Enter Platonic Man

by Rawclyde !

Twirling like a po’ boy’s yo-yo

Like a holy dime

Like two friends are supposed to rhyme

Is Platonic Man too late?

The woman knows pain too well

Pure beauty & truth took a bullet

A po’ boy needs a second chance

But will he get it?

Probably not

Po’ boys never get a second chance

Unless a miracle occurs & the moment is right &

All the signs are brilliantly bright

Woe is ye & woe is me

Are creeps forever

Are two friends never

Is it too late for Platonic Man?

The stars are swirling

The sky is unfurling

Swear to God I can’t do anything right

Twirling twirling

Text Copyright Clyde Collins 2016

On The Tip Of Your Nose


It’s pretty damn obvious to me

The favorite rest stop of the universe

Is right on the tip of your nose



Your particular nose

The one on yo’ face

I hope it’s no burden being informed of

This particular miracle & happenstance with which

We all must live ~ that the favorite rest stop

Of the entire universe

Is not on anybody else’s nose but yours



I’ll leave you alone

I won’t harp on it

I’m shore there are other matters

You must focus on besides

The tip of your own




Yours truly



(Art by Lhianne & Genzoman)

Breaking Bread

by Elvis Bojangles

Here we sit

At table

Drinking coffee

Talking & chuckling


Your muse



Every once in a while

I get up


The cups

At first I think



Is me

Then I think

The inspiring entity

Only looks

Like me

Then I realize

The indescribable might not even be

Male or female

But an it

Finally I get up again

Refill the cups again

We all continue

Talking & giggling





Text Copyright Clyde Collins 2016

Adam/Eve image by Cretu Andreas


Hallelujah Trail

Years & miles

separate you & I

Something mysterious

brings us together

It seems to be real

Yet there’s nothing to touch

Like rocky ground

Or your shoulder

It’s what we believe-in

The window

Of our imagination

Thru which we met

It’s thru this window

That a cute poet philosopher

And an old horn-dog roustabout

Get to thump & bump





But a ticket to ride

Would be more fun

So meet me

In St. Louis!


Elvis Bojangles


Note III From The Editor

Whose that fool looking back at me

In the mirror of my mind?


Can I place the familiar face

I thought I left behind?


E. Bojangles


Hello Highly-Regarded Reader!

Please let me introduce Elvis Bojangles, the

newcomer on the Old Timer Chronicle staff.  He

insists on a mug shot of himself.  Ain’t he some-

thing?  He says he won’t do anymore writing

unless we include this picture of him taken about

10 years ago.  We would have used a more recent

photo except we don’t have one.

Oh well.

He’s jus’ another tramp who happened by like

Davy Crockett Reincarnated, Cloyd Campfire, and

yours truly Rawclyde!  But this one’s got some

kind of ego problem, I guess.  Bojangles informs

us he’s an ex-rock star.  But nobody believes that

around here.

Good day!

Yours truly



Mirror of Your Mind by Joe South:


The Mysterious Tent

     by Elvis Bojangles

Let it be


in my mind

taunt snappy



Made of canvas or

other strange substance

inside of which is

a spiritual realm



The mysterious tent

surrounded by singing crickets

trees &

alas, the Author of all things



No flashlight no fire

we arise & retire

with the happy sun

my spirit dame & I



Hello beloved

I think thus I am

and Ye

is heaven’s gate



Wings untrimmed

free as you wish

stars flowing out your glowing

beautiful eyes



You be my empress & I

your man

together we drink cold instant coffee

& eat tuna-fish sandwiches


Saint Paul’s Hymn to Love

1 Corinthians Chapter 13

Jerusalem Bible


Though I command languages both human & angelic ~ if I speak without love, I am no more than a gong booming or a cymbal clashing.  And though I have the power of prophecy, to penetrate all mysteries & knowledge, and though I have all the faith necessary to move mountains ~ if I am without love, I am nothing.  Though I should give away to the poor all that I possess, and even give up my body to be burned ~ if I am without love, it will do me no good whatever.



Love is always patient and kind; love is never jealous; love is not boastful or conceited, it is never rude & never seeks its own advantage, it does not take offense or store up grievances.   Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but finds its joy in the truth.  It is always ready to make allowances, to trust to hope & to endure whatever comes.



Love never comes to an end.  But if there are prophecies, they will be done away with; if tongues, they will fall silent; and if knowledge, it will be done away with.  For we know only imperfectly, and we prophesy imperfectly; but once perfection comes, all imperfect things will be done away with.  When I was a child, I used to talk like a child, and see things as a child does, and think like a child; but now that I have become an adult, I have finished with all childish ways.  Now we see only reflections in a mirror, mere riddles, but then we shall be seeing face to face.  Now I can know only imperfectly; but then I shall know just as fully as I am myself known.



As it is, these remain: faith, hope and love, the three of them; and the greatest of them is love.