Alone On The Stage

A million years of fun race by the bandstand.

The bandstand is there in the past where

everything was terrible in the progression

of the human race.

Everything is more lonely now 

than it ever was regardless

of what you think

about PROGRESS.

The human race occupying 

this world now no longer

knows a thing 

about CONNECTION.

All is here now and is finding

it’s way inside of me as it wants

to come back.

Blue lights of the sky,

rainy nights under city lights,

green sounds sitting on green earth,

and brass sounds by old oak trees.

Well these are the kind of things

that make love heard

and felt by those

who walk along

the velvet

earth

—

who are alone,

forever alone,

in the sad

old tune

of birth.

WIRED

in Greenwich Village

where a mother makes bread

and men sing poetry purely

for the love of women

and kind thoughts

ANGST

we are all getting to be 

destructive and should learn

to be aware of destructive

THOUGHT

what happens is weird

and no one can tell

you the reason for

the sound entering

yr MIND

gots to be goin

toward a new expansion

of the folk village

where people

break bread

& CRY

laugh and smile

at the sadness of the age

and take yourself

to a land

where all

is GOOD

Frederick Schardt is a writer and poet from North Carolina. He studied Comparative Literature and Philosophy at the University of St Andrews in Scotland and now lives in Los Angeles. His work has appeared in Maudlin House, Nelligan Review, and Cathexis Northwest Press.