Colors Of Trust Poetry Archive 4
footsteps away
in dreams
we are but footsteps
away
and the answers are there
to reach out
and grasp
so readily....
in the dream, the problems...
what problems?
they are there and so easily
solved
that they seem
foolish
dispersed between
dreams of working
and insulin needles
lost beneath the bleachers
instead of chilling
my veins
and sam the karuli
kaorepaalistaphel
who chortled
grieg
and gregori
and music, sweet music
to make the angels bleed,
their tears all lost
in a single note
and hunting for a vein
for the newly reacquired needle
and failing
losing the needle beneath the bleachers
again
and an old classmate helping me
look
saying
I never knew you were diabetic
and myself bewildered
neither did I
and calling my love
why fly all this way when you can just meet me
for coffee
tea
espresso
wine
at the restaraunt down
the street
from us both
silly to fly when we live 3 blocks apart
yes?
and why take a jetplane
when you have your own
wings
to fly to my arms
and mingle
our existances
and hold you
tenderly
for hours
and hours
and forever
and
a
day.
The Lure of Doctor Nod
old doctor nod
had one hell of a lure.
he drew us in and snared us
time
and again
and again
did doctor nod.
that man sucked us in
over and over
and we never really escaped his grasp
only running loose leashed
until he drew the line tight
and reeled us
back
to him
his lure
flashing silver and blue
beneath the watered vision
of that human sun
pale green
above the waves
ACH my mouth!
he's doing it again....
Elliot J. Nod
MD, Pharm.D,
Knight of the Scottish Rite
USGA Senior Pro
Fellow at Mercy Hospital
Angler
Extraordinaire.
On the beauty of the AOL "filter" command
I wish to thank
the wonderful person
who decided
in great wisdom
to provide us with
a "filter" button
mine now contains 8 names
which I will never have
to see
again.
Some people just do not realize
that they have no earthly reason
to be here
but so far as I see
these days
they are not.
Nor are they anywhere else;
dead to me
the old lady was right.
ignorance
IS occasionally
bliss.
now if only there was a way to filter them
from reading
MY work, too....
Segadé Blossoms I
You crushed me
with your silence
you broke me
with your touch
but I...
yes, I
Devour you.
Segadé Blossoms II
When the Time
Comes
and
Time
in its Arrogance
dies
in the lucidity of your skin
the sparkle
of your smile
I reach out my fingertip
and trace your jaw,
possessive arrogance
a Sultan
with
his harem.
Segadé Blossoms III
Tonight
you are mine
tonight
I am
above
you;
Superior...
But who can say
who holds the lead
when morning
breaks.
Virus
Monsignor Gregorin 2 dash 6 4 2 --
"The Intergalactic Internuncio"
spreading the Word
to the stars...
The sangfroid missionary
of the Milky Way
chains the Music
of the Spheres.
Song Of AnT and Rabbit -- AnT & (\/)The White Rabbit(\/)
Anabaptist psuedoelectric fences crave attention from
Vibrators slouching along the block purple malevolence
emotional crusades and vitamin tyrants curse the
leaden night greed flight, my sight of
lead leads you
to the tears of little pornographic girls hiding in dark corners
in the suede fabric
of
non-reality
buzz buzz buzz is around the singers of the bondage songs
attention is what THEY crave
mum is the word, after dinner and a four cent dessert, supper, death
mum (is a slut, she had 9 babies after me, everyone a different father
and dey all name Leroy)
thats what they told me in the times of yesterestheryore
drop the bees on fascist knees, spank through the book burning!
drop the bomb, here I come!
dead to the bible's inacuracies and stupidities redundancies...
africanized harmonicas breeding biting stinging killing
SING TO ME A GODDAMN AnT-I-MELODY!
Six hundred and sixty six choruses (666)
of Barney's song (AnT-i-christ comes marching in on silver tricycles,
look at
how
they pulsate in the night, underneath the moon, glowing forever
infinite sun
child eat star death
ere the maggots devour
dino corpse. rhino skin disease
PING (pong? I dunno)
and I found a mix and match coupon series (I feel like Ogre in his
KMFDM
mode)
PING (song? your guess is as good as mine)
at the drive by, drive in, pick up guns, drive out, kill some stupid
children!
PING (wrong? I'm always wrong)
last tuesday's child is sundays cloud
DIVE DIVE DIVE. deep deep deep.
G
o
i
n
'
d
o
w
n
the submariner
on his brother's wife
Don't drink and dive.
that's my only advice...
(advise well taken)
sitting
absorbing rays of incandescent light
PERFECTION!
A Letter
My Darling...
There are times when a man knows
that he is
more than
a man...
touching you... I found that part
of myself
again
as you touched me
the core
of me
not simply my body
or my soul
but that inner spark
which holds the whole
of what makes
me
me.
You
my love
my floating blossom,
my darling
Shade of my heart....
You.
You are the one who has
shown me once more
the seat
of my power
from atop your mountain
you point me back
to
mine
and in thanks
I invite you
here
for a visit
someday
soon.
forever and a day I am yours...
Josh
Spots
where do they come from
these spots
in my sight
oil
smoke
apathetic entropy
spray off my monitor
wipe it clean
spray on my glasses
wipe them dry
pluck out my eyes
left first then right
spray them over
wipe them away
dead people need love too
but I
am not dead...
just tired.
Grasping my soul
pulling at it to spray it
but it tears
a little
as I tug
I forgot that I am sensitive
beneath the protective spots.
spray it off
wipe it
wipe it
wipe it but nothing
nothing happens
the past is past
and scars are scars
and not even
thee AnT's
Super Heavy Duty
Thrice Blessed
Generic Stain Killer
can clean
dead days
from a soul.
perhaps the future
will have
extra whitening effect.
The Way of the Leaf
To live
as does the leaf...
to grow
in the appointed place
caressed by breezes
bathed by rain
warmed by sun
the Way of the Leaf
is peace....
In an age yet to come
an age long past
when men
and women
live by the Way
the bravest of all
who will not harm
who will not raise hand
who hold to the way
and in that time
a circle fifty thousand strong
surround a madman
arms linked
singing
reminding him
of the great man he once was
and could be
again
if he returned
to the way
shielding the city's escape
with their bodies
standing before the fire
singing
fifty thousand leaves
sighing in the breeze
and falling
unprotesting
before the hurricane
that the city
the Way
the people
escape
and live.
To live as the leaf
falling from the branch
at the appointed time
unprotesting
floating
to the ground
slowly
gently
gracefully
as the leaf lives
so does it die
enriching life
returning to the earth
the Way of the Leaf
is Peace.
Hell at 8
crazy chick used to be my friend
works in my company
before she stopped taking the pills
that made her whole.
they made her drowsy she said
they made her sane
but awake was more important to her
i guess.
so she stopped
taking them.
i called her a couple months ago to finish the conversation
we had begun the week before and she said
"I will have no more of your lying ways
you are not a good person
and you will not see the gates
of heaven
as you lay burning in hell"
and hung up on me...
shook my head and never called again.
she got fired this morning -- after telling her boss
that she was "OF THE DEVIL"
and I remembered that the lady carried
a gun
in her purse
which i can only hope
she is too far gone
to use.
who knows what goes through
that kind of head
when the drugs don't heal it
and even when they do.
so goodbye joanna
whoever you were
and if nothing else
at least
I will have your job soon
and get my transfer
out
of this
Hell
at
8.
flipper 9
bottoms up
or down
sideways
across the radius, hell, who cares long as its another
drink of foggy memory
Vomit
At times such as these
it seems necessary to consider
such things.
as the filters grow clogged
with the tattered masses
of unoriginality
and the boardwalk grows stained
with disgorgement
dust covered dictionaries
dishonorable discharge letters from grammar school
and finally, the filters replaced
the stains hidden
the vomit begins to dry
and smells of roses.
Our Dreams
Of late my love it often seems
that we cross paths only as the black cat
without luck
Love, fondness, adoration remain
but seem swept aside
by the concerns of the day to day
and there are times
when this bothers
the both of us.
Breathe
deeply.
Come with me
away
from this
for an hour
a moment
a lifetime...
in dreams we sail the oceans
salt wind whipping our hair
a thousand thousand stars
reflected in each eye
framing you
framing me
as we touch
In dreams we float on breezes
touch the clouds,
the moon, the sky
and drift
on wings of love
In dreams we stand on mountains
underneath the driving rain
and the wrappings of the busy day
disappear
as the rain competes with hands and
mouths and skin on skin
to touch
the closest.
Come to me
my love
and stand with me
breathe in the lilac blossoms
kiss the rain
bathe beneath the stars
and let love
have its way.
Work is done in waking time --
our dreams...
are ours.
Calm, Content, and Quiet <revised>
The fire is warm
and the snow
is
falling
my love is falling
into my arms
we have been
too long
apart...
and I hold her
in my arms
before the blazing
fire light
and love...
Is.
Hearts
filled
with contentment,
we look into the fire
without speaking...
(Silence speaks the words
which are most beautiful.)
and the fire crackles
as we turn
and smile
and kiss.
No Sun or Moon
or Starry night,
nor lapis eyes
by candlelight
the fire is warm,
the snow is light,
and rises
as it falls.
Cockroaches--In honor of the infestation
(JC with AnT, Zac, and Snow)
so where I ask
are all these cockroaches
coming from
dirtying up the place
with their slumlord/ghetto/sickass
misrepresentation of Beat
mixed in with a little slimy rap
and coated
in rosy sweet vomit
"a rose by any other name
still would stink like a
festering weed"
-Zac
have they ever read Chaucer
shakespeare
kerouac
bukowski
suess?
