INTRUSION
Consciousness impaled by thoughts
Pushed deliberately away and
Not recently visited
Coming at the oddest time
turned at a new angle
examining the hurt with objective eye
I never lied to you
only told of lies told
to previous lovers
to make myself more interesting
frightenly secure in
total trust and honesty, nothing
to lose but myself
and so I did
confident in the rightness
comfort in your presence
blind to reality until too late
incapable of love and pushed away
far easier to reject before being rejected
Searing pain replaced
with grey wistfulness
the boil probed, it recedes
until the next time
INSOMNIA
Wrestling covers
Prisoner to wakefulness
While dreaming of temporary reprise
mind still roiling
sheets now soiling
with acid sweat
sandman awaits unmet
take off the socks
the clock yet mocks
no peace found
lie still, it will come
the clock keeps time but
too damn slowly
waiting for new light to signal
the next start
finally drifting only to have the
alarm wake me
before I could begin
SEDUCTION
Seduced by the glossy images in a magazine
The false ideals of who we should be
Would you sell your soul to be like them?
The beautiful people living the beautiful life
in gleaming cars, and 40 room houses
never spilling a forkful in their lap
all life's pleasures right on tap
Drilled into our heads and
sometimes our hearts
that life is a Rockwell and
we condemn ourselves for not
living up to a thirty second spot
Who are they to project such specters
to our youth and foist a mostly
unattainable goal?
For is not family, friends, the children
and the elders
Who give life texture?
Broken hearts, broken dreams, broken homes
and stolen scenes
these are more real that the elite gliding
in gleaming chariots to their summer homes
resplendent in their decadence
and thinking, perhaps, that they
are better than the rest
Be not a victim to the media lie
turn off the television and
go outside
The light that shines the brightest
you wear inside
CELEBRATION
Ruddy faces
Worn from years of living
Break in to wide smiles
At the sight of dear friends
Introductions all around
the names are foreign
yet I am the outsider here
Singing, laughing, clapping,
understanding not a word
yet understanding all
Plates piled with homeland foods
drinks lined up three deep
bottomless beer, scotch, and wine
it's early yet, not thought of sleep
Coffee poured, but no one leaving
light another cigarette,
have another drink
now shouting to be heard over
Elvis singing Christmas classics
At the birth of a new day
AMPLITUDE
Skin flayed off, nerves dancing
Black horses prancing
Twitching at the light of a fly
Unable to form an alibi
I suppose I could medicate,
Paxil or Prozac
Dulling the emotions I embrace
And changing the nature of
my face
Don't worry because
I choose
these emotions I wish not to
lose
For truth be told,
I sorta see them as
my muse
For who can know pain without
knowing ecstasy?
The bleak depth of sorrow
Without the towering heights of joy?
Testicle tightening climbs
And stomach churning descents
One without the other lends
Not to knowledge of life as human
If you know only one extreme
how can you judge your mood?
Wretchedness or enlightenment
Two sides of the same coin
And either one can buy your
Food
For thought
So I strap on in and ride the ride
embracing all I feel inside
for now I know I am alive
to stop feeling is to slowly die
OF LOSS
And what is it you seek?
A hound? A horse? A dove?
We've all losses in our time
You tell me yours,
I may tell you mine
Is it innocence? Wrenched from tiny heart
to teach you, trust no one
spooky, an uncoordinated foal
inquisitive yet startling easily,
now leaping, skittering, falling and running
again to distant safety
Is it self-respect that slipped away
leaving you doubting yourself or
your intentions
promises made you did not keep
sadly wounding those you least
wanted to hurt. Or
worse,
realizing the actions taken
were based on the ideals of others
and not of yourself
Or is it love that escapes you?
Is it a love that died or
Choked in briars
A love gone cold, beyond your control or
Understanding, or
Is it love that never emerged from the fog of aloneness,
Wispy and ethereal, and
Beyond your grasp
So what is it you seek?
