Poems - William Martin

A Pair to Draw To

2/13/2016

A Pair to Draw To

Two jokers,
Wild cards,
Recognizing their mirrored image,
Anxious,
Ready to disappear,
Within the safety,
Of a card-crowded deck,
Hesitant,
To join the Game again.

He wears a coxcomb hat,
While a morion shades her face.
Both are drawn,
To a suit of red.
They contribute,
Yet are out of place.

Both shield surprises,
When they are in play,
Potential pitfalls,
For any who take up a hand.
Yet they too are surprised,
To see a similar self,
And a shared,
Affinity for strong,
Steady,
Beating Hearts.

Their cards bend,
Each bows to each,
Reflections of the self.
Neither of them knew,
Another,
Even existed in this Game.

So let the Jokers revel,
In their discovery,
Delight in seeing Each,
In themselves.

Perhaps they’ll sit out this round,
Allowing the usual cards,
To be dealt,
And engaged in play.

They would only,
Upset the Game,
Pushing against,
The rules,
That players insist,
Must be obeyed.

-- William Martin

The Grandest Art

2/13/2016

The Grandest Art

I watch as you walk slowly past,
Reflections in a looking glass.
I wonder what it is you see,
If I’m still there and will it last,
Or if, in looking, fade too fast.

A shimmering glimpse of the sea,
A depth so pure it frightens me.
Sunlight haloing us as one,
An image that has set me free,
Opened my eyes to what could be.

My battles now have all been won,
Lay down my sword they’re all but done.
Drop to my knees with arms spread ‘part,
Embrace the warmth of a new sun,
It arcs the path it’s always run.

Each day with you I see a start,
Each day with you I see a part,
Of how life joins all together,
How we all share a common heart,
How all of life is grandest art.

Our hearts embrace one endeavor,
One miracle held forever.

--William Martin

Our Hearts Askew

2/13/2016

Our Hearts Askew

Looking up into the bright pale blue,
A silver jet slowly slices the sky.
Leaving a narrow white trail so true,
It must be lonely up that high.

Traffic runs rampant, roaring right by,
Flashing signals tell us what to do.
A hurried, hostile crowd will comply,
It’s somehow lonely down here too.

Try stepping away somewhere fresh and new,
A peaceful place in our mind’s eye.
Away from the steel and glass we grew,
Yet we cannot create the fractured lie.

It’s enough to move a grown man to cry,
We’ve lost our ability to break through.
We’re on the grid amid the greater “I,”
Plugged in and counted –there is no 'you.'

And we all know it’s true.
And there’s no way to deny,
Our minds have led our hearts askew,
Endlessly progressing without asking why.

-- William Martin

The Wannabe Blues

2/13/2016

The Wannabe Blues

Got a Fender Strat on the wall,
A Les Paul hangin’ ‘longside.
PRS? Yes,
I got the best,
But when playin’ my fingers are tied.

Got the rhythm in my feet;
Got the tune in my head.
Lyrics in place –letter-neat,
But for me the blues are dead.

(Chorus)
‘Cause I can’t play guitar,
Can’t even begin to jam.
Can’t play the fuckin’ guitar,
Can’t play it worth a damn.

(Solo)
Scrrreeeeeech! Squaaaark! Twaaaang!
Scrrreeeeeech! Squaaaark! Twaaaang!
Diddley, (stop to scratch my head), Flaaaaang!

They visit me every day,
Hear the blues in my head,
But when I try to play,
They just run away,
Echoes of dirge and feelin’ dead.

Still I try to play what I feel,
Try to play just what I am.
But I know it ain’t real,
--The guitar just squeals--
‘Cause I can’t play worth a damn.

(Chorus)
Yeah, I can’t play guitar,
Can’t even begin to jam.
Can’t play the fuckin’ guitar,
Can’t play it worth a damn.

(Solo, giving it your all)
Scrrreeeeeech! Squaaaark! Twaaaang!
Scrrreeeeeech! Squaaaark! Twaaaang!
Diddley, (stop to scratch my head), Flaaaaang!

Maybe I need a new Tele,
Maybe a wha-wha pedal or two.
Hoping no one will tell me,
My playin’s just no damn use.

(Solo)

--William Martin

Depression

2/13/2016

Depression

The left-hook was broadcast,
From a mile or more away.
But I chose to ignore it,
In fact, I stepped in its way.
Watched it coming slow-motion fast,
Why standing still I couldn’t say.
Proclaimed to abhor it,
Yet still invited its play.

It has a strange, seductive pull,
Enveloping in a comforting pain.
Isolation a perverted confirmation,
Each loss an emotional gain.
Keep it going, you’re on a roll,
Hint to others its increasing stain.
Ignore available information,
Focus on the smallest, softest, warped grain.

