Windows

Windows

Eye’m afraid that you look to seek to peek into windows of innuendo whose intimations are a destination full of undefined implications

Are you a nosey Rosy whose pockets are full of poesies that in a diatribe attempt to describe loose springs and sprockets that have been loosely tethered together such that nothing pieced together can never ever be an exact match?

When you tint the color of glasses with the syrup of molasses the refraction can prove to be a fatal attraction that sticks to you like the goo of glue whose extraordinary menageries will whimsically display as the chimes of time melodically rhyme

If you are shattered at the glass then the smoke of mirrors will have a predilection for reflection in any given direction that the mind chooses and oozes to travel on loose untraversed gravel

If you set the periscope depth at the bottom of the sea then there is no yelling and telling of what you will see in an ocean whose motion ebbs and flows and rides with the tides that are fraught with the froth of thought

Take a stiff whiff of the smell of curiosity’s demure allure.  You will find the aroma to be a fine divine schism whose fractured prism will prove to be a smooth groove and a sight of delectable delight

Pull the ticket out of your squalid wallet and board a launched rocket that has already derived where you are to arrive.  Just know before you go that though you are never alone in the twilight zone that at extreme speeds there is no time to scream to the extreme

It only makes sense that if you wish upon a star from a far that a telescope just might provide adequate hope, particularly when in the knowing that what you see may not be what you get in a universe yet to be traversed and whose words are often slurred and broken when spoken

Eye’m afraid that you look to seek to peek into windows of innuendo whose intimations are a destination full of undefined implications.  Uncharted maps tend not to be exact and what you find tends to be based on time, space and whatever comes to mind

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the Mindbender Rollercoaster opened, 1985

Twelve O’clock High



Twelve O’clock High

My favorite wraith is at twelve o’clock high

My time to live, his time to die

My fuel gauge read “Not enough gas” when eye fought him last

My time to improvise, his time to realize an imminent demise

My mission was peaceful reconnaissance without hostile contact

My time to usurp regulations, his time to see hell’s damnation

My copilot no longer stirs and seems to be forever quiet

My time to straighten up and fly right, his time to fight for dear life

My ammunition ran low three dog fights ago

My time for short controlled burst, his time to retreat before things grow much much worse

My bartender told me to stick around and to keep my happy feet on the ground

My time to train for another day, his time to pretend that everything is A-Okay

My left aileron is shot up and has been stuck because eye hit a sitting duck

My time to wish for an online mechanic, his time to fly south and into a season of better luck on another planet

My country picked me to fly and fight from sea to shining sea

My time to buck up and do what’s right, his time to check his six and hope eye don’t have him dead-to-rights

My girl is my world, her picture is somewhere around this cockpit of blood, guts and clutter

My time to concentrate on things that become a fighter ace, his time to disintegrate just before entering neutral air space

My landing gear is hereto completely inoperable because eye jammed it into my dear old friend’s once intact, combat ready canopy

My time for an emergency crash landing, his time for deeper ethereal and aerodynamic thoughts of understanding

My favorite wraith is at twelve o’clock low

My time to live, his time to go

Captain Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  Twelve O’clock, September 2010

[Dedicated to Captain “Big Rick” Lofton and Colonel “Vic-Raven” Lofton]

The Tuskegee Airmen



The Tuskegee Airmen

Give me a stick and a rudder and eye will fly to die with pride with any brother of any color

The love affair with racism is akin to autism which is a disease that will continue to ground and confound us if we do not seek a cure to such a color blindness that constantly confines us

The enemy does not care if we unnecessarily police our expertise because of an ancient belief in an archaic philosophy rooted in slavery.  Their aim is to see us go down in flames and to fill the sky with our blood serving as the dye of the permanent red stain of rain

They say we are not good enough.  They say we do not have the right stuff.  They say that we were born to chuck a spear and to dance around a fire in fear of anything as strange as an airplane

Seeing that we have evolved from a planet of apes it is a foregone conclusion and a fictional delusion that we meet their standards.  Each time they raise them it is our mission without permission to meet them, to greet them and to exceed them

There is no time to whine, opine and wave protest signs saying that our treatment isn’t fair.  With each bomb, bullet and bayonet the war grows hungrier than a whore for more lives to take be it black or white, wrong or right

We are to be assigned to the 332^nd fighter group.  It’s just as good a place as any to be dropped in to the soup of a world war where we are not only taken for granted but are not welcome in or on any part of the planet

News has it that we finally let them have it and achieved the first complete air assault only victory.  Orders by high command are to disband this squadron of baying black sheep.  It seems that such expertise is sorely needed to maintain perfectly operating and well kept army jeeps

