Gone Fishing

Pink Art

 

IT STARTED THE
MOMENT WE
ENTERED THE STREET:
THE SMILING AND
WAVING,
THE STRONG STEADY
BEAT,
SOON WE WERE
FILMING AND
DOING THE THING
WHERE I ASK THE
QUESTIONS AND
YOU ARE THE KING,
THE BEST OF THE BLUES
KEPT US GLUED TO
OUR SEATS
WHILE I WOULD
SNEAK OFF TO FILM
A REPEAT: THIS TIME
THE CASUAL MAN IN
THE STREET,
CAREFREE AND FUN
BORN TO RUN
PLAY HIDE AND SEEK
THE LADIES IN STILTS
MADE THE PICTURE COMPLETE,
AND THEN IN A FLASH
WE MADE THE WILD DASH
TO THE NEXT BIG FEST
FIRST CITY/THE BEST
WHERE THE BASS
WAS THUMPING
AND HEARTS WERE PUMPING
EVERYONE DRESSED
TO KILL, LOTS OF
ELECTRONIC MASTER
SKILLS, LOVERS
AND STRANGERS ALL
PACKED IN, DOZENS OF
BANDS TRYING TO WIN
THE HEARTS OF NEW
FANS, IN IMAGINELAND,
WHERE ROCK STARS
ABIDE AND THERE’S
NO PLACE TO HIDE,
THE STANDS WERE
PACKED FOR THE
FINAL ATTACK,
THE PRESENCE OF BECK
PLAYING NECK AND NECK
WITH THE SWAYING DIRT
CROWD, AND EVER SO LOUD
THAT IN THE END HE
BURNED OUR EARS
AND FANS DEPARTED WITH
SAVVY AND TEARS,
SO NOT TO SAY
THAT HE LOVED THE TOWN
OR THE FABULOUS MUSIC
THAT SEEMED TO ABOUND,
OR THE TV SHOW
WHERE HE WATCHED
ME WORK, IN THAT
CALM LITTLE WAY
WHICH DRIVES ME
BERZERK,
BUT WHEN IT WAS
FINISHED,
AND THE LIGHTS
WENT DOWN
WE HEADED HOME
TO THE HIGHER
GROUND,
AND IN THE END
HE DID WHAT
HE WAS WISHING,
HE PACKED UP
HIS BAGS
AND JUST
WENT FISHING!

©J.W. WINSLOW 9/1/14

 

Crash!

Crash Image

 

 

ONE MINUTE YOU’RE THERE
AND THE NEXT
YOU’RE NOT
FROZEN OUT
THROWN ABOUT
IN A WILD TANGLE
OF CURSIVES
AND CURSE WORDS
THE SCREEN HAS
GONE BLANK, AND
THAT TERRIBLE SOUND
THAT ALMOST SIGH,
THE TRAGIC GOODBYE
OF ALL YOUR WORDS,
THE DOCS
THE POEMS
THE BOOKS
UNHEARD OF,
NOT REALLY BUT TRUE
(NEVER BELIEVE IT
WILL HAPPEN TO YOU)
UNTIL THE FINAL GROAN,
AND THAT’S WHAT IT IS,
A GRINDING HALT
THAT MAKES YOU SCREAM
“IT’S NOT MY FAULT”
TO THE FRIENDLY GENIUS
WHO COMES TO CALL
AND CARRIES AWAY THE
REMAINS,
HE CLAIMS IT
WILL ALL
BE FINE,
YOU’RE BACKED UP
YOU’RE COVERED
SCARED SHITLESS
YOU HOVER
AND PACE,
THE NINETEEN NEW
CHAPTERS, WRITTEN
WITH LOVE,
THE HUNDREDS OF
OF PAGES
AND SLOVENLY
RAGES,
THE CHARACTERS
NEW AND OLD,
SEXY, SILLY
STRONG AND BOLD,
AND WHAT ABOUT
THE TV GUESTS
ALL THE WORDS
AT YOUR BEHEST,
THEIR ANSWERS STORED
IN THIS DEAD MACHINE
THE TECH GRAVEYARD
OF BROKEN DREAMS,
YOU WAIT, YOU SWEAT
YOU CRY, YOU BET
THAT EVERYONE IS WRONG
IT WILL BE
THE WORST SAD SONG,
WHEN FINALLY THE LIGHT
SHINES FLASHING AND BRIGHT,
THERE WILL BE A WAY
TO SAVE THE DAY,
IT’S NOT THE END OF
THE WORLD,
I CRAWL FROM MY CRISIS
AND SLOWLY UNCURL
A BRAIN THAT HAS SEEMINGLY
DEVELOPED A YEN
FOR THAT CRAZY MACHINE
INSTEAD OF A PEN,
SO IF I HAVE TO
I’LL START AGAIN,
OH, MY GOD,
PLEASE TELL ME,
WHEN?©J.W. WINSLOW 8/1/14

