Where I Have Been

I just wanted to let everyone know that I am writing three seperate blogs now and I wanted to pass on the addresses just in case anyone wanted to keep reading what I am putting out there. Here are the addresses and a brief description of what is on each:

reknowltoniii.blogstream.com/ - this is where all of my new poetry can be found. I have been blogging on BlogStream as long as I have here on Blogger and have come to enjoy the 'community' there as well as the interaction process.

richardknowlton.blogstream.com/ - this is where I am writing prose and essays. All posts with a 'bonus' designation in the title are prose and all others are essays on society and politics. I have kept this 99.9% prose lately and have a few short stories up that alot of people have enjoyed.

simplyybr.blogstream.com/ - this is my fun 'bloggy' blog. I have been posting video clips, music, and pictures and over-all just sharing and having a good time with it.

I hope you all get a chance to check out what I have been doing and I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has read my work or commented in the past - THANK YOU!

Be well and smile.

Godspeed.

R.E. Knowlton III

Appologies to Dawn

to listen into
each morning
while it gets ready for the day
to gaze into
the respect
of night that day must have

And I could not write any further beyond that, in that mode of code and so on and so forth; something still shines on

onto better mornings before the night lets go ...

to take and not get back

and all of the fury
drips down
like shutter paint
on sills that
New England mornings
won't take inside the womb
and make comfortable
with slippers
tall scotches
packed pipes
dog pants of
obedience and
floppy, floopy ears
Rockwell paintings gone awry
I have lived them
you say 'no'
you think they do not exist
not in minds
not in kinds
not in paintings hung high
not in me
not with me
New Enlgand mornings
complete with greyed out
mornings of Rockport dismal
the days of black out
the days of Bearskin Neck
Hannah Jumper coaxes
necks to be hung and cut
but no one does
they buy you more drinks
and no one seems any wiser
except on the days of spouse birthdays

what is LA all about?

trebuchet my love
whip it back
and call me a name
that no other could
and all the while
the match stick men
collide and collaborate
in my den
with pipes a flared
and book spines groped
as if in Never Land
and the ranch is only miles away
yet the ones that figure out
what could go down
are only left in lawsuits
that seek no fruition
and only a simple gesture
of what the Laugh Factory could
encompus as the 'N' word
and what that might mean to us all
if we only stopped to wonder
what a word meant
if we only meant them at all
or took the time
the pure simple time
to write them down
and caress them like children
babes in cloth
sweet times of innocense and simple thought
easy interpretation
and awfully awful days
need be to us all
yes, need be indeed

talk with a girl preacher; a simple, satisfying talk

sterile the thought
simple the day
little known from
where it once was
and there are the days
littered in lingering sunshine
and thoughts of forlorn forefathers
and all of the such
that make young boys cry
and weep for better saxophone solos
that make leaves fall from trees
and make horse shit
pick itself up
from parkways
and driveways
and all the other ways
in which we travel
little girls squeel
and hold tight each other
at the thought
the simplest thought
of too many candles
too much wax
too much fire
contained in the heart
of a man that shook His hand
and took it for what it is
through all of the days
all of the nights
and any time in between
anything once known
all welcome and read through out
John,
John the Baptist
I can hear the notes
and the paper waivers
and shakes about
in a breeze that was never meant to be there
not even in the typing

what happens to snowmen that never become men?

surly white snow
and all of it's fixin's
gathered in flakes
and drifts and the banks
with salty dirt piss stains
of brown, yellow fancy
like the rottened out teeth
of stinking bar whores
with their menthol 120's
and angry little drinks
containing nothing but booze
the ether escapes
from twixt the gaps
and 'tween the gum holes
like reverse vacuums
of reality's shortcomings
anouncing to the world
that reality's limp
a little smidgen of post
that doesn't last long
but likes to pull hair
and obscenely scream out
making the neighbors
bang on the walls
the pounding
the pushing
the screaming and yelling
and that's just the neighbors
fighting the sounds
and found down and out
outside the room
is a yellowed out snow bank
seeking to melt
wishing to crawl quick
into the bedroom
and gaze ever so briefly
at violent love

full range regret

warming back up to quick thoughts
like a mesquite cowboy
with well worn leather chaps
covering dungarees
before they were jeans
holding nothing but a stick
to stoke the embers bright
for the pot of beans
that will never reach tasteful
and only be consumed
out of need to ride the night
into dawns filled with sage
like dresses so dirty
they should not be worn
by the girls in the towns
so far away
from the burning black cauldron
of quick thought beans
and how they might taste

