I Is Not Together

.

Me,

I,

Mine,

My.

Alone, you will cry.

We, Us, Our, Ours,
Together empowers.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

The Seeds We Sow

My heart saddens at the thought
Of what our dollars have now bought
In a time and circumstance
Where so many need a chance.

The needs of many far outweigh
Self-centered greed seen every day.
If we’d stop to look around
Contented smiles would turn to frowns.

Stop, imagine, for a while
Your daily life filled full of trial.
Each living moment packed with strife
Clinging to a chance for life.

Feel your tummy growl in pain
Longing for a bowl of grain.
Your body’s weak, it always aches.
You catch disease, you’re cold and shake.

Your family’s gone they have been killed,
Atrocities while their blood’s spilled.
The grief you feel is so intense
You feel your heart has stopped dead since.

Numb, shattered, you look around
There’s nothing left, no home, no town.
Mounds of broken bricks, charred wood
Lie now where your life once stood.

The baby in your arms can’t cry
Because her little throat’s so dry.
You hold her tight as you do dare.
Her tiny body’s thin and bare.

Famine, slaughter, drought, disease
Has put your country to its knees.
Nothing’s left, no hope in sight;
This is now your daily plight.

Wake now, stand up, look about.
If you’re mad then you should shout,
“Let our excess go to those
Who live these lives of daily woes.”

Heal them, help them stay alive;
Find some way so they survive.
For in the end the seeds we sow
Will come back to us as they grow.

Good things done will reap good seed,
Ill deeds strewn will evil feed.
Choose wisely where our fortune’s spent
Make it become heaven sent.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

The Depths of Love

Plu-wap! ap ap ap ap.
Plu-wap! ap ap ap ap.
Each drop echos non-stop op op op op
An unreal nightmare’s backdrop.

Clammy cold of the floor where I lay
Discretely, seeps deeply
Into this broken leg lying in disarray.
One misguided step to chasm’s wrath steeply.

Each fearful, tearful pleading cry
Invokes a thousand brethren in fading chorus.
Up is down in this bottomless black sky
My pleas absorbed by darkness porous.

Alone, I atone for ill-finished ways
And dream of her passionate heart.
A beautiful life for her I do pray,
Wishing we need not to part.

My last strength slips quietly past,
Head propped sideways on knee.
As sleep comes to me, finally, at last,
I’m blinded by light that I see.

“Wake up!”, Mary screams.
Unflinching she’s cinching the harness so tight.
Is this in my dreams?
Together again, we take angels flight.

by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

The Perfect Ride

The sugar sweet sound of notes half spoken
Fight to break free from the muted man’s grasp.
Transient yet complete they
Linger and mix with the smoky blanket hanging over the crowd
And the tinkling clitter clatter of silver on ceramic.

Phrase after eloquent phrase
Spoken in the baritone timbre of the Big Sur seal
Lumber from the heavy smooth lips
Of the golden toned saxophone
Lonely and longing the perfect ride.

The man with eighty five fingers speaks.

Now three souls caught alive,
Apart but together
Seek the path of the perfect improviso,
Their minds and bodies
An intertwining melodic action reaction.

A sea of half closed eyes
Chew the notes slowly,
Savoring the emotion
Like the most tender cut of steak.

by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Hard Drive Try

Hard drive spinning tucked out of sight,
Take this data stream and store as bytes,
Save it right,
While I’m contemplating my next poem meant to arrive.

Hard drive spinning tucked out of sight,
Take this thunk’n text and kern for me,
Save it right,
While I’m contemplating my next poem meant to arrive.

Hard drive try, please don’t die.
Zen thru the fight, store the data right.

Hard drive try, please don’t die.
Zen thru the fight, store the data right.

Hard drive spinning tucked out of sight,
Take this data stream and store as bytes,
Save it right,
While I’m contemplating my next poem meant to arrive.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Morality and the Machine

As we near a time and place
Conceived and almost real.
What challenges will we have to face
And how will mankind deal?

Efficiency’s relentless thrust,
We’re giving all our tasks,
To soulless morally dead machines
With faceless cold hard masks.

What principles should there be
Included in their make.
Who should have autocratic breadth
Of ensuring that they take.