"prolly not,
they are legends in their own mind
and feel no connection
to the masters "
-- AnT
The fog walks in on little cat feet
it was many and many a year ago in this kingdom by the sea
this monster manunkind
Saw a commercial for farmer joe who smokes his own bacon
What should I be, all but less than he, who thunder hath made greater?
I do not like this poet's spam, I do not like it, Sam I am
Greased lightning, the nausea which overtakes
at each additional carelessly chosen word
carelessly placed
in precisely the wrong position
to elicit
no reaction beyond that
which
R O L A I D S
can soon rectify...
that and the filter button
Theres only room for one bug
and thats thee AnT
(word? yo? try studying a few words
and practicing yoga
seek enlightenment
or at least an education)
"Class--todays vocabulary list is:
Style,
Talent,
Form,
Rhythm,
Meaning,
Steak, medium well, with A1 bold,
Silence,
Structure,
Prose,
Poetry,
Vomit,
and one you should be quite familiar with--
Chagrin."
cha*grin [1] (noun)
[French, from chagrin sad]
First appeared circa 1681
: disquietude or distress of mind caused by humiliation, disappointment, or
failure :
(Perhaps the
überhaupt bösartige Schaben
toujours malins cancrelats
mai maligne blatte
sempre malignant baratas
siempre malas cucarachas
should take at least one foreign language?
English, perhaps?)
Raid Good.
Roach Bad.
alas, the roaches multiply,
when one falters, another ...
oozes into place
a roach is a roach is a roach
"must get... nuclear roach repellent!"
--AnT
by any name
"little black crawling
spew that arose from its hell
to cause me to cringe."
--Snow
the same.
"how will you crawl
if i pluck your legs off
with my
almighty
word?"
-Zac
the last words go
to Uncle Walt:
"The Day erased The Lesson Done"
yeah, that's it...
so i finally got around
to cleaning out
my filters
amazing the crap they keep out.
no more pixystickdust
nomore stupidblinddrunks
the less vomit I read/smell/see
the less I vomit
yeah, thats it....
smiling at the new day dawning
"yo" "word"
never again.
Old Lion of the Moor
Do you feel the blood
Roar
in your veins?
The wind
whipping
your hair?
Can you smell
the Moor,
Taste it?
Do you hold
the Broadsword
in your hands
in your
Dreams,
Son of the Clan?
I see it in you
the warrior
who
Cannot
Die...
I see him
in your eyes...
Old Eyes
Strong Eyes
Wise Eyes.
Old Lion
You have lived
Many
Lives.
Do you feel the heat
of Council
Fires?
The heft
of the Torc
Clasped 'round your throat?
Can you smell
the smoke,
Taste it?
Do you wear
the ring of Chieftan
on your hand
in your
Dreams,
Son of the Clan?
I see it in you
the Clan Chief
who
will not
Die...
I see him
in your eyes...
Old Eyes
Strong Eyes
Wise Eyes.
Old Lion
You have lived
Many
Lives.
Do you hear the cries
of the men
who fall?
Strong men
Dying
to be free.
Can you smell
the blood,
Taste it?
Do you hold
the fate of thousands
in your hands
in your
Dreams,
Son of the Clan?
I see it in you
the Chief of Chiefs
who
Must not
Die...
I see him
in your eyes...
Old Eyes
Strong Eyes
Wise Eyes.
Old Lion
You have lived
Many
Lives.
Do you hear the Song
of the priestly
men?
See the Clansman
who have gathered here
for you?
Can you smell
the incense,
Taste it?
Do you hold
the Stone of Destiny
in your hands
in your dreams,
Son of the Clan?
I see it in you
the Ard Righ
who
Never
Dies...
I see him
in your eyes...
Old Eyes
Strong Eyes
Wise Eyes.
Old Lion
You have lived
Many
Lives.
Do you feel the blood
Roar
in your veins?
The wind
whipping
your hair?
Can you smell
the Moor,
Taste it?
Do you hold
the Broadsword
in your hands
in your
Dreams,
Son of the Clan?
I see it in you, Old Lion...
the Future of the Clans...
inside your eyes.
Old eyes
Strong eyes
Wise eyes
that Burn
with One
Deep
Desire...
SCOTLAND WILL RISE AGAIN!
Ahr Do Slainte!
Outta Sight
all day long
singing it
"HAVE YOURSELF
A MERRY
LITTLE
CHRISTMAS"
And Suicide
seems
ideal.
Ready to drive down to
O
HI
O
and visit
Thee AnT's
Giant Monument
again
and buy thee economy size
industrial strength
brain desympathizer
Nothing wrong
with Snow
on the mind
but a Christmas
Song
is a virus
Replicating RRReeepppllliiicccaaatttiiinnnggg
ReReReplplplicicicatatatinining g g
RepliRepliRepliCatinCatinCatin g
g
g
Replicating Replicating Replicating
ReplicatingReplicatingReplicatingReplicatingReplic
atingReplicatingReplicatingReplicatingReplicatingRe
plicatingReplicatingReplicatingReplicatingReplicati
ngReplicating
Replicating
Virii
Purge it
Fry it
Dice it chop it hop it SLEDGE......
OMATIC
and it
returns
take it by the throat
and dance with its
insanity.
Sing it loud
clear
Strong
and delicitissimo dulcetto
until one of you dies
playing chicken with the music
in your mind
Russian Roulette
with a semi automatic
fully loaded
Banana
Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas
let your heart be light
from now on your troubles will be
outta sight
outta mind...
lazy lob
tears fall
fail
driving rain
moments
to live for
die for
introspection at its finest
moment
researching bliss I came
across an interesting fragment
of knowledge
and swallowed it
whole.
All night I wonder
all night I ponder
all night I dream
it may be true
it seems to be a momentary lapse
of creations insanity
fading away
whispy cobweb strands of dream
dust floating over the earth
as death's chariot
draws
near.
Old Hank and the Rattler
It was a long hard night
of smoke and sweat and whisky
and the cards
allblurredtogether
the notes piled high
before two of the four gamblers. Big
Tom, the fellow what ran the livery
stable had already folded, he was
rolling a cigarette and looking real
down.
He was losing
bad.
Then there was Bill Cassidy
who folks called "Smiley" because he
was one of them fellers what
never smiled -- he dug
graves for his brother
the town undertaker. He
was already busted and spending
his last few cents
on sweet
forgetful
and watching the two mean
looking fellers what was winning.
Old Hank sitting there, the only
one in the place wearing
his guns -- The Skunkwater went
through three owners before one
decided it was safer if that partic'lar rule
just didn't apply
to Hank....
Hank was lookin a little meaner than
usual which pretty much meant he looked like a
feller what could chew up a keg of nails
and spit out horseshoes and kill
flowers with a glance.
Hank never did like losing,
and he was.
Feller said he was a bounty
hunter for the territory of
Oklahoma, goes by the name
of Rattlesnake Jim.
Stands over six foot tall
with snakeskin boots and a whip
coiled
at his side with a rattle
in the butt
and a fang
at the tip. He smelled
like cheap tobacco
and cheaper whisky.
He
was just passing
through.
Old Hank scowled
but a straight flush beats
three of a kind no
matter who the dealer is. But
Old Hank
Never
Loses.
Rattler reached for the pile and
Hank grabbed his hand and
Started Squeezing. The feller's
eyes got all wide and he
raised his other hand
real
slow
the derringer he had up
his sleeve before coming
was in his hand now and he pulled
the trigger.
Hank
Dodged
blood
sprayed
Old Hank was
winged
but not down
and Rattlesnake Jim uncoiled
that whip. But
Hank was faster.
Smoke
and hot lead,
warm blood
and
silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Then Big Tom looked at Bill and Bill
looked back, they shook their heads
they knew what would happen but why warn?
A free horse.
A grave to dig.
Some of their own back.
Business as usual
in the Skunkwater Saloon.
Tom
sent for the barber.
Bill
sent for his brother.
Hank
sent for some whisky
and nobody sent for the Sherriff
Maybe the Rattler would have but he
wasn't quite alive enough
and the pair of aces sticking
out of his left sleeve was
enough for the rest.
There's a special corner of Hell
for card cheats
and Hank is the Devil in
charge.
The barber came and stitched him up
The undertaker came to help clear
away the body
Hanks whisky came and
went and came again.
Old Hank
had a date
with the cathouse
and it was time
to
go.
Lion of Winter
I see you there.
Never fool yourself into believing
that I have forgotten
forgiven
forbidden myself to act.
I have not.
A Lion has his patience.
You wished to end the Winter
without bringing the Spring
but
that season remains
beyond
your
Control.
Oh, you believed, yes,
were certain you could
beat the snow
into submission;
But leopards do not bow
for Any man,
and the purity of Winter
can not be sullied.
You stain the snow red
but still it is snow.
You may destroy, but Never,
Never will you rule.
Leopards do not wear chains
or allow cages.
Eagles spread wings
and fly
Free.
You tried, oh, how you tried
seeking to master what cannot
be
mastered
to conquer
the unconquerable
to rule
what should never be
ruled.
Never a thought to
the consequences,
and imprisonment
was least
among
them.
The memory of seasons
is long.
The leopard escaped you
but stll you hunt,
to cage her.
More than one
proud beast
calls winter
home,
fool.
And some of them
Hunt
too.
One Hunts you.
The Lion of Winter -- Judge, Jury, Executioner
frost wreathing his mane
Ice crystals casting rainbows of glory
for his crown.
Superior, unchallenged, leader of all
enslaver of none,
He Hunts
who would chain
the blizzard.
Would you tie down the Snow?
Snow is Free
and meant to float
on breezes.
When the Lion of Winter
finds you,
you will see.
Without a heart and soul of Fire
cold things break
easily.
Cold-hearted one
at the lions touch
fine powder floats on the wind
and when the lion leaves
there is no sound...
not even breathing.
