Monthly Archives: August 2014

Divorce, by pd lyons


Two boys
Sons before school
Dad’s darlings
Learning to swing
“…all by yourself!!!”
Under a friendly sun
Free vitamin D
Lace of green tree buds
Song of wandering sparrows

Who knows the sorrows of another?



Really Got A Hold On Me, from Old Songs by pd lyons



Really Got A hold On Me

long after it
was new
some after hours basement
by some cover band
we got to dance
felt right through
and we both knew ~

tighter tighter


broken wing, chet baker yoga – by pd lyons ( À la rentrée )


today fines grey rain crossing the august green for which this country was named

sun salutes

sun salutes

crossed with moon

supported by the free weight

of missing Paris too


volume on this video may need to be turned up

Baby It’s You, by pd lyons from old songs

Baby It’s You

cross well polished floors
games the size of life and death
how else could it be
matching my heart
with your steel

way over my head
cause baby it’s you






Today Is Tuesday ( sometimes in this writing life 2 )by pd lyons

Today Is Tuesday (Sometimes in writing Life 2)

have to cut back on the computer
it’s pretty bad
hours of my life a day sucked away
nothing done
neck aches wrist aches
contacts dry fall out of my eyes like pieces of glass

from now on check in once a week
cater to those fan-based minions
socialize with those multitudinous faces
post a plog upon the blogs
once a week
maybe Mondays

got dressed drove into town
picked up a case of Lebanese red
two bottles Tyrconnel
litre of un-oaked Chardonnay for cooking
stack of legal sized pads,
and a few pounds Italian coffee

Today is Tuesday
I have liberation to celebrate.



Now Safe In Snug Harbour, by pd lyons

Now Safe In Snug Harbour

Think there is nothing left because
Things are not they way they were?
I have shouted at the city-blocked midnight
Danced fence post crooked side walked racially slurred neighbourhoods
Found my way past numerous boot strap bras soft slung underwear
Love named and nameless roof tops vestibules pine wood parked cars basements garages around the corner from some bar
All long railroads of dreams no longer gleaming dull rust into misuse

What is this pulse less thing?
Where is the pushing through my blood?
Undeniable maniacal all experience worth while
How failing of words to name you muse?

Once I belonged to your ancient word
Once midnight meant something swinging at the park
Shouting strings continuous words
Stars  sky earth and bug sounds
Hardly known girl beside me
Waiting supplicant for the dew that would soon cover us
Cold reservoir air upon one another
Our open mouths another universe.

And days or nights never mattered
Hit by shrapnel amphetamine opiate subduction
Elegantly by psychedelics led

Behind whatever it is things have become?
Oh these things were meat for you
All this was blessed for words by you
And I needed to know nothing because all newness was all sacred.


Tears of lovers in the dark
Knowing soon that we would part
No longer see another day
The way we were
Now so far away

All my instruments pointed
All my solitude true
It was not to other lovers
No mortal could compare
No substance base, mercurial,
Nothing compared to you.

I could not understand factories of men and beer




Days Are Always Going On by pd lyons






Days are always going on

Streams of hours like cars, trucks, motorcycles

Steadily scrambling through

As if on some desperate mission

Important business somewhere else

Not very often quiet

Hardly any attention to my imagined rules of the road

I am not important enough

For a slow down –


Lucky the buggers haven’t come full stop yet I suppose.



whenever I cry you’re still there, by pd lyons

indian pipe @ sleeping giant

indian pipe @ sleeping giant

might be a moment in winter

a tinsel a star gone astray


maybe first color of Autumn

geese not yet on the wing


might be your birthday’s in April

someone with curls in their hair


or maybe someone with roses

whistling all summery with out a care?


there’s not really any rhyme or reason

not really any way to prepare


whenever I cry I see you

whenever I cry you’re still here



except america by pd lyons

the sun is out

i’m just sitting in the shade
breezes stir the unkempt lawn

music drifts out the kitchen door
Ali Farka Toure and Roy Cooder
and because of this

and because of the bourbon ginger lime in my glass
and the perfectly drawing romeo y julieta
i could be anywhere
any you could come

except America


Another Summer, By PD Lyons, as published by vox poetica

Contributor Series 7: The Confessional Diary of Bone

Another Summer
By PD Lyons
95 degrees
4th of July
Bare Trees, Winter Night; oldie not so familiar says the radio
this is age
& what it’s like
& how is there anything else now?
But poplars silver
still sounds like rain
quick sand springs still stream
maples shade deep gorge brooks
high stones circle the pool
of where going down to the horse bones
we were kids



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