We trust them more and more each day
With our family’s lives,
Should we try to ensure control
Of their logic drives.

When they’re fully self-aware,
Which soon they well may be,
Will they give us care and love,
Or even charity.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Midnight Meandering Mouse

Tic tock, tic tock,
Timid tiny toes
Tenuously test

Chiming, chiming clock,
Curtains chose,
Courage crests.

Scurry, slipping, shock!
Sacredness shows.
Stress surpressed.

Nothing needless knocked,
Nobody knows.
Nighing nest.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Sweet Ecstasy's Ascent

Fingertips float along silken curves
Slowly caressing,
Exploring every sensual detail along the way,
Inviting play.
Seemingly hours done this way.

Passionate filigree.

Starting, stopping, taunting, teasing,
Whole hand gliding, pleasing.
Softly, firmly squeezing.
Releasing.

Body, mind ignite.
Questing, yearning,
Longing, burning bright.

Sweet ecstasy’s ascent
To lofty rolling, peaking heights.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Wet Laureate

I would like to be
A Poet Laureate.

And have a dinner party
With my table finely set.

The only problem is
My ears
Are soaking wet.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Modern Brain Wash

Hurry!
Scurry!
Scamper to and fro.
Do you really know where it is you go?

Cut the line.
Fast food dine.
Don’t be late.
Don’t hesitate.

Flashing ads bright in your face
Seem in time to increase pace.
What exactly have you bought?
When’s there time for critical thought?

No time to let a car in line.
Rolling at the red stop sign.
Drive above the set speed limit,
Just to save five measly minutes.

If you only knew the serenity that you miss,
You would change your life for this gentle bliss.
If you think you can’t, your life is far to tossed,
Then you are a victim of a modern brain wash.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Biocleansing

In the lofty forest as a child I did roam,
High up in the branches was a place I could call home.
I’d gaze out on the countryside for miles in every way,
It’s beauty took my breath from me, for how the country lay.

The wind would gently rock the boughs in a soothing sway,
It brought the warmth of sunshine to me begging me to stay.
But far off in the distance I could see an odd dark cloud,
Which day by day crept closer like a living evil shroud.

My friends and I began to pray, some quiet and some loud,
A few began to shake in fear where once they were so proud.
Soon the smell of fire filled our hearts with chilling bode,
Then we heard an awful sound as the humans built their road.

Creaking, cracking moans of death erupted stark and cold,
As they took the life of all the places our lives owed.
The only choice left to us was to leave or stay and die,
Among the twisted carcasses that now lay tossed awry.

As we fled our homeland I looked back, one last goodbye.
Vast carnage left behind us, thru my tears I wondered why.
My beautiful rain forest, once a land so filled with grace,
Had but in a moments time been permanently erased.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Taken For Granite

Has an epitaph been penned to place upon some stone.
So young they be, a tragedy, but they are not alone.
So many cast their lives away each day, by senseless deeds;
Forgetting moderation when it comes to sating needs.

How much should be too much, the question begs to ask.
Does one need to hear it from some hero with a mask?
Has impulsive conduct been allowed to run amuck;
Should self-control in people only become just by luck?

Early graves are being shoveled by their own two hands;
How they eat and when they move, its written in the sands.
Bombasted and encouraged by our callous marketing,
We’re told, “Noncompliance makes - life not worth a thing.”

Are our children being taught that waste and greed are wrong
Or are we living in it singing hypocritical songs?
When did we decide that excess is a needed thing,
Will it help when some bird stops upon our stone to sing?


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Hypoalluremea

So smoothly soft and billowy sweet,
It lay gently, elegantly about my feet.
A furry hide spread far and wide,
Welcoming, beckoning to lay down beside.

Weary, so dreary I have become,
Inviting, inciting, white carpet welcomes.
Head nodding, feet plodding, tiredness complete,
Strength fading, debating, dead on my feet.

Relinquished of will, it’s comfort I take,
Now resting still, my struggles forsake.
Finally warm in this storm, my thoughts slip away,
Perhaps they will find me when snow melts someday.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

All Poems Are Cherished

You make me cry
From deep inside.
Sometimes I sigh,
I cannot hide.

At times I laugh,
So hard it hurts.
I even blush,
When you’re a flirt.

