PRISONER OF RHYME

John the Poet's Vision (girôn d'Agate)

2018-12-16T22:09:00.003-05:00

publishing demo for Book

2018-12-16T22:04:00.002-05:00

THIS PHOTOGRAPH OF D'AGATE WAS TAKEN ON OCTOBER 8TH, 2010 BY ROBERT ARIHOOD

Fatefully, Mr. Arihood passed during the week of September 30th, 2011. He had been covering the Occupy Uprising and as a photojournalist had unlimited talent but fearlessness to match.
As the march past the edifice of Old St. Anne's, Ny's Finest in a show of 'bravado' unleashed enough toxic spray that when Bob got home later his heart stopped as he lay. May our Lord give him PEACE...John George Wolfgang Lesko
© Robert Arihood 2010

click link directly below to view a tad of Bob's work
http://neithermorenorless.blogspot.com/search?q=john+lesko

Girôn D'Agate pron. da-gott' (of agate) is the pseudonym of John George Wolfgang Lesko
a.k.a. "the Mightswami", John the poet, "the last beat poet"

d'Agate, Poet 9/20/10, a photo by Nando Alvarez on Flickr.

new and collected poems 2007 thru 2017

Girôn d'Agate

n.b. All poems posted as written in time except 'Berlin',which has been excerpted from THE NOTES of a DYING MAN © Girôn d'Agate.

John George Wolfgang Lesko; Editor: ONE*OFF PRESS

2012-12-06T05:28:00.004-05:00

THE PHYSICS of LOVE

exposed without shame,

you struck me unharmed

as kisses were stolen

then carried by zephyrs

to be kept safe from all time without memory

eyes seeking light

amidst gathering darkness

recoiled from the shape

of the Night

while the wind carried sounds

that breathed of its longing

to be ever so simple

that it may or may not

touch anyone, anywhere

and always remain

unchanged

d'Agate , Summer, 2012 nyc

HER

if you fell

like a leaf falls in the breeze

on a quiet afternoon,

on a hillside

bathed in an afternoon's glow

or if you dropped

like a cool, black stone

onto the surface of a still pond

sending ripples like shivers

up the spine of a rapt listener

or every living thing

at once

if you cried

like a great grey cloud

split by lightning

fully loaded

with all of summer's tears

left unshed

Or if you touched my face

so lightly in the evening

as the moon rose

above the rested violet forest

that I awoke from my deepest slumbers

and remained dreaming

even as I gazed within your smile

then I, truly, would do the same,

for you

@ mars

girôn d'agate Saturday, april 9, 2011

WALKING ON AIR

if you come to see me in the circus

and it rains

or if the big top starts to sag

as the clowns begin to cry

and your tears are fragrant roses

the Sun will be imprisoned

by the clouds

while the shadows of the past are lifted

where you sit alone and wait for me

where the music plays

and the leaves of Autumn fall

Do not think of me again

or wish that I would come

for I'll be with you,

Yes I will --

and you will feel me in the wind.

d'Agate 9/17/10

@Teodora, 57^th St., N.Y.C.

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

she didn't understand when I said

joy was in the wings of a butterfly

she looked for me behind the buildings

when I was in the sky

she found me drinking tea

sitting in the kitchen,

bathed in sunshine

unaware of worlds exploding

just outside my mind

she thought that I was what she knew

ensnared by cautious lies, a cruel trompe l'oeil

a trick, a trap

a sleeping form unconscious

Then the wind shifted as the night grew dark

rain was falling

I heard a scream far away

and when I awoke

she lay there beside me dreaming

the fingers of her hand

upon my shoulder

d'Agate

August 17th, 2010

'T's funny (it's funny)

how the leaves fall,

dandelions blow,

clouds move,

while shadows flee

their Maker…

 And words

so delicately carved in stone

turn to dust

d’Agate

When We last Say,

"Goodbye"

Later tonight,

when the cars fall asleep

and horses open the door

to the stairway of dreams,

when trees begin to smile

and speak in low monotones in the park,

in the dark where I walk with my shadow,

the echo of my steps

and the memory of you in my arms;

Will I caress and whisper to your vanishing trace

as I allow Life's entropy to fill its course?

If I am able to raise the dead, heal the sick

and bring light to those who are in darkness,

Can I not keep your soul in my arms, too?

Or are you too light to be possessed for long

Yet later tonight as I walk alone

You will slip from my embrace

one more time

One time that will be the last

Spring 2010

SURVIVAL GUIDE

I should stop throwing myself off

hilltops,

the roofs of buildings

or jumping in front of

oncoming trains

Having sex with sharp objects,

foreign animals

and big, burly politicos.

