Collected Poems 2
By Lee Rector
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The House of the Real Poets
Here I am in a house like no other house
Filled with real poets.
And I must write “again’ ‘em”
Lest I be counted out.
In so many ways it’s a game –
Posturing words into immaculate expression
Twisting, turning thoughts at angles
Not yet calculated, not yet exhumed.
In some ways I’m afraid, yes afraid!
I had it made in the shade
Where I laid un-a-ba-ted
In a house filled with no poets.
Now I confess, I’m a mess
I egress with the rest
In the morass that I pass
On the way to display…
In the house filled with real poets.
1981 Xmas Card Sentiment
Have faith in your heavenly Father
Trust in his watchful overcare
Believe in your worth
And know that he is always there.
Know that the path of life is good
And that to lead is but to follow
The urges of your higher self
Into the light of a new tomorrow.
Have trust in your heavenly father
For he will provide you with your needs
Give him your heart, your soul, your mind
So you can work his wondrous deeds.
Oh roaring dancing flame of manly blame,
The teeth grow stronger with every motion.
And, “Aye,” you say that you shall repress the
Injustice by rebellious rogues of youth.
Tense times, tenacious tyrants trouble you
As fleecing through boudoirs inside your bowels.
Beware of the fight that has no fight
For the curse of the might may prove riot right.
And what about the man who has no tune and sits
Alone in a strange saloon
Looking at the TV over the bar?
The man who sits in half-lit rooms
Accustomed to the sound of pool balls clicking
Coins dropping into long distance pay phones
And what about the man who has no home?
The man who stuffed liquor into his stomach
To spin his head into a warm soothing loneliness
The awkward man who walks carefully
Trying not to stumble
Though the liquor and the pavement
And the shoestrings challenge progress
Least he bumble.
The suited man
As he tightens his tie, after carefully
Buttoning the top button of his shirt
The doorman greets him with, “Good morning, sir”
And the bellboy winks his insinuating grin
…on one’s way up to bed.
And how about that barmaid who looked at him
With her sharp eyes through the ice
And the yellow of her Bourbon glass
Blowing her stinch cigarette breath
Past a chomp of stale gray gum…
Or so it appeared.
Her false lash caught his eye
Her lipstick smiled. She fluttered.
Did his heart jump as she walked by?
Was she almost…distinct?
Did she have the trademark twitch
As she picked up tips and drinks?
What a show, what a teaser
Tight hot pants. What a pleaser…
And the way she wards off men.
Longing for the smell of a woman
Unscented of canned perfumed spray
And cheap bottled cover-overs
Real woman, real smell.
But not tonight.
Over is the a chance to see
Warmth in someone’s eyes
To savor the taste of a wet smile
Hear the rat scream?
Now slip your tongue
Inside your mouth
And live or die…
Oh, your eyes are still closed?
The most expressive part of your body
And not even exposed.
A Dark Thought
He had a dark thought
It brightened his imagination
And as it hung in his mind
It turned to infatuation
It wove a tapestry too rich to be ignored
Consisting of taste, touch, smell,
So real, was such a place to dwell
Through cultivation, fertilized
The thought took flight before his eyes
And in his ears it did resound
It came to life and left the ground
He had a soaring thought
Given mind, and soul, and form
Through breath of life
It was turning warm
And as intensity increased
A flower opened and released
Pollen to multiply … this thought.
All of my life led up to this moment right here
Every thought, deed, emotion
It’s quite clear
And as I have this quiet reflection
I see how I can change direction
It’s suddenly all so clear
By laying down my protective spear
How shall I make this moment dear?
Copyright 1961-Present, Lee Rector. All Rights Reserved.