Nights in the gardens of Spain; I was
falling in love with you. In Madrid you drove me wild with fluent Spanish in the throws of the sheets. I threw
that glass of wine at you in Paris and Broke the mirror to the armoire. We both laughed. We had that habit
of throwing things. We were passionate. In London we saw Hermione Gingold In “A Little Night Music”.
Back in the States you Drifted away. ‘What a surprise. What a cliché’. I saw you from
a bus window Months later entering the library.
Unlike Zhivago I made no effort to move. Did you know how close you’d come To winning me?
‘Don’t you love farce?’ Whenever I hear “Send in the Clowns” I think of you with sadness
But never with regret. ‘Sorry, my dear, But where
are the clowns? There ought to be clowns… Quick, send in the clowns. Don’t bother. They’re
I would have you know How I would have you go White upon the screen; Void as an untouched canvass, Left leaning against the wall.
When a union of want and desire Are tripped by a middleman, A theft
not a service ensues. I would have you know How I would have you go Quickly on your way Off the mother
Here me now, You have no right to my name, Or any a pseudo name- Any of my
art, so little wanting fame, That you would indirectly Circumvent to claim. Here me now, I lay copyright
to it all- No matter the path you invent To benefit from this sweated brow!
Who struck you skidding ill humor with a last laugh in the rear view mirror offering not even one rain-soaked
Do their elfin black eyes peer from the safe-harbored, nervous grass? It pains me, this wriggled
pass. The traffic tarries and goes askew wobbling worrisome at you. . Why do we brake to care so, while
others typify speed sports to go invisibly wet-patching from this crosswalk on wheels fast searching slower stalk?
Each day falls, a red maple leaf, spinning down in the mythical belief that the privilege of innocence must
be attended, allowed due course before in its turn it withers dead.
Oh for pity sake, When will we see some leadership? It’s such a familiar ruse played out So often on the rungs of history.
Contrived infractions of a weaker state, Met on land, sea, and air by a pompous perpetrator. Is the Fuhrer
laughing? Does Stalin think it novel? The media Tsar has made a move on the oily chessboard. Our Beloved Leader
slips and slides, Forever a pawn- Never a knight!
shuffle about Singapore Peddling lies with an ease only Merchants
of mindless, muddled missives Would dare compose in the name of the people.
No people will bear the tyrant indefinitely. Everything
living feeds off of something else living, And everyone eventually eases down- Receding into the bowels of history.
temperature control Comes with no timeless warranty. The
most corrupt of incorruptibles Is destined to rot. No saint is immune.
The sound bites grow silent as Flashbulbs give way
to death’s darkness. Their ivory towered writs are as useless As their nuclear arsenals. This orb Oozes objections that trump all ordnance’s.
E. D. Ridgell 2018
A Red Maple Leaf [Version 11]
Who struck you skidding ill humor
With a last laugh
in the rear view mirror
Offering not even one rain-soaked tear?
Do their elfin black eyes peer
From the safe-harbored,
It pains me, this wriggled pass.
The traffic tarries and goes askew
Wobbling worrisome at you.
Why do we brake to care so,
While others typify speed sports to go
wet-patching from this crosswalk
On wheels fast searching slower stalk?
Each day falls, a red maple leaf,
Spinning down in the mythical belief
That the privilege
of innocence must be attended,
Allowed due course before in its turn it withers
witness to the pain of this common goose,
The symbol of bliss now plentiful
Hear a mother honking in pain on a wet road near Ottawa,
What is it you want from me? Can’t you see this is virgin territory? I never thought to reach for
centenarian struggling not to go out a damnable burden.
Stop pushing your pills at me! It’s disorienting
enough, thank you. Give me one more form to fill out, and I’ll resurrect the ghost of my father complete
with his social security number!
Stop hurrying to replace my body parts- I’ve no inclination to be a
titanium robot; hurriedly pushed to boost the earnings report of a company’s stock, I’ve never heard
Cut me some slack, while I sit down. I’m tired of shuttling from jamboree to jamboree. I don’t
mind babysitting once in awhile but I’d hate to be remembered as just another nanny. Grant me timeouts in
overtime for cuddly huddles.
And why doesn’t anybody listen to me? Why don’t you weigh my opinion? I’m tired of retakes of my mistakes, encores by you of me to witness yet again.
If just this one promise met, with its
expectations, blossoms. If these tests you sanction, today, bear fruit to half their hope, your name will
be honored for all time to come. You will be dubbed, ‘Doctor’.
Swiftly your beacon-hand moves confidently across the recto, too long unattended. Praise day, that your script stems age old crippling
and disease. Succeed or not you shine that torch on risk again, an aging beacon’s symbol.
aside the curtains. Beware of walls. Open wide the cell doors and let us breathe free again. Flip open the
registrars, shut for fear and let them in. Fill the pot to the brim.
Detroit's being raped as I ... Speak, banking on you're Uninterested, as usual. Rick Snyder And his hooligans
want a Private Island all their own, And they're willing to pay hard Cash at depressed prices, They've
conveniently arranged, Just for their greedy largesse. It's done with a trick they deploy Called bankruptcy,
banking on that You're uninterested, as usual. E.D. Ridgell, 2013
I'm not sure
But I think that fat
Assed white man's
Gone and call'd her
A liar! Damn'd Virgil,
Come see Mrs.
Robert E. Lee!
I think we're about to see
The South rise again
On the wings of that 'thar
Far, Yellow, Big Bird!
E.D. Ridgell, 2013
Irreverent Little Queer [ Dedicated to Harvey Milk and Sean Penn ]
You irreverent little queer; So near
to the line, Always testing boundaries, Stepping on toes.
Who knows what motivates Your mouthed
views, Bent and unsacred Psalms echoing from atop A Castro soapbox, Preludes to another march To
and up the marble steps Of the Temple in Hilly San Frisco.
You rarely lie, And are seldom believed; Too near the mark, A black sheep, Never dipped, Yearly sheered. Just you wait, You irreverent
Winking doll, So lickerish and ticklish, You shock and stir Disapprovals, Leavened
with slurs, So loud it’s got ‘a hurt. Good!
Sundry laws spew From the divers camps Of kings and bishops Concerning you. States legislate Words white on dark slate To silence you.
Cement your diseased orifices And here’s another in lead- You irreverent little queer, With your
reminders of Things better forgot; Gardens of good and evil.
Jesus hangs From recycled crosses, Among the markdowns In the sanctified aisles Of a mighty nation’s Many splendid Walmarts- Misgotten
and easily forgotten Are the pink stars Ploughed under in graves Unhonored and unmarked. Die Faggot, die! Anita loves you!
And there’s the straight shooter Out in five and Self-done in two. That’s
your doing, too. Serve but don’t you tell- You irreverent little queer! Just disappear, just disappear!
The death of this enemy brings no solace. Like a pendulum it swings back, homing into the eye plucking
it with the consequence of words and deeds of those clockwork oranges marking time to self fulfilled prophecies.
The clock face has hands enough to pace polarities. The politics of Zionists free and unadorned of patches, yet bejeweled within the grip of a crescent moon, that harries a starry pentagon, ally themselves to an amnesic.
Downing down a street; their echoing words penetrate chambers’ walls to proselytize and portend further strife.