Apples fall seasoned
Crisp cinnamon delights
Pantries- screen doors-
Open to the Fall air
Pumpkins and potato sacks
Rich dreams embrace
the cold… where sunflowers
Tower like Gods in the garden
Leftover ants scurry in lines
Retracing paths, carrying water
To their goddess queen
And colors explode
In an event horizon
Reds, Yellows, Oranges
Fill the Autumn sky…
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
My voice echoes through mountains
I am wiser than ancient bear
I know everything for I am one
In these back woods if you didn’t know
I light fires with my eyes
Command the weather with my beard
I am the original god of hunting
Don’t dare forget my name
Young elk, you are to pale too weak
To young to know the ways that I AM
Fresh scent and soil within MY domain
Your steps betray your innocence here
And the neon clouds over head
Burst into tears, releasing inspired rain
Down Down upon ego eyes
Blind to the mystic and magicK of it all
Caught up in Western reality of faith in materialism
Open wounds absorb the salt of irony
In the distance, a wolf thinks it Howls
With Might and Majesty but rests in temporal lies
Not Howling in the Night
But crying to the moon
Lunar sonnets revealed from secret muse
But I am the True Bear, you Are but a cub…….
With holes in my pockets of realism
Dropping names as a dime store joke
The forest hidden with gems and mysteries invisible to the naked eye
Are they not there?
If you “cannot gaze upon them”
With Your Own eyes?
You reel in agony with a thorn in your paw, with disclaimers of how valiant you truly are
And we are awed by your brilliance
Dancing in steps
To the Rhythm of fake deceit
Sunshine glory cascades through emerald foliage
Who is the hunted
Who is the hunter
Paranoid righteousness fuels the All
There are No muse
Not to the naked eye
Or
At least that’s what I’ve been told
Whispered secrets from ancient gods
Inspiration from the lips of desire
Spirits sing sonnets of beauty and decay
But transmission is not received
To the western physical mind
In the end
Fires are squelched
Words tossed like volleyballs
To an fro
The Roar of the Beast
Energized with lies upon lies
Self validation of it’s Own existence
Dining in it’s quarters
Beneath branches of wilderness
It resides there, cultivating the persona of southern outlaw
That he alone holds
The doors
Of
Grace
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
I hear your pen scratching
The keys of your typewriter
Clicking clickety clack
Prose, poetry, I felt gentleness
Honesty, humbleness, greatness
The best example of humanity
Offering insights into ourselves
We saw each other through
Your candid observant eyes
So in touch with your Self
You knew who you were
A heart worn on your sleeve
As empath I felt your kindness
Even as you expressed pain
A moment of silence
A moment of prayer
A moment of longing
So many did care…..
In the moment
An eternal fraction of time
I will still hear your voice
As though it were mine….
A stamp, an Impression
A tattoo of you upon my soul
I won’t forget
We wont forget
That someone
Becomes More
Than a stranger
Entering the realm
Somewhere between
Mystery and Myth
My friend
More than an echo
I was graced
With the privilege
Of being allowed
Into your circle
As I was to feed
Upon your exceptional
Words…
🙏📖✍️💜🌹
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
Emulate, radiate, one day be as great, shine like the sun, without falling. Icarus Icarus have I learned nothing at all… We must learn our strengths and be kind with tempered egos, I’ve read the writing on the wall. Summer Sunset before Fall. Beauty comes with many faces and songs. From Montana Skies even to the dried Los Angeles riverbeds…
It’s Life, Experience, and Love.
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
I ain’t got No Time for egos
Ain’t got No Time for Dime store principals
Ain’t got to time to be pushed around
Ain’t Got No Time for YOU
Better mind your manners
When you look both ways to cross the street at night
Heaven help the tired and sick that are gonna make things turn out Right…..
Pick yourself up off the floor
What size skid mark do you wear
One size fits all if ya make that call. They’ll peal you up to the lost and found…..