La la lala la la Sing a happy Song
Gold...
only 6...
Azreal, help me trap them
those happy little blue things
disgusting creatures
of warmth and happiness
lalalaing their way through the world
I gave them a whore and she turned
on me
turned
into a princess
she did not destroy
I call on my darkest powers to seduce them
bring them to me
and nothing.
A species so endangered
in no danger they believe
from me.
But I will devour
I will diminish
I will create those three apple high golden beautys
and melt them
to line my purse
With RICHES!
I AM GARGAMEL, Master of the forest!
I will triumph! I MUST!
I swear that I will,
Upon my life...
and upon all of theirs.
The Pride
Again, she is there...
I feel them boring into me,
sharp green eyes
of a leopard dancing
much too close
to the edge.
Without thirst I drink
to see her reflection
in the water,
and ponder her....
What could a Snow Leopard want
with the Pride Master?
Certainly, a pride of one, but that is and remains
my choice.
What, indeed....
I raise my head, my crown of glory
shifting
in the wind.
I look
into her eyes. Locked
there. Who is this leopard that touches
me, who dares to look the
Lion
eye to eye
to match his stare, to challenge
the authority of
The King
even as I stand robed
in majesty? Like a
Queen
Against nature
Her place is solitary;
mine, to stand atop the mountain
ruling
with a pride of hundreds
Timing.
My Lioness, my queen
Lost
within the shifting sands
of time
I have mourned her long
enough. A solitary lion
seeking only one, a queen...
So regal, that pelt of snow
shining beneath the winter sun...
Majestic, the power of that gaze...
Could it be that she seeks
to challenge
my supremacy?
Sun and Stars, to find an equal,
an echo among the ...
Could this princess of ice
be Queen of the Beasts?
Could she bear that burden,
the heavy crown?
She is looking at me again.
I have seen that look before...
on myself
as I hunt
my most dangerous
prey.
A shiver... tongue to tail
electrified....
We shall see, little leopard....
We shall see.
A Quiet Arrogance
Oh, anger...
that I look at her so
knowingly, her pride
remains... unshaken.
This untamed
Queen of leopards
has Fire and Spirit!
Green eyes
to see them... moving closer
she is locked in place by my
eyes
The distance closing
between us
How close will I come
before she bolts?
Leopards and lovers
are not easy prey.
Oh! The arrogance of a gesture!
Tossing her tail and turning!
Sun and Stars, the sight of it... she taunts,
thinks,
dares to challenge the Ruler?
Oh... this I MUST see... a leopard
so strong that she wishes me to follow?
Indeed... I must!
As I prepare to leap, she looks
back
She KNEW that I could not resist
oh... so smug the leopard's look
in emerald eyes.
Little leopard, with that look...
the Hunt begins.
A Personal God
The truest happiness comes from a personal god...
Get one today!
3 for a dollar, they now come in an
exciting new array
of fun flavors!
Perhaps you will like the "Immortal
Melon."
Cindy always starts her day
with a "Promisekeeping Peach," but Zac
likes the scent of the "Slightly soiled
fig leaf of Paradise"
Hurry, hurry, get em while they're hot
fresh off the Biggest Barby of them all
less filling tastes great
less filling tastes great
Oh Mighty Redeemer
of Coupons/Boxtops/Rebate Stickers
Savor the Flavor of
your own private Savior
now comes with stickers!!!!!
STICKERS!!!
Discriminate in style today!
pay 3 dollars shipping and handling
allow six to eight weeks for deliverance
send self addressed stamped envelope C/O Ty corporation
for details...
and coming soon....
Burning Beanie Bushes!!!
Sparrow
Wipe me away
little sparrow
with a tear.
Grow apart from the calling
of the lark and the wind
while the moon overhead
speaks of breezes
and I speak to the sun
with a nod and a grin
and it knows me by name
and by fame.
Little sparrow:
you are the knife at my throat
my sword of Damocles
I cannot remember you,
I dare not,
my world shatters
with that tear.
Men do not cry, little sparrow.
Who do you think I am?
What would you have
me be,
when words fail
strength lapses
tears fall
naked, alone, dying.
Fly away, sparrow, beneath a leaf,
hide in the heather, in the fog
of early morn
in the shelter of a tree,
a heart, a soul, but
do not come
to me.
Simple Sparrow,
my world is too complex, it
holds no room for you.
I do not want to see it
through your eyes
or see you through mine.
You must not come, sparrow,
I must not cry,
my universe
stands
upon that,
layers and structures and
crystalline intricacies...
but you, sparrow
can destroy all that
with a single
tear.
Your world is not
my world,
I have not been there
since last we met
and I cannot, I will not
return.
Fly away, little sparrow.
I cannot afford
your interruptions, fool bird.
I have my own life now,
It is too complicated to explain in a day,
and there is no room here
for you. Be Gone.
I am glad your wings are mended
I am glad that you can fly
but fly away,
you are free
fly away.
Please, my little sparrow,
fly away from me...
I cannot bear the sight
of you much longer
already boundaries fade
walls crumble
mirrors shatter
LET ME BE
and take away that key
you brought with you,
I do not need it.
I am as free as you
I am NOT caged,
not even in myself,
foolish sparrow.
You cannot understand,
you cannot help
Just Go.
Fly.
Fly away
free
on the breeze
and let my eyes follow you
welcome you
home....
11-3 Diamondbacks
The snow gleams
atop the mountain
in the valley
of the sun
The tables have turned
the Diamondbacks--
triumphant--
March on
to conquer
the east
The world at their feet
the snow at their head
the universe
at their command.
Two years
from birth
to
supremacy
And only the final victory
can provide
respite.
Their star
their snow
their fortune
Rises.
Memory: 3.December.2000
Ah, it was a fine, fine day,
that day when we did celebrate
our meeting;
a cold day, yes, with frost wreathing the trees
and breathing, whispy imprints on the air.
You, in a warm sweater of cashmere,
I, in soft lambskin;
we sat in the snow, drinking hot chocolate --
only the finest, for two in love
in winter
Ah, it was a fine, fine eve
beside the fire
sharing memories
of our 18 months together
and another cup of cocoa,
this one shared.
...I still remember how you turned the cup
to taste my lips and make the chocolate
that much sweeter --
marshmallow
leaving a white tracery on our lips.
Ah, it was a fine, fine night
on the soft warm rug --
you and I bare to the world,
our bodies gleaming in the firelight;
dripping marshmallow cream
on your body, and licking
it clean.
You always preferred the chocolate sauce
to rub on mine...
no complaints from me, my love.
It was a fine, fine night.
change
it cuts sharp
hard
a knife
the fire in your heart
falls
down
becoming the fire
burning
the pit of your stomach
roasting you
alive
a dull ache
burning
knife
twisting
that red, red flame.
sometimes it burns so goddamn much I want to die.
trust.
It's hard for me.
This whole fucking world is full of deceivers
I used to date their queen
sitting on her throne, in her hive
oozing pheromones and charm
sucking away my soul
its hard for me.
That knife gets awfully bloody sometimes
but I won't let go.
It isn't always the .45totheheartpointblank
it cant be, I refuse to allow it.
My mountain...
I stand there looking over the world
I see so much to love
I see her standing
between the falling leaves and the flowering trees
against a backdrop of perfect white, sparkling
hope.
Trust doesn't have to be a knife,
but any change
takes
time.
The Dance
Drums beat.
The rhythmic marching of the legion
echoes through the night
in the forsaken city.
Dark, but still the sirens blare:
another wave of polymer wasps
approaches
to lay their clustered eggs
on the sky.
Horns blow.
The hoofbeats of the cavalry
churn to mud the bloody plain
in no-man's land.
The Sun barely risen, the crash
of steel on steel
is deafening.
Twitching bodies staring
at the sky.
Pipes play.
The shouts of mighty warriors
ring out across the moor
behind the hills.
The death of day, swords
thrown aside for knives.
No prisoners.
There will be no white flag waving
in the sky.
Vultures and ravens
wait in the wings
to feast.
Flies light
on barely settled
corpses.
Epiphany
Step
by slow and painful
step
I climb.
Hands
bleeding
feet
bleeding
soul
bleeding
I climb.
Too long since I pulled myself
with strength of will
arms weary
heart
weary
I climb.
Wings encourage
atrophy
Today
I will not fly
Today
I climb.
I swam already
the raging sea
scorning even the meanest
of vessels;
Only the strong
should survive.
I battled Kraken and Serpent
to submission
to reach this cliff
which now
I climb.
Sky
Rock
Sea
Blood
Will
Proving ground
battlefield
A Universe watching
Self
battle
Self
battle
nature.
I climb.
These
two hands
these
two eyes
this
golden crown
which I placed
upon myself
whole
in myself.
I climb.
My Authority
is Mine
and Mine
Alone.
I seize the rocks
and climb.
Men
Crown Kings.
A god must Crown
Himself.
But first
he must
Climb
his own
Olympus,
Take his place atop
the mountain.
I Climb.
Blood streams free
to rouge the raging waters
and bring Life.
It is Time!
I grasp the final rock and pull Myself
into Supremacy.
I Stand atop the Mountain
gazing down upon this world
that I have conquered.
I raise my arms, My bleeding hands
to pull the lightning
from the clouds
and Crown Myself
As it was meant to be.
Tremble, Demons of the Night!
The time has come!
I HAVE RETURNED!
Bring Back the Good Old Days
pretty much the same
every year--
damned family pays the yearly visit
500 years ago, they'd still be locked in the attic
at the manor house in Copenhagen
but this is Amerika
(Versino 1999.12)
and they can walk the streets
sing the songs
dream the dreams
of normal men and women
they could... if they could.
