Many of these poems will be of the city of Schenectady from early 1900 to the present.

GENERAL ELECTRIC COMPANY - SCHENECTADY NY - PHOTO provided by F. Duci

Friday, December 31, 2010

A ROADWAY TO OUR PAST

A ROADWAY TO OUR PAST


Bewildered by past lives
to search a pyramid,
architectural
monument of fear.

I fought, pleaded with
imagination, controlling
space – was this me
stretched out, adorned
in jewels, a face etched
in stone?

Isolated – a mist of blue
circles me – captures
familiarity as passing
years rapidly decrease
as time, a roadway to
our past.

In the stillness of dawn
a strange disc reflects
light, a star filled with
peacefulness sucked out
fear – godly figures, in
my field of vision.

No need to speak,
mingled in a thick haze –
commands made.

A calm in the dessert
of ice crystals, pointed
rocks – magnifying a
runway, a zone of
indestructible nature –
Blasted bellows of
bravery – wings clap into
shallow air; eyes speak,
rivers cry, mountains
dissolves, a soul dies –






The world changes - or,
is it a world at all?
A cave – a fissure cut
thru limestone by a
swirl of water, now
obliterated.

A woman stands alone,
preaching to a violet sky.
Enormous waves of energy
circulates, as blood –
brings a shiver in heat;
creeping closer.

Born thru light -
bodies as thin spindles
flowing, solid form - hands
wave, draw me closer to
strangers who cast a
respectful gaze.

As if Monet painted
lilies in their field, as if
rain changed a forest to
a spectacle of color.

“I kiss your hand,
although matrimony is
a trivial state, we do not
let it enter into our love
affair. “

You were chosen
for this voyage to learn
basic truths; wealth is
from soil, love is a
constant state of mind.

Those who were chosen
mortally – wounded by
earthly tricks. Yet here,
the courageous are the
kindest.



Terrain of meadows
surround us, and no
hatefulness – our
energy is love, a land
filled with secret paths.
Soil, will not degrade,
nor will our sun harm
your skin - moisture
will not evaporate – no
need to compromise,
we all are living legends
of the past.

Your hospitals, insane
asylums, penitentiaries,
are filled; a result of
children brought into
your world, to swell.
Where you are going
if you choose to fly from
here; we have no disease,
no pain, no needless
slaying on our street.
Here, we are not too –
busy, to care.

A stream of knowledge
explodes inside ill nourished
brains. Educated, by a mere
rays of our sun, cured
of bad habits; once you’ve
lingered long enough to heal.

Two, hug a stream of light,
as if two – were alive, a
woman clings to water
fingering her way to
touch haphazard pebbles
in a stream.

Although we cherish freedom –
how free is free? How far away
must we fly? I felt a pull, turned
and noticed you were naked, too.