Chuck Trabaris

See his Critical Review of Claude McKay's Poetry

Two Worlds Joined

Different worlds meet
One from Olympus,
A land rich, with history
The other; Victim
Of the nonaggression pact
Brutally thrown from land of birth;

Home to ancestors
From hills clouded with white.
Looking better from behind
Uncertainty grows, following traveler’s dismay.
Gleaming through the overcast darkened sky
A torch of liberty shines lighting the way.

Emotions mixed
Trepidation, dream, anticipation!

Coalminer

This, is home…this, is home.

An abyss gaping within the earth,
Swallowing whole men, a welcoming embrace.
Beams guiding ever so lightly
North star shines so bright
Lantern light beaming out ahead
Swallowed by midnight mornings,
Outlining other pick axes

This, is home…this, is home.

The rhythmic hymn, metal on rock;
Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching, Ka-Ching,
The gravelly hum of voices present
Echoing down the line
Harmonizing, Chirping, canaries,
Front line soldiers holding death at bay.

This, is home…this, is home.

Musty and Dank this embrace so
Familiar yet haunting
The brow lines drip ever so slightly
Discoloring a shirt, rewarding
Slight breezes to mar the skin,
A person comes out a different color than when he went in
Lungs claiming host to a tickle that won

This, is home… this, is home.
This, is home… this, is bread

Finals Time

T.V. flickers with white static,
Eerie blue light taking command
So hypnotic
Books and clothes intertwine.
Closet doors hanging unhinged,
Several holes, one foot in diameter,
Sheets in shambles stained by pen
Light absorbed by midnight skies unrestricted through broken blinds

Eight o’ clock tomorrow no time

Cat piss lingers a pungent aroma
Musty smells penetrate vents.
Overpowering aftershave and cologne masking the other two

Eight o’ clock no time

Eyes twitch and burn.
Red, puffy, blurred vision, and rubbed raw.
Closing your eyelids, sandpaper
Up forty-eight hours and counting

No time for sleep

No static, no wind to rush past the ear,
Just a gentle purring in the background
Lulling you to sleep.
Heart pounding, veins swelling,
Ideas franticly racing over pages

Eight O’ clock tomorrow no time for sleep.

Remembering

Weather beaten face from the long road ahead,
Leathery skin stretching on a massive jaw bone.
Battle scars crisscrossing all over my back… my chest… my face,
Fresh skin pulls; from the night before.
With one good eye
No doubt’s about my appearance,
I am not a handsome man… not by a long shot

I smelled ya before you walked in.
That door opened, sweet with the scent of flowers.
What were you doin in a place like this…
Beautiful, standing there like you owned the place,
And you did!
Everyman’s eyes on you, you could have had the pick of the lot.
But you picked me…why?

Soaring above the clouds when you touched my hand,
Rising above the pain and sorrow.
Telling me that…you loved me…you needed me,
You seemed so scared!
So small!

You gave me everything honey,
When no one would give me the time of day.
Forgive me for I have known emotions not possible
But who could love a mug like this?

If only I could ask you?

Then there is no need to worry sweetie
I’ll be home soon too.

The Struggle Within

Foil wrapper
Ever so shiny, fragile, and thin
A wondrous luminous green
A shiny word streaks
So random
That wonderful bell shape,
I drool with lust and longing

Diet starts today!
Inside screams

Eat me…
You know you wanna…

Don’t listen to them!

Unwrapped so gently
Smooth texture underneath
Skin unscathed
So silky and round
Beautiful chocolate skin
Left me melting

Wasted calories…wags a finger
My conscience?

Come on…
You know you wanna…

Stay strong!

Imagine:
That delicious bell top
So hot…melting
My tongue moves right to left and back again.
Sweet coated feeling left on the roof of my mouth

Whiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrr
Can you feel that drill!

Dooo it! Dooo it! Dooo it!
You know you wanna…

Don’t give in!

Visions of scales
Bell shape tormenting
Mirrors being merciless
Sweet euphoria beckons

Stop!!

Six Inchlings

Six teammates so entertaining
In a testosterone pumped house
Worldly awareness slips
Six inchlings watching a world of men

Sleek blackness reflects the light,
That cold outer shell repels.
Stale coldness troubles them little,
White cold floor, like Ice.
Shaped like an upside triangle
Framed with padding
Tapered down to a sliver

Levers used to move
Spin the handle shoot and score

All stuck on track
Going in one direction,
facing every which way.

Right defensemen, Stuck and Stubborn,
Stuck in place where glue is the only savior, no arms to repair
Gazing out the gigantic window greatly smudged
White siding, and cold steel fence, grant salutations
Peripherals gaining only a glimpse of color.
Constantly masking true emotions.

The Center so Headstrong, and straightforward
Looking through an opponent, one possible outcome.
Dungeon or success which one shall it be?
Five by Three, half a rectangle
Sleek disk torturing in its confrontation;
Brash and Reckless with others.

Left Defenseman so quiet and responsible
Patiently awaiting, action on the other side
Getting lost, in serene lit sky
A premonition of work yet done comes forth.
Forever helping his fellow man
Calm cool glass exterior keeping people at bay,

Right Wing so vain and cocky
Opponent two steps behind, every time
I scream, Nothing on me,
Work those pectorals, glutes, and hams
Daydreaming, on reflection from the window
Life of loneliness must be the plan

Goalie so scared and so Doubtful,
Thick skinned…extra padding always needed
Preparing for an onslaught sure to come
Anticipation pulsates underneath my skin.
Leaping at shadows cast by neon glow
Visions of failure draw near!

Left Wing so aggressive and confident,
Extreme weekend warrior reveling in the past
Wooden walls softly closing, ceiling buckling slightly
Claustrophobia…?
Spectator of sports, lover of wrestling!
An eruption of violence, releasing sarcastic steam

Six inchlings are covered in dust
Dulling that sleek black look
Reflecting wondrous light.
Constantly observing in the world of men
Simply one track mind,
Stuck in one direction
Facing every which way.

A Bad Breaker upper

Soooooo
I got up early…

Your out of hot water
And TP too!!

I ate… the last packet of oatmeal, and the last: orange, Banana, Apple, Kiwi, egg, yogurt, even that nasty grapefruit, waffle, cereal-the frosted flakes were great, Italian sausage, bread, cookie dough ice cream, pizza rolls, Spaghetti-o’s, can o’pringles, cinnamon sticky buns, apple and pumpkin pie, Hershey kisses, M&M peanuts, oero’s and that flower on your counter!

Coffee, soda, don’t exist anymore
Chugged the syrup
Brita pitcher is empty

Before I forget… I took your Chinese food to go

Everything was delicious by the way
All except that nasty grapefruit

Broke your T.V.
Installing illegal cable

Oh yea
I took your car and left
Thanks for leaving it on “E”
Don’t call me…I’ll call you