My cousin in his cowboy boots--
the last book he read was...
there wasn't one. He laughs
his stupid laugh and says
'computers is stupid.
Are you gay?
I bet you like n*ggers, too.
I'm gonna work on the hog farm
and the steel mill
with my daddy
soon as they let me drop out.'
My aunt sees my mothers paintings
and blushes. Under her breath
she whispers
'how come they's naked?
huh huh huh you gots naked people on your wall'
Perhaps her husband will come as well--
now there's a show to see--
stinking of hog and sweat and steel
truly of the unwashed
he wil begin telling me jokes of 'sp*cs and n*ggers'
and I will tell him just what I think
of his racism, his sexism, and his odor
in addition to his generally poor demeanour
and finally throw him out of my home
again.
Enough said. May Christmas come and go
and cleanse my home
of these...
'invited'
guests.
JCOvergaar: the paper chain on the wall
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: I remember it clearly, yes
JCOvergaar: very clearly
JCOvergaar: for 4 years of my life I saw
JCOvergaar: Death
JCOvergaar: walk these halls
JCOvergaar: his Scythe swinging,
JCOvergaar: heavy
JCOvergaar: final.
JCOvergaar: He walked into the courtyard
JCOvergaar: where hung the paper chain
JCOvergaar: the ancient ritual
JCOvergaar: by which he chose
JCOvergaar: the sacrifice
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: each of us, that day
JCOvergaar: scribbling our names on colored paper
JCOvergaar: red, green, red, green
JCOvergaar: in celebration of the season
JCOvergaar: the paper, folded, linked
JCOvergaar: for all of us are linked, connected, one
JCOvergaar: the chain, whole, complete, at start of day
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: death comes
JCOvergaar: the clock chiming 9 times as he chooses his first victim
JCOvergaar: and the chain falls
JCOvergaar: one link broken, all are harmed
JCOvergaar: each hour
JCOvergaar: death struck
JCOvergaar: and each hour we fought to pull the chain together again
JCOvergaar: to become whole
JCOvergaar: again
JCOvergaar: the clock struck 3, and death took off
JCOvergaar: his mask
JCOvergaar: each year it was a different man
JCOvergaar: but always much the same
JCOvergaar: the dead rise, the chain swept away by the janitors
JCOvergaar: the red ribbons handed out, and the message passed
JCOvergaar: alcohol and driving do not mix.
Searching for inspiration
A long night...
I sit in a
cafe
drinking bad
cappucino
and
awaiting
inspiration.
In front of me,
a woman, or girl...
a student, perhaps,
but not studying...
or inspiring.
Another,
very attractive
blonde, with dark
eyebrows, touches her
chest, runs her
fingers across
left to right, below gold
chain, smiling
perhaps at the
sensation....
A nice smile...
but not inspiring
of much beyond an idle
lust....
Next to her
sits another,
younger I think,
with nice legs
and long hair.
Probably an
interesting
evening
could be had
with either,
but not
an inspiration.
And with a turn
of my head
I find her...
My inspiration.
Long jet black
hair, soft
creamy skin,
and beaming
intellect...
perhaps now
I can turn this page....
Finally...
an inspiration
glossy ebon hair
porcelain skin
a sculptured
face
soft pink lips
and radiant
intelligence
sensuality
evident
in a soft sweater
I sit
enjoying
the play
of light
and shadow on her
face
and neck
as she moves
her head...
the tensing
and release of
muscles
in her cheek
and neck...
I wonder
what it is
that she
studies so intentlhy
as she puts up her
feet and
turns a page...
what is going on
inside her mind
as she studies?
is it a well ordered place
or a wonderful chaos
of interconnectedness...
She sits up
and the shadows
shift
revealing even more
beauty.
Soft colors
olive, sandy
brown...
deep colors
navy, black...
and touches of silver.
Every small gesture
seems
to hold
meaning.
The shadow
returns to veil
her eyes
as she peers
more intently
over her studies...
she smiles.
What a
beautiful
smile
she has...
beaming,
glowing...
and through
the noise of the cfe
I can hear her voice,
a lovely alto...
very nice.
I sit,
admiring
a soft curve from the top of her head
down her most excellent neck
and along her shoulder...
a perfect stretch of neck,
deserving
a soft kiss
from some very lucky
eperson...
I strongly hope
that she is not
offended
bu these wrods
which she inspired...
they are meant only
as a compliment
and a tribute
and perhaps
an
introduction...
if she smiles
from them,
then my work
is repayed
a thousandfold.
If not...
C'est la vie.
A Beautiful Day
What a mess
what a fucking
mess.
This is just great.
Whose stupid idea was this?
You Fucking moron
what the hell
were you thinking?
Are you crazy!
Why did you do such a stupid thing!
What was going on
in your empty head
you fucking idiot!
I can
not
believe
you did something
so
stupid.
C'est la vie!
I wash my hands of you,
fool.
Try not to get killed
too quickly...
...a look
in my mirror.
Shaken
on this--
my last full day
in the west--
I journey
East
to meet her
for one
last
time,
one
final
meeting
before
it ends....
What?
What ends?
My vacation?
Our affair?
A chapter
in the life
of a Man...
one
brief
glimmer
of a moment
between
Dark and
Dark
where
a glimpse of
Green Eyes and
Red Hair and
Soft skin...
And Love....
Let's not forget
that.
Encompassed
in such a
short
moment...
a month or so
since meeeting,
a few sweet
hours
of touching
before we parted...
and then
a brief glimpse
a soft touch...
and
nothing
more.
Alone
now,
I go
Alone
to my
room...
to my
bed...
empty.
The telephone
rings
not.
Silence
rings
out
and beneath
an empty
ring
Sean Connery
orders a martini
Shaken.
For Crystal Rae:
the eldest of the flakes
As the Iris stands
complete
in its singular
beauty,
So too, this child of Winter,
Spring,
a delicate,
shimmering Crystal
Ray
of light
that warms
the soul.
Echo of the Moon
Let go!
set down you fears
and inhibitions
Break free!
from this damned prison
that they put you in
Take wing!
and fly as you were meant
to do
and taste the clouds of morning
hear the echo of the moon
let your hair down, lady
rest a while
there's no need for all this fear
that you have harbored
take a deep deep breath
and just sigh...
relax, and do not fight
the love you feel for me...
It only ends up hurting you much more
when you deny, decry, belie --
rely
on this...
Believe!
The truth, accept yourself,
your beauty
Have faith!
you're more than worthy
of my love.
Accept!
that you are wonderful
and wonderful is you
you are the clouds of morning
and the echo of the moon.
a snowy night (JCOvergaar)
Date: 12/07/1999 3:37 AM US Eastern Standard Time
From: Her Lyon
Message-id: <19991207033729.01110.00000068@ng-da1.aol.com>
There's something in the air...
I'm not sure what it is
but it's wonderful....
I saw her, just a little while ago...
she was standing
at the stairs
the snowflakes sparkle
in her hair
the moon was high
and barely peeking
past the clouds
Could it be
that perfume that she wears
the musk that thrills beyond compare
perhaps that sparkle
in her eye
exuding magic?
Although the air is chill and thin
it seems to warm my heart, within,
and it feels wonderful...
wonderful...
wonderful.
a final baptismal (JCOvergaar)
Date: 12/07/1999 3:36 AM US Eastern Standard Time
From: Her Lyon
Message-id: <19991207033609.01110.00000067@ng-da1.aol.com>
Rusty nails stick
out
from the ramshackle walls of
my memory;
in and out, the dust blows.
That addlepated senator who held
the knife to me
and thrust
who history names
the noble betrayer.
Et tu
hotter than the water
warm now, and soothing
the bathtub, changing shade.
My first fight agin
them damn injuns
only good'un's a dead'un...
that's what they say.
I'm not so sure 'bout this plan
but I'm ready to fight
and take them, take
an Arrow!
sinking
deeper
falling
fading
pink grows darker
darker.
The thousandth time
still fresh in my mind
"we took them krauts by surprise, we did.
That day, we saved the world."
Seeing Normandy's beaches as my
arm goes numb and that damn beep
floating
sinking
free
lost
found
Her face floating there
sad in the blackness
my head sinks
in the warm red water.
Clean nails
no rust now
hammered
hammered
hammered
and dust
to dust.
Hey, Mister (JCOvergaar)
Date: 12/04/1999 12:00 AM US Eastern Standard Time
From: JCOvergaar
Message-id: <19991204000039.15468.00000553@ng-fz1.aol.com>
I pulled up to the light
and they were there....
My window, cracked to taste the breeze
the light, red
the night, black
alone
I had thought.
"Help us, Mister"
three boys outside my car
small boys
innocent and sweet
the kind whose hair you ruffle
and always come to your house
to sell candy bars for baseball.
"Help us, Mister"
sweet innocent faces
on that black, cold night
on an empty street
in an empty world
no life.
I looked... a tingle in my spine
a knife approaching my back
fear, boundless, unnamable fear....
"Help us, Mister"
these... innocent faces... frighten me.
What are they doing here, on this cold
dark
dead night?
"Roll down your window and help us"
"Open the door"
"please help us, mister? pretty please?"
I shake my head.... unnatural need...
my fingers stretch to the handle...
a commercial blares on the radio.
I look again... my skin crawling...
something strange... unnatural... evil.
those eyes... hints of red and black
within the baby blue...
but dead eyes, lifeless eyes...
and the voices crooning
growing more insistant...
"Open the door. Now."
"Let us in. Now."
"Help us, Mister. Please? We're hungry."
shaking my head in disbelief... but still I see...
I know I saw...
the tips of razor fangs
touch innocent lips....
Red light or not, I
press down
and I
break free.
behind me voices
not so sweet
"DAMN YOU!"
"Come Back!"
