You are God, you do not exist to me.
Are you the god responsible for mur-
dering millions of children every year?
If you did one thing, you do all things. Take
your blame, God. You alone are on trial.
/
Answer for your sins. Explain your transgre-
ssions against humankind. You alone must
pay for the pain imposed on this planet.
The time for faith has passed, take action now,
before you lose your weak hold on my life.
/
Why did you take my father? My daughter?
Give me back my loved ones and I will be-
gin to consider my belief again.
You who have claimed piety, stand for me
and justify my suffering at once!
/
You are still absent, what demands your at-
tention more than this? Are there more pressing
concerns in your kingdom of dirt? What is
more vital than claiming your forgotten
son? I abstain from this myth forever.

STAND AND MARCH
FACE YOUR ABUSER
SHOW HIM YOUR WORTH
SPARE HIM NO PAIN
HE SPARED YOU NONE
/
MARCH BEHIND HER
SHE STANDS TALL
EMPOWERED BY SUPPORT
SHE WILL PREVAIL
THE PATRIARCHY WILL FALL
/
HIS REIGN ENDS SOON
HERS WILL SOON BEGIN
THE ERA OF THE WOMAN
HOW NEEDED IT IS NOW
SHE IS ON THE HORIZON
/
SHE IS THE HORIZON
MARCH BEHIND HER

NEVER HAVE I SUFFERED MORE
NEVER HAVE I FELT SUCH PAIN
LOSS HAS STRUCK ME TO MY CORE
/
YET, I FEEL, I MUST REMAIN
DEMONS HAUNT ME IN MY SOUL
LIFE, I'LL GIVE, BUT NOT IN VAIN
/
WORTHY AM I OF NO DOLE
SHIP MY PITH TO DIGNITAS
TO DEAR CHARON, PAY THE TOLL
/
LORD ABOVE PLEASE GRANT ME PAUSE
YOU ALONE I WILL ADORE
TAKE MY LOVE AND GIVE ME CAUSE
/
NEVER HAVE I SUFFERED MORE
STILL, FOR LIFE, I AM A *****

A Villanelle poetic form
Is a Nineteen line poem
5 Stanzas of three lines
Followed by a single Stanza of four lines
Two refrains and two repeating rhymes
Rhyme patterns
A1 ,b A2.a,b ,A1.a,b,A2.a,b,A1.a,b,A2 ,a,b,A1,A2
Here is a famous Villanelle by Dylan Thomas.
1914-1953.
~~~~~~~~~
Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rage at close of day
Rage ,rage , against the dying of the light

Though wise men at their end know dark is right.
Because their words had forked no lightening they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men the last wave by crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a Green Bay.
Rage,rage, against the dying of the light

Wild men who caught and sang the men in flight.
And learned too late ; they grieved it on its way
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men near death , who see with blinding sight.
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay
Rage,rage against the dying of the light

And you my father there on the sad height
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted by Philip as a Villanelle Exercise.
December 7th 2018.

for Ali, Ali, Ali, a daughter by any other name
                                                        (April 2014)
Dear Nat,

your letter caught me up,
at the Village Vanguard bar,
so addressed and there saved,
knowing, believing it's a sign,
time to meet fleshed again,
my sometimes sub-let
neighborhood friend

doing a gig there
this weekend
finishing up the tour
where it all began,
nothing gonna change my mind,
in the city that's where I'm staying.

the road is calling out my name,
but I ain't walking out the door anytime soon,
they want too much body and soul,
but don't worry once or even twice,
got some cash, it's all right

early afternoon, bar empty,
got a few rainy minutes,
got me paper n' pen
and a beer, from the
bar man who also gets
me whatever else I need (haha)

sorry I missed you in Cleveland,
you, back in New York when
I'm finally out your way,
ain't just like fate,
to make us ache so all alone

read your lyrics,
made making some suggestions,
like a baby's new clothes,
lots of bows, a few lines fell
down onto the floor
can't be found
like broken pearls on a dance floor

J. sends regards,
told her what you wrote about
A Long Black Veil, she laughed,
promises she will wear one
when next we all three meet

touring was good and hard,
traveling time is writing time,
but sitting here thinking
how many years have passed and gone
since we first met,
so many roads different taken
by many a first friend,
each one I've never seen against,
let's not that happen to us

rail riding done for awhile,
see ya back on Bleecker Street,
if we're still "cool"
we'll have that fire burning!
Ok, we'll swap some  lines, fine,
but I want, claiming dibs
on that ole easy chair

P.S. got the rent money covered till your return in the summer

Bobby
April 1968
~~~~~~~~~
Between 1968 and 1973,
split my time tween Cleveland and NYC,
before returning to ny full time in the summer of '71.

