Category Archives: pdlyons photography

did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant by pd lyons


Today

at the counter

pastrami on rye

coffee black

just off the peripheral

this guy and woman at a table

he was going on & on

you know right away

a bunch of bullshit

rather loudly too

I had no interest in him

or what he was selling

but she had caught my eye

noticed her the minute i came in

by the time i finished my sandwich

she still hadn’t said a word

he of course hadn’t stopped

people just tried to piss him off

daughter 13 years old competing already

lack of parenting by all others

ad nauseam

I asked the waitress for a refill and the check

turned to get a better look at them

maybe she was speaking by just too soft for me to hear?

but no. she was just sitting there taking it all in.

no longer interested but rather sorry for her

turned to finish my coffee

wondered how long the rain would hold off

did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant…

razor black mirror porcelain by pd lyons


 

razor black

mirror porcelain

 

for your

rose bud

bird song mouth

I have made bouquets

 

gathering

shadow light

creatures wonderful

grotesques fortuitous

clear potable water

dark caves beneath a sunless world

secret hand fulls

tremors lolled by after glows

 

alone like ivory your room in blosom

rich solitudes of orchid

perfumed isolations

joys

with

or

without

love

i only make for you

 

 

true


 

 in the emptiness of my heart

the bliss of all beings

in those open spaces of the heart, by pd lyons


 

Where can i always meet you?

where can we always be alone?

 

those open spaces

shadow lives

summers linger

all  ghosts laugh

 

weeping is for beauty

sweet and savory.

all pain, in remedy

honey tipped restored.

 

where i always meet you

in those open spaces of the heart

 

 

 

 

The Great God Pan Is Dead by pd lyons


 

photographer unknown

 

Within the pages of illusion,

Before the glass of no reflection,

The sensuous form of her adoration,

(White on blonde)

Rises to the occasion of the

Mysterious relation between,

The pale worship of a

Vanishing god and the blue

Whispers of her blood.

As fevered as silk in cedar,

Fanatical as dew dipped spider webs;

She’s come and gone.

Her absence heavy in the spicy

Dust of death, where her foot steps

Spell out the haunting word

Amen

 

1987

truth of youth


stronger

sleeker

smarter

better

wet ourselves at the sight of each other

remembered a dream i had last night by pd lyons


 

someone i didn’t know had come to the front door

 told me you were looking for me

on horses we used to own

i couldn’t believe my luck

went to meet you

took those trails we used to take

certain that’s the way you’d come

raced the river

edged the narrow ridge

ducked low hung branches

even found

the old red barn

the wild turkey barn

the shelter from the rain barn

surprised  after all these years-

it hadn’t changed at all

 

 

poems and photos by pd lyons published by clockwise cat issue 36 “Skullwise Cat”


https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/view/56836339/skullwise-cat

 

scorpion night

THE NIGHT MARES

Restless

In a still night

No moon softening

Sharp stars

No cloud drapery.

Against this midnight

The night mares move

Sharing colour with the darkness.

What cannot find them is found by them,

There are no ways secret:

Spiraling stars leave every sky familiar,

Foraging herds by trails of green weeds

Breach every underwater sanctuary.

The night mares

Sleep standing up;

Contain any stallion,

Give birth in the middle of any weather,

Can knock bones, eyes, or internal organs out of any creature.

Simply by their passing

Men have been sucked breathless.

The night mares

Know where dragons come from,

And who, mothered by seas and singing desert sands,

The twin birthed are.

In languages that the thunder knows,

They answer one another.

Navigating easily unbridled,

No boundary deludes them.

Yielding, the only response they know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this first appeared in print in Searches For Magic Lapwing Press Belfast

 

 

 

How Long My Unfitting Skin, The Night

 

she had come down from Gunnison

it had been a hard ride

thin air refusing to support her

old shoes needing to be thrown away as soon as possible

~

met for drinks at The Last Chance

she told me brief stories 

life in the wilderness

ways of ghosts and proud flesh

we booked a room from the man who wore a star

~

make believe log cabin

steel spring mattress

Jim Beam on the bed side

we smoked silent shapes up at an invisible ceiling in the dark

I was happy to be there 

thought she was too

~

but somewhere after moon light

she had gotten up

kneeling by the drifty window

to whatever she prayed

all i could make out was –

 

How long my own unfitting skin the night?

 

 

thank you clockwise cat!

Shirley: Back Story As Told To Bella, part one by pd lyons


 

 

 

IMG_20160412_234800

10 days maybe a few weeks   after my capture? housed with the other prisoners from various units. not many of us 12? 15?  my luck had held. our captors did not know I was not the young boy they thought me.

it was not pleasant but nothing torturous. we were fed crap food, slept on hard earth floor, not many blankets n such. we might have been shoved on occasion, but mostly they mocked us, jeered us in broken language

So now observers have you enjoyed your trip?

Did you see what you wanted?

Don’t worry we still have sights for you don’t we …

and they would laugh.

eventually the tempo seemed to increase, the shoves turned to occasional slaps or spitting or tripping or a kick. I was lucky enough to be nimble but was more uncomfortable with the rough seduction attention paid to me –

beautiful boy, fine young fellow,

remarks about the smoothness of my skin –

that made me feel ill.

one morning earlier than usual, the sun rise hardly bringing colour to the sky, we were roughly called to attention.

Marched out one by one single file

For a moment I thought, this is it. But out in the yards well covered by the weapons of our guards we were each handed a dirt shovel herded up onto the flat bed of a truck.

we were driven a for miles

the country side

old pasture ground

circled by woodland.

we disembarked, well aware of much activity around us.

other trucks

soldiers

some in uniform

some not

all with weapons and belts of ammo.

we were told –

now observers you will see.

come on move.

we were brought to where there were great slopes of fresh dug earth

equally mounds of whitish sand or maybe powder,

past which a long ditch.

my stomach churned

I knew this was death.

other trucks covered in canvas arrived. stopping in the distance. Backed toward our direction. Some of the men form lines parallel to each other at the backs of the trucks. Others I’d say about 20 stood nearer the pit by us. Then the back of truck was opened. Men women children pushed dragged thrown –

beaten between the lines of waiting men

run you fuckers! run!

clothes grabbed torn, some naked by the time they were lined up in small groups. Then facing the ditch

immediately shot by the soldiers who had been waiting near to us.

a whole truck load maybe 30 maybe 40 done like that.

now observers something to see yeah.

now shovel! shovel! or you next.

we were to shovel layer of white then layer of earth. my group on one end another group at other end.

once done another truck was emptied. beaten naked people shot . again we’d shovel. I had been trained to be a soldier; I had been trained to kill in official and non-official capacity but this…

I could not breath I could not think.

scorpion night 9 pd lyons

scorpion night 9 pd lyons

I am dead already by pd lyons


red glass bowl w/ holland tomatoes on a black slate

red glass bowl w/ Holland tomatoes on a black slate on a green table

I am dead already

~ So

there is nothing really to worry about

~ Although sometimes i still forget

think of myself as living

things to do

places to go

achievement’s to achieve

people to please and all

eventually i come around

focus by saying

” you don’t have to”

usually that’s enough to brig me back to what is

~ Other times,

especially if i have forgotten for maybe days,

years, occasionally decades

it takes stuff a little stronger not much though, you know

just say out loud to my so called self;

“you are already dead “

 helps me relax

brigs me round to that expansive place of what is

a pleasant space of truth

red bowl glass

red bowl glass

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