Journey with John Stokes

Friday, October 18, 2024

Some lighten up

Self portrait in gorget and plumed cap. After Rembrandt. 1631.

After Man Ray too

The Grays

The Grays...

by john clare

From distant galaxies they made their way

A silent but steady invasion from deep space

From the outermost realms came the grays

Creatures mingling with the human race.

In the beginning how humble they were

Wisdom imparting to the innocent ones

Intentions promised noble and beyond pure

Captivating, we lost the meaning of run.

Slowly the transformation began

The grays taking on the appearance of men

A few warned that all was not so grand

That life as we knew was nearing an end.

But the gold from the grays we sought

Hooked upon what tasted of milk and honey

As slowly their alien plans were wrought

upon a race once so seemingly free.

To distant hills and caves a remnant fled

Fled the very day the grays did land

Upon the dew and word they were fed

Not a sign of leperous gray upon any hand.

As for those left mingling with the grays

Constant was their gaze into the mirror

Applying constantly the Grecian they prayed

Vainly trying to mask the gray once so pure.

My lady

Aphid pro quo

The day I wiped out the

aphid population

My fingers stained an orangish shade of guilty

The Ladybug jury deliberated

Into the evening

An iron clad case the aphid

Attorney had built

But come the verdict when

The Morning Glories opened

The jury was swayed

It was the Glories the aphid

were eating.

The Ladybug foreman stood,

"Not guilty. You are free to

go and crush aphids."

Long to not spin

So long straight Saturday

For when the Meclizine

Kicks in

And I am not still spinning

Hopefully

I shall be zoning

Or sleeping...

I hate docs that take your

Money while telling you

take a pill and see me

In three when you aren't spinning.

As I spin, I see you, I see you, I do not need to keep seeing you, will you just walk by left to right, in your right left like the rapid blinking, it may seem you stand still for me.

Bloody Mary

Beware

Crazy Mary

That rouge made

Face with

Plastered on

Smile

Hides much guile

And if you gaze

Her way

She will say

It's sexually

You harass her

Look away

From

crazy Mary.

Emily

We thirst at first—'tis Nature's Act...

It intimates the finer want—

Whose adequate supply

Is that Great Water in the West—

Termed Immortality—

~ Emily Dickinson

Orange messenger

For most of the day

The orange pennant

Hovered and followed

near

As if to either tell me

something

Or maybe nothing

That he just took a notion

To hang out with me

Thanks Orange pennant

I needed you

Up the holler

There was the time when

the differences in worship

were pretty easy to define

A Sunday ride up the holler

We’d find the structures along

the narrow winding road

Culminating with the Methodists

high above the Primitives

by the trickling coal strewn creek

and in between the Presbyterian

and the baptist with a Pentecostal

for good measure

there weren’t any mega structures

obscuring the Mountain View

no third Baptist’s from the latest split

few of the latter day or Jehovah such

or the Saturday sabbath two or three

Pretty much what was along the way

was all we needed in the day.

We all have our memory lane, a special place or time we hold dear. I happen to have many, too many perhaps to keep me from entering the present freeway, sitting on the side of some fairy way. Happy the traveler who has his well laid present paths and who need not dwell long upon the road once taken.

Other side of the tracks

Johnclarestokes

I always wanted to live near the tracks

Just on the other side

Down a narrow, winding lane

Hear the coming of the long train.

Lee, Florida

US90

The Secret Stables

Johnclarestokes

There are secret stables waiting

For rides of imagination

Winking

Blinking

Nod

All saddled and shod

Gentle ones

Unbridled

No blinkers

Winkers

Or stirrups needed.

Brown Street