Previous Page Renderings pete K Sometimes... I feel so low and blue My life's worth nothing through and through Though I struggle day and night It seems I never see the light I'm always searching high and low never knowing where to go And when I thnk I've reached my end I hear the message the angels send You live your life from day to day the voices tell me that I'm OK Now I know what I must do I tell myself "This much is True" -------------------------------------------------- 4:35 in the morning, hurrying off to work. Its dark outside riding my bike But I’ve learned the curbs. Made my way to the main office sweating, ready to go. Three hours later waiting, ready to roll back home. One more cup of coffee is all I’ll really need. Spilled it on the floor and nobody seen. Told them since there isn’t any work today. Let me clean up the mess for a one-hour wage. ….and they said O.K. --------------------------------------------------- You can tell when the black dog is home The bed goes unmade The letters don’t get writ that which arrives is junk The ringing phone is an accident It’s the black dog calling from somewhere bow wow wowing on a wire dogging them on It’s the worst feeling I know this feeling of no feeling that feeling that all feeling’s fled Thoughts don’t conclude sentences go unfinished there wasn’t anything to say anyway and no one to say it to The black dog is here howling at an eclipsed moon There is nothing to eat nothing to smoke nada to drink that’ll chase him away Steady as a pug tenacious as a pit the black dog remains lifting its leg on all you hold dear He remains faithful till finally you bare your teeth scare him off knowing it is one or the both of you and regardless he’ll be back ------------------------------------------------- I met an Angel on the bus today. Her husband asked her for money… when he saw her on the street last week. She showed me his handiwork. Lifted her upper lip revealing a renegade tooth jammed above the gum line. He used to stumble across the night… into her room Until the day she took a trip to the hardware store – bought the biggest screwdriver she could find. Angel smiles at every single person she sees. Shifts her large, dark frame onto the bus seat tucking her bags around her like small children. The fabric of her dress comes to life. Swirls of fuchsia, neon, blue and gold race through an undercurrent of black silk. She was born with blond hair she hated, too strange, she said, against her black skin. Unwrapping a circle of tightly woven braids, she releases festive ribbons shows what’s left of her hair. A patchy scalp… violently acquired case of epilepsy the only crown of matrimony she now wears. Gathering her bags around her, she checks and double checks her belongings. She wants to store a few things away from the shelter. She tells me about the druggie who creeps around at night, scavenging through people’s things. “She thinks I’m asleep,” Angel scoffs. “I never sleep with both eyes closed.” Opening her favorite backpack, she shares her collection of neon pens. A glimpse into a notebook, lined with black pages, uncovers swirls of vibrant color. Finding their way into shapes, Flowers, bursts of electricity – Set free by the loveliest woman alive. ----------------------------------------------------- Waking Too Soon A winter gray could rolls back and forth through my head. My eyes open to November light and I wake as a character in a Beckett play. I lie in bed while minutes arise and fade and wonder how I got to this place in my life where nothing happens and some mornings I lack will. Out on Greenwood Avenue, cars sweep cold blasts up and down the asphalt – a sound track repeating itself over and over. I hear every cough and rasp of woman laughter in the alleyway. My thoughts gather into a low overcast as I stare at the scarred, wooden wall on the sleeping alcove in my tiny apartment in this building, circa 1962 – formerly a motel. I should get up but would rather return to the velvet ether of sleep. ------------------------------------------------ THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM In the colds and flus of winter The rainy season of summer On these pavements I live, sleep maybe and will die Covered by cardboard boxes and plastics And yet still the noises of the streets is in my ears Harassment and abuse From those with authority I receive I feel no longer human Neglected, condemned and un wanted Still hoping for a better life But its impossible, nothing looks positive I wish all cats, dogs and rats Get killed and be alone So as to ease my burden When searching for food For it’s only in these dumpsters And battered garbage cans Only they can solve my problem They are my sustainer I hope one day, the best will come My dream is to see the positive The better side of things I have a dream to live Not lie the way I am now I am tired of cold sidewalks I want something better NOW