We all have losses in our time.
You tell me yours,
I've just told you mine
DISPLACEMENT
What role for a man today?
It is so uncertain
Previous millennia of hunting game
And defending against hostile tribes
Return to matriarchy
perhaps how it should be
but leaving men
reduced
to sperm donors and payment makers
and weekend fathers
For good or bad,
modern economics makes
this possible
Mothers making a living not
Needing a man for home or
food
only needing their seed for harvest
Displaced and searching for meaning
a truck and boots, a flannel Neanderthal
sensitive and caring, a groveling wimp
no mans land between the trenches
and no map home
Trying to find their way
Promise keepers or
Beating drums in the woods
Looking for definition
Odd in their need
But even odder is the loss
Of identity in a mere forty years
From steak and martinis at the table
To drive through meals in paper sacks
Gulped hurriedly in minivans
Our fathers as models no
longer work, but they do not
understand how much it has changed
their roles clearly defined,
our rules have changed
but we've not yet been told
what they have been changed to
AMPHITRITE
Ever present and ever changing
gently breaking waves
forging forth, foam running , dissolving
Pausing
Now drawing back in a rush
tumbling shells to sand
Small warm tidal pools of teeming life
and
unfathomable expanses of aqueous desert
she is both and neither
giver and taker of life, is our mother
Some days a mirror to look upon
flat and smooth as a solid
Yet with mighty fury and
rancorous swell she claims ship and man
of commonness nor royalty she makes no
distinction
either bearing or swallowing as is her whim
insatiable hunger with out malice
she intends no ill with her tempest
yet puny man may deem her evil
in his narrow scope
Cesspool, wasteland, testing ground, dump
she abides these insults in timeless suffering
and lets them not
keep her from feeding,
nor from tumbling shells to sand.
THE FRIEND
He put her in a cab as he had
so many times before
and watched as it turned the corner
in the rain,
the headlights reflecting off the wet street
Smiling, he remembered the night two years ago
when she got on the bus, and he stood,
as he always did, waiting for it to pull away.
But this time, this one time,
never before and never since,
She turned and blew him a kiss
that landed as gently on his heart as
the snowflakes fell against his face
that night
Turning towards the station,
he smiled broadly, knowing that
although he had lost a lover,
he had kept a dear friend,
and that was the greatest gift of
all
BUT WHAT IS FAIR?
Is it fair these awful things happen to tiny innocents
Left homeless and bloodied by
ambivalent bombs
tools of men behind podiums
A river of people
carrying bundles and pushing carts
forced from home, trying to survive
Bloated babies, naked and starving
at their mothers' withered breasts
stare unblinking though the flies
are thick around their eyes
Families torn by kept secrets
and hidden pain
children now adults unable to connect
afraid of what has not yet happened
but certain it eventually will
Young lives extinguished
before their time
parents outliving children
the most heinous crime
Do not invoke God or his mysterious plans
for I will plug my ears and chant as a child.
Do not pass off evil or misfortune
As great machinations of the lord
How many get what they truly deserve?
The self absorbed athlete handed millions
for exploiting one gift
while
wonderful friends are smitten with disease
and hardship and injury afflict sweet elderly
simple folk devastated by natures fury
So please tell me what is fair?
