Sunday, September 4, 2011


Sleeping ...
            Awake ...
                        In opposing states.

... sleeping ... Sleeping ... SLEEPING ...
            Day begins ...
                        But sleeping, yet to end,
                                    Makes mice of mighty men.

STILL sleeping ... slEEPing, SLeeping, SLEEPING!
            My fickle friends - night and day ...
                        Keeping company where the Sun holds no sway,
                                    Dreaming the day completely away,
                                                The goals we had for the day, betrayed ...

FOR SLEEP.  Sleep deeply, sleep quietly, yet sleep quickly, for sleep is tricky.
            It enraptures and keeps you still sleeping,
                        even when Dawn is breaking and picky
                                    about which souls she makes delighted or weeping ...
                                                The dreams racing in night made too quickly
                                                            to be sustained after waking, so sleeping ...

Sleeping you will remain.
Sleeping exposes my pain.
Sleep, causing fantasies yet unmet,
Sleep - producing nightmares and regret,
            As sleeping babes, each man
            sleeps his life into oblivion.
                        Awake witches sleep little still,
                        As their sleeping yields little that is real.
So of SLEEPING, as I have ALWAYS said ...
I will SLEEP when I'm DEAD.


Thursday, July 14, 2011

One Feeling

I don't make sense.
     I'm simple and complex
          all at
               the same

I love with a Fire that Consumes
     but can retreat
          into Coldness
               more biting than
                    Frosty Steel Rails.

I am independent and ambitious,
     but terribly naive
         and Timid
               especially beyond
                    Brick Walls.

I want to know your story and share mine,
     but the Truth haunts me and bends me
          to Misery.

And I say that I'd rather be
     Miserably Aware
          than Blissfully Ignorant,

But following my Passions often leads to
     Less Awareness,
          not More.

And in this whirlwind of Complication,
     your presence is as a candle Flame,
          Constant and
               Unassailed by Doubt.

But what if that is merely an Illusion?
     And Flickering is just beyond
          the Horizon,
               Preparing to Commence Again?

I don't Know how to tell you to keep the Candle alight,
     only Promise you that my Passion,
          once ignited,
               Rages without Trepidation
                    Into the long Night.

Scared to say how I feel?
          more terrified to Feel it,
               and in It,
                    be Lost ...
                         With no Recourse!

... Other than to Trust You ...
     and trust is running from me
          faster than I can catch Her ...
               never had the Wings to fly in the face of Truth,
                    And see Trust as Neverending.

To me It appears a Phantom,
     Something I may never catch,
          or stare in the Face,
                Or even Embrace.

You want Truth of Feeling?
     Well, here it IS:

* I only have one
*It's been trampled upon
*I miss you every night, every morning, and every interminable day
*It breaks my Heart when you are Away
*I want your arms around me when I fall asleep at night
*I want you to stay
*My fragile Trust thinks that everything about you is Right
*I want you to act as a Knight, virtuous and right, and, for me, fight

In ALL of these things,
      I am sure ...
          If this feeling Continues,
                    Love will Always Endure.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

MY Beauty

My beauty is for myself ...
            I cannot give it away
            Nor can it be contained
                        or caged in any way

My beauty is unbidden
            I do not bring it to the surface or into the light
            It wells up like a tear in a well-controlled eye.

My beauty is possessive
            It wraps and twists around every
                                    inch of you
            It does not let go - and entraps the most fortified wills.

My beauty suffers
            But only by the hands of others.
                        who warp and miss the simplest
                                    the simplest
            Of dreams, until they are just floating
                        like dandelion bits in the wind.

My beauty outshines
            That of all those around me
                        until tormented, they hate
                                    And abuse, and slither away. 
                        It seems they can not take the contest
                                    with the grain of salt through which
                                                they see the rest of the world.

My beauty captivates
            the animal - whether human or other creature,
                        male or female,
                                    of lesser or greater mind.
                        It spars with their senses
                                    until they give way
                                                to the rapture that follows

My beauty does not allow me
            to see through rose-colored glasses
                        or taste the bitterness all around me.
                                    It allows no censure of the sounds permeating
            the soft atmosphere that tactile exploration affords me.
                        Regardless of the dirt existing in every crevice,
                                    my beauty allows no clutter of the mind,
                        because though there be thorns,
                                    the roses that I forge smell quite lovely.           

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

The Fairy Key

Avoidance, he's a tidy little trick
     That dupes the Heart into leaving the protection of her cage.
His ally, Indifference, sets his sights on skin
     And instead,
          Shreds aorta upon opening the iron gate.

When brick walls no longer suffice,
     The Heart, she buries herself deep underground,
For no more majesty, beauty, or virtue are to be found
     In the absence of Love.

Love flies about as a fleeting Fairy,
     Choosing to alight here or there ...
So beware!
     The viper pounces on unguarded Hearts,
Lost in Love's mysterious bite,
     Who refuse to see the gossamer wings,
Or acknowledge their forsaken plight.