I lived at 352 Bleecker,
above the long gone
but now moved to Brooklyn,
Pink Teacup restaurant. The eyetalian bakery on the corner of Bleecker and Seventh Ave., long time gone...almost fifty freaking years ago...anyway...I think the stain glass window is still there, gonna have to check it out...shoot forgot about Google Earth!

Dylan got it first, as he often did,
That American youth were ignorant kids,
Betrayed by the things our parents hid.
And we were insulted just a little bit
But we listened and took the plunge,
Determined to expunge
The poison and let out the Id.

It was up to us not heed the call up
And as one voice we stood up,
Saying, shouting NO!

Twenty or so legendary years for some;
While others sold out, we beat the drum.
Our peers oddly died around us but….
Even as we ‘felt those cold hands’ touch our skin,
As The Capitalists were closing in—
& Some of them were us…
We sounded the drum.

Later on some hippie-punks or is it the other way(?)
Sang about extraordinary girls & then took a fall.
Sometimes begged for Novocain
Which wouldn’t relieve psychic pain,
Like being Ramonely sedated in a concert hall.
Nobody knew what to do with them.
Except to give them fame.

(It was just as bad for them as for the Clash)…
Hell, they almost invented the mash-up.
And too many anti-hippie punks
Loaded on cheap ****** or always drunk,
Claimed all those heroes had sold out.
But Ziggy would’ve known Ash from Ash.

Then came their Blood on the Tracks;
They finally saw what Dylan saw,
Or, if they saw it before,
They got some Real Emotion back.

Nothing has changed and everything has changed,
Said The Heathen…and he should know.

But how do we see, stuck here ‘so far below’,
Not remotely in the know;
They might be on an intergalactic trip
Or as in “A.I”, nothing more than a binary blip?
But encased in virtual ice, how can we live?
Until the end…and even then…
As John wrote, we only get the love we give.

i want you,
in every way there is to want a person.

from lazy rainy days
sitting around in underwear,
wrapped up in the covers
enveloped in each other.

to lustful late nights
high happy and in love,
too absorbed with each other
to focus on anything else.

i want you.
and i see so much in you
that counting all your perfections
would be like counting the stars,
there's too many to keep track of
and they just seem endless.

i am utterly in love
with every inch of your being,
every corner of your mind
and everything in between

i might not know what i believe
or where i'm going
or what i'm doing,
but i do hope
you'll hold my hand
and wander blindly with me.
because as long as i'm with you
i don't need a destination,
you are the journey.

i am simply enamored with your entity,
captivated by your character,
fascinated
infatuated
amorous
in love.

I walk through these days
In a blur
I question reality.
Feeling timeless
Although I am a creature of time.

And sometimes-
I wish I were an animal
Because they truly live without worry.
And then they die
But death doesn't stop them from living.

And I want that.
I want to live without the thought of death.
I don't want to die in a hospital bed like those before me.
I want to rage against the dying of the light
As Thomas once said.

And I want to love
And love deeply
And together there will be no time,
Just us.
Just until we are no more.

The times they-are a-changin;
you ain't going nowhere.

Not dark yet,
rainy day women

subterranean homesick blues,
if not for you --
when the deal goes down,
lay, lady, lay.

I shall be released;
blowin' in the wind,
like a rolling stone

Down the highway.

Girl from the north county;
mr tambourine man,
jokerman,
ring them bells.

With god on our side,
to Ramona—
it takes a lot to laugh,
it takes a train to cry