For life is not, and it has always been thus
Too much suffering through the ages
I have no answers
Only questions
MODERN KNIGHT
Tender core protected at all costs
Wearing armor of multiple layers
Supercilious demeanor, dressed in black
Urban hipness to keep them back
Mail no longer of metal knit
fashioned now with arched brow and sardonic wit
the hardened shell a perfect fit
piss on you, I could give a shit
Armed not with staff or sword or mace
piercing eyes and stoic face
peeling strangers just for fun
the other option is to turn and run
In his bed, his armor off
gentle fingers can probe the scars
of battles lost and long past wars
but even here in safety's womb
tattoos on flesh he has festooned
symbols of his armor in black bloom
But given time, solace must be found
and gentle love wrap his arms around
but until such time that he is ready
he'll wear his armor to keep him steady
THE PAINTER
Struggling to render the visage
Of this familiar stranger
Palsied hand can not control
Of complete ineptitude he's in danger
Canvas holds image
brush holds paint
hand holds brush
mind holds picture
but still unable to make it right
Ears too high
nose not right
eyes too large
jaw too narrow
Adjustments made
Sketched in pencil
To produce living flesh
was far more simple
Tired now, the day is done
the battle is not near won
clean the brushes
scrape the palette
and return tomorrow
to the painting
that is by him
but not yet of him
I LOVE THIS TOWN
O Great Metropolis I love your face!
Herded sheep at a hectic pace
Cell phone, pager, cab and bus
So many try to flee you
But embrace you I must
Man made wadis filled with fiber optics, pipes and steel,
the workers are all dressed in teal
down below grade there's 'nother world
check out lower Wacker and see it unfurl
Up to street level in concrete canyons
Armani, Blass, Versace, and Gucci,
Ply the sidewalks sticky and gooey
Making deals, high class wheels
The lower castes beneath their heels
The pubs, the bars, the street corner shelter
filled with folks helter-skelter
hollow shells of former pride
when they started did they expect to
slide
to lower ranks, unwelcome in banks
But they are here so I give thanks
Gaping arroyos of dust and metal
the birth of buildings, proceeding behind schedule
These burly midwives in beards and jumpers
Sit at lunch like ravens
Expressing to women their basest cravings
Catcalls, whistles, shouts and glances
Women crossing streets to reduce the chances
Mountains of food behind the glass
Sushi, Indian, Pakistani, Thai,
Korean, Italian, Chinese, Greek,
And don't forget there's plain Red Meat
The lakefront, a place of parks and green
the wonderful world of Wards' dream
Fountains, mueseums, and bicycle paths
Built by the rich for the masses
The breeze, the water, the spectacular views
If you have not been there I've got news,
This stuffs right here, for us all
And let me say it was lovely this fall
The Bulls, Da Bears, Hawks, Cubs and Sox
Michael, Sweetness, Da Coach and more,
As a sports town this place just rocks,
They may not win, But you'll know the score
Captains of industry help build this town
Sears and Ward and Marshall Field
Penny and Palmer they cut huge deals
But it's the buildings here that jazz me most
built on top of cinders and toast
Sullivan, Adler, Burnham, Wright, are just a few
Many more great ones have shaped the view,
Sears Tower, Water Tower, Marina Towers two,
Hancock, Thompson Center, now something new
So many people seem unaware
or worse yet, do they not care?
Scurrying along, with eyes cast down,
While I throw my arms wide and shout
"I love this town!"
SECOND BLOOM
Bobbing gently in the breeze
The bud a surprise to see
A tightly wound promise unexpected
One flowering past
the seeds already cast
growing
in the shadow of the first
Yearning to bloom yet
seemingly reluctant to blossom
salty rain has forced this crop
Tight potential, photrophic tendencies
wary of Icarian error but
stretching nonetheless
to grow
Aware though uncaring that
to flower means death eventually
unclad in remorse
awaiting the moment
it nods its' head knowingly
CHEST WOUND
It was a non surgical
Yet private affair
This removal of her heart
She kept it not from hitting the floor
nor from bouncing down the stair
and was helpless as she watched it roll
out the old screen door
She finally found it
beating still
after rooting in the trash
This once delicate muscle
Now covered by twigs and leaves and
Bits of broken glass
So she put it in her pocket
and walked home alone
At the sink she washed it off,
The detritus rinsing free
She then sat, heart in hands
Her elbows on her knees
Then tried to put her heart back in,
but to her dismay,
the exit wound had closed right up
no entry to be found
and so she did the next best thing
she pinned it on her sleeve