93/93
So mote it be
Zoso
When it’s become obvious that the world is against you
And you just hear that clicking in in your mind
The sewer rats become mongrels
Phiening flesh and bone
Climbing over dusty corpses
Time to lock them shadows away
Turn off the clocks turn out the lights and call it in for the night
Blessed be
So mote it be
Namaste
~93
Awake
My Vampyre
My children
Of the night
Nocturnal harvest
Ever in bloom
We take refuge
From the early hours
Beneath hidden walls
We are the desire
We are what is left of man
We are the true breed
Collective
Perfect
Beautiful
We are the gods
Centuries old and wise
The foolish rodents
Walk and laugh ignorant
Whispering tales
And singing songs
Of their own lament
Crimson warmth flows
Freely within
Their paper skin
For we are
Who we are
Then, now and ever after…
93/93
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Eyes once dry Marbles shoot
Against Cat’s Eyes
Godfather cracks
Placement
Beyond the safety
Of the protective
Circle
Like ripples
Mosquitoes
On
Kamikaze missions
Buzzzzzzzzz
Over head
In perfect formation
Like covered wagons
Somewhere in Utah
Before the masses
Blood and oceans
Settler’s lives
Taken
And
Blamed
On
The Red man
Framed
For Slaughter
History books hide
The white washed lies
Where there is no honor
Or
Redemption
In a secret coup
Holy War
Against a Nation
That throws innocents
Into the meat grinder
For power
And self
Preservation
How can we forget
The ghosts
Of both red
And white alike
Made
Into
Victims
And
Sacrifices
For
Political
Means
To an end
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Jigsaw pieces, memories, I recall living the dream. The tik of tok reverberating clock the glitter of the scene. Long night’s drawn into an early morning’s trap. Crystal vision, neon makeup, broken mirror dreams. UnHoly nights undead teens lingering in New York and Los Angeles. The bitter fruit of yesterday’s folly has left us naked and unfulfilled.
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
Jigsaw pieces, memories, I recall living the dream. The tik of tok reverberating clock the glitter of the scene. Long night’s drawn into an early morning’s trap. Crystal vision, neon makeup, broken mirror dreams. UnHoly nights undead teens lingering in New York and Los Angeles. The bitter fruit of yesterday’s folly has left us naked and unfulfilled.
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
I lost myself
At the bottom of a bottle
But there I was
Staring back
I recognized those eyes
That wild crazy smile, Dig?
I’ve Been Down
Around
Feeling the scene…
What scene
It’s Has Been
It’s In-between
The Calling
Memories of ghost bars
Haunting me from afar
Too long ago
But I still wear them scars
I can show you
I can show you
I can show you
I Howl with amazement
I got to pick up the pace
I got a second Chance
Can you fuckin’ believe it
This Mortal coil
This Human toil
We got to set some Shit
On FIRE
CREATE THE DREAM
Begin Again… And Screeeeam!!!
Ignite Neon Lights
City Lights
Across the country
I realize it’s TIME
From New York City
To San Fransisco
Walking to the Beat
We are the Rebels
On the Go
We can’t Slow
Can’t say NO
Spread the WORD
Cuz So FEW Have Heard
I May NOT Have long
But I’m going to give my All
So precious Is life
I Only wish I had Known
Maybe I wouldn’t
Have Drowned myself
For secret Reasons
Only I truly knew
My fuckin’ friends…
Whew, didn’t even Know
I Had a daughter
I didn’t watch grow
But… I changed the WORLD
For a time at least
Artists, poets, sculptors
Before the HIPPIES
No… Not My Kind
Fuuuck that Shit
Look at You Allen
You being such a hit
Second CHANCE is Now!!!
Let’s get It Right
Get back to Brass Tacks
The POWER
Is in what we Write
Broadsides
Online Journals
Home Page post shares
Independent Publishing
Chapbooks
And guillotines
We Got to get the Word Back OUT
I GOT This vessel
I’m-ma gonna call Home
For
A while
At Least til we can get SHIT Done
Things Need Potency
Reality
The sky is cloudy
Societies SICK
NEEDS Antibodies
Cure The Ills
Of what the Fuck is Going On
It’s like Living Hell
A kick in the groin
It’s Comin’ together
Oh Man, can you FEEL IT
The People want Change
But Don’t know how to Ask
Well, That’s Alll right
We Got a plan
It’s Comin’ together
Through Merritt the Man!