Linen and Lace

JW with her mother

 

Behind the heavy
wooden doors
lies a treasure
of linen and lace
hidden away………LINEN AND LACE
from spying eyes
waiting with
charm and grace,
while put asunder
in careless disorder
piled in stacks
pushed into cracks
shoved together
in multiple colors
unable to tell
one from another
the job was
beyond the pale,
a shameless romance
with a terrible
dance of dismay,
I hastened to
catch my breath,
and then I dove in
and followed the
whims, the textures
in shades of white,
deep purple ribbons
wound in mats of straw
it was hard to decipher
the mess that I saw,
but soon in the fertile
bloom of my mind
the pictures of times
became a prime and
motivating rhyme,
sorting the napkins,
pink and blue, aqua
and scarlett and
polka dot too,
pile after pile of tiny
white squares, sewn
in bright colors
often prepared
in a matching set,
lest we forget the
parties and teas, under
fragrant flowering trees,
the dinners and lunches
and meetings,
each intricate cloth
was ruffled with froth
and folded away
in the season,
I saw Nana’s tables
with flowers and lace,
my mother and father
married in grace,
sexy black napkins
from a dinner of love
ornate rings, turtle doves,
tassles bound with
formal patterns
and tiny napkins
slightly tattered,
all with a scent
of lavender, saved
for my eyes to see,
Christmas in shiny red
and green squares
bound up and waiting
for the next family,
I had carried this home
unable to part
with a glorious show
and piece of my heart,
so I fondled the soft
rows of tablecloths,
Starchy old pieces
Set in a bundle
of soft ancient
creases, the morning
grew long and slipped
away, while I finished
my song of memory play,
and now it is done, all
neat and preserved,
I open the door and smile,
and it will be there
for me to share, my
very own family tree
the ecstacy of
wondrous care,
behind the door
right before
you reach the top
of the stairs!
©J.W. WINSLOW 6/1/14

 

Easter/Beck

Uneasy
Offbeat
where has
the old EASTER/BECK
game gone,
and what
is the new,
just a few
licks of promise
laying back
on the foundation
of joyful
creation,
suddenly it
has disappeared,
familiar faces
comfy places
the same channel
theme songs
replays
reviews, who’s who,
even the daily
rag is skewed,Release
things change
shit happens
I get that,
but all at once,
leaves me
skewed like
a dunce:
head swirling
the cameras
have switched
over to hi def,
low light on
the theater stage
broken guitar
strings, my
heart brings it
home, alone,
butterball fluffs
on the trees
months early,
no stress,
all access to
everyone, but
nobody’s home,
they are out
searching for
themselves
too,
the HUMAN
ZOO
comes to order,
south of the
border: RELEASE.
©J.W. WINSLOW 5/1/14

 

Sherry Cake

Scrumptious
sensual
SHERRY CAKE
the memories
of such
are so sweet,
SHERRY CAKE
back to moments
of no great worries
nothing to fear
nowhere to hurry,
jump forward
to now:
the blast and
the prime
a schedule that
angles to
wild and sublime
but mostly requires
the utmost of care
time/love/energy
buyer beware,
we traveled to
FANCY for my
special day
and found the
Fab restaurant
in sorry decay,
but life has
taken such
hairpin turns
it makes me
wonder and
truly yearn
for the times
of simplicity
no eithnic diversity
not polictially correct
a détente to connect
all the dotted lines,
humans who talk
from both sides
of their mouth,
pretend to go north
when they really
head south,
I long to refine
the falsetto taste
bittersweet alcolades
the life made
in haste,
fill empty pages
with heaven
and lace,
just savor the
SHERRY CAKE
down to the crumbs
live life in
harmony
where loving
is plumb,
bring back
the caramel
and my mother’s
good care,
spoon feed a fantasy
but still, be aware
the stakes are
changing
the world
rearranging,
take time
for yourself,
slash the roses
of strife:
be free and sure,
and hang on
to your life!

JWWinslow:4/1/14

Queen of Sherry Cake

Snooty Ladies

The room was
jammed with
SNOOTY LADIES,
ultra top shelf
SNOOTY LADIES
full of themselves
noses above
the  Common Line
so distinct and
very fine,
quite  divine, that air,
there was a time
when I would care,
cringe and creep away
what more to say,
empowered by the
thought of money,
it’s all that powder
and wealth, honey,
but soon I noted
not a smile, nor happy
pants , all worthwhile
instead the grim and
snippy stance,
without a cheerful
warming glance,
what  to do,
how can
one chew  and
spit out such
romance, without
a doubt
a  roundabout
was coming due,
and I just knew
the time had come
to leap upon the stairs,
race around the
arty bounds
and hide behind
the chairs,
I could not laugh
for fear they’d hear
and find me
snaking at crosshairs
upon the floor
and out the door,
never come back
never more,
all that past stuff
gone at last
I shall never
be aghast
at poor and mighty
simple folks,
different things
and different strokes,
I am sublime
just like this,
with a hug and
take your riches
take your charms
throw them into
Satan’s arms,
don’t  be afraid to own
your deeds,
the time will come
when you
will heed,
the seed is planted,
let it bleed!

