Queen of the Cowboys
You play your hand like a backslider
Queen of the cowboys
Outside like a stray cat
We use our past as an excuse
Now between heaven and hell
The Rio Grande rises
Desert winds and guns
Your perfume like a full moon
Men tied up for a woman's pain
Your cards fall like deuces
Valleys as lonely as your father dying
She kissed Judas hanging on a tree
Your life is a decoration
Sleep on your sins of vengeance
The future becomes your past
Defined by what you hate
The kids will find out
Your heroes sell their soul
Queen of the cowboys doesn't cry
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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A Writer's Room
A desk by a window
A quiet room with a few antiques
Two book shelves and the internet
I visit so many poets and writers
Dawn shines on wood floors
Trees in the yard always inspire
They’re so real and unpretentious
They teach us beauty is being ourselves
The sun rises, latter the moon
Silence and ticking clocks
Pictures and photos that mean something
Sometimes I put on some music
Some can write anywhere
I seem to gather inspiration
A hot cup coffee and I am ready to go
I like this room for writing
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Home
Whatever words can't say my heart will cry
Whenever hands are slow my soul will show
You are my blood my love
Whenever stars won't shine I will pray
Until the clouds part and go away
You are the fire in the garden
You make me feel like I belong
We are together in this strange war
Torn like a storm I will cling to you
Distance is being away
Sometimes knots need to be untied
Sometimes we land on islands
You are the song amidst the sea
Waves of the swelling tides
When time fails you will have my poems
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Otherside
Nestled in nostalgia
Wondering if it is aware
The past sleeps lightly
Castles seem haunted
Wind and creeks
Memory is mystic
The old stairs and banister
Rain cannot clean blood
Perfume cannot hide war
Memorials of old soldiers
Visitations in the storm
Two dimensions gather
Dust the old flowered lamps
Her soul is filled with antiques
Crystal wine glasses, candles
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Off The Coast Of Maine
Off the coast of Maine with the blues
Like Roy Buchanan bending notes
An old black and white film
The wind is strange
Melodic chimes of sorrow
The sea will always be my friend
Help me feel the ground my love
The price of darkness isn’t worth it
Stark organ like vivid sands
Clouds of coming rain
Beauty like a sermon
Trees blow like a painting
Pure memories flood like rivers
Where is your hand my friend?
We all loose and win
She is there like a decoupage
Soft light glows from a distant farm
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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This Land Is Your Land
Baby soon the summer will come
Were going to race down to the sea
Let love drown us in a kiss that never quits
No beggar hands
No acquiescence to the fat cat liars
Fight the gated communities
Don’t let your neighborhood become nothing
Don’t let it become the new reservation
Don’t let their bull and flag waving deceive you
Fight these vamps for the rich
Push the shills out of the way
These right-wingers work for Dracula
Baby can you feel it in your veins
Stand by your man and fight them with me
This land is your land this land is my land
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lunch Bucket
Lunch bucket on the kitchen counter
They closed the plant
Jobs sent over seas for cheap labor
Now they blame it on the workers
They blame it on the laid off
They bust unions, call people lazy
They take away benefits
They protect the rich that shipped the jobs
He looks at his kid’s pictures
Daughter in seventh grade
His son turning nine
What am I going to do without healthcare?
Can I find another job with benefits?
The right-wingers are fighting healthcare
He feels the anger of a country loosing dreams
His lunch bucket has a name not a number
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Food Stamps
Saddened street of blue fear
Civil war black and white
Films with silence like Bergman
You stare at the bus in the rain
Hamper full of clothes
Dishes not done
Graffiti
Billboards on a Baltimore road
No more fast lanes
No more art
Your parents are dead
Now what?
You gonna cry
Scream
Be a ward of the state
Increase your antidepressants
You ever been to a nursing home?
Smell the pee
Hear people talking to themselves
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Keep the Rest
They land on the grass by the river
Invisible with growling eyes
They are the dead things
The swirl of manipulation
They are control and tedious games
You see it too, good
Let's make love
Why do they want war?
Consciousness is a fragile island
Mistakes are clattering off the wall
She is the land full of flowers
We are like drained lovers
The world bothers us
Your body is like home
We have decided to not let it in
Except for the birds chirping
The trees in the breeze
The sea and the tides
They can stay along with the flowers
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Another Psychosomatic Night
Vague like your poise
Sundry times of captured soldiers
Days that circle like sand storms
Our center is camouflage
Central nervous system of drips
Wisps in the hallway
Going to far into the future
Ripping flesh of the past
All this circling introspection
Why doesn't he make love to me anymore?
You're a ghost town
You're cruel in your patience
Your relationship is a sham
You rationalize while you die inside
Your psychiatric couch is another excuse
You hide behind things
Sleeping pills
Displacement
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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