hidden infatuation

salty marimbas
that don't amount to much
on the shelves of bossa novas
that never happened
not even in the imagination
of Isaac Azimov
or any of his thoughtless thoughts
the ones he never wrote of
the ones he hid under his bed
and only pulled out
when the day was done
the side burns just so
the slacks hung so
prim and proper by the bed
on a hanger that wishes
it was not just Azimov
but rather the thoughts
he never thought
and the words never used to express them

sideshow afternoon

foliage of another time
garden walks wind up in filth
the dirt of the day
caressing molestations
in the grass, in the bush
days forgotten
days remembered
blended and shredded all at once
a Cuisinart of emotion
a flury fury
a simple gesture
from a jestor
makes one explode
with the grime and grit
the gorged glutton
explosions for all to see
you need only pay a nickle
and no one yet has seen the buffalo

swimming lessons

eyes burnt out
with hot metal fury
hot medal fury
fury indeed
never a need to hear again
nor the need to see
shut it all down and cry
cry tear drops from your mouth
disguised as drool
so no one knows
no one at all
keep that mouth moving
open, shut
open again
hold your nose tight
dive into the pool
don't breathe
can't see
stop and smell the underwater flowers
all the while they wonder
'what does he know?'

involuntary yoga

with the air
escaping from your head
a swish, a swoosh
and no amount of breathing
can replenish
what now is lost
never had, never will
in
out
exhale
inhale
the air keeps escaping
escaping from your head

wake up

dance shaken scared
by the eyes you can't see
the ones that teeter and twitter
behind the minds that bind them
strut castrated days
too much to take in
and still the minds find flaw
not enough there
to walk about slowly
with nothing but pennance deep in your heart
something so sudden
without caustic cause
doesn't seem so sudden when rubbed out like sleep
doesn't seem so sudden when rubbed out like sleep

born with no direction

standing atop the cobblestone curb
the straight line of the bridge
greened over by the age of the waters below
the smell of long forgotten clean sheets
the days of purpose long gone
no more water than cobblestone
straight lines
straight lines
straight lines
and then the rain falls down like children
from drunken storks with slippery beaks

questions from a diner counter

mornings with Spaulding Grey
nights with Klaus Nomi
luncheons that only occur in your mind
simple thoughts kept at bay
simple thoughts released throughout
mid-day hunger can drive one mad, insane
was this a tea party meaning
was this a flatulent thought
if only I were to eat lunch it might just go away

nuptials

shards of black evil
shatter out
into the night
where they disappear
into like
mirrored spinning blades
of light's absense
while the charcoal
flies
no veil
no train
no gown
but rather an end
to what could have been

dinnner at moms

put my brain under the pillow
hope the fairy comes in the night
gives me one more peek
at visions gone
like lolipop licked luster
forever slathered away in one
fell swoop of a tongue
long gone
cast aside
pushed away
until the lesbian revolution
when
it will come into play
once again
and and only then
will this tongue make it's mark
sticking out straight
and long
in a jesture
of jester's past
the strongest muscle baby,
the strongest one

mea culpa

Walk me down to MacArthur Park
Stroll me down through Washington Square
See the lights and sing out the passion
of never was
of couldn't be there
in a day and age when children screamed louder
for things they should not have
take away the cell phone
take away the baited breath
make them breathe again
take out the rubber nipple force the real on in
make them know the maker
is not a sperm donor
somewhere in Jersey
praying that genetics don't make him
responsible
because his
kids
aren't

Insicor

Know that I speak of pain
of fury
of anger
of hurt
of degradation and disregard
of granted taken far beyond the bounds
know that I know
even when I do not look like I do
I get it
It makes sense to me
when it doesn't maybe I'l shut up
but until then
you better keep your hands in your pockets
your arms folded
your legs crossed
and
your mouth shut
it will back fire
I will tak out a large chunk
in one
big
bite

Buy Me

The slow delve into the deep throat
lower that voice
seem intimidating
seem angry
seem serious
know that the world hurts
hurts like a Stone's song
that never was played
through the headphones
of a kid
mkaing faces as at my man hood
while I buy a bag of chips

The slow delve into the deep throat
lower that voice
seem intimidating
seem angry
seem serious
know that the world hurts
hurts like a Stone's song
that never was played
through the headphones
of a kid
mkaing faces as at my man hood
while I buy a bag of chips

outer space rooster

take my soul
chew it up
rolli t across your tongue
slaiva bath
left deep
inside you soul
an orifice
that does not smile
does not laugh
never says come hither
only licks up one side
down the other
and then I grin
and know where the hen house is
roosters
cocks
find 'em
hunt 'em down
we need more hens
cock to base
we need more hens

farm

Where could you be
in a night so cold
and hot in the day
left aside an dmade to fear
all the other days around it
do the shoes not match
or the socks either
makes sense
throat is sore
neck hurts
and yet the turkeys gobble on

love note

The confusion
of hit here
beat there
bruise me again
and again and again
break a bone to say
I love you
why?
when?
how?
feminism?
angry men?
social castration?
no excuse from either side
no time for time
don't be mad
I just want to talk
just not to you

when I grow up ...

