No forked tongue,
Only the truth.
I slept with dragons
In my youth.
Lust and Ladies,
Along with booze,
Their fiery breaths
Bade me to choose.
Now, the end is near,
And I seek redemption.
Hot dragons whisper
Harshly, ‘No exemption’.
Flashing before me in
Giant reptilian themes,
I toss on a rumpled bed
Of ignominious dreams.
So, brothers of the bond,
Hearken to my broken life.
Seek love and nobility
In the arms of your wife.
Avoid the paths before you
That lead to Dragon caves
And sleep not with them
To reach dishonored graves.
Billy Ray Chitwood – February 17, 2017s
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The man’s countenance projected a sorrowful and faraway expression as his body found some measure of comfort against the boulder just below the rise of the hill. The spot was his place of meditation.
He came during darkness after the awful TV news of a mob’s protest turned violent killing innocents and destroying property over several city blocks.
In the dark quietness he lifted his tenor saxophone toward the starlit sky and filled the cool air with soft mellifluous notes, springing from a well of remembered love songs. The soft notes floated upward toward a Deity the man could never forsake, to the Omniscient and Omnipotent King of Kings, the golden instrument praying in its way for the miracle of Love and Peace.
Tears came to dry upon his face time and again as the agony of soul sought release. The anger and hate of hooded protesters could not stop the madness that plagued the Earth. Only the merger of kindred minds could bring the world together.
The man watched the sunrise from his spot of somber solitude, and a spiritual stirring came to his body, a feeling of some respite, a sense of Designed Expectation.
He rose, placed his saxophone in its case and walked from the hill. He was sure he could hear the rapturous sounds of his saxophone in the air behind him.
Billy Ray Chitwood – February 11, 2017
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Grains of Time
As young Undaunted men
Courting the Pretty Girls,
Filling frivolous moments
In search of some vague
And haunting Realities,
Time was not a relative thing.
We Lotus Eaters thought
Little about life’s Timeline.
For we were going to live
Forever in that misty amber
World of Mahogany Bars
And Tinkling highball glasses.
We made love to lovely women,
Came close at times to a
Modicum of Maturity, only to be
Dashed by other pretty faces
In the crowd and those alluring,
Tinkling, highball glasses.
We wrote our insipid poetry on
Bar napkins and business cards,
Those droll lines that joined us
In our painful Morning hangovers
Along with black coffee and the
All day ingestion of breath mints.
At our ‘Reunion’ last year, all of us
Now happily settled down with
Wives, grown children, grandkids,
And ‘Arthur’, we tipped Highball
Glasses once again and agreed:
‘Our Way was the Only Way!’
Billy Ray Chitwood – February 5, 2017
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Author Website: http://billyraychitwood.com