Every passing stranger looks at me askance

when I stand on the corner

and whip out my dick.

What's wrong with them?

I loved playing Russian Roulette

once

Ars Longa, Vita Brevis

Don't be alarmed that I am madly

impassioned by your Being

Ask instead why such a love

should never be shared

When you know that its terrible ferocity

would only bring death

And so it is

we remain apart,

our joy Autumn's burnished tears

While deep within the tomb

the quiet, the brave

still dance and sing..

For no one else's the wiser

d'Agate

January 26th, 2010

4 Some One (do you too?)

do you see the sky changing color

or a dragon breathing in a peaceful Sunset?

do you feel a multitude of worlds
created by the stealth of a morning's Sunrise?

do you feel an angel's tear

when a snowflake first falls in Winter;

and do you succumb to the lilac's scent

that beckons your Heart to sacrifice itself

in the gathering shade of a Summer's eve?

Do you love me as much as Life's rare

moment of Silence?

Girôn d'Agate

January 19th, 2010

WHERE FOOTSTEPS FALL UPON THE SHORE

WHERE NO ONE IS SEEN

Come! Sit by the heather and hearth

for I tell the tale of Love

beneath the mightiest of seas

the fingers of our night's elastic dream

weave heaven's fabrics' deep forevers

with all tears forgotten, put away,

and the Beloved holding the stone of miracle

come, my children,

to the homes of your grandfathers,

our friends

who know no fear at all

for nothing may disturb

their unambiguous Light

upon the waves of this world's marrow-

a Peace unassailed

happiness conquered your hearts

when our grandfathers emblazoned

your young, strong minds

to yield only to one Undivided truth

and the fire's warmth did shield

and guide you

the PRECIOUS,

the DREAMERS,

the givers of invisible,

ubiquitous...joy!

 BIG WORM, NEW MEXICO

when the world was smoky

all of the brilliant pumpkins danced

in their ancient costumes

you and I walked through the dream forest

our naked souls kissed by the Earth

in magic worlds we only loved

and were loved

by one another

that was the time of tenderness

dancing

with the Brilliant Pumpkins

wearing

the Ancient Costumes

as the soil tickled our toes

Eternal

CAKES & ALE

Walking down the slate grey sands

barefoot in the late afternoon tumult

of sand and shore

the Sun set to starboard with us

as we walked together, knickers up. .

The breeze blowing off the salty seas

caused our chins to glisten;

my Heart listened to yours

when the Twilight began to fade.

You buttoned a button of your blue cardigan

while the sharp wind in our faces

blew tears from our cheeks.

The haze then of Night's onset obscured all fate..

where in that hour was our greatest delight

just to Live, to breathe and to Love

Girôn d'Agate

With thanks to W. Somerset Maugham

DANCING with YOU

four times ago

She, riding a bicycle

 He, chewing a papaya  

They, dancing in their cotton print dress

  I was in a Tree

  Long time past, a stream ran down this lane

  There were no candy canes 

Spinning, 

Spinning... 

Spinning

  Was there music in the Air?  

Some walked over the hillside

  where the shadows had been

  Were they to blame  

or the orange tree?

music was in the air

others came towards us

  leaving the shadows behind

  looking at the bones of fertilizer

  And figures forever smiling, omnisciently

AGAIN

dun colored leaves

fall upon dun

colored skin;

 in your eyes

 I see them

falling once more,

 falling once more again.

d'Agate

NEW WORLD ORDER I

but here were the secrets of men

lying seamlessly beneath the Sun

stripped of superfluity, exposed

bare mullah's toes:

roasting-a-toasting pistachios

dour guides of sidereal time

until you wake up and dig rhyme

running through each day dream

old sailor enforce the scheme

roasting-a-toasting pistachios

bare mullah's toes exposed

fried lemon-lime implodes

dour guides of sidereal time

DED A HED

dig the rhyme d'agate

NEW WORLD ORDER II 

I've been expunged by propinquity

turned Reality into Golden Harps

played by tin whistles

floating on the Wicked Sea.

cracked bullwhips,   trusted Time,

let down,   squandered,   forgotten.

Sine Qua Non  

esta bene,   con sum OK

tightly I toss each New Day.

Fare-thee-well, Forever

I return to my   raison d'etre:  

moment learned  

each a different Eternity  

Picture That*You and Me

burn the books you're gonna nead  

get right down on your knees  

'cause the man overhead overheard   your story

jig's up kid  , morning glory

Red, White, Blue,   yellow dog screams

past apocalyptic eventualities

the rattler's gotcha now

you're gonna receive-

Help from Above,   on your knees  

Help from Above,   on your knees  

HELP FROM ABOVE

if-you-please   

Girôn d'Agate

   N.Y.C.