But, lo, when one spies the Fairy devoted and true,
     Working feverishly on the latch of ONE gate,
          With neverending persistence ...

It is then that One Heart
     Has found One Love
To keep Avoidance and
     Indifference at bay.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Unrequited Love

I miss you like clouds miss water …
                        Your soothing voice resonating in bittersweet memory
                                                Low and almost guttural, your speech calls to me
                                                                        Almost as much as your touch – devilish and tender –

All at once

These memories turn thoughts to fire once again
                        Fire that was never quenched by your water
                                                Never dulled by your intense presence or soft words
                                                                        But those same words set you adrift, floating away

On the lake

                        Nearly as smooth as your words
                                                But too glassy to accommodate your stare

                        And when you stared into my blue eyes
with those golden flecked earthen discs

I melted.

                        Like snow under sudden heat
                                                Like peach vanilla from my Papa’s ice cream mixer

                        Your voice’s trembling was matched
                                                By the tremors of my frame as I followed your gaze.

So now – what to do?
                        The will is weak
                        No more patience to seek
                                                Every relationship incomplete
                                                Twisty vortex to everyone that I meet
                                                                        My mind searches for escape in alternate realities
                                                                        As twisted tyrants and gossips distort my eventualities
                                    Until one day, when maybe, no longer seeking your presence, I will find
                                    Some way to cope with the reality, never rosy in my sphere, towards love once again inclined.          

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Not Whole: A Poem About Numbers

Not whole,
Wasting away …

            In this series
            Of fives
            Behind which
            The two through eights

                                    What to do
                                    But try to fix?
                                    And meddle
                                    And TWIST
                                    And subvert
                                    And move

                                               The ‘immovable’ from Five to Six …
                                                Seven Tethered to the Eight
                                                Because she cannot
                                                Climb very easily alone;
                                                She rolls.
                                                She comes in on horseback
                                                Or her highness, the eight,
                                                must be ROLLED up the hill.

                                                                        And, as always,
                                                                        Almost against her will
                                                                        The Nine shows up
                                                                        To a spectacle of
                                                                        Numbers gone wrong
                                                                        Through sloth and waste,
                                                                        Inefficiency and haste
                                                                        She sweeps the ashes, still combustible,
                                                                        And jars them, till numbers become capable.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Metamorphosis Shiver

Waiting, shaking, heart palpitating …
            Shivers crawling up the central nervous system may indicate
                        Butterflies or demons,
Even butterflies that go on to transform a second time …

Metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly being insufficient –
bright-winged messengers, unable to maintain contentment
Veer from their primary purpose as they transform into demons …

Demons known by the particular shiver they produce
            Induce retreats behind brick walls and make anxious bedfellows
                        That distort meaning,
And fail to reincarnate butterfly-soft feeling.

The shiver of the winged nymph creates a ripple yet unmatched –
Hatched deep within the passions of first meeting
Becomes fleeting with the passage of time …

And the METAMORPHOSIS of butterflies into demons.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


‘People watching’ is less fun than before;
Animals seem far less a raging bore.

People, filled with much less of God than they assume,
Their lofty images of themselves lead them to presume

That somehow they are entitled to their arrogance
In this gigantic universe that our Creator gave substance.

Were we made in His image?  Hers?
How do you know?

Were the animals just parts of nothingness then?
How can it be so?

ALL of this CREATED by years of evolution, dear,
God’s part to start the breath of life, free and clear

Further than it seems, yet always close enough for the moment, mine

Therefore, each thing that breathes that life has beauty,

Not just you, with your hope of being a graven image of the divine.

            Omniscient though?  I also hope to be, and the truth, see.

Yet I am aware of one thing
That each being
Perhaps unseeing
Hears a ring
                     Of a distant bell
                   That may foretell
                  Of grove and well
                       Woodland dell
                     & A secret spell
                                                That conjures a watery trance
                                              Two stars with the same glance
                                                              A full moonlight dance
                                                       An unforgettable romance
                                                                Avoidance and rants    
                                                                    a forsaken chance
                                      that given intention,
                            not merely sways decision,
                but operates for ultimate precision
                                     of purpose and vision,
                                      and truth the mission
                                it rests upon intervention
                                                 of the intuition                                          
 which can not be caged,
 Lest it become enraged
     Passions unassuaged
     Sentiments outraged     
       Brick walls engaged
    Motivations regauged 
            New bets waged
        The game restaged.
                                         And now, we are back to nine
                                                          The number, divine
                                                           The moment, mine
                                                                 The only prime
                                                         Needed for the time
                                                      Is the stars that shine
                                        On my body arched and supine
                                                 And thoughts clandestine
                                                     Of a superior bloodline

Penetrate my mind

Offer omniscience

Of the loftiest kind

As I escape into subconscious.