#22

crackling against the divide

when the sirens come to call

striving amidst the contrived

when lemmings keep dropping to hell

thumping by water shores

and swirling in deep deep

five alarm fire sirens sweep

where the legends are all asleep

swooning horns and sweet reed harps

swing a soulful tune

harkening back to those days of old

when home was true for you

#21

how do despots rule the day?

how do they fire their whole array?

why do the fireworks bomb away?

when scurrilous warlords swing and sway?

where is the man who minds the keep

so sure that evils have no leak

by which to exploit the armaments deep

and to see those damnable warlords meek

fervor and bloodshed comes with the slough

as men shoot shot and mind the cows

while women turn in shameful bows

there is no life for commons now.

#20

vagaries where the sun hits salt

lying under the crest

cause madmen run like

fires and diamonds

it's hard for darker

snacks to catch

shine the light on

them and they catch all

the heat like the inside

of a mazda 626

cigarette burns and smell

when you want to get home

hanging in the air

on the way to your marine bungalow

#19

empty as heads and

souls upon the mauritania

clawing for earnest winnings

as the rearing black boar

circles in a way to

enhance effervescent dread

standing tall as

cunning, swirled brass

twist up like a lash of

eucalyptus, whole time

foiled with the 

dirty and sinful way

marker stop, point, point

fervor over miami

moon over manhattan crying

scheck crossed up on the

back of the broadway through

marvel at blackbeard

churning the souls

water bottle bedpan boils the soup

and whenever forever

#18

this is where i live

i won't be cut short

ringing in my ears when i

trot down the lane

how're you doing now

under cerulean skies

a whiffle ball bat

and a potato sack

a ragamuffin's best friend

simple pleasures

in the crook of a small town

there's no joy greater

than stargazing from where you're known

i'll make my own way

strident as i'll be

firing all your shots at once

a depleted soul you'll be

#17

subterranean aquarium

that i don't live in

but i'd sure like to

all backlit with pleasant, soft

warming colors

stringrays against dim purple hue

sharks doused in amber

i'll sleep in a studio bedroom 

near the entrance

on a thin flat mattress

#16

mary noticed her boyfriend had a habit

whenever they went to a restaurant he'd sit

facing the door, lazily glancing out the window every few minutes.

mary's boyfriend was a well intentioned bore,

kind and attractive, but thoroughly unstimulating.

mary began to imagine, for fun, that he was a spy.

maybe he sat facing the door to spot would-be

assassins who would kill him

or even worse, kill her.

she felt safe, though, with her super spy boyfriend.

she decided to test him

by unscrewing the top of the

salt shaker while he was in the bathroom.

if he could steal government secrets and dispatch 

invisible, spy-like justice,

surely he'd diffuse her attempt at sodium sabotage.

she began to regret her decision five minutes later,

when he left the diner displeased

a hamburger left on his plate with a small mountain of salt

on top, the upper bun discarded. 

though she apologized later that night,

the relationship was over.

#15

a kid with wobbly knees is

seated at the edge of a swimming pool.

he's sitting at the deep end

even though he can't swim.

his mom is worried about him falling in

but he can feel the rough spackle

between the terra cotta tiles

on the bottoms of his fingers.

he knows he's not going anywhere.

rust

feeling and remember sitting

in a steel city with a 

nighttime kick in the air

not a terrible lotta

privacy out here

under a dull black sky

pocked with clouds, rusty glow

warmth

i love you

through and through

i'd like to hold your hand for an hour

kiss you for two

followed by lovemaking of deliberately indeterminate length

so to force us to clear our calendars for one another.

#14

forever fighting oddities

against pulsing pastel backgrounds

where young men win

old men love

and the middle man gets cut up

and shot down

slide a bullet in and 

shoot the messenger

#13

how can it be

my love is fading

as it follows my hair

to shades of grey

i have friends

who know how to make their way

but when does the sun

break through for me

there must be some

waves that crash on

shores where lovers

are never found

too wild and rough to tread

life has split me

between faith and fear

i can't even bear

to face the choice

should i believe

in a valorous decree

to love humanity

despite the stains

#12

slumping in the tub

filling up your head

lines off the page

feel more comfortable

when you're less comfortable

the thing is to keep your head down

keep your eyes tired

keep your waist trim

live long and lean as a loser

and do all your reading by candlelight

#11

frank cauley stands at the back

of a line that stretches alllllll

             the way round

the supermarket 

that crisp and cool morning in boston, ma

he is up earlier than normal

he feels tired and

disjointed from the images and men and women

moving all around them

he entreats you to sleep

the way he wishes he was right now

#10

where stinging silence ropes the ear

seducing like you know it is

it's easy to put up now

feigned and trite solemnity

burn it up, say what

and load it into the truck

try to remember feeding the ducks

and pretend you still give an everloving fuck

#9

where the hard line drops

between have and have nots

where the grey old drake

always takes the cake

where cinnamon stars

over opium bars

swirl long and loose

we got a lot to do

#8

vibrato sliding and sliding and sliding

with a swing song so sweet

lots to love

where markers shine above

tracing sightlines through the sky

reminds you of when you were young

don't it?

