The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

The Plight
of the
Bumblebee
By Robert Wells

A personal selection of poems

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

The Plight of the Bumblebee

By Robert Wells

All work published is the work of the author. Any unauthorised duplication
of this work, digital, printed, audio, visual, and other without prior
permission of the author is a violation of the copyright laws.

Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is by coincidence and are

of fiction and the author’s own mind.

The Plight of the Bumblebee includes reference to Tom Waits and The
Heart of Saturday Night, and The Piano Has Been Drinking, (Not Me).
(1974, Asylum Records).

Fraying Eyes includes reference to Tom Rush and The Circle Game, Urge
for Going, and No Regrets. (1968, Elektra Records).

The Parliament House Effect includes two lines from Ballad in Plain D by
Bob Dylan from Another Side of Bob Dylan (1964, Columbia Records)

© Copyright 2011, Robert Wells Publishing

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

The Plight of the Bumblebee

Beer soaked counters in a lively bar room,
And five drinks in before noon.
I've been jumping trains to find Mary's carriage,
Only to ask her hand in marriage.
The barmaid asks me my order,
And I lose the vision of the future.
Whiskey and bourbon, but you? - I cannot nurture.

Last dime's not well spent,

And all I'm left with is a pocket full of lint.
Back to the side-walk, I can't afford your ride.
And in the distance the seashore is reaching high tide.

Old, old times and drinking rhymes,

"Spare me, brother some dimes?"
"You don't have a real plight," I call.
"Let Lucifer spread his wings to break your fall."

I hear Tom Waits singing "The piano has been drinking, not me."
Somewhere down Easy Street, I feel the heart of Saturday night.
I dwell on the foreign beauty of the barmaid,
And of an oddity that God made.

The shadow seekers shiver in silence.

The night drowns out their social unjust and violence.
They who speak of the universe or nothin'.
I just want a little somethin'.
A slice of that liver, and a rash of that bacon,
And a little bit of ma, what you've been shakin'.
And as the mass exit from the Easy St. Church,
I hear them shout at me, "You are forsaken".

Amongst the trainspotting and bad deals, my head spins.

In the salty air from the humble sea, my eyes wince.
I've missed the fifth and final ride of the night,
And I've lost my sting,
And Lucifer's lost his left wing.
I'm left lying in the gutter,
And the barmaid's closed the shutters.

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

And an anarchist down the street mutters,

Ah, but he's just another crazy nutter.

Off down Easy Street,

Only to get my sleep.
All the shows are closed for the night.
And plumes of smoke take flight,
From chimneys shadowing my sight.
And I begin feelin' the plight, the plight.
The plight of the bumblebee.

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

Fraying Eyes
You'll fall behind in time,
Hanging around my door,
Waiting for the beggar's coins,
Though, you'll get no more.
You can only open your mind,
June, to so much,
Before time leaves you behind.
Our fondness is like my bible, ravaged by time.

All the great raves we had,

When we'd run into old friends,
But the nostalgia only made me sad.
How does the old car run?
Without our love on the nights without the sun?
In the cold, in the cold.
You've left me, and now who is in your eyes?
What kind of man is he?
Hell! Why do I care?
You can only open your mind,
June, to so much,
Before time leaves you behind.
Our fondness is like my bible, ravaged by time.

The Circle Game would play 'till it'd wore out the stylus,
Back when we were having no regrets.
But then you got the urge for going,
No more was I attached on your strings,
Like a puppet; far less than a king.
You'd play in all the bars,
The songs of Hardin and Neil,
And your rasp would always heal,
A wounded soldier's scars.
You can only open your mind,
June, to so much,
Before time leaves you behind.
Our fondness is like my bible, ravaged by time.

When you locked yourself out,

Of your mansion,

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All those who'd pass by,

Would not stop to save your cries.
You'd say it's me,
But nobody handed you the city key.
You will have to find your own way, now dear,
With all my kindest regards, and all my attempts,
To understand you and this crazy world.
But this world will never understand people like you or me.
Not all of us are granted a key, not 'till we die.
You can only open your mind,
June, to so much,
Before time leaves you behind.
Our fondness is like my bible, ravaged by time.

When the stars are tucked in for the night,

And tambourine men are tired,
And fatherly men go gentle into the good night,
You and I will give up our own fight.
Your blue eyes fraying in the light,
Lost to a time of subtle nights.
Time is like an ocean, but it always ends at the shore
Our love like your songs, leaves you wanting more
Our fondness like my bible is ravaged by time.

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

The Parliament House Effect

God is sighing in his ester office.
He has been since his inauguration,
Through a process of elimination.
He is not to blame,
For mistakes of mortality;
Destruction, economic failure, and indecisive pledgers.
That which consumes us all.
We, like the dodo, have lost our call.
Left wandering, seeking the wiser,
He, who is in the shadows of his tall gates.

Dwelling on felling of mind and spirit,

And the parliament house effect
Of our pockets.
Look up in the sky,
Burn out your eye sockets.

On the last hey day,

The sun shines.
No peace, no privacy,
The delta hub caps
Spin and roll down my back.
I pray get me outta here!
God, can you not bear,
Not another prayer?
Mortality is such a release today,
For even birds are not free,
From the chains of the sky-way.

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

The Glad Man

The glad man laughs tonight,
He strums his Gibson,
Amplifying Electric tunes,
Pleasant lyrics for the sun,
Music for the moon.
But his lady cries in the alley.