It hurts man
hurts real bad
makes the paint peel
makes children cry
hurts us all
it is eating from whence it came
take it away
like a calgon request
wash this shit right out of my life
the commercials rock on
my beard is grey
my hair is thin
my gut is bigger than Texas
and there are not stars bright enough
to shed light on what has gone down
or why you made it so
cast that ashtray in clay
take away the supper I made
give it to the can
make me smile next time around
it is so much easier
for all of us

Hallmark Card

can someone make it make it
close it close it
slow it down just enough
where we don't need to repeat
I know you are watching
seeing every slash of the alphabet
taking notes
to use against me
not in the library of where
on might find me in in years
years from now
years from when our grand kids will live
but yours all already here
and you watch
casting your judgement
with you chlorine tears
bleaching what should now be clear
but isn't and won't ever be
because
simply put
your a bitch

Iagniappe

Old friend's
back again
gone for so long that salt collects in the memories
back again
ah, old friend's
dance to the spinning of albums left aside
for younger types
wishing you had returned
earlier and sooner and swifter
come back
and you have
to hugs and smiles and cheers
I rejoice with the others lost
without your words
thank you

drum major

drag those sticks
across the skins
and do so with your loving touch
in rhythem
without rhyme
but known to all the love caress
take it in
beat by beat
and make the children dance
shake it here
shake it there
never two will win
just stop shaking and buy the vinyl love
make it shine and know
sticks are just sticks
beats are in the breath

pajama mansion

capsized hearts
mastabatory rage
rip that god damned thing right off
throw it down
make em smile
earn what you got you tiny little man
know that it all comes slow
and only success
can be held within a caloused hand

Make the shuddered shiver
Make the cankerous cry
Take in the lost forgotten whispers
of molesters in the night

I am none of those sins
I know where I stand
Don't be part of that
hold me while I cry and say that you love me

pumpkin night

time to put the sea shells down
time to talk to men of might
time to hem the skirts all wrong
time to dance on through the night
with anger and foot stomps
I do not dance so well
but when the tears come crowding in
the room it clears so very swift
with no mention of the mid night sound
of princes knocking on the door
while sisters gather around the gossip tree
and wonder why I am gone
be glad that I do not see
what has gone on for now
and ever more
the voices shrill like chalk dust tea
and we part ways just the same
each with our own smiles

the beast of blues

not so good these days
much better at
pulsating personality
much better at my rants
rave on and hope for no flashbacks
take me tight in the mother's arms
hope I don't cry
look up
above
avoid the curse of
wash and disrobe
while I am carried high
hoping to be quiet
I know I can't stop
talk on and on
talk until
still no one shuts me up
evil is as evil does
pentacostal fear of scream
I don't even like Frasier Crane

manhattan garden

travel deep through the deserts
dry nights that make you cough
stand tall and know
speak clear and breathe deep your water
drink it down
in the dawns you shun
do not take it all in
take ti with a dose of pride
do not explode
do not make the men cry
the collared men
as you babble long
and
tall
and
proud
and small
with no more
love found within the walls of
primal scream
possesion and Yoko Ono
are not so different

shim sham
rim the scam
and make the eyes wide
while the garden still makes flowers grow

alliteration

bus benches
bother boys
berated by Breslin
before bothersome
boredom by bretherins
bought
bore
berated
berated
berated
bi-coastally
bought

beware bestial betweens before breakfast

I'm into bedtime now

kill me
done
dead
wrapped in a sheet
if they read this; what would they know
done
kill me
dead
and then we read into
what we do not know more than we could want to see
dead
done
kill me
and the music plays on with blonds who cry
red heads too
and brunettes just shudder

they know what happened
they know so
they do not cry

they spit with the ferosity of young men in green clothes with guns

who's palace

pillows
to silent
me
when
nothing but the soft
of pillows mean Vegas
as the dice roll
the cards fall like
whores in bedroom
romps
forgotten by cards
that trace the play
and hope that I
that we
in velvet
come back to say
jackpot
nice fuckin' pillow

an alley

silly little man
put aside
for other times
of other fascination
take no one on
in other lights
where tones shudder deep
and water
refuses to ripple
in the steadfast beliefs
of a solitary
night
when all is dead
not just the moon
whose puckered, pickled
smile
is nothing more than a drunk man
in an alley
who smiles from ear to ear
offering only what he has
nothing

rebirth

make the night
go away
into the night from where it came
make street lights
dance into silence
as the dawn fears it's own birth
the moon should
shun itself back to it's night
where skirts tear
words dance
in eratic gyrations
that leave one drooling
others mystified
left with words dancing
in the front of their tongues
that go on pilgramage from exchange
mothers shun
fathers hide
sisters died
brothers fled
and all said and done
the box and the womb are neither made of pine.