It is our right, our duty and our honor to push the envelope, to fly where the air is too thin and to shoot our enemies down with harsh language should we run out of bullets.  Given a chance we will show them all how to dance

Just give me a stick and a rudder and eye will fly to die with pride with any brother of any color and my country tears of thee need not weep for me

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  The signing of Edict #9, July 26^th, 1948

Heatwave

Bomb Run

Dreams

All Hands on Deck

The Wrath of Khan When Angry Women Attack

The Wrath of Khan: When Angry Women Attack

The Wrath of Khan: When Angry Women Attack

Unidentified Androids

Unidentified Androids




Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer
Copyright? The Birth of Sierra Sam 1949

Brick Brain T-Shirts

My TV

One of many things that can be seen on your TV


The only thing that can be seen on my TV

Disembarked

Room 122

Jauté Desireé Loftin
Copyright? At the Start of Class, May 2006

Sea of Tranquility

The Sea of Tranquility as seen from a place in time that remains forever sublime

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer
Copyright? In Time

The Interview

Dancing Queen: A Video Poem

A Wound Up Clock

A Wound Up Clock There is no describing an infinite number of progressions that transgress time with each rhyme It’s a dance of chance that hops, skips, jumps and bumps to any tune that you happen to have playing in the room The juxtaposition of theme and scheme provides for variety which is sorely needed in today’s mundane society You can pull up to a bar and get your feelings right, right along with a tour of a universe yet to be traversed If you’ve ever wished upon a star know that your dreams can come true with each and every machination of your imagination It’s a wound up clock running off of loose springs and sprockets.   All that’s required is for you to hit the switch and get ready to ride a rocket

Ancient Acts II

Moon

The Last Vampire

The Last Vampire

There’s not many of us left according to the last email eye just checked

It’s become ever so exceedingly difficult to pass any given real or artificial blood test

Eye remember when sixteen of us would whimsically dance on a dead man’s capriciously jacked-in and fancifully tattooed chest

There are many of us who are ungratefully dead according to the last email eye read

It’s become quite the feat to find fresh meat that’s actually bloody and which still has the vivid vibrant tint of deep dark purple-red

Eye don’t remember the last time eye slept in a homemade bed

There aren’t many bounty hunters happily hunting according to the last email eye deleted

It’s ashamed that even those that are not undead have problems with blood banks that now run bone dry and are then found completely bare and depleted

Eye reminisce of a painted canvass rich with rain from gushing veins where you could drink ever so deeply even if you didn’t really need it

There’s lots of us who are now desperately needy and who forsakenly ride the city bus according to the email someone sent from the county jail

It’s insane to think that such an endgame has sent the best of us summarily to the perpetually petulant pits of hell

Eye totally recall a visit to the pearly gates once and can never ever escape the memory of its ever so familiar smell

There’s a few who have chosen to repent for sins long since past overdue

It’s deeply degrading to see demons and devils deny the deeds that they demonstratively still dispassionately love to disparagingly do

Eye keep forgetting not to go to church on any given Sunday when there’s always lots and lots of bibles and too many overcrowded pews

There’s nothing in the old snail mailbox and according to the latest and greatest email that eye just received the number of new messages is absolutely “none”

It’s now impossible to withstand the starry bright glare of even a totally eclipsed blood-red sun

Eye remember now and then and ever so precisely that the number of us remaining is exactly the sum total of the absolute value of “one”

Orrin K.  Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the last vampire drank the last bloody drop, August 2010

[For Jauté, Happy hunting on Halloween!]

Sueños

Paradise

Video Poems

SOS Eye Need Help

Green Acres

Dreams

Dreams

Dreams to be dreamed of

Dreams to be forgotten

Dreams to be realized

Eye dream of genies in a bottle with unlimited wishes about moist soft kisses for, eye reminisce restlessly about this

Eye dream of wild horses racing, unbridled, unabashed, unabound

Eye dream of nymphs that dance in my head, in the midnight so bright and, even during the midday when the light’s just right

Dreamt of an avatar’s tale asking if it was you or, if it was me or,

If it was she, or if it was even real

Dreamt of an unscene forecast remembering only that the weather was nice

Dreamt of always enjoying dreams, not once, not twice but, for life

Dreams

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright? Dreamt of during February’s Frost, 2010

My Captors Stopped Torturing Me

My Captors Stopped Torturing Me

My captors stopped torturing me when eye began giving them tips on how to do a better job

If water-boarding is your claimed profession well,

You at least ought to be good at it! 

Ya’ think?

My captors stopped torturing me when eye gave them my websites:  tekniksfordentaltorture.com & howtoseduceapseudomasikist.org

If pulling fingernails from a terrorist is your specialty, i.e., you are

“The bomb” at it then be “The bomb” and do it right, aye?!!?