The glad man laughs tonight,

He's started a revolution in his head.
With the rebels he fights, firing lead.
But when the glad man comes round,
He will find his lady drunk in the alley.

With the fall of the twentieth century,

He saw Jesus rise, and speak, did he,
"Follow me and be not led astray."
With that, the glad man changed his way.
Jesus changed the sunset into sunrise,
For the glad man to begin a new day.

He walked down Bleecker Street, down through the alley,

Around their apartment, the smell of liquor,
The spill of pills and blood,
He searched and searched for her.
She was not the hobo under the NY Times,
Or the bird humming in the coffee house.

A crowd was gathered round at the corner of Bleecker Street.

The glad man subjected himself to the same amusement.
There was his lady, laying her head on the ground.
The glad man had came round.

Jesus was not there to depart the shadows under the sun,
But there was an angel, and the glad man realized what he had done.

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Drafted to Die
Well I'm a fugitive of kindness;
She's a subtle princess.
And we've both got our selves in a mess.
She says she don't know whether we shall see the end of the road,
Or each other again.
Only when the sun shines bright, will we meet my friend.
Over yonder, where you once told me your woes,
And we sunk to our very lows.

The war was still bright,

And our soldiers still had some fight,
And the slaves were out in the fields,
And I could hear my mama shouting,
That King had lost his shield.

"Then tell me what you're running from?"

She remains persistent,
And I tell her from the tanks,
From the high-order ranks
And your love and many thanks.

My friend I dreamed a dream that made me sad.

And I know I won't be back 'till I've had,
A word, a word with the president,
And tell him there ain't such a word as can't.
A man's word is important,
And I will see that no more friends die,
Because, my dear, I do not tell a lie,
I do not want to die.

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

Sojourn in Mind
From the womb, I rose,
To time, I vanished.
The songs, I wrote,
In the notebook I kept in my coat.

All the words, a stream of consciousness,

All the sounds, a worldly mess.
Everybody sighs,
And I smile wryly,
And asked to be placed highly,
With your love so dearly.
Sanity, sanity.

Open your heart, open your mind,

Before your soul is left behind.
Replenish your thirst,
You aren't that cursed,
For just being with me,
Sanity, sanity

There's to be a heavenly sojourn,

Following a wake after we mourn.
Burgundy brushstrokes on your face,
The pedestrians' filled with scorn,
But we both love this place,
We know well, and write our plea,
Of sanity, sanity.

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The Plight of the Bumblebee Robert Wells

Spin
Spin, spin, let your love in.
Spin, spin, let your love in.

Down town, open stores, and open doors,

Striated mansions with sand filled corridors.
Plenty room for platitudes and dancers with attitudes.

So please...

Spin, spin, let your love in.

Spin, spin, let your love in.

Frozen over worlds,

And welcomed shadow Lords,
Who shout, "Mirror, mirror, whose the darkest lord of them all?"
And then there's plenty of disturbance,
When Elegant Evil arrives for her dance.

Inundated blues, and consequential consanguinity.

Murder ballads and queen diamonds,
Sanguine envelopes and near-sighted slopes.
The trees are arguing at their lunar talks,
And I just had to go for one of my many walks.
Through the glade, oh, the furry mailboxes must be feelin' as queasy as
I,
Under the full moon tonight.
There's only one thing to say that's right.

Spin, spin, let your love in.

Spin, spin, let your love in.
Twirl, twirl, your my girl.
Laugh, laugh, spin, spin.

Spring onions for our guest,

"Lord, how was your trip out west?
Sorry for the stench, Aunt Beatrice wasn't feelin' her best.
She had a visit from Death.
He too, loved that cloak and dagger effect.
We gambled 'till the garden party arrived and were met."

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"Modus vivendi, we toast you,

Have you ever played wuthering whispers?
The warehouse is a place to start," the Lord rambles.
"What is your name, son?"
"Crome Yellow by Aldous Huxley, is the name."
To which he replies, "It's cold in here."

The transparent man who watches for our mistakes,

Zips up in the snow with two shakes.
And on the porch stands Astral,
Ergo, Timothy's in the hall.
The trees are arriving at five,
And the Lord leaves at ten to.
There's still time for fate to win.
So come on,
Spin, spin, let your love in.
Spin, spin, let your love in.

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Our Place in the Past

I caught you in your wake,
Across that once beautiful lake,
Where we swam the years gone by,
You didn't even call,
You didn't even cry.

And although altars burn down,

When the desire is gone,
Your uninspired sighs,
Are muted by my cries.

When you love you give up your life,

You find panic and worry,
And comfort in your wife
When you love,
When you love.

I called out to our child on the swing

To find it was a memory,
And feel the austere nostalgia sting.
The lake is dried, the grave still fresh,
The bells still ring.

Our place in the past,

Was never meant to last.
Never again to follow in your wake,
Your own life, you did take.
When you love,
You give up your dreams, white dove,
When you love.

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I Can’t Imagine
The Earth and her moon,
fixed in gloom.
A room of raised clandestine people;
A Spartan Martian,
Prays in their orbiting steeple.
They could never teach them in time.
An alien religion,
without its secrets.
Praying the Earth
will show through the smog and smug,
green pastures and growth
of the hierarchy mind.
To be disclosed.
Forever to see,
secondary succession
on such harsh times.
The alien cannot imagine,
that your future is secured.
It is a worry; yet,

I cannot imagine.

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© Copyright 2011, Robert Wells Publishing

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