He’s been so kind
To Let me reside
(Rent Free)
If you can believe…
Our “Vision”
Is starting
It’s Going to ROAR
All of a sudden
And
THAT’s
WHAT
WE
NEED
IT’s
The Name of the Game
You see…
First Thought
Best Thought
Forever more……
Got’s to start sometime
And That time
Is Now
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
Queen of the desert
Ancient priestess
Grounded, calm
Abundant
Bull horns, Wings
Her connection to the divine
The embodiment of heaven
On earth
(matthew bowers)~93
© all rights reserved
Coughing up memories of yesterday
Elderberry wine perfume
Telephone wire rip cords
Withered voices now silent
Alone within hallowed walls
Windowpane dusty eyes
A vouyer weeps, sleep walking
Among forgotten giants
Gold glitter star once shown
Bright in the night
New Moon smile
Champagne flowed freely
Like blood in the streets
Of Rome
(matthew bowers) ~93
Writer / Voice – *(matthew bowers)* ~ 93
Editing – Librus Monastico
Sound Mix – *(matthew bowers)* ~ 93
An FnB Production
2021
Two cool barrels
Upward ceiling bound
Metallic taste of oil
And steel, denounce
Despair and pain
45 horses cum
A Colt on the verge
Of release…..
THUNDER
and red red rain
Against virgin walls
Down into pools
Upon the floor
Where Iron fills
The open air
With the inevitable
Stench
Of death
Efforts are lost
Wasted
The lack
Of quid pro quo
The busiest pens
Notable friends
Armed with quills
And Wifi
Sharing voices
Celebrating change
Pushing
Pushing
For A Community’s identity
Again
“To Change or Kill the World
It MUST Be Done”
As the flags empty montra
Fly at half staff
No one asks
But you give and you give
Hoping for a better tomorrow
And
Silence…
NKOTB expectations laughable
Maybe two or three
Out of Hundreds See
The meaning and react to the words and The Call
And within a few moments
Of personal reflection
Is this All that there is?
Are the pens laser focused
On the next line or title
Digging Deep
Within Themselves
The actions shared
Comments declared
Liked with enthusiasm
Followed by hushed
Silence
Alien boy
Not of this world
Doesn’t comprehend
The human species or
Intent
So take me away
I’m going home now
With my empty echoes
Reverberating from
Throughout the room
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
I’m coming…….
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
I’m an empty glass
With no reflection
My shadow bare
Of what remains
Toxic logic
Vulnerable mind
Collecting dust
Upon this forgot
Bar
I think I really did it
This time
Put on the uniform
Of a fool
A screaming mine
As
My guts decay
And are bound in
Knots
Clenched so hard
To breathe
I’ve said to much
Opened scars
Feeling rich in
With an opiate
HIGH…
I never expected
To feel
That razor dance
Across my skin
Allowing
The forgotten in
As time
Races and stops
In a single moment
Cobalt blue
Mustard yellows
The tearing down
Tearing up
Frankenstin emotions
Come to life
Glass paths
Ninja toes
Carefully tread new
Encounters
Don’t push
Be you
Is it to late
To change fate?
A fragile smile emerges
Ever so slightly
Lost in thoughts
And dreams that
Had been unrealized
Protection
Detection
The void does consume
As much as it inspires
Both darkness and light
Brilliant
Thomas also wondered
What lay beyond
Circular stones
Mysteries unknown
While what you seek
Lies…. within
But …. This is more
This is Hope
This is an answer
To a call that a soul
A hollow frame
That forgot how to dance
Got renewed taste
Of
Equality
Of promise
If not in one’s own mind
Music
Electric rhythm
Synchronicity
Living emblems
Of parables
Do not Scare
Do not fear
Trust the justice
Of universal law
Trust in the intent
Of others
Don’t cast doubt
Without reason
And remove
Pain
&
Ego
From the equation
Time stands still
Bitter sweet
But in the moment
Aware Of that moment
Be whole
Be more
Be strong
Be fair
Be … you
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
© 2021
Somewhere along the the lines, I forgot who I am. Not some kind of shining bird, but a piece of dirt. Ah, let’s face it, if you knew who I am, you’d be running for cover, to get the hell out of the way. Steel reinforced junk, just sitting next to the road, “That’s a god damn eye sore” he said, fixing his crotch. Never apologize, for being yourself, I may not have “IT” but “IT” has me. Clara Bow had “IT”, Hell I think Ms. Louise Brooks had “IT”, at one point it seemed everyone in fucking Hollywood, had “IT”. Times change, and it seems that the World wants to send this Great BIG Message, out to the masses, but the more you listen, the less you hear, and the more that you fight this God damn war, the more they got you locked Up. See, it’s All in your mind, from start to finish…. And all of this politicaly correct Bullshit, is flushing our society, straight down the toilet. When a comedian, can’t tell the truth, because it offends someone, he’s out of a damn job, because he ain’t funny no more. The Comedy Is the truth! That’s the price of it, there ain’t no freedom of speech! It’s all Walking and Choking, on glass, to make others happy. You wanna settle things, piss someone off. Write them a letter, and thank them for their time! You wanna get even, go right up to the Biggest Toughest looking hombre, start shaking his hand, look him flat in the eyes, buy him a drink! You really want to get under someone’s skin, go up to a cop, Tell him he’s doing a good job, and it sucks no one cares that he’s putting his life on the line to protect a bunch of assholes. Yeah, things have been rough and ugly for quite sometime, it’s like getting Hit, with a Big ole rock, in the back of the head, and you finally come to, and remember…
who the Fuck I am.