THE GOLDEN DOOR

I was forty, she was younger

I was dying, she was growing

I was awful, she was happy

I was happy, she was glad

I was lonely, she was smiling

I was crying, she was dreaming

I went walking, she went flying

I fell down and she flew by

I got up and walked on water

I knew that I could

keep on going, keep on keeping

my true star close to me

She was standing near the corner

on Tuesday night I walked by

She said my name softly, sweetly

I turned round to see her eyes

they are special in her feature

they display a certain courage

mine are lonesome, studious, bruising

mine have seen too many die.

She asked if I'd stay forever

I said I would let her know

She is waiting for an answer

I will have to let her know

That I will be here tomorrow

That I'll see her Tuesday night

but next Wednesday and next Sunday

I have got to get it right

So before you lay down dreaming

just before you lay it down

I suggest you listen closely

for a very special sound

of a Woman wearing roses

and her gown is flowing round

all of nature's beauteous waters

all the World is in her eye

If she touches while you're walking

you will surely disappear

if she comes when you are sleeping

sadly you will turn to stone

but if she comes while you're waiting

listening closely for the sound

of worlds turning, of the Rivers

then you'll walk to higher ground

There you'll see the Golden Phoenix

there you'll see the Golden Door

there you'll find the amulet bracelet

lying, waiting on the floor

Pick it up and put it on

and walk right through the Golden Door

you will find there, you will touch there

and All will be as Before

d'Agate

the Morning-an Ignorant Automobile

After showering he dressed

walking down five stone flights

to the crisp morning air.

Daybreak was happening

its time out of mind way

about ten minutes

before the Sun broke

over the eastern horizon.

The cool air filled his lungs

with confidence and calm,

the few birds shooting across the avenue

called their refreshingly recognizable song-

not for our sake

but to let their bird mates know

that today's show at the Rialto

had been changed,

from two to three pm

The freshness of a new day

the pinpricks of light in the air

A scene in a city that could still convey

happiness and guarded hope;

the few souls in the streets

soldier ants

ready for a days forage

while the common man and woman queued

to tackle the burgeoning task

of commuting to the appropriate place

that they might reaffirm

their membership in society

None of this is out of place

to the observer-

the man who had descended the stairs earlier

has seen this scene unfold enough

that it appears ominous and tragic;

a tiresome behemoth that he cannot discern

to have a meaning more profound

than a pigeon pecking a crumb

Inside his revulsion is a bittersweet bile

which when he tastes he smiles, barely

and does not bother to wave a wand

causing the sleeping mass to wake

Now if you have invested even a cursory

observation of this character you would feel

that if you saw him in a crowd

he would be indistinguishable from his fellows

Yet this prophet, seer or magician

has the power and perception to say one word

that would cause the absence of place

to drop from the eyes of the masses

of the millions which surround him

like plates crashing to the ground

causing enough din to disturb

the peace of the Poconos

So you ask "Why does he not do it?"

Is there a plan?

Does he have a Plan!

Is he "God forbid" gloating

or gaining a perverse pleasure

in the lack of direction of Humanity?

doubtful;

Is he doing God's will?

Theocracy plays an inconclusive part

in this equation.

So why does he not Act?!

Should you find him, ask him

and you may learn why the Rialto

has changed its show time from two to three pm

or he may hand you a coffee bean

and in that incalculable moment

you will have an epiphany

as the balance of all

were in your

fingertips

Girôn d'Agate july 23rd,2008

HAITCH/consider this

(H)

"Don't be afraid of my friends, they're poets"

tilting her head she smiled

then fell down the stairs

I opened the door and we walked out together

into the cold shadows which New Yorkers

imitate so well

They were juggling colorful lead ballons

on the subway that Sunday morning

because Thomas Pynchon was wearing

high heels and a vermillion wig

Crossing the Road old men

kept ressurecting from the asphalt;

as the wind blew onlookers eyeballs

in front of my boots

I stepped carefully across Heaven

then stood wathching the Battle

The sound and clatter of war can be indistinct

and is often ambiguous

I ordered my leftenant

to raise a pink banner in the wind

as we began to kill in earnest

I sat upon the grassy mound rolling

dice for the souls of my enemies

Satan slipped into the abyss

the train stopped

letting people out

I stood upon the mound of Death

and ordered my leftenant

to remove a silver horse from my cup

then entered the fray

that sunny morning

He put the horse back in the wooden box

our grandmothers had left

Walking down the slope I heard

no sound

Stepping upon the field I found

no enemies

the banner blew lazily in the soft,

warm breeze of the Sun rising

over the trees

I knelt on one knee

and held him bleeding in my arms, tightly

his blood stanched between the fingers

of my hard grasp

There was a quiet smile upon his lips

when he held his eyes gently closed

then breathed gratitude

as a moist crimson rose

pale upon his milk dew cheeks.