"Please.. mister... please...?? if it isnt you...
it's me
oh no, No, NO!"
The Relative Minor of Love
The doctor said "this is the key,
the starting point, foundation, where you build."
No simple song
a thousand scores of love
in shades and variations
this is the key
to passions gate,
the key of love.
I played around
to test my limitations
on this instrument
that they hammered
to perfect.
That dawn
after a long, long night
of practice, study, work
I found another key
the key to power
laying in my bed...
The relative minor
of love.
In the Cafe at B&N on open mic night
Dear God,
Tonight I beg of you,
remove
my perfect
pitch.
A lightning bolt to
vocalist,
efficient, yes,
but messy.
Please,
just deafen me to flatness now
and let the man
enjoy
what he calls
Art.
Used to be
Used to be pretty
damn near anything brought
a poem to my pen, but
not now.
Burned out.
No more, the 12 a day habit,
kicked.
Somehow like a bucket,
sometimes.
So many unfinished works
lay in folders
notepads
disks
I cannot seem to muster up
the will
to find completion.
Oh, words to make you shiver
lines... to make you sing
or moan in ecstasy
but they, alone, are not
complete.
Short
sweet
wont come
these past few months,
only the long, the epic, the mighty tale..
the neverending story,
so to speak.
Well, this will be a poem
tonight
its not the best I've got
but at least it is
on paper and
complete.
Ne Plus Ultra 56
time
life
dreams
all unite within
the universal trading place
of elemental
ecstasy
devise a master plan
to conquer all of being
or inside the faintest atmosphere
of cocktail moon.
Refer yourself to wisdom
held by trees
or ferns or branches
of the governments
presiding in
small towns
and be free.
Delight within the momentary
glimpse you share of vestibules
where daemon imp and redneck children
feed upon the beasts
that come of interplanetary
intercourse.
Indeed! Refuse the refuse
fused in dreams of pale moonlight
and wooded lake.
Submit yourself to judgement
by the random act
of merciless
destruction.
Track intelligentsia by dawning
and the blasted fools by morning
in the stars and in the light
of that damn new moon.
Rage! because they'll let you.
Rage! because life bets you.
Rage! (because she likes this
type of work)
Whip or snap
whippersnap
crackle and pop
were eaten by Tony the Tigre
burning bright
with promised fury
at the contract
obligations
oft gone wrong....
Who?
408 dial 288 please,
408 dial 288.
Warm Hope
Her touch:
it sent me heavenward
to steal the stars
and bring them back
to complement the sparkle
of her eyes.
My friend:
you mean the universe
to me, you are
the light that brings
me hope, my world
is brighter since I looked
into your eyes.
Someday,
perhaps, time will
not end, but in the time
between, still we
are close and I
take pride in you
my friend.
Soft Goodnight
Those words,
that softest whisper
sounded in the dark
as a precursor to sleep....
A proclamation to shake mountains,
feather soft.
A deep breath
a sigh
a touch
a kiss, chaste, gentle
and then...
those words....
Enough to keep us
strong
in the days ahead.
Keeper of the Flame (JCOvergaar)
Date: 11/09/1999 7:44 AM US Eastern Standard Time
From: JCOvergaar
Message-id: <19991109074452.13159.00000933@ng-cr1.aol.com>
On a lonely night in Northern Indiana
beneath a cold, grey moon
A boy sat
on a fence post
counting stars....
He looked into the sky and saw
his mothers sparkling eyes
there, looking back...
he said,
"it's been so very long...."
His mother didn't talk to him in words,
they shared no secrets
in this earth
or in the heavens
she resided in...
But he heard her just
the same...
The song she wrote for him
when he was just a child
to give him hope....
He needed that, tonight....
"You are silver
you are gold,
all things precious
do you hold
within
your gentle heart,
my baby boy...."
The moon misted over
and he lost his mothers eyes
behind the clouds.
A long day it was, and a long night
the vodka was a bit much
nowadays
and the memories wouldn't
die.
Maybe tomorrow
when the sun is still cool
and the world is smiling
I'll find a way....
Someone, some kind soul
will give me
what I need....
All I'll have to do is ask.
He looks down
at himself
ragged
only as clean as the river
allows....
The river.
How many times... had he asked God to sweep him
away
on the old St. Joe...?
heading westward on the current
to His arms....
Who would hire
a bum,
a vagrant
street trash.
Worthless drunk.
Vodka...
Where was the vodka.....
The stars sure are pretty tonight....
I miss her.
I wonder if she sees them, too...
is she lookin' up there and thinking
about me?
STOP
Blue skies
apple trees
dandelions dazzling down....
That one looks like a pirate ship,
and that one's the kitty cat...
Mommy... that one looks like you!
Clouds
parted and her eyes were back there,
looking right into his heart
and seeing his hurt....
a cool wind blew down
the kiss she sent him
to ease the pain
the darkness of lone.
"you are gentle
you are kind,
wonders never cease
to find, if you
believe,
believe, my heart,
my baby boy...."
Tomorrow...
Tomorrow.
He looked into the waters rushing past
the Keeper of the Flame above
looked on.
The lights beneath the river
shone... and asked him why
he would not join them.
He answered "Hope."
By day the lovers play
between these fenced in fortresses
where fish
swim by
above the kayakers
who ride the rapid
waters.
At night, the Century Center gleams
like the hopes it was built for,
the dreams... for a better tomorrow....
The rushing waters,
the falls,
the chiming soft music
of wind on steel...
Crickets and night birds
and breezes through
red maple.
Soothing...
sleep.
One by one the stars fade away
his mothers eyes
the last
to close.
Chaired
...And so alone
again
I sit beside the glass;
the old chair,
comfortable, familiar
does not judge.
I look into the cold night
the hard clear stars that cut the sky
a crescent moon belies unchanging
eternity.
Clouds block a star, another,
many
shift, fade, die
in the night.
I am alone.
Her eyes, they sparkled as these stars have
shone, reflected
on cold waters rippled by
the bitter breeze.
The scent of Winter fills the air,
the scent of Snow still fills my home.
I shake my head
to clear the wandering thoughts;
with the stars
I am alone.
The chair, I had forgotten
how it felt to sit
upon this seat
of loneness
some name throne;
looking down at the water and up
at the sky
and ahead at the future.
Cold stars...
clouds obscure them all,
sometimes,
but still
the are stars, and
I am.
hic jacet nauclerus
Take me away
to the whispering sea;
let me drift on the waves
that once bore me safe
between lands.
Lay me to rest
on the shimmering waves;
give me one last ocean
sunset.
JCOvergaar: melancholy.
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: lost in a moonless night
JCOvergaar: without your embrace
JCOvergaar: aching.
JCOvergaar: stepping on stars
JCOvergaar: beneath mountains
JCOvergaar: or moons
JCOvergaar: reflections in ice
JCOvergaar: reflections.
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: The stars, so far away
JCOvergaar: so close, touching them with frozen hands
JCOvergaar: but distant
JCOvergaar: beyond my grasp
JCOvergaar: stars are never only stars
JCOvergaar: on nights like this
JCOvergaar: some stars sing
JCOvergaar: others....
JCOvergaar: simply sit... silent.
JCOvergaar: but speak.
JCOvergaar: tonight the stars... mute, frozen beneath my feet.
JCOvergaar: only memories provide
JCOvergaar: the rich depths of the universe
JCOvergaar: I held it once
JCOvergaar: in my hands
JCOvergaar: but I squeezed too tight
JCOvergaar: did I crush it?
JCOvergaar: or did it slip through my fingertips?
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: I remember once the dust became stars
JCOvergaar: at my touch
JCOvergaar: perhaps now they have returned
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: one can only be a god
JCOvergaar: for so long.
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: end
JCOvergaar: Snow Kissed Soul
JCOvergaar: requested by... none other than... Snow.
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: O Stars!
JCOvergaar: around me you melt
JCOvergaar: into the night
JCOvergaar: mystery and magic
JCOvergaar: souls entwined
JCOvergaar: or were they dreams
JCOvergaar: beneath the cold November clouds
JCOvergaar: I taste you,
JCOvergaar: the cold light
JCOvergaar: of the moon.
JCOvergaar: from the sky you fall, the heavens
JCOvergaar: falter
JCOvergaar: with a glance
JCOvergaar: a touch
JCOvergaar: a sigh
JCOvergaar: my lips part
JCOvergaar: to meet you
JCOvergaar: my heart soars
JCOvergaar: with time....
JCOvergaar: and time...
JCOvergaar: need not end
JCOvergaar: these falling stars that hasten
JCOvergaar: to dissolve at touch or taste
JCOvergaar: are not the key,
JCOvergaar: the whole of living.
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: Tonight
JCOvergaar: I tasted stars
JCOvergaar: fresh from the sky...
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: Tonight,
JCOvergaar: I am
JCOvergaar: a SnowKissed Soul.
JCOvergaar: .
JCOvergaar: end
Old Comfy Shoes
Old comfy shoes,
tossed in the corner
and forgotten
for sequins and stiletto heels,
for a night.
Tossed aside,
and time passes
alone and lonely;
cold and empty.
A clicking sound
the floorboards vibrate
not one pair but two,
one dainty, one heavy, both eager
light dies with the scent of cologne
body warm linen
strangling, suffocating, trapping...
and through this blackness
the sounds of four more shoes
thrown aside;
and sighing
chirping
panting moaning gasping
Screaming
light erupts
spinning
spinning
spinning
across the floor
clacking heavy heels
quickly growing softer
crashing doors slam
engine roars
tires squeel.
soft sobbing.
tears on torn silk....
Old comfy shoes
warm cold feet,
caressing, embracing, familiar;
they do not judge, do not
resent.
Easing... comforting....
tears are shed for more than just
torn silk.