plant me deep in moonlight

sweat
tears of salt
make the men fall down
sweat
like women of disregard
while they cry
for children
tossed aside by the men
where
no one
will make a claim or call
but you are too big to cry
but the salt cleanses
all with a sting
a sting that can only
come from within
as the readings
read on and
the sweat of the children crying
wet shirt backs
as lilacs bloom
and roses bloom
in gardens of secrets
in the peat moss of night

Berlin with a Taste of Birmingham

Too fake
Too wrong
Too much delusion
and only thank you
to Casio can be achieved
Ahhhh
the wonders of tape editing
I only wonder
where
when
how
why
the men
the women
cry
at keyboards that flicker in the night

Possesion

Ok
scandels abound
maps can be wrong
no holiday for me
dance me up in David Lee Roth's
furry boots
spin me neither here or there
but make me know
that when
boys are boys
and
girls are girls
that children are what they are
hold no fury
towards the sun
make no preconceptions of where they go
know that only the sun
only the moon
only anything above us
better than us
have faith and hope in
a child's smile
that makes a man cry
real tears
in the cold of nights where
priests won't even walk
goodnight to the silent children of master's abuse

Bering Straight

call out the soul
in languages that hold no rhythem
that take no prisoners
that make men cry and
make women laugh
like that of warlords
that have killed in battle
the cackles
fray the day and the moment
and hold high the souls of men
who die into the youth
of children's pillows
the demons fly
through the night
on the radio waves
that lay chalk on the ground
as the wake of family
make waves that can not ever be touched
rogue I think they call them

two minutes in the pan handle

the salt ...

come on now ... the salt

let it weep down
like lines of Patsy and of Hank
make the salt flow

From Willie to Graham ...

Like I know what I mean
Like I know what I feel

take me into the sheppard's cloth
take me into the harp strumin' Angel's tears

Southern heart's make their way
they make me cry
sob and try to be me

Gators bite
men hate
God loves

I never knew
I am no better than anyone, but I understand now ...

parson's

burn me alive
let me overdose
and let me thrive
in the shade of the Joshua Tree
let the hotel know
that room keys
fly with the burritos
sing like an angel
of Jesus
make me weep
in the color of men who
do not know
even if they are aware
let the singing
of ladies past
reflect on kin
that can never, ever, be secure in the blankets
of night with the cool breezes blowing
blow on
breathe in and out
with the cool drafts
that need the editing of a drink
be good
be three
be one with what you deny
know that you are meant to cry and
it is nearly forgotton
pick the cotton
and speak ...

night spent worrying about dawn

only the men cry
in huts and shadows that hold the tight
in pages that no one reads
in songs no one hears
in clay molded just for them
hold on dear
sweet prince
of the night
and the darkness
with no script to read
your silken exterior
your flesh like silk
the eyes that say
fuck off
the mind that says
mine
the body that exclaims
dirty
you dirty bastard
with all of the
looks claiming civility
and this is what it has become
nights of no return
and
shadows of what once was
so simple
it was called
US

death's glove

I have written
too many history's
of men
that cringe and shudder
at the thought of my
typing madness
dance the skirts my way
you befuddled son of a bitch
dance my way
and dance so loud
to make the Devil's dance
cloven hoofed boogie
dance, dance, dance
and only the dawn's light will make you see
the waves in the sea
all salty
and sultry
and such
with crystaline
visages of what once was
and what could be
in the refrection
of a pupil's
reaction
I need no more ...

Saint Peter

I am crying oil
for my little girl
take me down and roll me in tar
the tar made of oil
make me dance under
sparkled light
beneath the globe
the polyester's oil
fill my tank and spank me twice
make 'em know that I am wrong
spread my right to left
cast me in a cancer mold
of cankerous folds
strip me down to what I was
and make me picnic with enemies
I want no
day
hour
minute
or phase
of ten million blinks
within the graze of
two hundred men
screaming that
I suck
I am better than that
all I want is the gaze of my seed
with splendor found
in night's darkness

the upinishad's revelry

scrape a knee
wound the flesh
dance about in ridicule
how do you measure up?
do you smell?
I mean have a scent,
These are a few of my many smells
and the Milkmen dance
Is word association a talent?
Is it a curse of intellect?
It is something to cast aside
like a commercial
being pompous in it's velvet flavor
tasting the grit and grind and grade
of sharp particles
waiting to be the pearl
move on
glide on
glisten glide
know that I am gone
I don't want the pearl
life is much more precious than
that
me
or
you
it is more than we know