Whispers from the Wormhole

By Lon R. Bruso

This volume of verse will take the reader on a memorable journey through the minds eye, in and out of emotional episodes, and into the diverse thought-patterns of a genuinely poetic personality. There is something here for all, including Stark honesty, whimsy, and various takes on the human experience. These poems will seek to illuminate many dark places in the soul, and show that the line between good and not so good is finer than one could ever imagine, and compelling in its truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 28, 2010
• ISBN: 9781456716110

Lon R. Bruso

The Author is a 63 year old, Vietnam Veteran who not only served his Country, but was also very enamored of the counter-culture of that period and learned about life from both sides. He has authored one previous book of poetry, Lived several alternate lifestyles, including being homeless, and living aboard a boat in California.

Book preview

Whispers

from

the

Wormhole

Lon R. Bruso

missing image file

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2010 Lon R. Bruso. All righrs reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/20/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1610-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1611-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010918692

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

CHRISTOPHER

Visiting Hours In A Retirement Center

There Is A World Beyond Our Own

Alphabetic Alliteration (almost)

Words Of Wisdom

The Good Dream

Dream Trek

No Excuses

Wishful Thoughts

Nocturnal Admission

Pondering Passage

Early Warning

It Floats In Spotlight (An Apt Acrostic )

Thoughts Composed While Reading Frost

Sorcerer

Lavender

Dissertation

The Beast of Sutter’s Fen

Halloween

Mist

A Gothic Valentine

Canadian Lovers

Malevolent Messiah

Midgard Serpent

Nature Re-incarnates

The Hunchback

Looking At Pictures

Just Being Mean

Remembering Grandma

The Monkey’s Tears

Flight Of The Wampyr

Prelude To Regret

A Quick Look Back

For M’lady Chrys

Neurotic Nonsense

A Tenderness Of Teardrops

A Philosophical Conundrum

Pitiful Postulants

The Bullshit Poem

Poetic Psychology 101

For My Sunflower

The Annointing

Hyperbolic Hell

The Silent Pawn

Madam Elemental

Elf

Medieval Funeral

Onus

Vocabulus Eruptus

FOOD

Teen Queen

THE CURE

Psychic Voodoo

Nightdreams

Close Encounter

Last Rites

A Poetic Pondering

Awakening

The Homeless Vet

Feces Occureth

Minstrel

What Man Is This?

Judgement

The Veteran

Night Flight

To Rue The Day

Head Trip

Melting Point

Paranoia

Street Scene

Hobbit Hike

Evil Emancipation

Osama Obama

Philandering Philosophy

Billy and the Catfish

Curtain Call

Osiris Walks

Juxtaposition

Infestation

Introspection

CHRISTOPHER

Christopher seals his magic box

with silver chains and golden locks

deep within a secret dream

where things are seldom what they seem

City or Country, doesn’t matter,

horses hooves or Trolley’s clatter

any hour, day or night,

darkness can be changed to light

Sleepers can be made to waken

from their dreams, abruptly shaken,

nothing changed and nothing hidden

nothing Sacred or forbidden

Any hour, day or night,

darkness can be changed to light

sleepers can be made to waken

from their dreams abruptly shaken

City or Country, doesn’t matter,

horses hooves or Trolley’s clatter

the magic box contains much more

and only Christopher’s keeping score

Visiting Hours In A Retirement Center

Like the dryness of moss

on a hot, August afternoon,

that’s how her hand felt

and her eyes, though just

an old lady’s eyes,

seemed something more

like two windows of the past

looking in on today

to see if it was worthwhile

As I fell into that gaze,

it seemed as if years

peeled away, like layers

of paint from an ancient,

New England house

and I saw youth

that once was, beauty

that simply changed, and