September

Oh September my month of birth I ache for you
your warm days flow gently over me
your cool nights comfort and console me
I wait the Summer through for news of you

Rhythms

The unseen wind has its way
with leaves and dust
pushing them this way and that
as it scampers along

And as it goes it leaves behind
a breath of warmth and warning
of the summer heat coming soon
and the empty promise of rain

And the green grass and golden
flowers touched by the moving hand
sway to and fro to the rhythms
of old cycling anew eternally

And the river murmurs its accordance
and collusion and adds rhythm
of its own as it flows to the
sea, the shining, undulating sea

aceman 2008

I Wonder

Across the wide blue sky the clouds all fill with air
I see in them as they sail by, visions of your face so fair
I wonder at their majesty, sculpted by the master’s hand
I wonder where you are today and if you understand

I tried so hard to make you see how much you meant to me
And how much more than a just a friend I could really be
I tried to tell you how much I cared and how I always would
I guess you didn’t want to hear, I guess I never should

You smiled at each I love you, and each I am in love
You said it’s ok for friends to joke and never could I move
Your heart to understand how deep my feelings ran
You saw me as just a friend, I did not fit your plan

And now I sit and wonder about your life with him
Have your hopes and dreams been realized, does he know your every whim?
Is he everything that you hoped that he would be
And I wonder, how I wonder, do you ever think of me?

I Saw You

I saw you at the Chinese place your chopsticks in your hand
Your golden hair newly-coiffed, my, you were looking grand
You were talking to your new friend, oh, hell, what’s-his-face?
The smile you were giving him is one I knew when it was still
our place

I saw you at the gym working out side by side
and I saw you in his car as he was giving you a ride
I saw you two heading home for grilled cheese and wine
another time and another place came briefly to my mind

I saw you on the mountain, Big Red at your feet
You were showing him to his swimming pool, how very sweet.
I saw your pretty pictures as they flew by me in space
The only thing I never saw was me there at your place.

I Never Dreamed of You

When I was young and foolish I dreamed of tomorrows
Like no other and wrestled with lovers under the covers
And life was good with golden days, warm nights
Filled with passion and delight
And I never dreamed of you

I dreamed of wealth and personal fame
And lovers uncountable and the thrill of the game
And all was bright and life was good
And we all took all that we could
And I never dreamed of you

As I grew older the number of lovers
Grew smaller but not the quality
Of their passion and the days were short
And the nights were long and delicious
And I never dreamed of you

Now I know you, a beautiful, wonderful girl
Your large, loving heart has room for all
From lovers to friends to people just met
Your smile given freely to all
And I only dream of you

Needed- A National Food

Ben Franklin thought the wild turkey should be the national bird of the United States. Others prevailed, and today the majestic Bald Eagle has that honor. The various states of the union have their official birds, official flowers, official songs. What is missing is an official national food. Sure, we have unofficial popular foods - hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza- but are these really all-American foods?

I submit for your consideration as the official National Food of our great country a great American delicacy - a genuine gastronomic delight - GRITS! Now, if you have never heard of grits, or they turn up on your plate with your breakfast eggs and you think they are cream of wheat, your cultural education has been sadly neglected. Grits - full name hominy grits - which is also something your waitress may ask - "Hominy grits would you like?" are made from hominy which is made from corn. Ears of corn; the liquid kind is another story for another time.

Grits are to ham and eggs what a t-bone steak is to salad and baked potato. Grits may be eaten plain, the preferred way, or with salt and pepper, or even butter. But never, ever, ruin your grits by adding sugar. Doing so marks you as an uncouth peasant, or worse, a Yankee.

Grits are never just eaten - grits are rolled around on the tongue, the palate relishing the taste, the nose savoring the bouquet. A good grit is assertive but not overbearing, textured, but not grainy, smooth but not mushy. A vintage grit, from good corn, has true character. Indeed grits build character - many of us are where we are today because of grits. Grits are in our genes, and sometimes on our hips.

Sometimes outsiders refer to grits as Southern ice cream, but ambrosia, nectar of the gods, is more like it. If ever you have the chance to try grits, those fair-haired children of corn, don't be fooled by their apparent simplicity, laying there innocently on your plate. Remember all great wines were once lowly grapes.

I urge your support of this great Southern delicacy, the real breakfast of champions, as the Official Food of these great United States of America. After all, grits are served and loved the length and breadth of the finest homeland on Earth, that is from Georgetown, Kentucky to Brunswick, Georgia and from Natchez, Mississippi to Myrtle Beach South Carolina.
Bon appetit!


- Ed Aceman
Copyright 2008




















Copyright 2008

The Dark

The shadows drift slowly, deliberately, across my eyes
clouding my vision despite my cries of recognition
and despair and once again the odyssey is begun
and a harsh wind blows and mutes my cries

It has come, it is here, do I come here or does it
come for me? No matter, all my defenses fail
and I rant and rail against the dark and it
rails against me and I cry for love and familiarity

But all things known and loved fade fast into night
And the dark visions are equalled by the sounds, god,
the sounds. No hurricane from hell would have this might
No carillon pounded by the hammers of Thor

And I drift as if on a swirling sea and tempest-tossed
I land on the firm but it shrinks beneath my feet
I struggle to stand and speak and all I meet
are tumbled and tossed and all too soon lost

The beast with two backs fornicates in the rain
and cries out in ecstasy and pain for the light
but the light of heaven is far from this place
and the cries of anguish and fear pray for grace

Grace is not here nor love nor kind words spoken
and the hearts and minds of fallen souls ripped
from their being in the dirt lie broken
And all is black of various shades and chaos rules

Streams of memory flow like rivers and muddle
and puddle and stagnant grow and the stench is
vile and some who huddle and pray for the light hope
against hope for god's blessed morn and cry the while

And those of us who come here often know all is not always
as it seems but don't know how to escape these dreams
that take us from our beds and hold us captive to our fears and
the dark and terror do with us as they please

Wrenched and broken our pounding hearts drum in our ears
and the knots in our stomachs are wound tight as steel and
sweat pours in sheets and our mouths are dry for fear tears
at our very core and supplants all thoughts small and grand

The light, the light, will it never come? and then, first dim
then growing in might, is this the light? And I see her face
and I can't believe it true and she holds me and comforts me
and whispers, dear friend, it's alright, and again I escape the night

Copyright 2008, E Aceman

The Visitor

As the clouds in my head battle the fire in my bones
for control of my night She comes to me She
lies close to me, her arms around me
and whispers softly in my ear
peace, dear friend, peace
and I sleep