Mister Rumple Saturday Night

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Professor Gloom
Member Elite

since 2000-07-23

Posts 3082
of Depression

0 posted 2002-09-20 08:00 AM

Harbor lights
Come winking on at the dusk,
Far and near,
There and here,
Lighting streets as skies turn rust,
Shades of red,
Day is shed,
The shadows of night take hold,
Night is made,
Warmth will fade,
Air and spirits growing cold,
Harbor nights
Dark and evil growing bold.

She’d slink along if she didn’t stumble
As she approached the innocent Rumple
Who just sat quietly and watched ship lights,
A cheep streetwalker no lady of night
Offering to give him the best of times,
But all he had was pennies, nickels, and dimes.
Her eyes glazed over at the rejection,
But gone was any inner emotion;
The waxing moon rose over the calm bay,
Rumple knew it was time to go away
The night harbor changed and he must go back,
To his sleep, his dream, to his rumple shack.

Concrete canyons of shadow
Of darkness,
Passage through to tomorrow,
Walk of nightmares real visions,
Through darkness,
Dealers of Satan’s missions
Selling vials of vile to burn,
Suck darkness
Into lungs as death they learn
While indoctrination schools,
Taught darkness
Children become thoughtless fools.

Teenage hoodlums roaming the streets aimless,
Deep into small hours wander darkness,
They leave him alone as he shuffles by
Knows Rumple hasn’t the money to buy,
The water fragrance turns to ugly fumes
As abandon lots are common bathrooms,
Litter is carried but the wind of cars,
Rows of homes are now just remaining chars
The furniture store is out of business
Barred broken windows is it’s existence
Neglected by societies mainstream
Behind the shell in his shack he still dreams.

Gloom

Cpat Hair

Member Patricius

since 2001-06-05

Posts 11793

1 posted 2002-09-20 08:58 AM

an interesting series here..and you capture the bleam well in both image and form...

have enjoyed reading thes

Chanson
Senior Member

since 2000-08-19

Posts 1559
Up Creek w/Out Paddle

2 posted 2002-09-20 09:36 AM

Mrs. Stiltskin Goes Ariel

It's not easy being ten feet tall,
suffering from acrophobia
with claustrophobic tendencies;
a real balancing act staged to fall
from a cloud of Self Help eBook
guarantees.

Mr. Rumple contains his laughter and prefers
she come down at night, a little more secure,
a little less nervous but

it's not easy and it's not fun
being the other half this high up
searching for cure but

impervious, sure, when looking
at the bald spot on the top of the head
of the one sitting firmly on the bench
stealing glances at the wench standing not so firm
drawing nerve from the cigarette dangling
from her lips.

It's not easy and it's not fun,
the air isn't clean but

she does not sway
and Mr. Rumple contains his laughter.

When you think you have heard it all,
listen more closely.
~Dorene

VAS
Member Rara Avis

since 2000-11-16

Posts 7450
Oregon

3 posted 2002-09-20 10:03 AM

excellent imaging, amazing!

guess it pays to be nearly penniless when walking past the hoodlums, eh, as long as they know it, too

Whether on the shoal or on the shore,
I'll seek the lighthouse evermore.

Professor Gloom
Member Elite

since 2000-07-23

Posts 3082
of Depression

4 posted 2002-09-20 12:23 PM

Thank you all,
Especially Chanson for the poetic response,
I probably won’t continue any more postings along this story line,
But might include it at my web site.
I appreciate the responses.

Gloom

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