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Essential Poetic Esoteria

Wisened Words

Poetic Esoteria
Night Watch
The ~ Beat

Use your head.

The Beat

Down a dark dirty street with no name
Void of life at two a.m.
My Chevy wheels relentlessly,
'Til red neon sparks my hunger
Salivating like a beaten pavlov's dog
I pull in to a diner called, "Open,"

Inside, stainless steel and formica
Glisten with flourescent hues,
A fuzz-haired man sits slumped, maybe dead,
Burned out from an endless party,
His coffee appears to pray for him,

Tunes from an obscure, forgotten era
Hum from the radio,
Filling the silence like a toothpick between twisted teeth,
I eye the menus draped on the walls
Hand-scrawled, overlapping, taped papers,
Rustle in the breeze of a cheap fan,
Then it blows the waitress my way
With her pad, pen and painted smile,
Emulating you mom under platinum curls
Uncomfortably filling her generic uniform
Peach cloth plastered against her form,
Made from the flag of industry,

She seems as much a relic as this diner
A fossil, punch-pressed into leaded forms
And cast onto a slag pile with the seconds,
Buried long after the factory shut down
Then recycled, resurrected to the beat street,
This place can never die, only mutate
With impressions of the past in the walls,
And indelible etchings of drill and saw
Scars of renovations
That couldn't remove the fuzzy man,
Slumped into his coffee
Nor the assorted lovers, breakfast couples,
Every size, shape and entree'
Drooling in from the bars and sleepless night,
The everlasting beat
Hammered out by the feet in the midnight street,
Through the beds and bars and pistons of cars,
Through robots in the factory, pounding the beat of the city.

Thunderbird Curve

The radio shadow

On Thunderbird Curve,

Cuts out my favorite song

Centerline slicing my nerve,

Percussion hammers

Not skipping a beat,

The tune breaks loose and long

Vibrating in the seat,

The engine clammers

In the summer heat,

Hammering hot and strong

It could even fry our meat,

Hard road heat shimmers

Up into my feet,

Punctuating the song

Sherry looks so complete,

Her lipstick glimmers

Her short skirt is sweet,

Smooth, long legs doing wrong

She is my midnight treat.


Thoughts are things

That have wings,

Out to roam

Then back home,

They can swarm

And do harm,

Or do good

Like they should.


Believe what you will
But know all you can,
Reality still
Is the final plan,

You can know anything
Learning is up to you,
But knowing ev'rything
Is impossible to do,

Believing anything
Is simple acceptance,
Knowledge requires thinking
An important difference,

Belief is by will power
Superceding the facts,
Truth is like a flower,
The way that nature acts.


Promises linger softly
Imprinted on my soul,
The fingerprints of many
Remain on moments they stole,

Surveying my dark spirit
My mind recoils from the task,
To look just a little bit
Seems like way too much to ask,

Millions of memories
Mixing with my intentions,
Cause my secret heart to sieze
And from which my spirit runs,

Looking at only my part
All I did and all I said,
Ultimately frees my heart
Reviving me from the dead.

("The unexamined life is not worth living." - Socrates)

Copyright 2005 T.A.Rickey