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RANDOM POEMS II
BY DAVID "MICHAEL" ISAACSON
Feel the Freedom
Let these pent up thoughts go into words
And the words turned into birds
And flew away
Into minds ears that could hear
Sounds.....
Never heard in this world
Sublime....
Within your mind
And the sounds are all around
Flowing upon the wings of winds (birds)
Hear the words
Carried upon the wind
From other worlds from other times
Water.....
Listen to the water
Flowing across the earth
Listen to the mind of water
Bubbling words taking your old thoughts away
Into the wake of streams
Into an ocean of words
Humanities words washed away
Clear clear water liquid words
And a woman takes a sip of words
Cool ice cold words
Hot flavored words
I wonder what or whose thoughts she drinks
And the words whisper secret messages
Whisper a message to me
For only you and I to hear
Sip and listen......

A Mickey Mouse World
How would it be if Christ came back?
And we had all the loaves of bread
And fish that we could eat
Let’s imagine for a moment
What miracle could be had
That would now move our souls
And Jesus Christ stood on his high mount
And the people lined up
As poetry materialized on empty paper
Held in a dozen hands
And his 12 disciples
Amateur writers all
Gave them out to the multitude saying
Watch TV no more
But Read! Read!
And write to your hearts content
For the pen is mightier than the sword
And they said
If you have ears
Than you shall hear the poets
Reciting their verse
Touching your minds and hearts
And all the people were glad
And threw out their TV sets one and all
And lived happily ever after in Poetry Land
As America was later called
(All of it except Disneyland of course)

The Man at the Side of the Road
Tattered clothes
Bedroll of old blankets
Shoes with worn souls
And all the cars pass him by
He’s out to discover his
Animal spirit
The alley cat
The lone wolf
The dirty dog
The horny toad
The dirty old man
Who wants an old broken down dog
Shabby flea bitten
Hair falling out
Dirty to the bone
His life’s almost gone
Is compassion wasted on the old?
But only they know the meaning of gratitude

To You Poets
The darkness of the night
Awakens the muse of the tongue and heart
An impassioned plea for light
Perhaps it is only then where I can see myself
In the mirror of my lonely heart

Waiting
I am waiting
Waiting for the clouds to clear
I am waiting for the sun to shine

I am waiting
Waiting for my lucky star to fall out of the heavens and land at my feet
I am waiting for the planets to align for me

I am waiting
Waiting for my ship to come in
I am waiting for my caravan to arrive

I am waiting
Waiting for that door bell to chime and that letter to appear
I am waiting for that phone to ring

I am waiting
Waiting for that auspicious time when the days hours and moments align
I am waiting when everything fits in to its place
And then I’ll know I will have arrived

A Lonely Path
Smoldering sun upon my naked body burns
No armor, long spurned - cast off from battles won and lost
Ruins of abandoned civilizations lay about my feet
With each glance - signs and symbols do appear to me
And yet I tread onward on a trail still unknown to me
“Oracle of Life”... am I lost... or found on a lonely path?
All have gone in other ways than I
Do I follow the signs and ways that others failed to see
Or is it that they feared to tread?

Seduction
Our ears are being seduced by
Typewriters going clickedy clankedy plunk
Cars zooming zooming vrooming puttering putt
People babbling babbling blaberdy blap
Empty nothings of words from diarrhead mouths and constipated feelings

Our eyes are being seduced by
Billboard advertisements that sell soap dope false hope
Television fantasies of naked women and fast action hype

Our mouths are being seduced by
Demineralized denaturalized artificial flavors and preservatives
The Nicotine fix - cigarette butts abandoned from stifled nervous lips
Empty calories shoved into ravenous bellies

In the New World
Everyone will be rich
House car boat
Wife kids friends
Job sports hobbies
Telephone television computer
Deodorant tooth paste
Laundry soap
Living will be clean and neat
Orderly and planned
Animals in zoos
Criminals in jails
Grandparents in nursing homes
Children in boarding schools
Freedom is lack of suffering
No woes no wars no disease
Man doesn’t die of old age
He dies of boredom

Just Visiting This Place

Drunk on an transcendental cloud
No one dares look in his eyes...  for fear of getting burned
Alone most of the time... no one cares to listen
Social misfit... as a dog relieves himself against a tree
A stranger... to kids playing soccer in an empty field
Introvert... to a woman in a car zooming by
A home... a family... a steady job
Elusive dreams of long ago
Living on every street in every house
Even in your heart
He can’t be contained
Only little children and dogs see him

Sitting in a forest
The sun sank beyond the horizon
Stars twinkled in the sky
Like Angels winking eyes
The fire blazed to warm the hearts
Stories told of 2 lonely lives
Years past as son turns to man
In another place in another time
Father and son tell other stories
Under the dark lonely skies
(Paul B and I, sitting at Café Lena. 3-23-91)

A City of Paper Tigers
Wild paths of black asphalt for my horse
A horse with glass and round wheel legs
Cigarette smoke signals ascend above an ashtray
Pre-killed animals at Safeway
Animals stabbed with coins or green paper prayers
Shooting pencil arrows across empty papers
Cement caves house our wives
I turn on bonfires with a flick of a switch
And the sun burns bright at my fingertips
Magic powers at my control

Thoughts on Poetry
Breaking down walls
Walls that separate us from hearing
Hearing about lives behind closed doors
Honest words about the other side of living
Living desperately or not at all
Homeless people walking the streets or living in cars
Working dull meaningless jobs
Living alone or loving out of fear
And we put walls around our minds to shut all this out
Poetry sees behind the illusions into real human lives
Real suffering lost sad lives
Poetry shows the true behind the lies
Till no walls close me in
Till no walls close you out
Poetry shows each other who we really are
So we may informatively acknowledge and respond
Poetry is the key to the door of understanding
Poetry is the language of love

Writing Poems at Café Lena
It’s not so rude I hope you think
To sit in your presence and not listen to your words
I cannot help myself
Lost in a train of thoughts
Carried away by a feeling
Lost in a stray mood
You did this to me damn you poets all
I cannot help myself
You inspired me to no end
Lost with your profound words
Lost I am gone further out on a limb
Lost with your wily words
Lost you’d left me out here alone to fend for myself
Lost you’ve pushed me out of a safe nest
To fly on the winds of my own feelings
Floating like a leaf
You have cast me off alone
Don’t blame me if I sit here ignoring you
Writing frantically trying to get back to my own self

Open Mike
Open mike at Café Lena’s tonight
This must be what its like to be absolutely naked
Not “no clothes” naked - but no shields around your mind
With no shields around our nakedness
If reading poetry was a coup
I’d have a head dress of feathers

What is Poetry?
Why do people listen to someone read for hours
And not realize poetry lives in the now
It’s in the air we breathe and the water we drink
It’s even in the way you lift a glass of water to your lips
And the way you cross your arms and feet
It’s the feeling when you look in this person’s eyes
It’s in every thought that comes to mind


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Copyright 1999 - 2008. David 
"Michael" Isaacson.
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