But you have to hammer that pinion in,
Because free-fall is a moment away.
Looking down into the warm, dizzy mist,
Feels like a mother’s gentle sway.
Hold fast against pulling you in again,
Into the warmth of the numbing gray.

It’s in you to fight, in you to resist,
For better or worse,
Yours is the only power,
Yours is the only way.

--William Martin

As the Rain Came

2/13/2016

As the Rain Came

Seeing those I loved and who loved,
Locked in conflict,
The origins of which, I knew not.
But I watched,
As the rain came down.

Hearing angry voices, heated whispers,
In the blackest nights.
That I heard, they knew not.
But I listened,
As the rain came down.

Learning of raw feelings and wounds,
The growing spite,
That I understood, they knew not.
But I felt it,
As the rain came down.

Time passed as did some I loved,
Leaving scars,
--Thick, raw, tender scars--
The which of, they knew not.
But I still think of them,
Still know the pain,
And I feel it,
As the rain comes down.

I pray they’re now at peace,
Resting in the warmth of peace.
That I miss them, they may know not.
But I do.
And I feel their hearts,
Each time the rain comes down.

--William Martin

Uncle Jack Hangover Blues

2/13/2016

Uncle Jack Hangover Blues

My head pounds to a pure blues beat,
Bile rising to coat my throat.
Skin radiates with feverish heat,
Wading through a full-body bloat.

Try to recall parts of last night,
Mind snap-shutters like flippin’ a switch.
Face cringes as events come to light,
Next mornings are always a bitch.

(Chorus)
It's those hangover blues,
Hammers poundin' in my mind.
Those damned hangover blues,
Uncle Jack can be so unkind.

Smarts, wit, and humor,
Just last night I had it all.
But I already hear the rumors,
Status already takin’ a fall.

Thought I was makin’ an impression,
As I kept on fillin’ my glass.
Eyes now burn with clear perception,
Uncle Jack was just kickin' my ass.

(Chorus)
It’s those hangover blues,
So many regrets filling my mind.
Those damned hangover blues,
Uncle Jack can be so unkind.

Passed out not knowing when,
Passed out not knowing where.
Woke up my mind in a bend,
With a stranger snoring there.

Time to lay low for a while,
Run home and stay in my place.
Avoid others’ knowing smile,
Hide my ugly hungover face.

(Chorus)
It’s those hangover blues,
So many regrets filling my mind.
Those damned hangover blues,
Uncle Jack can be so unkind.

--William Martin

What They See

2/13/2016

What They See

Don’t want to draw attention to myself,
Everyone knows I know my place.
It’s an over-easy road to hoe,
Reveling in our own complacency.

Each day added and displayed on the shelf,
Nice neat rows show how it should be.
But the weight strains and the supports bow,
Illusions fragile and weakening.

Keep the angle of other’s view just right,
Everyone thinks the strength is there.
Paint to coat the crack that seems to grow,
Believing appearance will repair it all.

Eventually it’s revealed to them,
With luck I won’t be there to see.
And loved ones won’t refuse me,
They’ll excuse me,
For their own sake,
Continue to believe.

--William Martin

Blue Shoe Blues

2/13/2016

Blue Shoe Blues

Well, I thought I knew what I wanted,
Wanted to reach up and touch the sky.
Looked online all night till morning,
That’s when they finally caught my eye.

They were so cool, so sweet, so perfect,
Thought they would make me feel like the king.
They were so blue and suede and perfect,
I knew they were just the right thing.

They showed up a few days later,
I tore open the box just to find,
The were pale blue, not suede and so ugly,
I nearly went out of my mind.

(Chorus)
I got those blue shoe blues,
Folks pointing and laughin’ at me.
I got those blue shoe blues,
And I lost the f***ing receipt.

Tried to make the best of what’s bad,
Felt like the fool instead of the king.
They were the only shoes I now had,
And I hate to wear the damned things.

(Chorus)
I got those blue shoe blues,
Folks pointing and laughin’ at me.
I got those blue shoe blues, baby,
And I lost the f***ing receipt.

It’s not easy when you stumble,
Reach for the stars but then you lose.
My head down, so sad and humble,
But all I see’s them damned shoes.

I got those blue shoe blues,
Folks pointing and laughin’ at me.
I got those blue shoe blues baby,
And now they’re all I can see.

-- William Martin

Meeting Death

2/13/2016

Meeting Death

Kneeling beside me
On a cold concrete curb,
Darkly hooded, hushed,
Hollowly familiar.

My eyes cast down,
Pretending hurt,
Yet not so lonely now.

I whisper, accusing,
—A weak veneer—
“Where were you?
I’ve looked for you,
…Missed you.”

A thin cold arm
Across my shoulders.
Comforting.
“I’m here now,
…I never really leave.”

And we laughed together
Until I cried,
Laughed,
At the folly of it all.

--William Martin