JWWinslow:3/1/14

Original Art

In loving memory

It seems only fitting
that she would
depart
at the strangest
hour, a run of
hot weather
a lack of rain
a perfect bellwether
for a time of pain,
but she was a spark
and knew what she
wanted, as a tiny
young girl,
hungry and
haunted by
life flips and
plane trips and
strange exotic shores,
she knew she belonged
where the hearts
sang her songs
and the love that
was waiting
would never be
wrong,
so began
a story that
ran wild
and free,
to adventures and
friends, and family,
she wanted a ferret
but would have settled
for a flying bright truck
with streaming metal,
she shared her deep
heart with the shy
and obscene,
making a path
for the future,
watching her auntie
and stylin’ with charm
she reigned when her
prance was the
coolest disarm,
beautiful booty and
fabulous clothes
sporting ripped stockings
and black pantyhose,
she soaked up the books
from a loving Father

 

 

taking his lead
never to bother
with folks that had
airs, she wouldn’t
have dared to change,
but up close and
personal, within
your range,
she would look
in your eyes and
sweetly exchange
that engaging smile,
with a comical twist
how did that brain
come to exist, and
savor and grow
we might never

know, she took
all her secrets to
heaven, along
with a wardrobe
of fine dainty lace
and perfect smooth
skin on her
beautiful face,
she went out
alone, but don’t we all,
leaving no sad time,
no warning call,
but now there’s a light
that burns in the
room, where she
resides, defacing
the gloom,

knowing the
love that is
like no other,
once and forever
we discover
she will never
cease to exist,
the spirit of
Chelle, aglow
in the mists,
watching and
waiting alone
and debating,
wanting
to welcome
Us home.

©J.W. WINSLOW 2/1/14

She stood
at the
podium
with a
pounding heart
ready to
speak, yet
flabbergasted
at the chance
to be there
at all,
it was the
most amazing
night,
dressed in
her little tuxedo
smiling for
the occasion of
a lifetime,
the honors
from her peers
and those above
the highest ranks
in the audience
staring back
as she began
to speak,
reflecting
on the years
that led to
this starry
event, it was
an awesome
experience to
be given such
an award,
the only
WOMAN
in the room,
a long time
coming,
an uphill road
a force to
reckon with
a heavy load,
but all
those fans
in the
audience
were the
sweet
gratification
they stood
up and gave
her a Standing
Ovation!

©J.W. Winslow 1/1/14

 

Standing Ovation

Surely an
invasion
of peculiar
persuasion
they arrived
at the appointed
time, seemingly
friendly enough,
not a hint or
a clue that
things could
get rough,
and I smiled
at myself
for being annoyed
even the slightest bit
after all, this
was my call,
I asked for the
sum of it,
so when they
began the work
to prepare,
I was not
inclined to
be aware,
trying to keep
things normal,
what a jokey/
hokey idea,
they were primed
for blood:
used to the clients
who stick in the
mud,
dig in their toes
when shocked
with a face
peering right through
the window case,
I suppose
they wear
white to assuage
your fears,
knowing that soon
you’ll be up
to your ears
and ready to scream
or escape,
nobody told me
how sure
and boldly
they would slide
their gear
into place,
(and ever so
cleverly take
over my space)
my brain and
my soul
soon out of control:
all of my goods
piled in the center
leaning and greening
while I would
run screaming
away to the beach,
so far out of reach
I could finally
breathe, wondering
how long it would
be till they leave,
trust me with this
there is no greater
bliss than watching
them drive away,
leaving behind
the gleaming sublime
pristine walls
a trumpet call,
you’ve had your
house painted,
and also been sainted:
awake and alive,
you’ve really
survived!

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 12/1/13

Famous lines from
a Nobel Winner
say a man
leaves the room
as a saint
not a sinner,
without the debris
of the recent past,
while a woman’s
role is always cast
in the female
fashion, she
embraces the story
with agonized
passion, taking
each detail
of the soul along
with her,
suffering the
push and
pull of
Come Hither:
a call to arms,
(regardless of
notions or
firey devotions)
the facts
remain clear,
I admit to
be fond of
having
you near,
while changing
my life with
your charms,
and having
disarmed
the barriers of
history
my life is
a mystery
of fathomless
depth, unknown
and alone
until now,
for a light
has broken
the ceiling
and walls
my barriers
are crumbling
and liable to
fall,
the wonderful
warmth of
the human touch
sways the heart
to burst with love,
impossible
unspeakable
a dangerous glove
that fits despite
your tender
embrace
I close my eyes
and I see your face
no expectations
no harm done,
the promise of
more
has me undone,
is there time,
and another sweet
chance
for tender
forboding
and exotic
romance?

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 11/1/13