Post 37- Another Big Project!

Today i finished my work on a poetic manuscript. Inside are a few old poems i've posted the last few months, but there's also a lot of newer material.

Enjoy, comment, and $upport!

The Book of

-W-

By Howard Noggle

Waning Moonlight

Wither

Go to that Dark Place

It is where things go

To Waste Away

Be sure to pack

Something to warm you

Cold awaits

Go to that Dark Place

When you're in the Light

The chill of your bones

May be warmed by solidarity

A student packs his bags

And a maid cleans the halls

Sun glares through windows

Ignore the sense of self

Trick your mind to follow

Down

Into the pit

You're hopes

Are Simple

Compound them all

But forget sensibility

And devour instead

Any loose material

It may prolong your time

For you

Are only as good

As what you want

And when you drift apart

From the ones you love

Do not fear the

Wither

What's In The Fog

What is in that fog

That rolls over the San Francisco Bridge

There's a sort of fluffy consistency

That reminds you of marshmallows by the fire

Only wetter

Why am I enthralled by a natural occurrence

It might be related to the fear

Of something in the fog

Trying to hunt me down and find me

It half blind like me

Only able to look ahead

Perhaps the mist is meant to remind us

Of the unforeseen

The possibility

Of being hunted

The probability

Of what is really in the fog

Willing

I will to be

To see the combing clouds

Drift across the scalp of the Earth

I will to be

A man that doesn't smoke but meditates

In a shack by the pond

On our beastial nature

I will to hunt

Over flowing fields of grain

On top of mountains

And be seen

I will

Become what we forget

And run amok in the wilds

Through the books of wolves

Will

You join me?

Wild

Nathaniel Hawthorne sat next to a source of water

For quite some time

Pondering and writing

Providing for himself

What he discovered I learned

Over a year of smoking in all kinds of weather

Through ran that dampened the light

And wind that snuffed out the flames

We are Wild Creatures

In artificial jungles

We eat the souls of progress

And justify our means through

A curved sense

That lingers

The purpose of man isn't civilization

It is competitive in nature

In that way we have greatly exceeded expectation

If only in the blink of time it took to make us

Wilder

Where the wolf takes as it's spouse a fallow doe

Ghenghis took the world

He mounted it and rode it hard

And we all sweated blood for his conquests

Where river meets ice and mountain breaks sky

We look around and admire the natural beauty

And where shiny earthen metals protrude

We take and create the images we lust after

We are the powerful and wilder monsters

Cast into illusion

Left to consume at our whims

Who is Man to take what he did not earn

So it is that we connect with the planet

Biding time until a drop of water

In the vast sea

Dries up entirely

Waning Moonlight

Upon the eve of despair

Cursed by greed and gluttony

I stood and watched the sun rise

Shadows danced across every earthly construct

Beheld in the splendor of a tune

That I listed to

Leaning peons had no recourse

In the silence of a sunrise

While heat chilled the bones

I grew complacent

Comfortable

Until the night came again

And our bright and shiny moon

Continued to wane

Waxing People

Where We're Going

The end

Is entirely up to us

What we choose to do

Is reliant upon

What we think everyone

Else is doing

And why we do

What we will do

Is only as important

As the way

In which we do it.

And if we're not careful,

Then there won't be

Anything we can do.

Where we're going.

What We're Made Of

I found myself wondering this morning

And last night in particular

What we're all made of.

There's oil and water,

Dirt and grime,

Rag and bone,

Blood, snot,

Skin, nail,

Brain,

And instinct all wrapped up in us.

But we've got thought and we like to use it too.

And here's something a little less known;

The warm sense of beach sand against our toes,

The cool breeze of winter upon our cheeks,

A greater sense of knowing that we just can't place,

Something soothing and calming and understanding all at once.

Some might call it being at peace

But I call it being beside Peace

Because we're not exactly a peaceful species.

Perhaps the most interesting part

Of us

Is that one particular spark;

Patterned

Like the web of constellations in us,

Spider webbed through our toes,

The toes of dancers that curl and know the feeling

Of a matted floor or a wooden high beam,

Or the fingers of a writer

That love the curve of a pen meant to fit

Or the click of a keyboard.

That twinge in our nose hairs at the

First frost

Or the warm feeling

In the after glow

Where she's rubbing your back

And you're both smiling

At one another

Like nothing ever happened

And you're just 'Happy to be here, folks'.

And every once in a while

A couple of little transistors

Up in that head of ours

Go off in just the right sequence

And we feel happy,

Or At Peace,

And it's all leading

To one grand thought

Blooming like a rose

In the middle of fall.

Odd, but not entirely out of place.

We've all got that spark:

A little light of brilliance

That puts even sunrise to shame.

Where We're Going

The end

Is entirely up to us

What we choose to do

Is reliant upon

What we think everyone

Else is doing

And why we do

What we will do

Is only as important

As the way

In which we do it.

And if we're not careful,

Then there won't be

Anything we can do.

Where we're going.

Want

I used to dream, but now I stay awake.

My body is rocking,

And I'm angry at my sheets.

'They're too tight' I keep saying,

'They're choking me'.

I used to dream, but now I stay awake.

My family doesn't understand.

They won't believe

I have real problems quitting.

All I want is to sleep.

I used to dream, but now I stay awake.

An itch festers in me,

Poking and prodding into my conscience.

'Sleep,' it says,

'Go to sleep.'

But my family says I can't anymore.

I used to dream, but now I stay awake.

When I can finally stand

I've lost track of time.

There is no one left that I knew,

And no comfort awaits me

In eternity.

I used to live,

But now I stay awake.

What Is Left

Wife.

Judy.

She doesn't want to live here anymore.

Judge.

Ruling.

Judy can take her life somewhere else.

Take.

She takes.

She's taking it all.

Kitchen sink.

Dishwasher.

Dryer.

Everything she's going to need in her new home.

T.V. Bank account. Kids.

Office chair.

Spare tire.

She doesn't forget to get a little greedy by the end.

The Mercedes.

My promotion.

She keeps taking,

Taking more than she can carry.

The house she rolls away

Down the freeway.

My soul she bottles up

Like a genie.

My memory she blows away,

The dust of a life.

She kicks my dignity down the street

And punts it into traffic.

She sucks out my words and

Eats my liver

Now I can't drink this away.

And then she slaps me to break my pride.

Anger is all that's left.

For that,

She offers to take me back.

I can't remember ever leaving.

Waxing People

We chose to wax our dog

when he died

thinking it would allow the sense of memory to return.

It's more real, we said.

Like he's still hear, watching over us

and barking in case

the neighbor's cat got out

or a burglar broke our glass.

He was always faster then us,

running ahead

speeding his way into the street.

I suppose waxing him to let him stay with us forever

is a bit cruel

considering he ran himself

to death before us.

I don't think we'll wax our parents when they kick the bucket.

The Book Of -W-

The Book of -W-

Features only the most exclusive ideas

Of what and who we wish to be.

It is personal and unique

To every individual

Who braves the dusty tome's pages.

Inside the gold-leaf is a kinder ritual of

Self-impotence

Where you're all turned into gods

And told to run the universe.

Only thing is,

The Book of -W- pretends we're capable enough

Willing enough

To try,

When we'd all rather

Just look out for ourselves

In a universe

Consisting of singular perspective.

And the goal:

It's yours to decide.

Whether man stay beast or banish their gods of fate.