The words you write
Are precious pearls.
They are your might;
Passions unfurled.

Please never stop.
Put into words
Each heartfelt drop,
So they are heard.

We love them all;
The good, the bad.
You give us magic
We’ve never had.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Let’s Roast The Groundhog

That critter doesn’t know a thing
About the coming of the Spring.
I think his mind is in a fog.
Let’s roast the groundhog.

He sticks his head out of his hole
And then he does his do-si-do.
Perhaps his senses need a jog.
Lets toast that groundhog.

People come from miles around
To catch a tiding from this clown.
Perhaps he’s drinking too much grog.
We’ll host lunch a’ groundhog.

Perhaps he's gotten far to old
To tell if weather’s hot or cold.
Seen better forecasts from a frog.
Let’s broast the groundhog.

Mmmmmm. We really, really should.
Somethin’s smelling awfully good!
Stoke the fire, add a log.
Let’s roast that groundhog!


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Will They Ever Grow Up?

“Why are men such boys”, she thinks,
“They want to play. I work. It stinks.”
“Never kudos do I get for all the things I do.”
“I’d like to see them spend a day, in my worn out shoes.”

“They frolic when the times not right,”
“Keeping us up late at night,”
“Then they, ghast!, turn out the light,”
“And snore real loud with all their might!”

“It’s enough to make a woman scream,”
“How they live life in a dream.”
“If only they’d show some respect,”
“Instead of giving us neglect.”

“They want their silly macho toys”
“To show off! Ones that make loud noise!”
“You’d think they’d want us to enjoy,”
“Together, something, remembered always.”

“Sigh… Life can be a drag,”
“When I have to scold and nag.”
“Is a little time too much to ask?”
“It’s not like it’s a dirty task.”


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Forgotten

Step
By Step
Jill climbs upward.
Stopping, catching her breath.

Stairs
Were not
So steep before.
Why are they now?

Chest
Hurting worse
Again she climbs,
Groceries in one hand.

Youth
Speed past
Not noticing her
Struggling to the top.

Aching
And shaking
Keys fall rattling,
As do her tears.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Starvation Augmentation

For the price of a 1/4 million servings of rice,
A lady can make her breasts look nice.
For all of them done within one year,
86 billion hungry faces would not tear.
All nose jobs made, just to be seen,
Yearly might feed 15 billion servings of beans.

How can one rationalize this vanity,
To me it seems like insanity.

For the cost in a year to suck out our fat,
113 billion bread servings could go in the hat.

How can you help but not to weep,
Knowing the lives starvation reaps.

Imagine the children, bloated in pain
Malnutrition killing their bodies and brains.
What would you say as they looked in your eyes,
And you knew this was their last goodbye.

To yourself, how would you lie,
Would you care or even try.
Can anyone honestly tell me why,
This squander seems so easy to justify.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Lasting Traces

When we are gone
What lingering trace shall be;
A novel notion’s dawn,
Notoriety?

What pebble might we move,
To leave a lasting mark;
What purpose will it prove,
As future comes to hark?

Is the point to make,
Our ego swell with pride,
Or shall we this forsake,
For a better side?

When the earth’s days end,
What have our past lives meant;
Shall we have been friends,
Is wisdom what we've lent?


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Free Spirit

She sway as a willow played by the wind,
Body so firm, quite taught and sleek thin.

Challenging life, she doesn’t evade,
A glorious string of promenades.

Adventure beckons at every turn,
Many’s the suitor, yearning but spurned.

Dancing a rhythm vivacious and sure,
No one describes her as being demure.

So carefree that danger, seldom be reckoned,
She’ll turn on a dime in a matter of seconds.

To love her takes wisdom; when not to hold,
And in sure contrar, when to be bold.

Living life with her you’ll never dismay,
A moment of time she had it her way.

Sorrow will follow whenever you leave,
But you will find it unneeded to grieve.

For when you return to her snug berth,
She’ll welcome you back with laughter and mirth.

Again you will venture uncharted new seas,
And sail into sunsets unbridled and free.


by Rodney Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Loves Enchanted Path

Take my hand,
Please walk with me,
Through a misty wonder land.

Together we,
With fingers laced,
Will talk in love’s sweet harmony.