Girôn d'Agate

copy written January 27th thru June 4th 2008

THE NIGHT THE WORLD CAUGHT FIRE

I was sitting in my den listening to the sound

of logs crackling in the hearth,

on occasion I lit my pipe

and read "La Mordida"

the hearthstone watched me closely

imploring calm; a plea from abroad

the wind in winter's treetops

played its usual tympanum in my ear

and a sound drew near

a sound of a low roar, steady rising

without alarm I moved toward the louvred windows

to draw the blind,

when lightning scorched the pine

of my heart

and split it apart by a meadow fair

I stepped to the hammer,

and saw crickets playing checkers

I stepped one-half step back

and the fire rose around me

consuming all dross

filling my soul with light

I was happy to know why the bush

was not consumed by the flame d'Agate

25 E 1st N.Y.,N.Y.

May 13th, 2008 00:30 hrs.

QUIET LIGHTS, DARK SEAS AND THE SONOROUS RINGING of a BELL

MUFFLED BY TIME

there is a beauty in the movement

of the el platforms

on the Broadway local

in The Bronx

Would you believe me if I told you. . .?

Yes,

if you understood the weak atomic bond,

causality

a loose blouse, a casual attitude

a Universe from nothing,

freedom to move

while remaining connected to others

Do you know them? loosely speaking. . .

there is a beauty in harmonic change

for it is the only intelligent happiness

there is a beauty in you

which you can't quite see

but should know is the teardrop

of happiness;

for the awesome Beauty of Nature

were the most beautiful thing,

yet the greatest Beauty

is the most deadly

There is beauty in time & remembrance

Would you believe me when I tell you?

for this beauty surpasses all

girôn d'agate

Manhattan, Avril, 2009, 3rd millennia C.E.

with acknowledgements to Malcolm Lowry,
"Through the Panama"

PRISONER of RHYME

memories tear through my mind's lattices

exposing past glory, lost touches and scents

joy beyond reach I strive to rebuild

yet vainly I progress, express or expose

that ever new magic where younger ones trode

I am left but a thread to touch or lean to

it is part of a blouse that a woman

who

wearing it tells me,

"It's cotton, you know? One-hundred percent."

as both of us flow

side by side, in a subway car

towards far different destinies

but we feel the same cloth and own memories

that will someday just be a part of the breeze

which stirs the still waters

and sways upon leaves d'Agate

THERE ARE LITTLE THINGS IN A MATCH

things we do not see

things we do not care to see

match its tenure thusly:

Death, thought, relief, neglect

Love, hatred, remorse, sorrow,

sex, the economies of instants, memories

and forgetfulness

paranoia, Truth, waste, procrastination,

deliberation, understanding, forgiving.

There are little things in a match

temptation, redemption, acceptance

Purity exists when it is surrounded by itself

Strike the match as change occurs then turn it off

around the corner fate awaits

meet it as you would a friend

the little match lies quiet in your reveries

You have judged; your judgement is temporal

Because there are such little things in a match

chief of all is a latch

an immutable latch

ON THE COAST OF GENIUS

There are scraps of cardboard

flattened by pedestrians walking on the sidewalk

whores for every pocketbook

self-conscious youths puff cigarettes

strolling along the waterfront

as the tide slapping the quay

in the early morning air

speaks the rhythm of a journey beginning

sitting outside a cafe, a cup of coffee,

a pen and notebook on the white tablecloth

serve as battlements anticipating the day

the Sun begins its track upon the sky

Stepping upon the path without a destination

sight and sense as guides

the page of a newspaper blows across the way

your mind registers a bright blue and white striped awning

moving innocuously in the morning breeze

and the thought that it will be buried

amid the myriad impressions of: one's life

A car's engine echoes off the timeless masonry

of the town's walls; the car is straining up the hill

Who is driving? Where?

the Sun tracks across the sky

rising toward its zenith

Lunch is a fresh peach

bought from the brown wrinkled skin of an old woman's hand

How can you know her?

