INVENTING A PERSONA
 

Choosing a career in crimes,
on the job training,
untold benefits procured,
         until incarceration,
         a thief's work compensation.

Using a crook's discretion,
making up a name,
inventing a persona,
         and modus operandi
         for criminal intention.

A higher education
to  commit more crimes,
and cover up evidence,
         bewildering inspection,
         before a crime scene they flee.

Avoiding apprehension,
ignominy served,
concealed under masks and wigs,
         with aka's, fake ID's,
         alibi's made to order..

The joints are well-cased, planned
look-outs to keep watch,
clean get-aways, stolen  cars,
         and license plates are covered,
         loot is divvied up or fenced.

Bystanders lives'  are threatened,
gagged, bound, taped or tied,
valuables are lifted, bagged or sacked,
         camera lenses sprayed black,
         cannot record felons' acts.

Well armed to their teeth with guns,
murder in their eyes,
They fire volleys into walls,
         announce, "This is a stick-up!"
         then saying, "Reach for the skys!"

If ever caught, Mirandized,
tried and convicted,
for one or more of their crimes,
         sentenced to over-flowing jails,
         given numbers for their names.

Made to order duds
to fit discerning people,
matching ensembles.

Hues coordinated,
frippery, froufrou, fallal,
expensive attire.

Haute couture modiste
adorning women, fashion models,
wo/mannikins' togs.

Nothing off the rack
will do designer conscious
 Beau Brummels and fops.

Fancy finery,
apparel, not basic frocks,
bespoken garments.

Regalia outfits,
clothes horsed caparisons, wear
habiliments' garb.

Vested, suspendered,
sartorial splendored men,
best suited coxcombs.

Paraphernalia
for professionals working
to achieve success.

Clothing makes the man,
customarily speaking,
nothing more to say.

MARRIAGE
    (4/4/1997)

Thomas Patrick Rhyner and NaHshonee` Ann Stillman upon this day are wed,
   to enter a state of matrimonial bliss until the day that they are dead.

We wish the bride and groom the best of lives together, whatever road
    that they may travel, smooth, pot-holed, detoured, rocky, full of gravel.

Whatever stops that they make along their wedded journey's way,
    may all their troubles be "little ones", with time both for work and play.

The joy that both of you will find becoming man and wife,
   we pray for continued happiness, good health, with little strife.

Build the best relationships you can with families and friends on both
    sides, recognize that all your needs and hoped for dreams only God provides.

He alone will give you strength, in Him you shall prevail, whenever any
   trials arise, His pathway is always straight and narrow.

When children come along to bless you as husband and wife in parenthood,
   remember that, they too, are gifts from God, raise them as you should.

And, at the time your kids are grown and on their own, remember your
   commitments made upon this day with God to stay as One.

Tom and Shonee` have a beautiful life ahead, stay the best of friends
forever,  make all your togethered dreams come true, whatever you endeavor.

Peace & Love,
 

Bob & Lorna Cobb

MODERN LIFE      by Robert R. Cobb

  Virtual reality.
                       digitized.
                                      God-less.
                                                    Frozen DNA cells
in honey-combed
                            cubicles
to await
                              germination.

Surrogated incubators
                              zip-less fucks.
                                        denied passion.

Like lambs
                  from sheep
                                       cloned replicas.
                                                             Are we?

Shepherded too.

the final

destination.

NOT REMARKABLY WITTY

It's not much to read,
just a simplistic ditty
misdirected sad musings
from far flung faces
living in other cities.

Messages returned
addressing unknown  places
optioned replies multiplied
ad nauseum writes,
not remarkably witty.

Bob Cobb

ONLY IF.         by Robert R. Cobb        6/1/98
 

Only if.you look for something to love yourself for, will true lovehappen.

Only if.you risk trusting someone will your own burden become lighter.

Only if.you allow  someone to feel your pain may you start to feel wholeagain.

Only if. you do "really work on getting over this disease," will anything positive occur.

Only if.you reach deep inside will you find that strength and reason, that drive to survive.

Only if.kittens really had nine lives, but, there are others who need your love.

Only if.pots were pans and ifs were wills to to be, could all your dreams be realized through doors that need no key.

Only if.the life force goes on may future possibilities not be denied for health and wealth and happiness inside.

Only when, not if.you invite the Lord to be your strength and guide, will the relief you seek become the promise He shall provide.
 