#7

voices sank low

when bing entered the room

he didn't have any shoes on

and he had dirty feet, gunk crusted

you been slogging through the marsh

the home's master asked

the reply being a dismissive

i know, right?

#6

greenhouses spout soot

while headboards rock in sync

with toying harmony

zip zap zop

throwing turvy tops

when the magic's flushed the room

corks popping under happy bulbs

#5

snow cone caps

rifling along loudly

rolling down, down

where the christ stamp

is pressed against the inkpad

but left to dry out,

unused

#4

sitting on the docks in the dead of night

hand holding under cold shoulders

with reeds rushing and brackish

vapors sliding you backwards

to feeding ducks and playground trucks

running and swimming laps

the curious glow of lights under lampshade

surrounding you, dialing up loves long past

#3

my most memorable dreams aren't pretty

i have but fleeting remembrance of the horrors

they are not explosive, climatic, eruptive or disruptive

they do not, rest assured, make good stories

it's the simple smokestack against the full moon night

before you dive through a slide made of jagged metal cans

it's the way the sun peeks over the hills

rendering the world oddly mundane

the post apocalyptic smoke and fog swathed city

isn't political, mystical or physical

it's just a visual facade hiding feeling behind it

i beg you not trust too greatly the false promise

that lurks in the majesty of a beautiful dream

a self serving reinforcement, a sniff of romance

a promise of love you heavily doubt

gains life when bolstered with this nicotine

like sailors keeping a wary ear out for sirens

you'll write your own death sentence

submerging yourself in what your dreams say

while never considering what they don't

#2

i was born in an upstairs loft

with a crack in the ceiling to peer down

my parents enrolled me at a wonderful school

kindergarten to fifth grade in the most tranquil

tucked away little alcove you'd ever find

just below the freeway so the headlights could shine in at night

it was nicer and more

true than the next stop

a descended room with greasy carpeting

i majored in feigning sleep

eavesdropping in that harmless, just so way

i'm now a free man in number and name

gazing out the window of a secluded hideaway

taking delight in spying the lives of others

not for bitterness, shyness or perversion

but to see the private moments that make us human

played out unwittingly before me like i was

sitting in the globe in a secret seat

#1

disembodied franchise voices

spill cups en masse

streaming down the curved floor

and puddling up in front of a

movie screen

down by the waterfront

a popup moon with tassels and lace

where some were but others shall not be

lions leap from branches hanging

towards a child pinned under an errant log

on his way home one sunday evening

through a forest patched with cloth

forest cabin zoetrope

in crooked houses by crooked creeks

where silent mothers kiss their babies cheeks

its got to be warm in there

candlelight drenching the ground outside

a comfort by silhouette

finding yourself at night

too restless to grab a bite

or fight or spit or spin and dash

no people to see

no parties to crash

a subdued singsong soul lacking in support

both moral and emotional

can be drawn to scale

analyzed

taken apart up and down

and reassembled in traditional mosaic style

but be no more logical than it was before

lying on the ground staring straight

up up up

not a star in the sky

too embarrassed to knock on the door

worried that they wouldn't care

that you're stuck in the cold

and its got to be warm in there

untitled love sonnet

It's sweet and fine to sit beneath a tree

Tangling eyes and hearts beneath the flesh

Where romance is but doesn't try to be

When every deep breath feels so pure and fresh

Such love could only strike a man by luck

To dive headfirst into a soul so deep

To fight to keep his eyes from getting stuck

As soft lips and hips through his mind do creep

It's the light of the world that you give to me

With windswept features to burn my memory

And selfless courage that sets my worries free

If only you could be my one, my every

Your eyes, your nose, your ears, your hair

Have left my heart beyond repair

A brief explanation.

While I was updating my other blog, The Great Cave Offensive, I realized that perhaps I could create a separate blog exclusively for posting any poetry I write. This is a very important step to take, because given that my general blog has been viewed to date by no less than four human beings, I deem it necessary to divide that pool of readership into two separate locations. I'm sure you'll agree that with a base that size, my efforts to expand and conquer the internet is well under way.

So, anyhow, this is the number one spot for the poetry of Chris Tognotti. What poetry I posted on my other blog will remain there (as well as being reprinted here), but any new things will be posted exclusively on this page. Hopefully this is useful to the aforementioned four (the fantastic four as I've made a point never to call them) human being who've admitted in one way or another to having read the other blog, but might not necessarily want to read my meandering poetic bull(sugar).

Without further ado...