Why is she here?

to sell a fresh peach

so that your journey may continue;

dogs move quickly across the road

glancing sidelong, rejecting celebrity

A drunken sailor exits a bar into the bright day

for what purpose, why at this moment?

the Sun tracks unheeded across the sky

there is a melody from a guitar

farther up the road

the music causes an emotional identification

distinct, involuntary

as the sound layers a soft cover

over the stone environs

lifting your mood to a place of acceptance

to the intrusiveness of static reality

The young ones smoke a few more cigarettes

and walk in desultory order

as the sun tracks below the horizon

the waves lap against the quayside

speaking in soft tones the cadence of mortality

the waning gibbous moon
hanging in the pellucid inky canopy

is the last thing visible

As the dream slips into place,

a place only you have seen. D’AGATE

CC-1-017

2010-03-14T23:24:00.002-04:00

CC-1-017
Originally uploaded by jesseleary

jesse, my nephew, took this photo which when enlarged is quite good.

ARS LONGA, VITA BREVIS

2010-01-26T16:53:00.007-05:00

Ars Longa, Vita Brevis

Don't be alarmed that I am madly

impassioned by your Being,

ask instead why such a love

should never be shared

when we know it's terrible ferocity

would only bring death

And so it is

We remain apart

Our joy Autumn's burnished tears

While deep within the tomb

the quiet, the brave

still dance and sing..

For no one else's the wiser

d'Agate copyright ONE*OFF PRESS :

January 26th, 2010

Carlota, It may please you to know that this was inspired by my seeing you again and when I touched your right index finger (strange?).

I'm aware the idiom may be a small problem. Nevertheless u can always reach me at 929-900-9572. John

4 some one

2010-01-19T15:57:00.017-05:00

DO YOU TOO ?

do you see the sky changing color

or a dragon breathing in a peaceful Sunset?

do you feel a multitude of worlds

created by the stealth

of a morning's Sunrise?

do you feel an angel's tear

when a snowflake first falls in Winter

and do you succumb to the lilac's scent

that beckons your Heart to sacrifice itself

in the gathering shade of a Summer's eve?

Do you love me as much as Life's rare

moment of Silence?

d'Agate

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

for-my key largo lover

2010-01-18T15:32:00.008-05:00

KEY LARGO

the afternoon we made Love

I watched as a hornet chewed

through the pristine, cerulean sky above us;

the molecules of air quivered

as you came to my rescue

then I came to yours.

the local firemen wore their sly,

omniscient smiles

two days of stubbled beard

hard upon their chiseled faces;

men whose lives are fountains of human compassion

in a desert of complacent pretenders.

They had not seeen the hornet above;

neither had you.

But I am a well-known habitue

of the seven levels of being.

hence, when the Sun rose in your soul

I walked slowly back

into the waiting Sea

wisdom of the generations

2009-11-14T11:38:00.014-05:00

WHERE FOOTSTEPS FALL UPON THE SHORE;

WHERE NO ONE IS SEEN

Come! Sit by the heather and hearth
for I tell the tale of Love
beneath the mightiest of seas
the fingers of our night's elastic dream
weave heaven's fabrics' deep forevers
with all tears forgotten, put away
and the Beloved holding the stone of miracle
come, my children,
to the homes of your grandfathers,
our friends:
who know no fear at all
for nothing may disturb
their unambiguous Light
upon the stones of this world's marrow

a Peace-unassailed

happiness conquered your hearts
when our grandfathers emblazoned
the young, strong minds
that yield to only one Undivided truth
and the fire's warmth did shield
and guide you
THE PRECIOUS,
THE DREAMERS,
the givers of invisible,
ubiquitous
joy!

2009-08-27T01:11:00.004-04:00

this mural was at the corner of Houston & Bowery in

Manhattan. It went up mid-Summer, '09; and is very

moving. It is a memorial to Dash Snow.

magic realism 5/1/98

2009-07-01T11:55:00.009-04:00

BIG WORM, NEW MEXICO

when the world was smoky

all of the brilliant pumpkins

danced in their ancient costumes

you and I walked through the dream forest

our naked souls kissed by the Earth

in magic worlds we only loved and were loved

by one another

that was the time of tenderness

dancing

with the Brilliant Pumpkins

wearing

the Ancient Costumes

as the soil tickled our toes

Eternal

d'Agate

BOX 2022

NY,NY 10159

CAKES & ALE

2009-06-16T11:56:00.004-04:00

CAKES & ALE

walking down the slate grey sands

barefoot in the late afternoon tumult

of sand and shore

the Sun set to starboard with us

as we walked together, knickers up,

the breeze blowing off the salty seas

causing our chins to glisten;