 

                 ordinary stuff
i tend to take for granted,
                 uncounted blessings,
while awaiting the day when
the sweepstakes' truck delivers
                 what has been promised,
riches, enough for life-times.

                 of  course the dream fades
as the years go by, no truck
                 appearing, no knock
on the door, no dough galore,
just more mailed empty promises,
                 junked, "don't delay" schemes,
"win, no purchase necessary."

                 then  one day a muse
appears, inspiring poem themes,
                 vanity ordained,
the ordinary stuff now
becomes poetic drivel rhymes,
                  written down in lines,
sent off to contests' judges.

                   rejection letters,
sase, snail delivered mail,
                   decree regrets, or,
just maybe, "you have won first,
second, third prize," perhaps, an
                   "honorable choice,"
mention regarding efforts.

                   the odds are better,
i tell myself, than sweepstakes,
                   lotteries, gambling,
other games of opportunism,
playing the stock market, or
                    early retirement,
are there any other options?

                    and so, bemused fool
i am, writing verse and rhyme,
                    insignificant
to a larger audience
than found "among friends" of mine,
                    usually polite,
criticism left to wife.

                    words strung together
expressions, personal paths
                    down trails 'oft trodded,
may never win a chapbook prize,
nor make me a recognized
                    poet laureate,
known as a famed house-hold name.

                    ordinary stuff,
by an ordinary man,
                    a sometime poet,
with a need to be fulfilled,
creating art with brush and pen
                     imagination,
seeking buyers not too mean.

PEACE TALKS     by Robert R. Cobb
      (6/21/1999)

Some talk about peace.
     which passes. understood,
are reasons given for war,
     those will never. breathe freedom,
     without a costly price, death,
hate transcends the grave.

Pain endures torture,
      sadistic pleasures,
inflicting slow death, unkind
      scars, missing body parts, and.
      forgotten land mines. fields, crops,
await body bags.

Conflicts, prejudice,
     racial cleansing ploys,
denied mass graves, enemies.
     and ritual sacrifice,
     atrocities and war crimes
to annihilate their foe.

Some talk about peace.
     it's cheaper than bombs
though not quite as effective
     mapping targets, selective,
     "friendly fire-storms," prevail,
"accidents will happen," doomed.

Events stun NATO,
       embassies are bomb-blasted,
the Chinese launch mad protests,
       Russia moves troops, Kosovo,
       seeking  slice of power pie,
further adding to turmoil.

I cannot figure
      what glaring features stand out
to let Serbs, Croats, Muslims,
      indiscriminately
      fire upon women, children,
from cowardly positions.

Methodically,
     exterminations are
conducted by night and day,
     large-scale gang warfare rites,
     to protect turf, to erase
all signs of previous owners.

 Ideologies,
     promoting intolerance,
abased racial hatred,
     are indoctrinated schemes,
     taught early and too often
to would -be-friends-and-neighbors.

There is no end-game,
     there are no real winners here,
no slates to be wiped clean for
     tomorrow's history quiz.
     the lessons are painful,
the answers.predictable!

POET'S PARK #6      by Robert R. Cobb        1/24/98
 

---Dear Editor,

Is Poet's Park alive and well,
merely under a malevolent spell?

Will you ever escape the wrath
that blocks Poet's Park's path?

Number six seems to be way past due,
does anyone within the Park have a clue?

Patience is, usually, my strongest suit,
but it's wearing thin, I cannot keep my elbows in.

Please provide some answers to this diatribe,
do you still exist ne'er far or wide?

When,  if ever, will number six come up,
pray tell me whether or not I'm out of luck?

Has "FORBIDDEN FRUIT" even been tasted or read,
accepted, rejected, still alive, or dead?

Dear Editor, I really hate to be a nag,
have you just had a temporary web-site snag?

My thought was to give you first right's acquisition,
but you have taken such a long time to decide the question.

Now, I wonder if you will ever reach any decisions,
regarding issue #6, contents, and/or, divisions?

Consider this poem, among all the other submissions,
of poems and posts by earnest penners, by your permission.

To be the last one penned by me, (not really), and sent
to Poet's Park, unless I hear from you, post haste meant!

Couched in phrases that imply underlying premises
That, later we denied were meant to be our solemn resolutions.
When we unified our separate lives through vows and promises,
Establishing forever after ties until death told dissolutions.
Agreeing to seldom disagree, committed not to envy
Nor to covet what our neighbors own with pride.

