexual
and the Gypsy and
the Communist and the Slav
Now who shall wear The Yellow Star
who will be the Juden
here on this teeming shore
in century twenty-one
What peoples will be the Goat
upon which we lay our sin and shame
then drive into the wilderness
our wickedness to atone?
Already the wheels turn
the lies are set in motion
the T.V. set proclaims it good
that debt and joblessness
and loss of liberty grow
actions to shred
the founding documents
strengthen and proliferate
(it may already be too late)
I was promised Hope and Change
and as gas prices soar
I find that my only hope
is to find some change
to but a loaf of bread
when I walk to the store
they tell us that the change
me must embrace is
a system that never worked before
And, the new commissars,
tell us they know better
...where we should live
... what car we need buy
what foods we must eat
what News we must listen to
and which we should not;
dictate which opinions are acceptable
tell us what to think, and how.
What we watched with horror,
prevail in other lands
now embryonic here at home
and we must look into
the lying smile
and swallow lying words
while rhetoric and propaganda
conceals the sleight of hand
incremental undermining
of the foundation of this land
too blind to see the obvious
unfolding of the master plan
Wake up America! Awaken!
the enemy is at the door!
but this time the foes stand
inside the house here
on our Teeming Shore
Ask: who will be our Juden now?
who shall wear the Yellow Star?
imposed by certain Germans
on the scattered children of Israel
confined to be controlled
all intended for the slaughter
with the homosexual
and the Gypsy and
the Communist and the Slav
Now who shall wear The Yellow Star
who will be the Juden
here on this teeming shore
in century twenty-one
What peoples will be the Goat
upon which we lay our sin and shame
then drive into the wilderness
our wickedness to atone?
Already the wheels turn
the lies are set in motion
the T.V. set proclaims it good
that debt and joblessness
and loss of liberty grow
actions to shred
the founding documents
strengthen and proliferate
(it may already be too late)
I was promised Hope and Change
and as gas prices soar
I find that my only hope
is to find some change
to but a loaf of bread
when I walk to the store
they tell us that the change
me must embrace is
a system that never worked before
And, the new commissars,
tell us they know better
...where we should live
... what car we need buy
what foods we must eat
what News we must listen to
and which we should not;
dictate which opinions are acceptable
tell us what to think, and how.
What we watched with horror,
prevail in other lands
now embryonic here at home
and we must look into
the lying smile
and swallow lying words
while rhetoric and propaganda
conceals the sleight of hand
incremental undermining
of the foundation of this land
too blind to see the obvious
unfolding of the master plan
Wake up America! Awaken!
the enemy is at the door!
but this time the foes stand
inside the house here
on our Teeming Shore
Ask: who will be our Juden now?
who shall wear the Yellow Star?
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Old Songs Titles (Tell A Story of Heartbreak) by Ron Porter ©2012
It's been a long time since Summertime Blues
I'm not quite ready from my Travelin' Shoes.
Meanwhile the object of my deep desire,
sits in The Smoke Of A Distant Fire.
Susie keeps saying My Boyfriend's Back;
The message for me is Hit The Road Jack
Gloria, Peggy Sue and All The Young Dudes
Take A Walk On The Wild Side with bad attitudes.
I sit alone feeling like a Fool On The Hill;
and swallow life down like a Bitter Little Pill.
I look around but, I can't find a friend
Nothing left but to Cast My Fate To The Wind.
The Wind Cries Mary to me; I just sit and sigh.
Deseted and hurt, I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry
I'm not quite ready from my Travelin' Shoes.
Meanwhile the object of my deep desire,
sits in The Smoke Of A Distant Fire.
Susie keeps saying My Boyfriend's Back;
The message for me is Hit The Road Jack
Gloria, Peggy Sue and All The Young Dudes
Take A Walk On The Wild Side with bad attitudes.
I sit alone feeling like a Fool On The Hill;
and swallow life down like a Bitter Little Pill.
I look around but, I can't find a friend
Nothing left but to Cast My Fate To The Wind.
The Wind Cries Mary to me; I just sit and sigh.
Deseted and hurt, I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Teri Smiled (A Salute to Leigh Hunt) by Ronald S Porter ©2012
Teri smiled ,when she first spied me,
like sunrise after a dark cold night.
Then was my chained heart set free
and, suddenly the world was right.
I may be tired, poor, and growing old;
life passes by in too short a while.
But I will cherish 'til stars grow cold
the first time I saw Teri smile.
like sunrise after a dark cold night.
Then was my chained heart set free
and, suddenly the world was right.
I may be tired, poor, and growing old;
life passes by in too short a while.
But I will cherish 'til stars grow cold
the first time I saw Teri smile.
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