my Heart listened to yours as we walked barefoot

where the Twilight began to fade

you buttoned a button of your blue cardigan,

while the sharp wind in our faces blew tears from our cheeks

the haze of Night's onset obscured all fate;

when in that hour was our greatest delight

just to Live to breathe and to Love

Girôn d'Agate

for W. Somerset Maugham

CAKES & ALE

walking down the slate grey sands

barefoot in the late afternoon tumult

of sand and shore

the Sun set to starboard with us

as we walked together, knickers up,

the breeze blowing off the salty seas

causing our chins to glisten;

my Heart listened to yours as we walked barefoot

where the Twilight began to fade

you buttoned a button of your blue cardigan,

while the sharp wind in our faces blew tears from our cheeks

the haze of Night's onset obscured all fate;

when in that hour was our greatest delight

just to Live to breathe and to Love

Girôn d'Agate

for W. Somerset Maugham

2009-06-15T13:29:00.005-04:00

DANCING with YOU

four times ago

She, riding a bicycle

He, chewing a papaya

They, dancing in their cotton print dress

I was in a Tree

Long time past, a stream ran down this lane

There were no candy canes
Spinning,
Spinning...
Spinning

Was there music in the Air?

Some walked over the hillside

where the shadows had been

Were they to blame,

or the orange tree?

MUSIC WAS IN THE AIR

others came towards us

leaving the shadows behind

looking at the bones of fertilizer

And mirrors

forever weeping,

silently

Giron d'Agate

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS
Box 2022
Madison Sq Station
New York, New York 10159

fin de siecle :'AGAIN'

2009-06-09T00:30:00.012-04:00

AGAIN

dun colored leaves

fall upon dun

colored skin

in your eyes

I see them

falling once more,

falling once more again

d'Agate

NWO II

2009-05-06T22:42:00.005-04:00

NEW WORLD ORDER II

I've been expunged by propinquity

turned Reality into Golden Harps

played by tin whistles

floating on the Wicked Sea.

cracked bullwhips,

trusted Time,

let down,

squandered,

forgotten.

Sine Qua Non

esta bene

con sum OK

tightly I toss each New day.

Fare-thee-well Forever

I return to my

raison d'etre:

moment learned

each a different Eternity

Picture That*You and Me

burn the books you're gonna nead

get right down on your knees

'cause the man overhead overheard

your story

jig's up, kid

morning glory

Red, White, Blue,

yellow dog screams

past apocalyptic eventualities.

the rattler's gotcha now

you're gonna receive-

Help from Above,

on your knees

Help from Above,

on your knees

HELP FROM ABOVE

if-you-please

Giron d'Agate

N.Y.C.

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

2008-12-07T18:55:00.009-05:00

THE OBJECT OF MY DESIRE

there was an image

standing in a desert

there was a woman

clothed in bright silk;

there was a moment

flowing in my memory

when Love found its desire

There in the desert I stood parched, staring,

listening to my heart's pulse,

while counting breaths
my breaths

as if Death were near

the image before me aroused every sense

a touch of beauty, a longing intense;

should I approach risking the vanishing of All:

yet if I do naught

I'll never recall whether it was just a dream

and live Life accursed

for not having exercised my scheme

I approached the sum of all wishes

while the wind played upon the crested grains of sand

moving each so silently

where I no longer am!

Giron d'Agate

Fall '08

copyright ONE*OFF PRESS

2008-11-08T10:14:00.005-05:00

THE GOLDEN DOOR

I was forty, she was younger

I was dying, she was growing

I was awful, she was happy

I was happy, she was glad

I was lonely, she was smiling

I was crying, she was dreaming

I went walking, she went flying

I fell down and she flew by

I got up and walked on water

I knew that I could

keep on going, keep on keeping

my true star close to me

She was standing near the corner

on Tuesday night I walked by

She said my name softly, sweetly

I turned round to see her eyes

they are special in her feature

they display a certain courage

mine are lonesome, studious, bruising

mine have seen too many die.