My captors stopped torturing me when they found my book titled, “Cooking Hardened Criminals with Salt”.

The sales price is $Eye-for-an-Eye$

If you have pride in your profession then inflict pain with

Precision, Accuracy and, Patience.

It’s an art form!

Orrin k. Loftin, Explorer:  Copyright?  Ask my captors – They have the book

All Hands on Deck

All Hands on Deck

There’s half a man’s leg sticking out of the deck of the ship.  There’s a mist painted in blood that fills the field of view.  The screams of agony frame the mayhem.  Victims cry out for help.  Supply and demand dictated that we pursue her, this whale.

Did we ever have a chance?

A mother and her calf make for a fight to the death.  Few have fared well in a dual to the depths with this princess of the deep

who is now more than angry with our insolence, lack of proper protocol and respect.

The captain is dead.  The first mate just shot himself in the leg and, the ship’s chef is manning the harpoon.  Is that a man, a barrel of rum or a rib cage that just drifted by?  The whale seems to smile with the question of,

“Who is in charge?” and, “Ahoy there!”

                                                                                                                                                                                           

“Anchor’s Away” epitomizes the situation for she tore the anchor right out of the boat’s left side on her first pass.  The look-out in the crow’s nest hangs by a finger’s nail wishing he had remained at port for Christmas. 

Now, at the crack of the main mast do we all gasp.

None of us can believe this.

Sixteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest is an old salty song sang in jubilation.

Now it may well be read at our funerals or at a church dedication.                                      

A betrothal to a bride whose honeymoon is that of murder.

“There She Blows” echoes around the world and from sea to shining sea.  The whale, this monster of man, thrashes about belligerently.

Abandon ship!  Make it quick!

She understands, you see.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  At the Bottom of the Sea, April 2010

Clear Your Mind & Concentrate

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

 

A Teddy Bear Standing in the Hallway



A Teddy Bear Standing in the Hallway

There’s a teddy bear standing in the hallway, holding his blanket and, wiping sleep from his eyes

On his way to the bathroom a tinsel town fantasy caught him by surprise

A winter green spruce stood tall in the den from floor to ceiling and from ceiling to roof

It stood guard over tiny toy soldiers, shiny new bicycles and, a new telescope.  No one will believe this without proof

An aroma calls from the kitchen.  It’s a plate full of brownies and a tall glass of milk

At the sound of a loving query, “Honey is that you?” the little bear scarfs a few bites, gulps more than a little bit and then scurries back down the hallway, thus ending this Christmas Night safari that’s always rapped in angel-hair’s silk

While back in bed a tender hand tucks you in.  It is mom.  She wipes some milk from your forehead thinking it was you but, it truly was the bear instead

There’s a teddy bear standing in the hallway, holding his blanket and, wiping sleep from his eyes

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  Under the Tree in April 2010

[Dedicated to my son, Procasius]

Looking At The Future

Desert Buffet

There’s a camel smoking a Marlboro while looking for the weather section of the newspaper

There’s a spider swinging in a silk hammock with four pairs of shades and, eight jars of sun block

There’s a horse with No Name.  No Name is riding bare back and doesn’t know where he’s at

There’s an ant eater protesting that not enough aunts are allowed to traverse this way

There’s an empty hour glass halfway buried in the sand.  Looks like it’s operating on borrowed time

There’s the skull of a Texas long horn complaining that the climate is bad for his skin

There’s a Shao Lin priest trekking across a sand dune.  Can a monk walk from China to here without shoes?

There’s a side winder hissing at a sign that says, “No Thru way”.  It wasn’t there yesterday

There’s a perfect picture of water painted on the side of a large luscious cactus

There’s a television tuned to the weather channel but, it’s still searching for satellite signal, a signal that’s being blocked by Death’s Dark Valley and lots of luminous sunspots

There’s a mirage that shows the way to an oasis.  Like water it will be gone soon so hurry.  Don’t waste it!

There’s a desert fox who howls at the sun.  He sleeps all night so he never gets a chance to bark at the moon.  He’ll wake up some day, probably around noon

There’s a ninety day forecast that reads, “Hot, Hotter and, Death Becomes You”

There’s an empty bottle of antifreeze that lays entangled in some overheated tumble weeds.  You have to see it in order to believe it

There’s a camel smoking a Marlboro while looking  for the weather section of the newspaper

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer Copyright?  At a Buffet Near You, May 2010

Science Station Alpha

The Last Vampire: My World of Woes

Oxygen Supply Contaminated!

New Corvette!

Science Station Alpha's Unexploded Sun