**(matthew bowers)** ~93
© 2021
And the vampyres sang
In harmony
Of a love that was lost
So long ago
No mortal could fathom
The depth, the feel
Or comprehend the pain
Within their dusty bones
The Queen
Heiress of the True gods
Glowed with passion
That killed any mans soul
Belief in the songs
The lyrics of a bards tale
Alone would bewitch
Their fragile hearts
Strong
Elegant
Wise
Experienced
In more than life
Her eyes conjured fires
That left lesser men
To die inside
She manifest hunger
Thirst from within
The need
To feed
To be at her side
The Vampyre dance
Beneath the moon
Centuries witness
Carnal delights
On then another
Night after night
The wolves howl a movent
A sonata in b minor
That echoed hunger
Loneliness and pain
The true curse of
The vampyre
Is to never be whole
To deny it’s existence
To deny it’s throne
As the song remains
The melody unchanged
Forever, for nothing
To die again and again
The heart of the vampyre
Freely given away
She is the goddess
Of the night
And of the fae
Eternal torture is
All that remains
The true meaning
Of their song
And what … Remains
The vampyre is hollow
Died a thousand deaths
Empty
Longing
For her… eternal touch
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
By the Calling 93
A frozen moment,
in 1965
In a New York apartment
Modest wealth here we reside
A comedy of errors
I won’t be repressed
Facing life with laughter
Is this yesterday’s dress?
A struggle for identity
I have dreams too
Why is he threatened?
It’s always been the two!
He just doesn’t have “it”
He tried and he tried
The echo of crickets
Up on the stage he died
Resentment, festering
He could no longer look into my eyes
While the words liqueured up
Flowed freely like wine
They were gasping for air
Holding their sides
Even spitting drinks Out
The “Roar” to my surprise!
I’m doing it,
my freedom
I’m somehow following my dream
A woman in comedy
I must have been insane
Women are fragile
Work cosmetic counters
Telephone operators
If she has aspirations they doubt her
Like a camera taking pictures
a bulb I too flashed
How embarrassing in “Jail”?
Oh how long would the shame last?
My mother, my husband
even Worse… My DAD!!!
OH how can I ever face Him
I’ve never done anything So bad! LoL
But I had been bitten
Oh I so loved the lights and stage
I found my true passion
A woman of the modern age
Divorce, recourse,
I bruised his poor ego,
Things just grew cold
He felt he had to let me go
Embarrassed he changed
lost all his desire
No more pursuing
His “Act” now in the fire
We were just starting out in life
To others it seemed that we had it all
He was successful
Me, the perfect mom…
Then textiles, sweat shop
Now he works with His father
So disappointed
Never attaining the laughter
I meet a Beat Poet
When I did my time in the cell
I bailed him out
There was something special I felt
He’s a veteran of stage,
he knew the scene
He’d show me the ropes
Celebrity King
Bruce, loose,
shaken and stirred
Cool, social narrative
Counter culture verse
Late Night, Brave fight
television appearances
He made the “To Watch” list…
Even worse, they called him Communist
He didn’t care,
lived Life with a flare
Oh yes! I want THAT
To make people laugh
Forget all their problems
Be a First Class Act!
Oh…. Act 2
I’m on my way
Touring the country
A new city each day
My manager and I
Played for the flight boys
One show after another
Such a marvelous adventure
This coming of age
A true liberation
With so much earned laughter
A sweet celebration
“Tits Up”
© *(matthew bowers)* ~93