Old comfy shoes
do not walk away, let go,
or bring hurt.
They may not glitter
or shine
but they are always
there
when you need them,
are your
old
comfy
shoes.
A Dagger in the Leaf
Smoke rises from distant fires.
deep red flames of watchtowers in the night
scouts watch for subtle signs, and
armies wait to strike.
A faceless foe, a mass, a herd
of faceless men, not brothers.
Chopping tinder...
chopping tinder.
There are days
When it seems
that the world
is just a Dagger in the Leaf.
Behind closed doors
the enemy waits in sanctuary, at home,
engaging in the darkest joys
he waits to strike.
A smug smile. He revels in
the breaking of a soul.
Locked within, trapped
by a demon's bloody kiss.
When hammers beat flesh
and not steel
I will thrust
a Dagger in the Leaf.
death comes in kid gloves
Silken gloves may hide
a demon's razored talons
from the waking world.
Lonely Moon
lonely
moon floats
by the morning
sky in a pink
haze
S M I L I N G
at
heron lying
the sf by
Crane
Rising above the distant mist
aloof,
free,
flying above the clouds,
wingtips brushing the water;
smooth clean lines,
beak cutting channel,
taking nature's gift
on wing;
gliding back
into concealing mist,
the mother crane
begins her day.
Quetzlcoatl
Boundless arrogance
unmatched
I stand
atop the mountain
stepping
from peak
to peak
and study the broken
lands
below
a city stood here
once.
It had
no
name
to those who dwelled
within.
It was called simply
"The City,"
and they were
"The People"
But others had
a different name for them.
The Masters.
The Masters
of the City
of Gold....
I look down
on a ruin
a scattering
of broken stone
all that remains
of my temple...
for a moment
the light illumines
a darkened
shard
of stone
a winged
serpent....
Mute testament
to centuries
of Sacrifice
in My Name...
I cared not...
But it pleased
them
to die
and to kill
in My Name.
I stand atop the mountain
and the Sun rises
behind me
the ruins
lie
in the shadow
of my wings.
Serenity
Cold air
leaves burning
gentle touches beneath iron sky
warm sweater, soft flannel, love.
Rolling in the leaves
that fall atop the mountain
we laugh, the moments shared,
priceless.
Kissing in cool wind
shivering...
with desire
retiring...
to cabin, blanket, fire.
Shard
In these times of lucidity
I wonder at that veil
which clouds my eyes,
my thoughts
sometimes.
What, truly, does it mean,
why does it appear
distorting, bending, twisting
at that blade hilted knife?
Am I pierced, as was young Kai
the Goblin Mirror
twisting light?
For surely, 'tis the Snow Queen holds
my heart, my soul....
What causes it, suspicion, terror, doubt;
What brings these gorgons to my heart,
what sets them free
to maim and mar
what I hold dear?
I feel it, greasy, burning up inside
a rancid fire, an ulcerated
whisper
in the dark
The more I push it silent, still
the more it fouls that pool of light
that life sustaining love
that holy trust....
I have no Gerda crying
no warm simple childhood love
to set me free.
Instead, there is the Snow Queen
standing over, standing by
despite my bitter, awful moments
lost from sanity.
This puzzle that I push around
with fingers long since frozen
to fulfill our dual destiny
of Snow Queen and her love:
to be free, to touch forever
with my words
and to dissever bitter wounds
and purge this shard
that sometimes brushes 'gainst my heart.
I must win free
from self brought torture,
cleanse this rancid pool of fear,
purge the past and its betrayals
from my present trust and love;
But I have no Lapland reindeer,
no red shoes nor twining roses,
and I've never met a flower girl
or thief to point the way --
Only goblins holding mirrors
all around.
There is Hope, it is the Snow Queen's
greatest gift.
She shines with it, that Northern Light
proof manifest and true;
and though she seems formed all
of ice, her heart
is warm, the blood that flows
inside is hot, afire with impassioned
love for life and all it holds.
And the Snow Queen stands
behind me
wraps her arms around my chest
and lays her head against my shoulder,
glowing trust in smiling eyes,
every night's repeated ritual.
No matter, what the shard had done,
no matter in those moments, only
bathed in trust and hope,
the Snow Queen's light
and in the comfort of
her love.
An ocean of tears
could never compare
to the warmth of the Snow Queen's
Trust.
And in time, I trace forever
with my fingertips
her arms around me, warming,
light that fire, now self-sustaining.
Her fingers touch my chest
and catch the shard as it escapes me
and no more the wicked shrapnel,
Goblin mirror turns to ice:
a single icicle lays melting
in the Snow Queen's soft warm hands.
Taming the Dragon
Come with me to tame the dragon,
harness rage and passions flare.
Come with me enchanted lover...
he is there.
Stepping slowly weaving magic:
strands of spirit, strands of air.
Gently, gently place the lattice...
but beware!
Dragons have a
magic all
their own
it rings with chaos
spells
and blazing flame
consuming all
and nothing
left within
except
its touch
its touch... this... touch... this... dragon's touch
knows nothing of submission
gentle waters
peace
or love.
Stand with me to tame the dragon;
capture rage and passions birth.
Stand with me, enchanted lover...
test his worth.
Stepping slowly building magic:
threads of water, threads of earth.
Softly, softly, weave the lattice...
without mirth.
Dragons bear a
magic all
their own
a crushing breaking
spell
destroying all that lies within
its path
and leaving nothing
in its wake
except a
touch
to touch... this... touch... this... dragon's touch
to trod a path of daggers, bite
the bladed
hilt
of sword.
Come to me and touch the dragon
let us learn intensity
Stand beside me, mystic lover
... and see!
come now, let us loose the dragon
ope the cage and let it free
let us bite with jaws of thunder
Let us Be!
Dragon magic
is a part
of life
it rages burning
passions
rise and flare
emotions have new
savor when the
dragon's
touch is
free.
We touch... this touch... this dragons touch
again, made whole by thunder,
mixed with gentle
rain
and love.
_Time Bender_
So I killed him
there wasnt much else I could do, you know,
he knew my secret.
I cut his throat with his own filet knife
and buried him with his rotting fish heads.
He was laundering money for the Compaglianios,
and everyone knew he was pocketing a little extra.
No one would doubt it was professional work.
The doctor had done his job well
it wasn't his fault, it wasn't mine.
No one knew Sal was fucking Jimmy,
and Jimmy neglected to mention that part,
despite the good doctor's work.
Sal, of Sal's Fresh Fish, dead.
Killing never bothered me, it's a part of the job
sometimes.
But it would make things harder.
All these people walking down 15th street...
some wave, some smile, some walk on
in silence.
Little Jimmy Tarrano was the silent type
who everyone liked but no one knew.
He had been good choice for the project.
Six days on these streets
six in this skin
and three more to follow.
The sun glints on the grey harbor
as I stop to watch the seagulls
fighting over rubbish --
it reminds me of home.
I take a drag off one of Jimmy's brand;
harsh stuff, but calming.
I needed it.
Even after all these years, this much water...
amazing.
The heaped rubbish landscape of
modern humanity, teeming like cockroaches
piled into the clouds... not here.
Only a chill salt breeze
and those gulls, so like the Burghers of Home
fighting over scraps of shit.
I spit on the pavement
as a silent thunder explodes
in my mind...
another traveller? or have they come
for me
this time?
It is always a danger in the business,
that we might change too much....
and another come to end it before
it begins.
"Recovery agents" they call us
as they pay,
but the people call us "Time Benders"
in whispers of fear.
For a price, we change the universe...
but only a little.
Oh, that was our justification at the high council...
only a little
tugging a thread, tossing a pebble...
save a life, delay a decision, kill.
Barely a pinprick on the universal scale...
but there was always that danger,
the ripples growing wider.
Still breathing. Just another job then, unrelated.
I finish the smoke and turn south
for Jimmy's boarding house...
Three days left
to guide the Hand of God.
A Hint of Musk
I know
it has been months since last you sent
an envelope
doused in scent
but tonight
alone
I taste your essence in the air
smell your perfume
covering me.
Sweet musk, a scent no other
wears so well,
a scent enticing
and alluring;
that scent of you
still fills my life.
Every so often
at 345 am or thereabouts
it hits me
the stomach twisting, turning,
that primal essential delight
of new found love
reborn.
We met at 345, as I
recall, an exchange of words
never to be forgotten
not the usual lines
but a soul
bared in cold and unexpected pain
another soul
sharing its warmth
and healing.
That scent wraps around me still
as the grandfather chimes 4
and the red LED reads 350
much as we do, always
those 10 minutes
return between us.
It whispers to me, that musk
and draws me back
to my first scenting...
I recall it before even the envelope.
As I approached the box it filled
the air
with that Presence
that is you.
Breathing deeply, I was lost
before the door was open.
After all this time
I still sleep
the mornings away
with your letters neatly stacked
beside my bed,
my fan filling
the air with your scent
and bringing me dreams
occasionally shared
by you.
But tonight, cramped in this office
fax grinding, fans whirring as
the printers churn out page
after meaningless page
I feel your arms around me
your lips at my throat
your breath in my hair....
I taste your skin,
as we lose ourselves
in one another.
I know
it has been months since last you sent
an envelope
doused in scent.
With a Smile
With a smile your eyes
still sparkle
with a laugh
they seem to glow
not reflected light
but fire within
refracted by the snow
When you speak to me
I feel your eyes meet mine....
And they make the smile within me
warm and shine....
And I smile back in silent thanks
for being such a friend...
and perhaps sometime....
some time...
time will...
not end....
Thats Life
Poet is a pretty word
for whore
they are the same beneath
the trappings of the trade
to sell your soul
for words
your sex
for cold hard cash
at least
the prostites get
paid
while poets
rot.