She asked if I'd stay forever

I said I would let her know

She is waiting for an answer

I will have to let her know

That I will be here tomorrow

That I'll see her Tuesday night

but next Wednesday and next Sunday

I have got to get it right

So before you lay down dreaming

just before you lay it down

I suggest you listen closely

for a very special sound

of a Woman wearing roses

and her gown is flowing round

all of nature's beauteous waters

all the World is in her eye

If she touches while you're walking

you will surely disappear

if she comes when you are sleeping

sadly you will turn to stone

but if she comes while you're waiting

listening closely for the sound

of worlds turning, of the Rivers

then you'll walk to higher ground

There you'll see the Golden Phoenix

there you'll see the Golden Door

there you'll find the amulet bracelet

lying, waiting on the floor

Pick it up and put it on

and walk right through the Golden Door

you will find there; you will touch there

and all will be as Before

Giron d'Agate

the morning an ignorant aotomobile

2008-07-22T10:34:00.004-04:00

the Morning- an Ignorant Automobile

after showering he dressed

walking down five stone flights

to the crisp morning air

Daybreak was happening

its time out of mind way

about ten minutes

before the Sun broke

over the eastern horizon

The cool air filled his lungs

with confidence and calm

the few birds shooting across the avenue

called their refreshingly recognizable song

not for our sake

but to let their bird mates know

that today's show at the Rialto

had been changed

from two to three pm

The freshness of a new day

the pinpricks of light in the air

A scene in a city that could still convey

happiness and guarded hope

the few souls in the streets

soldier ants

ready for a days forage

while the common man and woman queued

tackling the burgeoning task

of commuting to the appropriate place

that they might reaffirm

their membership in society

None of this is out of place

to the observer-

the man who had descended the stairs earlier

has seen this scene unfold enough

that it appears ominous and tragic;

a tiresome behemoth that he cannot discern

to have a meaning more profound

than a pigeon pecking at a crumb

Inside his revulsion is a bittersweet bile

which when he tastes, he smiles

barely

and does not bother to wave a wand

causing the sleeping mass to wake

Now if you have invested even a cursory

observation of this character you would feel

that if you saw him in a crowd

he would be indistinguishable from his fellows

Yet this prophet, seer or magician

has the power and perception to say one word

that would cause the absence of place

to drop from the eyes of the masses

of the millions which surround him

like plates crashing to the ground

causing enough din to disturb

the peace of the Poconos

So you ask "Why does he not do it?"

Is there a plan?

Does he have a Plan!

Is he "God forbid" gloating

or gaining a perverse pleasure

in the lack of direction in Humanity?

doubtful;

Is he doing God's will?

Theocracy plays an inconclusive part

in this equation.

So why does he not Act?!

Should you find him, ask him

and you may learn why the Rialto

has changed its showtime from two to three pm

or he may hand you a coffee bean

and in that incalculable moment

you will have an epiphany

as the balance of all

were in your fingertips

Girôn d'Agate
july 23rd,2008

2008-06-04T16:41:00.003-04:00

HAITCH/consider this

(H)

"Don't be afraid of my friends, they're poets"

tilting her head she smiled

then fell down the stairs

I opened the door and we walked out together

into the cold shadows which New Yorkers

imitate so well

They were juggling colorful lead ballons

on the subway that Sunday morning

because Thomas Pynchon was wearing

high heels and a vermillion wig

Crossing the Road old men

kept ressurecting from the asphalt;

as the wind blew onlookers eyeballs

in front of my boots

I stepped carefully across Heaven

then stood wathching the Battle

The sound and clatter of war can be indistinct

and is often ambiguous

I ordered my leftenant

to raise a pink banner in the wind

as we began to kill in earnest

I sat upon the grassy mound rolling

dice for the souls of my enemies

Satan slipped into the abyss

the train stopped

letting people out

I stood upon the mound of Death and ordered my leftenant

to remove a silver horse from my cup

then entered the fray

that sunny morning

He put the horse back in the wooden box

our grandmothers had left

Walking down the slope I heard

no sound

Stepping upon the field I found

no enemies

the banner blew lazily in the soft,

warm breeze of the Sun rising

over the trees

I knelt on one knee

and held him bleeding in my arms, tightly

his blood stanched between the fingers

of my hard grasp

There was a quiet smile upon his lips

when he held his eyes gently closed

then breathed gratitude

as a moist crimson pale rose

upon his milk dew cheeks.

Giron d'Agate

copywritten January 27th thru June 4th 2008

2008-04-17T19:19:00.000-04:00

TITANIC

this

fast

iron

morning

cold

greed

still

wept

slept

soundly,

in the ocean's

ubiquitous

aquamarine

Heart

d'Agate copyright 2007

2008-04-08T15:07:00.002-04:00

ON THE COAST OF GENIUS

There are scraps of cardboard

flattened by pedestrians walking on the sidewalk

whores for every pocketbook

self-conscious youths puff cigarettes

strolling along the waterfront:

as the tide slapping the quay

in the early morning air

speaks the rhythm of a journey beginning

sitting outside a cafe, a cup of coffee,

a pen and notebook on the white tablecloth

serve as battlements;

anticipating the day

the Sun begins its track upon the sky

Stepping upon the path without a destination

sight and sense as guides

the page of a newspaper blows across the way

your mind registers a bright blue and white striped awning

moving innocuously in the morning breeze

and the thought that it will be buried

amid the myriad impressions of: one's life

A car's engine echoes off the timeless masonry

of the town's walls; the car is straining up the hill

Who is driving? Where?

