THE LAMENT OF THE FUGITIVE / EXCERPT FROM THE RED ROAD REFRAIN ~ MCVICKER ~ 2004

THE LAMENT OF THE FUGITIVE / THE RED ROAD REFRAIN
mcvicker 2004

In the distance, the Captains horn,
His dogs are close behind.
The wound, my side, is burning strong,
my eyes, are almost blind.  

The air hangs heavy on this River Road,
thick with life all around,
as mine flows out and chills my bones,
and soaks the very ground. Red on Red

When can I stop and be still?
The Captain drives me on,
his crazy hounds are at my heel.
My Lord, have you forgotten?
Will I Lose my faith on this red road?
Very soon, I will stop, 
and be still. Red on Red 

I make my way to the shallows,
exhaustion without relent.
My future lies at the gallows,
if his dogs find my scent.

Muddy water burns my side.
I am drifting, to days before.
My head swoons, with the River's tide,
as I remember opening the door.

Is it you, Oh Lord, that pulls my soul?
Do I keep my grip and stay?
Shall I simply relax my hold
and gently float away?

Silence now.
Dare I imagine, am I safe?
What deception do the insects know,
my senses to be betrayed.

It seems like days I've led this chase.
Nightfall, has given me pause.
I must keep my rendezvous, to make my case.
Stay the course, for the cause.

I lay here submergerged in the muddy wake.
The tide pulls me strong.
As I let go, branches break.
Red River carries me along.

The Captain emerges from the woods, 
with the force of ten.
He curses and fires quick  rounds.
Musket balls flash, streak through the darkness; my friend.
I am swallowed by blackness, not to be found.

THESE OLD WINDOWS ~ MCVICKER

THESE OLD WINDOWS                                       mcvicker 2015

When dust had settled,
the smoke had moved on.
Both sides, befuddled,
and no one had won.

Giving up the wishes, demands, and malaise,
Nothing was left, for Father
but to watch,the course, 
his life would run.
Eager, I left the haze.

The last time I saw him
we sat together, at restaurant table.
I hadn't been fit,
nor was he able.
He sat quiet, and stared at me.

His voice, was kept silent,
yet his eye's screamed to me,
"I'm trapped in this body,
and time won't relent.
I'm leaving soon, as you can see."
Feeling uneasy, I squirmed like a boy,
forced, to stay in one place.
Still, he sat quiet, and stared at me.
and looked, deep, deep studying my face.

Age had set in with it's laughing, last word
In my early years, unless for trouble, 
he was seldom heard.
A family of five, earning a living had been hard.
I understood all too well.
Working for others and biting your tongue.
Weariness would eventually tell
the story I was not to discard.

Through our windows we looked at each other.
Pains of glass, scratched, dirty. frosted, 
filled with steam, frozen and written upon by shattered winter's dreams.
Opened and shut in all of the weather.
Darkened and lit, just to see better.
Finally, he whispered, "Now I can see,
Son, you're just like me." 

LUNA~ MCVICKER ~ 2015

OREGON MOON,
ALMOST DONE.
TIDAL DREAMS THAT TOSS MY BED.
LUNATIC FRINGE SPINS IT'S MASSIVE WEB.
WORRIES AND WONDERS,
FIRST LIGHT WILL CLEAR,
ALL MY MADDING THOUGHTS, WITH SUN.

THE HONORED QUEST ~ MCVICKER ~ 2015

The Honored Quest           ~ mcvicker ~ 2015

Oh, wretched media pallet paints,
of those who are and those who ain't.
High pitched, lying, speakers scream
to the very soul, to squash a dream.

A lofty moral of those who think they love,
silent names, a Hawk, a Dove.
Bombed out shells of city states,
sleeping bodies on subway grates.
The suited faces turn their own way.

Opened mouths that spew and blame,
bring to ruin and mistrust among  those who remain.
The defenders of a forgotten cause.

Bring all your unfortunate and troubled here,
the Lady awaits you at her shore.
Escape from tyranny of gilded age.
At last we too, may forget our rage
against the few who beat the weary masses.
We, who could never, would never, change our caste is.
Set in stone, hard and fast.

But, where is the land that was stolen first?
No people could have ever quench this thirst
of greed.
Events as old as the Creation remain.
Lessons never learned, stay the same.
Haunting the dwellings of those with fear.
Nothing, under the Sun has changed.

But wait and notice take!
A rumble in the once silent breast
of the Lion of Truth, who stirs to wake.
To rise, to conquer, the ones who would for selfish stake,
attempt to soil the honored quest.

DILWORTH ~ MCVICKER ~ 2015

                                      DILWORTH ~ MCVICKER ~ 2015

I remember a place in Dilworth,
not by familiar name.
Sitting at a table
soaking from the rain.

A fire in it's place.
A window, a friendly face.
I sat and watched the passers fight their brollies,
on shiny blacken streets.

A hornpipe or reel from the corner.
I tapped my finger to join her.
A pint and a dram
to warm my heart,
on a lonesome far away.
I lift my glass, "Slainte!"
Shake my troubles at the door.
"God Bless Ye, All, in this house,
on this dull and dreary day!"

MOSTLY USED ~MCVICKER ~ 2015

MOSTLY USED

Relics from a day, long past.
Lamenting their daily use.
In tender hands find obtuse,
it's once toil and mission.

A stroller, a bike, 
rusted soldier,
broken lamp light.
The days of laughter and fun,
blue skies, gentle breeze, and sun.
Inside the mildewed wood of an
abandoned, failing garage.

Stacks of yellow travel magazines,
foreign places never been.
Mice have pitched their tents in these.
where they travel now, unseen.

Broken glass of a frame, wrinkled photo, holding hands.
Unnatural smiles of a woman and a man,
too bright of light, frozen in a finders view.
"Who are these people, the man looks like you?"
Hanging lantern, on the wall, 
lit the way in a rock crack splinter,
one chilly day in Fall.
Marked with lairs of sleepy ones 
who would stop and lay there, all winter.
A rusty stove for an outside meal.
Tangled string of a fishing reel.
A net that failed to catch,
the one that got away.

In the back, we made our way.
Under canvas, it was placed to stay.
The reason for this quest from afar.
In it's majestic glory, sat Daddy's car.

"Not so bad, body's clean.
The motor will need what you would glean.
Tires gone, nothings perfect, as they say.
Push her out so she can be seen.
Not so bad when all's considered,
push her out to the light of day."

Cats and mice, both babies born.
Broken glass, seats are torn.
Everything's where it's supposed to be.
"Mostly used, always in good company."

LIVING THE DREAM ~MCVICKER ~ 2015

Then one day, He was just there.
He came like He had never left.
It was as though He had just went for coffee.
I looked and turned toward Him,
He smiled, but didn't stare.
From a distance, a steady pace He kept,
silently walking, casually approaching me.

I gestured a nod, He didn't respond.
My mood was uneasy, but I felt calm.
A cool breeze blew the fog around,
spiral twists, a distant sound.
When He past, it was right through,
a twinkling glance, a rush of breath,
"Hold on there Sir, let me catch up to you.
My constant companion, my friend, Death."