Slowing pace,
As hearts persist,
We’ll touch each other’s glowing face.

Unspoken bliss,
Our lips shall meet,
In passion’s pausing, perfect kiss.

Memories sweet,
We’ll make this eve,
Filled with tenderness replete.

As our souls entwine and weave,
We’ll wish not for our love’s reprieve.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Modern Human Autoclaves

People of this azure home,
When last did you bend knee,
And hold in hand the feral loam,
Of your birth and destiny.

Have you built a shell so tight,
Least nothing can invade.
You hardly see sun’s warmth and light,
A human autoclave.

You cast vile poisons ‘bout your home,
To kill all that you can,
Never freely do you roam,
You’re fine with fallow land.

Will you never truly know
And cherish Mother Earth.
Remember that the seeds you sew
Will be your children’s worth.

As you sit safe in a cage,
Will ever thoughts ensue,
That there must be better ways,
Things that you can do.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Techno Baby You Are Hot

Techno baby you are hot,
Show me a little nanobot.
Your photons drive me just insane,
Cause my brain to quantum drain.

Your interface beyond compare,
Makes me beg for you to share.
Lets parallel our data streams,
And slip into some cosmic dreams.

Your autonomous robot is so sweet,
It makes my firmware overheat.
Those boys at MIT would gasp
At how your feedback system lasts.

Lets bioengineer a goal,
To bypass Comp Sci’s Biggest O.
It will last for ten light hours,
Releasing Gigawatts of power.

Techno baby you are hot,
Show me a little nanobot.
Your photons drive me just insane,
Cause my brain to quantum drain.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

Silence is Betrayal

You.
You are the one.
You will make the difference.

Meaningless
Loud babble
Sputters and spurts from lips
Who’s minds are drivel.

Silent,
You have been,
Not to seem like they.

Unspoken,
Your good thoughts,
Sit hopeless,
Trapped away.

Betrayal,
Is what comes,
From your silent voice.

Speak,
Now give wisdom light,
Or you may loose your choice.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

The Staff of Asclepius

How can I stand near and look you in the face,
And say flat out, beholden me, I am your saving grace.
I am just a soul, that’s studied very well,
Certainly I’m not a god, and snake oil I don’t sell.

You have come to me, ailing, hurt, and worn,
I can only do for you to that which I am born.
I use my hands and mind, to find out what’s amiss,
I do not have a magic pill, nor enchanted kiss.

Objectivity, is what is needed most,
But humans are as humans be, they want a gracious host.
I know that you have pain, it’s very clear to see,
But if I share hurt too much I can’t find a remedy.

I’ll do my best to smile, and comfort your duress,
For this is truly one of my profession’s hardest tests;
To have the gift to heal, as many as I can,
To think apart, from the heart, while holding ailing hands.

But I am not alone in this lifelong quest,
Blessed we are with nurses who will also do their best.
Together all the staff of healing, side by side,
Dedicate our lives to your good health with all our pride.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

First Lost Love

There was a girl
Who stole my heart from me.
Lulled by her charms;
She was my fantasy.

In the moonlight
We let our passions burn.
Yes we were right;
We both taught and, we learned.

Then came, the fateful day I feared;
Her note, wrought my face fully teared.

Now my soul wanes,
Shattered by her good bye.
In this dark room,
All I can do is cry.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater

The Wild West

Sitting and feeling the western shows;
Popcorn with butter in a big bowl;
Papa asleep in his big chair;
Get a thrill, as Silver stands and flares.

Lost in the drama of ole’ Dodge City;
Matt Dillon, our hero, and Miss Kitty;
Winchester rifle with the McCains;
Little Joe, with Hoss they hold the reins.

Chasing the bandits is what they do;
Clean cut, the white hats make their debut;
Train robbers will always land in jail;
They will not, get someone to post bail.

Death Valley by Borax haunts our hearts;
Big Valley’s Nick Barkley’s hot-head part;
Artemus helped James in Wild Wild West;
Maverick Bret, was of the gamblers best.

Children today do miss all the fun;
Stick ponies and cap guns out in the sun;
Day dreams of marshals that save the day;
Oh what joy, our minds lent to our play.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2007 Rodney Alan Crater