reason

by

cliché…

watching
patterns
on
the ceiling
candlelight dancers
flickering
like
memories
and
sweet words
heard
so
long ago
friends
forever
lovers
for
the moment
tantalizing
touches
passion
has a way
of
arbitrating
with
reason
youth
has little
to do with it
but
provides
a time-tested
excuse
readily accepted
in
most circles
of
society
except for
a few
hardline
religious zealots
who
rarely
approve
of
anything
but they
end up
like
the melted wax
upon
my floor
cold
solidified
paraffin postures
of
humanity
never
really enjoying
the
flames

by

there must be reason…

copyright cwmartin 2011

in this age
of reason
it was no surprise
that when reports
began to filter-in
of a flower
that made old men
young
and vital again
removing all the infirmities
life had bestowed
upon them
by just
breathing its fragrance
that great men
would come together
to explore
the story
men of
science and magic
each
with views
and reasons
for the powers
of the flower of life
their debates
raged on for days
soon wars
were fought
those who tended
the flower died
outside the sacred walls
on the battlefields
of  reasonable inquiry
and self-declared justice
and so it was
that with no one to care
for it
the flower
died

by

hawk chronicles #13…

copyright cwmartin 2011

jagged edges
of expectation
line the shores
of reason
when
you stare
at me
i am
a predefined
vista
one constructed
from old news reels
adventure photos
and
television commercials
capturing none of
who
or
what
i am
you
see a predator
a bird of prey
to be glorified
or hated
depending upon
which child’s fantasy
you can recall
or
which nightmare
brought a cold sweat
before dawn
but
i say to you
you do not
see
me
nor
do you see
yourself

by

shock jocks and other misfits…

their acidic words
poured out of the radio
onto the surface of the brain
melting away all reason
leaving corroded thoughts
of life
and purpose
and then
the synapses
said
ready
aim
fire

by

old papers…

scattered
here
and there
like the memories
of the year
are scraps of paper
my
recorded history
stored
for no good reason
in boxes
and drawers
throughout the house
boxes that no one
will ever pullout
to sort or read
to be
carried in mass
to the dump
or shredded
by some distant family member
who seeks their fortune
in what is left behind
in closets
and jewelry boxes
leaving behind
the true wealth
of my life
for they
have long
forgotten
“all that glisters
is not
gold”

The popular form of the expression is a corruption of a line in William Shakespeare‘s play, The Merchant of Venice, which uses the 17th century synonym “glisters”. The line comes from the secondary plot, the puzzle of Portia‘s boxes: (Act II – Scene VII – Prince of Morocco)

by

dolus…

Google Image: Romance Book Cover Art & Illustration

curled so tightly
around her passion
the flow of reason
could not reach
her mind
the warm soft skin
of his lies
was so inviting
after so many
empty nights
with just her
paperback lovers
so now
flesh to flesh
she was easily seduced
into believing
that his words
were from his heart
but before long
his night songs
were gone
and she
was rereading
chapter one

by

be not silent to me…

 

the tank
heavily plated
with the steel of hate
crossed the border of reason
shredding the fields
of hope beneath
its tracks
moving like an old ship
burdened with an albatross
around its mast
sailing
to a minaret
pushing the walls
of the tower
into the ground
to bury the sounds of prayers
but come the dawn
they hear the call
the sound
caught upon the wind
could have so easily
been mistaken
for the sounds
of falling leaves
but slowly
it grew louder
a chant
a demand
that peace
be now
without delay
and then
the silence
of despair

by

not that there’s a problem…

twenty years ago
the land that we’re standing on
wasn’t a desert
but i don’t bring this up
for any particular reason
not that there’s a problem
and once the desert fox
roamed freely these sand dunes
eating locust and rodents
that could decimate a family’s farm and health
but its fur is just too hard to resist
soft and cuddly as a new born child
so now they say it’s endangered
but don’t get me wrong
i’m not one of those
tree huggers or anything
i was just wondering about it
not that there’s a problem
and for some unknown reason
i was thinking about how one
could build a new hotel on the edge of the sahara
where each room uses enough water
for a family’s small garden
but heaven knows
i don’t want anything to change
my personal comfort
should come first
just a random thought or two
from an old man
who’s got nothing else to do
not that there’s a problem
more than likely it’s just some
hyped-up media story
printed on recycled paper

by

ain’t no reason…

ain’t no reason
looking over your shoulder
there’s nobody
you’ll recognize
time
done changed them
so
child
none of them
is the same
now
 i’m not talking
 ’bout their faces
lord knows
they’s as ugly as ever
no child
i mean
what’s inside
seems hard times
makes even kind folks mean
and bitter
what you see over your shoulder
ain’t there no more
so ain’t no reason
looking over
your shoulder