To watch the mist bull, silent
The mist bull, its silver tipped horns
and star flecked coat
stands calm overhead.
The needle reads seventy-five.
The doe, so delicate,
so graceful as it steps
to frosted blacktop...
So calm, so lucid is her eye
unblinking
pressed against the glass
as I follow her
into the stars
...to paradise.
Dahlia Blossom
the dahlia
as tigress eye
trapped memory
Introspection in a cafe
Nutmeg fills the air.
Nutmeg and blackberry.
Cold tiles, hard wood, and a warm breeze.
Time.
How much time must I sit here
before you come to me.
I sip my tea and put my thoughts towards
brown ink, white paper.
The blackberry on my tongue
is dry and bitter.
This place, once full of comfort,
invaded.
Stifling.
That damned beast invades my thoughts
my tea drips sweat and anger
the chains I locked around the beast
rattle
through my head.
She has had ample
opportunity
to speak.
What for, these chains, it asks me...
why chain the mighty wyrm?
There are two sides to every issue
every story
every cage.
The unending, oft forgot dilemma
the wolf gripped by its ears
what now
to do?
Dragon:
A fantastic amalgamation of Demon
and Angel,
existing within the human mind,
often the embodiment of strong emotions.
Fear.
Do I fear this dragon, fear
this part of myself, fear
a corner of my soul?
An awful fear, a fascination
staring the cobra in the eyes
staring it down
making it
back
off
back
down
back
away
Bite.
The dragon, chained
trapped
in my own fear
should it go free, to rage
Burn,
ignite again my deepest fire
return the magma to my mountain
the thunder to my sky
and to escape.
The
root,
there, of the chains. The secret of the sickness,
Clinging to the loaded gun
afraid to pull the trigger
one
last
time.
Observation on a pair of 'society women' in said cafe (JCOvergaar)
These petty people
pondering to their
superficial egos
disgust
Me,
like minor politicians
greasy
much inflated sense
of self importance
I desire to hold
the ice water
the pin
to break the bubble
show them truth exposed
the full extent of evil and of
good, those petty notions
that they hold so close and dear
and then, the universe unveiled
a tiny random speck of dust
within a tiny grain of sand
within
My
Will.
Tigress
You always have this look
glued to your face,
so cold,
superior
yet distant.
Have you ever touched that furnace
in your heart?
Have you ever bitten lighting,
with a kiss, embraced the hornet
placed your soft white hands
between the tiger's
jaws?
But behind that cold façade that matches mine
a heart beats strong
beats wild
beats
free
Oh virgin Tigress triumphant,
raking passion, not of lust
but lust for life, to eat the stars
and make them memory...
Has your heart been ripped and crushed
and cracked and spit upon, I wonder-
-Are we
the same?
Losing the Source
My skin prickles.
I know that means something.
I cannot recall what.
I know my face is red right now,
flushed, sickly looking...
Whenever I grasp the fire,
this takes me.
But the tingling also passes,
thousand sounds return to one
and life is dulled
out of focus
lacking
ecstasy.
Rosa 'Boule de Neige'
Your scent, not as the other flowers
in my garden
delicate
rich
it does not waft freely upon the breeze
rather, secretive, well hidden
beneath your tender satin.
I nuzzle close to breathe you
as lips may savor rich chianti.
So fragile
the obvious blooms
of beauty
the Truth lies past the bud,
your strength is rarely
obvious
and beauty is the whole
from root to stem to leaf
the blossoms transitory
kisses on the wind
passing happy recollections
milkweed down on fingertips
a moment's simple quiet,
supernal ecstasy
extended
for those short short weeks
of snow white folds
kissed by the butterflies.
And some would pluck the bloom
believing with that touch they hold
your beauty, whole,
and in that act of taking
they now own.
But a rose without a blossom?
still
a rose
the thieving's bruises
but encourage
further strength
and silent beauty.
Now
you sleep
within my garden
in a diamond coat
of ice
your winter cloak,
'accoutrements de jour'
Today's Tranquility
Today, I kiss you
on the cheek
and touch your hair.
You take my hand, we walk
beneath the trees,
along our secret path
until we reach
at last
the cabin door.
I rub your shoulders
the woolen sweater lifting,
silken skin exposed, exploring
sweet bare flesh.
Hot chocolate and fireplaces,
books read side by side
embracing memories
we share
forever friends
who find that love
renews its ember
with each passing day.
With the Setting Sun
I saw you coming up the walk,
heavy bags slung over each shoulder
like some porter trekking across Arabian sands.
Your hair was beautiful, disheveled
but still lovely, and you wore a tired smile.
Your hands clasped rubbered metal
and in the seat below
a tiny angel, tawny hair
and steel blue eyes
stared upwards at the clouds.
Your finger, bare
no shock to me,
no stigma
though the old hens cluck and click
"this day and age."
I'd like to help you, ma'am, if you don't mind.
No trouble, I was sitting here
just killing time and waiting
for the day to end.
No, no, no bother
I can share the weight awhile
and take my picture from another place --
the sun sets anywhere we go.
No, I'm no artist, just a man
hopelessly romantic
lost in love with smiling eyes
and auburn hair.
She's in another town;
we said we'd share a sunset
and have happy dreams.
There, there, that's it, let loose the burdens
of the day, relax a bit
the world is not against you
though it seems that way.
A minute, rest, relax, enjoy the sun
and sky, before we walk.
And now, I take the bags,
I bear the weight
we walk, your shoulders proud
unshaken by the ravages
of unkind words from unkind world
We share each others stories
bits and pieces of the past
and hopes for future, dreams
of days we wish to come.
You are a student of the world
who seeks to better others lives
with understanding
in a way, I am the same.
For you, it is the languages
for me, it is the soul, the core of being;
both interpreters,
two lenses
seeking
universal vision.
The sun is sinking in the sky as we
walk on, the banks of flowers
in the park are sweet and pure,
and time is kind enough to stay
within our means, as life
provides a way, rewarding both
our work.
We reach your destination
on this hilltop, at the bus stop
you assure me you can make the trip
quite well...
We shake hands, two souls in kindness,
somehow closer to that moment
of epiphany...
and the sun sets
fire and gold
indigo explosions
laced with all the colors
of life, from this hill top,
with the sunset,
there is God.
I snap the pictures for my love
but that raw moment
seething memory
I can only share with words
and more... with silence.
Your bus arrived, you disappeared
I saw it not, the sun
held all of my
attention.
We may meet again
but this sunset,
with this view,
unmatched
in lifetimes.
And long
after
the sun
was gone
still I
could see
the light.
Much like the flapping windshield wiper blade, the Ides of March in caution
tick tock
tick tock
give me a break
tick tock
tick tock
kill time dead.
tick tock
tick tock
time waits not.
tick tock
tick tock
break this clock
I wonder sometimes in the dark
why bother we with hours
minutes
days and years and others
chopping moments
into measured paces
day and night are all we need
heat and cold
and life and death, all one
the same beneath
the hands of fate.
The clock bears other hands
with chains to rule our lives
destroy our freedom, tie
us down
with an illusion of
control
tick tock
tick tock
set me free from time
tick tock
tick tock
break away illusions
tick tock
tick tock
end this foolery
tick tock
tick
A Sacred Tomorrow
Frozen moments...
future memories in motion
hands shaking, twining
satin
in auburn tresses
the ribbon tied
hazel eyes, sparkling, joyful
tears flow free
dragons eyes aglow
weeping delight
hands touching
sparkle, one finger encircled
flash, its mate, girded in gold
lips pressed
cheeks flush
exultation
decorum lost
a shout of glory
a sea of faces rippling
smiles
tears
bright light in darkness
hand to hip
hand to shoulder
dance
growing closer
crystal goblets
frozen grapes
champagne
Distant rise
grows close
trees
falling
leaves
cabin
fire
a disc on the player,
Rachmaninov...
satin falling
lace fallen
skin on skin
caress
without, the darkness
within, the light...
consumed.
In Time
Time.
It has always played
such a telling role
between us.
Time.
It always seemed a thief
an enemy
stealing away
our togetherness
and creeping along
unbearably slow
between
meetings.
Time.
Someday I swear
my love
it will not end
we will not part
unready.
And the ribbon,
tied...
One Silent Night
I feel you there
soft, warm, comfortable
curled up
beneath white sheets
in your arms
a pillow
held close.
Am I in your dreams
this Christmas night?
My dreams will be of you
today
I know....
I will be there late last night
to hear you sing
of silent nights
and holy births
to feel the power of
your words
as tears stream free.
Beside you I will be,
dancing freely, wild abandon
with a whisper, twirl, and dip,
and stolen kiss.
And then, no pillow in
your arms, instead
I lay, my arms around you
in return
as we drift off to second sleep.
A Midsummer's eve, and Gardenias
They serve rattlesnake at the restaraunt downtown.
just thought I'd share that.
not the rattlesnake, the information.
I dont think I'd share the rattlesnake.
I'd have to have some to share it
I dont have any
I dont like sharing
Who are you looking over my gardenias?
bang bang
Wine Song
Last drop drips
from green glass
tongue it
tongue it
never set it free.
The Ballad of Lady Snow's Ice Castle
It was many years ago that first I heard the stories of the Snow Princess, as she was called... a woman of unearthly beauty, intelligence, and presence of being; living within a castle formed of solid ice. At my coming of age, I chose to quest, to find this Princess of Snow and take her for my Queen, if she would have me...
My journey took me far and wide, and I arrived at last in the lands where her castle was rumored to rise....
Through Winter's blast I traveled
seeking, searching for the one
who lived
within a castle formed
of ice.
I asked the people gathered
at the places where the heat
was free and plentiful,
they said they
did not know,
and I rode on.
