Louis Marvin

Annie sang a sad song, while they died of aids, smiling for the camera, on the Live 8
the smile said, “Who am I to burden you, with my death?”
So instead they gave, in their dying time, smiles all around.
They gave, when all was being taken, when the light was soon to dim.
Oh mother, oh Mother Theresa, oh mother, where are you now?
In my dying time, I would not presume to burden you.
So the last you see of me, is this lovely smile.
Good-bye. And their song was over.

just for I
one million small places
in tiny bird or gliding fish
or, hearken back to a day
a father/daughter wish
small wind musses a bent, funny palm
a tourist, a trinket, a Japanese girl giggling bright
a silent hall, in a royal palace hotel
a waterfall at lunch, for just my tired butt and me
been through the heart and artery of Waikiki and the Oahu island girl
secret pace, light my face, sing to my soul
put my happiness in a genuine koa bowl

a nervous laughter arose from the crowd

“So true, so true.”

What was once the sweet music of your voice, so gentle and loving

Like string quartets and cooing doves and the trickle of a stream

Has turned into a siren scream, or nails on a chalkboard or an LP needle dragged scratching across the surface of the vinyl

Oh lovely grape in such a vintage, to vinegar you have gone

From the freshest baked bread, to a stone cold, rock hard loaf

The milk sour, and a loving glance to a killer’s glower

The crowd now shifts restlessly in their seats, the couples only look at each other from the periphery of their eye sight, not daring to see the cold, dark stare they fear is there

But, wait a minute!

Not knowing from where or when, sometimes a spark, so small as a sandwich or a rose brings us back to the good graces—-and we remember, falling in love all over again

The crowd shifts, looking at their partners, “So true, so true.”

walked across a manoa park sunrise scene
layed before me like a morning feast for my eyes to eat and eat well
he only has less steps to go than I and mankind
it is his time going golden into his sunset years
mine is in the middle of the sky
but soon dropping behind a mountain

only the book of life knows how many steps we take
it knows when we take the first steps free of parents
it knows when we take the last steps free of parents
this is how the general story goes
unless, SURPRISE!

and in the wink of an eye we say, “Too soon, too soon.”
then the old man was gone from my sight

Down
below Diamond
Head’s smile where
surfers trek to ply their craft

Lies the bastard slope of paradise

Rising from the rush of breakers

Vigil stood by the Coast Guard Cyclops eye

Snow White would find near perfect in their wickedness
twisted thorn trees clawing at her dress

Black silent monster bees buzz by the flowerless plants, to suck sap

A small red eyed devil-the mongoose that came long ago to catch rats
jumps from trashcan to trashcan eating man’s refuse
in residence with the other bastard slope dweller, the undomesticated cat

The grass is so dry, it would be easy to light and watch this hell burn

This bastard slope with chained trashcans and twisted trees bleeding poison

but there is a garden and there are runners and walkers, wave stalkers
and a beautiful blue-green emerald sea with pink and purple clouds
with a red lighted buoy to light the way for wayward mariners

Just out of reach of those thorn branches that draw blood and try to hold you back from falling down and breaking your bones at this dangerous cliff

This bastard slope of paradise

It’s the weirdest thing I guess I do
and telling you, means we are special friends
I am a full grown man that makes mud pies
no, not with my grandkids or their friends
no, not to lure kids to a nightmare
I simply am a full grown man that likes to make mud pies in his backyard
like a man that likes to dress in his wife’s clothes while she is at work
I go into the backyard, get some dirt in this old mud bucket
I get the hose and I make mud pies
I put stuff to represent toppings on them
I have it down to an art form