"Phantasmagoria" by Dave Hart

"Phantasmagoria" by Dave Hart

I
You gaze silently
and stare squinting
through your stained glass panes.

Now pulling aside
sapphire drapes
of flowing somber samite
Replete with glowing organdy
You gaze out.

Lo, a lazy mesmerized
quixotic moon--
blithely blows kisses,
wryly winks
and coyly smiles.


Yea, a light seesaw of a day
of ecstasy and spritely delight--
now wanes to a quiet evening tune.


II
Transfixed you
muse --attent through moist
window panes.

And now enter the past pains
through
a flowing Rorschach panorama
of fluid specters--

a pentimento painting
of myriad serpentine days
metamorphosing
into mellifluous mellowing nights.

Now mirthful,
this moon merrily
mills reticent
clouds in a star
clustered plight.

The meeting with Morpheus...
--wondering of his mood--
cheery and cherry,
one hopes.


III

In the soft security
of your pliant bed--
a weary cheek cradled
in thoughts of this
day now blithely tread--

a voice and vision from the past--
"night night
nighty nite
sleep tight".

IV
Dreaming..
in a dream

Floating in the night skyscape
. . a phantasmagoria
of sensual sights and sounds. .

riding in a catamaran of gilded silk. .
over the still quiet town.

There's the tailor's shop,
the market place,
and the gurgling fountains of the park.

On to other lands afar. .
the Taj Mahal. .
the Great Wall of China
the winged maneuvers of a lark

V

Dreaming . . .
reeling red and yellow
sea horses laugh and dance
while
you roar
over tree tops . . .
mermaids now samba agog
with cheshire cats to the
music of Sergei Rachmaninoff .
shooting stars
of blue purple catching
bolts of lightening

VI
Dearest one
awake now
and stir . . .
To scents of frankincense
and myrrh . . voices of the past.

Long lingering in your cozy warm bed . .
with thoughts
tantalizing in your graceful head . .

Birds twitter
and herald yon
day's new light . . .
a new morn sun yields
cascading
delight.
David Hart 2006

"I Gotta Gun" a poem by David Hart

"I Gotta Gun" by David Hart

I gotta gun.
I'm somebody now.
O, to hold my gun.
I feel so big and
so strong.
I like killin' things.
Bottles and cans are OK
But something alive
To snuff out life
That's the fine exquisite
thrill.
I feel so whole with my
gun. Why should I work
for other's respect when
I can get their fear and
respect by pullin' my gun.
To see blood splurt out
of some animal after I
plugged it good.
Yes. Yessss.
To snuff out life.
I feel like God.
I anxiously anticipate
someone giving me good
reason to use my gun.

someone rubbed me the
wrong way at work today.
I wouldn't think to ignore it,
I wouldn't think to get another job.
Maybe I'll go in and blow anyone
that has upset me away today.

I have no capacity to forgive
I have no capacity to forget.
I won't forget or forgive any
wrong done to me. I file it
away to latter get my revenge.
I only focus on my interpretation
of wrongs done to me.

I never think about all the
good that is afforded me
day after day.

I know I am OK.
Everyday, someone on the TV
has got a gun and is shooting
someone. Must be OK. It's
on the TV.

I got my gun and I ain't
never gonna forgive
and I ain't never gonna
forget.

"Now" by David Hart

"Now" by David Hart

Let us embark now, you and I,
As evening splays out to
The blue-blackening sky.

Let us ride through
Particular smooth stoned
Streets,
To incoherent cacophonous
Retreats,
To white table-clothed
Restaurants,
And mint pillowed four
Starred hotels,
With cherished friends
And talk of noble feats,
To dancing streets that
Entice our feet.

And indeed this is now
This gallant moment in
Time.
Gales of laughter now
Somersault through
the roof pirouetting
in the sky, then careen
now down to tickle the
tops of our heads.

The time is now
And always will be.
No time for the past.
No time for the future.
They don't really exist.
Now exists.
Now will be the moment.
Now will always be the moment.
Forever, now.