Beneath the frozen pines all wreathed
in frost and crystal laces stood
a hunter, bearded, armed with bow
and melancholy sigh...
When asked about that lady fair
he shook his head to say
you seek, but will not find
the lady
in this place.
And she waits
in a castle
of ice
looking out on the frozen sea
In the distance she spies
a tall rider....
Is it me?
...As my journey continued through the frozen wood, I chanced upon a small log cabin, a warm and cozy place. Seeking to warm my hands and perhaps garner some information regarding my quest, I knocked upon the cabin door....
Within the cabin sheltered
from the icy wind and warmed
before the flame,
again I put my question to
the test.
The mistress of the cabin
watched me closely, hazel eyes
and skin like newly fallen
leaves, a queen
of autumn
to a serf.
I finished with my tale, she sighed
and motioned that I must draw much
more close, that she might whisper in
my ear, and tell her tale.
And tell she did, the darkest story
ever I had heard,
my growing horror
fueling
righteous rage.
And she's trapped
in a castle
of Demons
Looking out at the raging sea...
In the distance she spies
A white rider...
Is it me?
The cabin's mistress related to me a story which yet makes me shiver... a gentle, innocent beauty, wooed by a handsome and charismatic prince... falling in love with his overwhelming presence, and consenting to be his wife... The doors to the castle closing and locking as the illusion fades away.... No prince at all it seemed, but an evil necromancer, in league with demons, determined to break her
spirit that she may serve him, to destroy her beauty and innocence.... Far worse, later that night, when she learned the real truth... not simply in league with demonkind, he was himself one. And she had no means of escape... Trapped in a castle of blood and pain with a demon prince... trapped.
But the woman did not know where the castle lay... and so my search continued.
For three long years I traveled
seeking, searching distant lands
to find
some trace of her, this lady
Gabrielle.
I hunted fen and forest,
rivers, mountains, fertile fields
and flowered glades and shores
of mighty seas
but nothing
was revealed.
My last approach, the desert sun
beats down and sears my armor to
my flesh. Ahead, a Moorish man
stands silent in dark robes.
I approach, intent on asking
of the lady, but
fall silent at his glance.
Palm raised.
One word -- "Wait."
And she's lost
in a castle
of magic
looking out at the desert sea....
In the distance she spies
a knight riding...
Is it me?
As the last rays of the sun kissed the distant clouds with fire, the moor pulled back his hood and walked towards me. In noble tones, he told me his story...
Many years ago
among my people a child was born
who hid his eyes from Allah.
He learned dark magic
and consorted with demons.
For many years I hunted him
at the orders of my family
for it is
our Duty
to destroy him, who brought darkness
to our Name
and stained our Honor.
Twenty years ago this day
on a night of blood and fire
I killed my uncle and cleansed
my Family's Name....
But his apprentice won free.
Malcontent with serving the demons
he bonded with them and became one
himself.
He created a castle
of magic
that shimmers like ice
and travels to a different place
at each dawn
that none may ever find him.
But today
He must return here,
to replenish his powers...
For now
is the time
of the Blood Red Moon.
The tale continued, whispers of the Demon within his castle. He had trapped a beautiful woman many years before, and frozen her in time, only freeing her one night each year. Only on the night when the moon turns red over the desert sands of his home, a time of power for him, when he renews his energy with dark sacrifice, does he dare free the lady, and tempt to wrest her will from her through blood and torture. She is
mightier than the demon, and he knows that should he triumph and bend her to his will, he shall rule over all. But he has yet to succeed in his ambitions.... And as midnight approached, the moon took on a deep red hue....
In the night, a flash of fire
from the sky, sanguine moon
shone down
upon a gleaming palace
formed of ice.
The gates were closed to all
a glowing magic wall surrounds
the palace, and within
the demon
woke the lady
from her dream.
We saw it in the sky, a vision
clear and bright, the demon and
the lady eye to eye, bright lady
smiling, tears of rage
flow from her eyes, but with
a cry of triumph
a shout of victory
at last
the demon falls.
The Lady had triumphed, and the Castle of Ice become a place of light and beauty. The Moor and I watched, astonished, as the desert around us shifted, becoming a garden of delight, flowering trees and fragrant blossoms, butterflies and shimmering crystal fountains... a sea of flowers, it seemed, and beside the castle, surrounded by thick grasses, a river flowed into a large lake. With a shout
of victory, his quest fulfilled, the Moor clapped his hands and vanished soundlessly... and I was left alone, outside the castle... as the gates began to open....
And She's building
a castle
of hope
by the side of the flowering sea...
In the distance she spies
a believer...
Is it me?
For a Repugnant Pig-Demon
Tonight I smell spoiled bacon frying,
feel the heft of butcher's knife --
muscles straining hard to end
a liar's life.
White Porcelain
White porcelain pitcher...
warm water...
pungent herbs...
soft breezes whisper to the trees...
cool air refreshes
this, a mountain hideaway...
Robes of terry,
black, white, soft, clean...
her hair, down,
hanging as she lays,
head off the edge,
neck cradled on smooth leather.
Soft delicate curves, graceful,
her throat, exposed before me
to kiss it... gods would envy
that moment... but time
has not yet granted
every wish.
eyes half closed
sunlight kissed by trees
paints light and shadow
on warm cheeks
and perfect lips....
Caressed by sun, a thousand shades
of auburn, satin strands
delight and shimmer...
So beautiful.
Strong fingers in her hair,
parting strands, rubbing luster
midas touched
for singular delight.
White porcelain bowl
beneath her hair
warm, scented water pouring
down
to damp her hair
and ease her soul.
Warm hands run through it,
moving slowly, guiding water
Damp fingers trace her forehead,
cheek, and brows;
they touch her chin,
caress her lips....
Parting slowly at that touch,
eyes roll back,
anticipation, trust shines through.
warm lips touch
between the brows
a gentle kiss
white porcelain dish
strong hand dips in
cupping clean ambosia
fingers birthing
cream thick lather;
herbs and sweet wildflowers
flavor the breeze.
Her foamy crown,
sea touched waves
ride down this glory
sculpted, shaped, formed.
white porcelain pitcher
again
pours
cool, clean water
rinsing
free
white porcelain moon
rising in the trees
soon consumed
by their dark depths
warm caresses
soft caresses
slow caresses
lazy...
sleep claims us both.
7-11 Senryu
seven eleven --
the target for tonight, rob
every one in town.
Gas Station Senryu
sitting here at work
watching the police mop up
a gas station heist
Mall Santa Joe
I remember that one.
She crossed the street.
That one? His mother threw a dime
in my hat, while he kicked me.
The little one there, she told me I
was only there because god was punishing
me
for not loving him enough.
Now they're in line, eager
to get close,
to sit on my lap and spout
wishes;
to get the pat on the head and
the candy cane.
They still don't see me.
No one sees me.
Three hundred and twenty-five days a year
they see my clothing, my location
my lot in life.
The other forty are the same
but the clothing is red
and inspires love
not hate.
Some folks want to wear this suit
all the time,
but its all the same really.
They don't see you,
just your clothes.
They never open the book to see
the writing.
No... I can't say never.
That one there... he and his mom,
they saw me.
She looked a little nervous
there in here designer suit,
but she shook my hand
and said "My name is Snow."
Those hazel eyes saw
well enough.
She sat there beside me on the curb
and the little guy walked up
bold as you please, hand out
and introduced himself --
"Hi! My name is Raymond Joseph, I'm
very pleased to meet you." --
And he smiled a perfect smile...
He saw me, saw Joe,
not street trash, but a person
just like him.
For a time we were friends,
just three humans talking
sitting there on the curb
laughing, having
a grand old time
until time called them
away.
Little Raymond Joseph kissed my cheek,
and his mother let him...
Maybe there is hope
after all....
And again he walks up to me
eyes aglow with delight
and puts out his hand...
"Hi! I'm Raymond"
and a tear grows in my eye...
hello again, Raymond Joseph...
"You can call me Santa."
White Hat
Smoke fills the air;
Smoke and noise,
a shrill harsh scream of ripping steel.
Within, the fires grow tall
without, the snow rises
3 inches in an hour
a white blanket covering
mud and grass and blacktop
hiding the flaws.
Black oxide coats the inside;
the inner world has grit.
Climbing a different kind
of mountain
tonight
I earned
the white hat.
Mighty Huntress Marshmallow
ah ha! ahead her prey...
in silence stalks the huntress
in the night...
c r e e p i n g
e v e r
c l o s e r
bit by bit
the target twitching
in the dark
the huntress tensing, coiling, ready
RUSHING
to mere inches from
her prey...
It does not seem to notice her.
pausing, she examines it, considering...
Creamy skinned
Five headed
bald and... blind.
a smug smile
on the mighty huntress' face
and she opens up her jaws
and fixes them fast
.. on Snowball's toe.
The kitten soon knows
leopard claws,
that shriek of pain that splits the night,
a leopards rage
the scolded kitty cries.
the leopard calms
returns to snow
and lifts her furry prize
with hugs and pets
the purr begins
and snow returns to sleep...
but mighty huntress marshmallow
her toothy job, must keep...
the story, looping, night by night
of kitty cat and leopard
and their toothy, toey fight.....
The Lap of the Dragon
at my desk, I sit
eyes closed
mind open
listening tot he song
of her heart.
So long ago, it was this song
that brought us close.
She lays her head upon my chest
I stroke her hair
and listening to my heart
beat
with the soft music
she drifts away
to peaceful
dreamless
sleep.
Eyes open, recall
the desk, the chair, the blinking lights
and grinding saws;
Bills are real
Steel, ton after ton poured,
this is real.
No time for dreams
tonight.
For a time, tonight
the lap of the Dragon
is empty.
For a time....
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