Reaching decisions together, allied with heart-felt resolutions,
That love between would always be fulfilled through promises.
Bound as one, we compromise, avoiding possible dissolutions.
Growing up together, best of friends, through joy and sorrow, we envy
Not  the carefree by-gone days of self-centered pride.
More has passed than half our lives sharing bed room premises,

Loving  each other with regard to needs others often  envy,
Forms joined as one, spoon snuggled 'til sleep dissolutions.
Awakening each new day re-committed not to part what 'ere the pride.
Understanding  the need for personal spaces, old promises,
Like junk mail,  get in the way, shutting doors upon the premises.
Doors are made to also open, invitations to re-consider  resolutions,

Concerning mutual harmony in spite of all familial dissolutions,
Each year spent together, making plans about our premises,
Dreaming  illusive retirement thoughts,  golden-splendor envy,
Dashed lottery attempts, we seek in vain to restore dependent sons' pride.
Hoping against hope winning numbers may provide life-styles and resolutions,
Where mentalities and sensibilities need not collide with confided promises.

Teaching, responsibilities, creative outlets, modifying pride,
Daily adapting to life's challenges, awaiting vacations we both envy,
A respite from the stress and grind  that consumes our premises.
Time to relax, away from tasks, to firm desired resolutions,
Leisure time, a luxury, disruptions still progress, dispelling promises,
Maine streamed and Plum Grove driven,  two cars' dissolutions.

Closing costs, new mortgage, thirty years in three, promises,
Resources, temporarily freed, encourage desires for housing pride,
Remodeling pains and plans are resurrected,  re-defined resolutions.
Retirement, probably to be spent, in restored, re-paid premises.
Three years  hence, excluding unforeseen emergencies'  dissolutions,
Home, again, will be our own, free and clear from creditors' envy.
 

ENVOY:  The struggles that have come with  our married life,child-rearing, teaching, grand parenting premises,
the promises made, (for the most part, kept resolutions), have been worthwhile, if not rewarding,
in spite of unforeseen dissolutions, we may envy some, trying not to show our foolish pride.

consideration,
       without careful listening
       to what is being spoken,
is not compromise.
       it leads to pain and heartache
       strained relationships' shared dreams,
lives' together plans.

belonging demands
       unconditional concern
       beyond self-serving sole desires.
manipulating,
       ploys or strategies to gain
       an upper hand position
are self-defeating.

securing future's
       anticipated wishes,
       retiring income reduced,
has created friction.
       a promise delayed burden
       that cannot be long denied,
a debt to be paid.

there will be other
       bills for whatever comes our way,
       together, they too get paid,
by part-time efforts,
       or sales of work created,
       there will always be enough
food for our table.

Don't shoot the poet for any words symbolic,
     about sents, scents, cents, and nonsense bucolic.

Consider condescending, to comprehend intentions,
     be receptive receptors with antennae unbent.

Accentuate the sensual olfactory odor,
     the subtle bouquet wafting through the door.

With senses keen, seeking recognition,
     portending some invention.

Keep an air about you, not self-inflating,
     egos that are fragile require placating.

Rejections of submissions to e-zine publications,
     anticipate  delicate editorial articulations.

Of course, when news, poetically speaking,
     pertains to vain projections.

We can use this poet's muse, send some more our way,
     poetically speaking, to reiterate, makes a poet's day!
 

PART 2.

This may appear, at first,  redundant,
     but, not to hesitate.

I have received, most receptively,
     all that you rebate.

About sents, scents, cents, and nonsense,
     of which we all partake.

Receptors at the ready, antennae well in place,
     messages received, a smile upon my face.

Keep the tree tops scarred with scratches, quite symbolic,
     Pete, the Lemur's words, always sound bucolic.

Jenn, and Crutchhaus, keep the sensual thoughts in order,
     while I try to accentuate the positive from this folder.

One more reiteration upon my furrowed brow,
     Michelle's receptors have always appeared in order.

If the transmission seems to be, slightly fuzzy,
     put the blame on the cyber-recorder.

The furry, fuzzy Lemur cannot be put to any blame,
     his kind words would not consent to put his friends to shame.
 
 

                mother of mine
scrabble player from way back
                when the game was new
and we were all lots younger
mom and I and gramma played.

                                 house-work between turns
          gram was never word timely
                                 seeking highest scores
          mom usually was winner
          rarely competitive was i.

                                                 today the challenge
                      is greater whenever we play
                                                 not often now

SCRABBLE TIME II.  by Robert R. Cobb
 

Scrabble time today
my mother is on the way
she will want to play.

I've practiced all year
losing games I do not fear
Ruth is way ahead.

Worthy opponents
seven letter words are my plan
not to draw just seven vowels.

Consonants I'll need
for higher point scoring words
a vowel or two.

Word distribution
"for the good of the puzzle"
all triples for me!

The luck of the draw
shake bag well, select seven,
50 extra points!

Quivers or quakes
will, potentially, unnerve
mother's own word game.

Winning or losing
Scrabble is most challenging
with all letters drawn.

Playing all tiles first,
adds points others must subtract,
deciding winner!