the Sun tracks across the sky

rising toward its zenith

Lunch is a fresh peach

bought from the brown wrinkled skin of an old woman's hand

How can you know her;

Why is she here?

to sell a fresh peach

so that your journey may continue;

dogs move quickly across the road

glancing sidelong, rejecting celebrity

A drunken sailor exits a bar into the bright day

for what purpose, why at this moment?

the Sun tracks across the sky

there is a melody from a guitar

farther up the road

the music causes an emotional identification

distinct, involuntary

as the sound layers a soft cover

over the stone environs

lifting your mood to a place of acceptance

to the intrusiveness of static reality

The young ones smoke a few more cigarettes

and walk in desultory order

as the sun tracks below the horizon

the waves lap against the quayside

speaking in soft tones the cadence of mortality

the white full moon in the indigo sky

is the last thing visible

As the dream slips into its place,

a place only you have seen.

d'Agate copyright ONEOFFPRESS@gmail.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

2008-04-02T18:41:00.000-04:00

THE NIGHT THE WORLD CAUGHT FIRE

I was sitting in my den listening to the sound

of logs crackling in the hearth

on occasion I lit my pipe

and read "La Mordida"

the hearthstone watched me closely

imploring calm; a plea from abroad

the wind in winter's treetops made its usual timpanum

in my ear

and a sound drew near

a sound of a low roar, steady rising

without alarm I moved toward the louvred windows

to draw the blind,

when lightning scorched the pine

of my heart

and split it apart by a meadow fair

I stepped to the hammer,

and saw crickets playing checkers

I stepped one-half step back

and the fire rose around me

consuming all dross

filling my soul with light

I was happy to know why the bush

was not consumed by the flame

d'Agate copyright 2008 ONE*OFF PRESS

2008-04-02T18:30:00.000-04:00

NEW WORLD ORDER (IV)

mountaintops guide me through

terrains of materialistic vanity

Save me, Jesus, save me

from the folly of man

I worship in a cold place

the air is thin, as outer space

but my sprit is surrounded by a misty presence there

and walking on the precipice I am upheld

with boundless grace

it is in this ethereal heaven

that I see a Face

d'Agate

2008-03-27T13:42:00.000-04:00

WHAT DO YOU SEE WHEN NOTHING IS THERE?

in a room with four walls

the radio plays static

I've called everyone I thought would be home

but got no answer

and my head is throbbing

and my head keeps asking

for a voice to hear

the drugs are gone

they were eaten days ago

or greedily inhaled

and money is so low

and the room is not getting any bigger

the phone will not ring

the walls will not speak

and my thoughts are lethargic

hornets bending time;

if only she would call,

then what?

our minds never met after twenty years

but she was my muse

and what have I learned?

except being alone is an impossible

daringly cruel, beautiful fate

d'Agate ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

2008-03-27T13:19:00.000-04:00

NEW WORLD ORDER (III)

whistle my whinny here she goes

flash past my windows

over closed space is unlimited

when you cry

tears of tenderness fall from the sky

way up above a line drops down

touch me lightly, take off your gown

you feel better in your underwear

step right up I'll take you there

to the land past Heaven's pearly gates

I feel you panting, I feel the weight

of many sad realities

alright, OK, I'll take you straight

to the place you can't get out of your head

is calling, calling, know what I said

about all the sad reality

play the whistle on the Raging Sea,

be with me

d'Agate copyright ONE*OFF PRESS@gmail.com

2008-03-25T12:06:00.000-04:00

NEW WORLD ORDER (II)

I've been expunged by propinquity

turned Reality into tin whistles

played by golden harps floating

on the wicked sea

cracked bullwhips, trusted Time

let down, squandered, forgotten

SINE QUA NON; esta bene, con sum OK

tightly I toss each new day

fare thee well Forever

I return to my raison d'etre

moment learned, each a different Eternity

Picture that* You and me

Burn the books you're gonna nead

get right down on your knees

'cause the man overhead overheard your story

jig's up kid, morning glory

Red, white, blue, yellow dog screams

past apocalyptic eventualities

the rattler's gotcha now

you're gonna recieve

Help from above, on your knees

Help from above, on your knees

Help from above; if you please

copyright d'Agate ONEOFFPRESS@gmail.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED