26

christ

another
disaster

another
obstacle

another
damned decision

how
can I
decide
which way
to go
when
I don’t
know
where the hell
I’m going

barely know
where
the fuck
I’ve been

gettin’
so hard
to
remember

with all
the
energy
boosters
beta blockers
mood
relaxers
and
sex enhancers

sedatives
and
laxatives
son’a bitchin’
additives

I just
don’t know
no
mo’
just don’t

think I’ll
just
sit here
on
my ass
and
watch
the
bio-altered
morally
faltered
cash-injected
flu
infected
cell-updated
stimulated
oil-coated
over
bloated
computer-aided
portfolio
raided
mind-expanded
emotionally
stranded
flesh parade
go by

wanderin’ on
lost
as sheep
can
be

lost as me

all
those
assholes
hurry by

like they
got
some
important mission
that
they’re on

like
they got
someplace
to really
be

they don’t
know
what
it
even means
to be

here
now

hell
they ain’t
no place
to
begin with

nobodies
from
nowhere

their
shiny shoes
don’t
fool me

I
can see
right through
their
crap

they’re just
runnin’
to
keep up

with whom
they
do not
know

runnin’
runnin’
runnin’ out
runnin’ down

runnin’ off
at
their
damned fool
mouth

expellin’
gas
from their
empty
heads
ruinin’
the ozone

and
still
they’re runnin’

runnin’
to outrace
the
wrinkles

runnin’
to outreach
the grave

runnin’ scared

terrified
to stop
for fear
reality
will catch up

scared
that all
that they
ain’t
got
will overtake
them
face to face
while
they race
round
and round
like fools

rushin’
to get
more
of nuthin’
when
it’s nuthin’
that’s
got them

the nobodies
from no place
rushin’ roun’
with
nuthin’

‘cept
those
shiny shoes

and
they’re
damned near
wore out
from runnin’

chasin’
the bullshit
dreams

security
equality
annuity
gratuity
equity
prosperity

that phony
american dream
of
plenty

yeah
we
got plenty

plenty stress
and plenty
fear

and
we got
plenty belly

that’s
what
we got

obesity
anxiety
and
fuckin’
worn out
shoes

worn out
nerves
worn out
friends
worn out
love
worn out lives

just plain
and
simple
wore out

and now

another
god damned
fork
in the
fuckin’ road

know
where you
can
stick
that fork

no

better still

stick
that fork
in me

I’m done

 

this representative work of fiction was inspired by a Writer’s Island prompt

• digital art above, entitled “I’m done”, created by the author

 

25

day breaks
on
a new week’s
sun

putrid
as the stains
on my
flesh-soaked
mattress

damp
as my sour
mat
of fevered
greasy
tangle

hot
as my
whiskey-foul
breath

another
un-commuted
sentence

9-5
’til
merciful dusk
delivers me

jack-knifed
into
my
jack and dan

don’t obsess
in sorrow

drown

a bottom-dive
to comatose

no virtue
feigned
nor
implied

mad goes
the struggle
until
saved by
jazz
48 over the
hump

2
debauched
24’s
then
the hissing
sting
of monday
and
the mindless
120-grind

cruel numbers
game
goes
round round
and ever round
’til
the tombstone’s
tender
solace

 

this representative work of fiction was inspired by a One Single Impression prompt

• digital art above, entitled “bottom dive”, created by the author

 

24

here is the change

the mounting fear
the frustration
of uncertainty
the anger of forgetting
of losing
thing after thing
feeling it slip away
the no longer being able

and still
the longing to

and so
here is the change

here is the pain
the gripping terror
the withdrawing
the locking down
closing out
growing dim
turning inward
giving up
the sad surrender

and in the end
the shutting off

going void

 

this representative work of fiction was inspired by a Writer’s Island prompt

• digital art above, entitled “face of void”, created by the author

 

23

the voice

grating
wafer thin
brittle
as a bone

transduced
solid-state
decreeing
we
should all
atone

a self-righteous
sanctifier
self-serving
frightened
liar

testifying
to the rotten lot
it’s been
dealt
in life

the sorrow
and
the strife

poor
pitiful victim

how unfair

like
that’s unique

like
I should care

I don’t
you don’t
they won’t

nobody
will
that’s
the thing

‘cause we
got our own
sour song
to sing

got our own
shit
sandwich

I sure as hell
got mine

my own
cry for sympathy
my wail of misery

I want
to cram
your ears
with
all my pain

wedge it
into your
blessed brain

wrap it
round your
sin-cleaved soul

shove it
up your
sainted hole

I bitch
so
you will know
the raw deal
that I got

do you
think
that I hear
you
sorry
I do not

I hear
my voice
I feel
my pain

do I feel
you

fuck no

your suffering
makes me
feel
better

better
than you
you
worthless fool

that is
what
I really think
and
it makes me feel
– GREAT!

superior
to you

you feel
the same way
too

you know
damned
well
you do

you feel
better
when I’m down

you crave
my pathetic story
in all
its twisted
glory

you
empathetically
bemoan it

’cause
you’re
too damned
scared
to own it

because
if you do
if I do
we’d have
to face
what’s
really true

we
are all
truly alone
in this
overwhelming
world

and that’s
so damned
terrifying

all of
life
is mystifying

so

we take
turns
testifying

pretend
to listen

act like
we care

…

we don’t

…

we’re too
preoccupied
with dying

 

this representative work of fiction was inspired by a readwritepoem prompt

• digital art above, entitled “po po me”, created by the author

 

22

I sit

watch the flow
of people

the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes

I see shapes of faces

unsmiling lips

their void curve
denounce this night

yet unseen

the gossamer curtain’s
fall
that defines
their soul’s duality

the divergent reality
through which
truth stumbles blind

to move in the world
rough as a rope
taut as every promise made

frayed as wisdom
leaned in
whispered from behind

block the fist
ease the ego
broker détente

bandage wounds
tend the bruises
the insults

grab at time
like dropped money

I might learn
a thing or two
tonight

but someone
must release the light

so I can shine
like a little boy
who likes ice cream
most of all

this boy
reads old men’s minds

he does not eat meat

I will not eat meat

so I notice the shoes

the belts
the bags

all made of leather

I feel a shiver

a sad imbalance

a confliction
in my soul

so

I’ll practice non-attachment
because I can

but pieces of me
stick
to whoever gets too close

you may have seen me

silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January

howling
with the frozen moon

a duet
to make coyotes
cower in their dens

then moon and I
sneak

among cages of studs
& trusses
we run

from room to imaginary room

the whole world
close enough to touch

we eat a midnight lunch

white cheese sandwiches
perfumed with foreign lands

and onion thoughts
layered deep

show mercy
peel back the layers

peel me away

thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul

I hope I am not
hideous in your sight

these thoughts
become too heavy to hold

or chew
or swallow

or lug in a massive bag

my thoughts

bonewhite lies
of morality plays
open for you to peak

hope they are not
hideous in your sight

hope they do not
make you cry

as you peel back
all the layers

onion
thought
layers

held fast and firm

like a carapace
to which
I’m stitched
and welded

and can no more leave
than you can truly enter

they tie me down
sometimes

but sometimes
barely so

survivor that I am

the inescapable optimism
in my barebones grin

flashes

in the brittle moonlight

a patrolman
comes to where I sit
to see

his beam
blinds the stars
from my eyes

beneath his warm smile

his radar eyes
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in my mind

standing over
he looks down

one of us can learn
a thing or two tonight

if someone
will release the light

 

inspired by a readwritepoem prompt

• digital art above, entitled “drifting/dreaming”, created by the author

21

stopping is no option

to lose the way
is to keep
going

keep moving
forward
lest one
atrophies

grows rigid
with
the rigor mortis
of apathy

stiff
with unbending
ignorance
fear

paralyzed
gawking inward
at hopelessness
at failure

the
giving in
the giving up

the rot
that sets in
with
the loss of wonder

when grip lets go
of dreams

of possibility

arthritic loss of faith
debilitates
the soul

cripples
the manifest light
that shines forth
at the leap
into darkness

into uncertainty

into the sacred unknown

frozen
is the cautious man
withered in
a worried cage

terrified
of the wrong step
of
the journey all in

of daring the way
unmarked

and thus
bleeds out
the color of life
of living

to become cold
grey

a putrefied husk
of
brittled remorse

mired in
regret
for never having
shone so brightly
as to blind
the eyes of death

stopping is no option

20

 

there is a darkness

I have known its presence
encountered its essence

it frightens me

it frightens me
because it is

because it is
so very devious
sinister
debilitating

all-consuming
if granted license

it lurks in shadow
collecting

collecting the dark matter
that steals into my life
into my heart

all the grief
failure
pain

all the terror
that has ensnared me
in times of weakness

all the empty blackness
that has befallen me

that has found a corner
of my soul
in which to hide

to sulk

secure foothold
like an awful seed
taking root

here it grows

here it dwells
manacled and restrained
in times of strength

kept in check
by my decent self

my self that loves
encourages
supports

that embraces possibility

my sacred self
that nurtures

that fosters empowerment

but

my inner-dwelling light
does not always shine
so bright

does not always hold sway
nor control
my inner darkness

my inner darkness
has great cunning
powerful influence

it is
at times
quite un-containable

this darkness
that has fed
upon the horror
that has been visited upon me

the betrayal
the abuse
the unthinkable loss

that has compounded
and festered

that has become animate

as if an entity
unto itself

that has gripped
and driven me

distraught
despaired
vengeful
unforgiving

driven me
to a perverse
unholy
bitterness

wholly unable
to fend off
the clutches
of this malevolence

it is
on occasion
far easier

even desirable

to succumb
to these dark forces
that promise
relief

falsely entice
with imagined
satisfaction

but there is
no quick release
from the pain

from the sorrow
that is
an inherent component
of life

one must
endure

and be tempered
invincible
by this endurance

steadfast
in the crucible
of resistance

but

the inner-mounting darkness
will ever seduce

its tug is powerful

I pray
here tonight

as I am swept up
in bittersweet memory
of you

overwhelmed
by the sorrow of loss

I pray
that the darkness
does not sense
that I am vulnerable

does not prey upon
my growing distress
that falls shadow-like
across my soul

that veils
my resolve
my courage

I pray
that the black void
does not birth
the despair

the anger
that begets
my other

my alter

my poison self
that I so detest

…and fear

 

19

 

the blade
that cuts
this
tie
that’s bound

is secured
here
in our grasp

with
righteous rage
and
purposed thrust

foul
contract
will
be severed

and we

lifted
and
untethered

free at last
of
you

vile judas

who
would have us
supplicant
and cowered

brittle shells
devoid
vital juices
of
trust
and opportunity

the
soul-marrow
that
sustains
our
balanced self

spawns
right thinking
and
possibility

nurtures
our unshackled
will

that
fosters
our
innate prowess
to
see through
the likes
of
you

your
lust
for power

your
unchecked greed

see through
your
gross
intolerance

it is upon us
to confine
your shut
and
damaged mind

squelch
your
toxic agenda

and lay bare
the folly
of
your vision

your narrow
festered
point of view

to silence
now
your
twisted tongue

that spews
the
acrid gorge
of
lies

we
will celebrate
this
final cut

raise it up
for
all
to see

and know
its authenticity

that
rejects
your
dark reality

henceforth
mute
to naïve
ears

that
might succumb
to your
seductive rail
of
all-consuming
fear

we
have watched
you
tread upon
a
sacred trust

ill-gotten
in
a feigned
display
of
true choice
and
fair selection

you
have soiled
and sullied
a
time-honored
seat

bruised
and scarred
its
dignity

but

you
are well
soon
set aside

exposed
in your
iniquity

to suffer
the
judgment
of history

this
is the season
of your
end
of days

your reign
of terror
is over

 

18

 

slowly

with
great caution

in
halting
measured step

I creep
from
sanctuary
dark

to leave
solace
safety
and sorrow
behind

to
sidle
in uncertainty
into
the
chafing
cutting light

head bowed

eyes
swollen red

mind bruised

spirit crushed

heart
mercilessly
torn

I am
tensed
for flight

emerging

visible again

though
just barely

in snap
recoil
from movements
quick

from
any gesture
toward
my person

don’t reach

don’t
touch

do not
touch

do
not
touch
me

fragile
as a
newborn
bird

unsteady
as
a fawn

and
just
as frightened

just
as
unsure

this is
territory
long
untrod

movement
long
abandoned

sorrowfully
abandoned

forgotten
purpose
purposely
avoided

shunned
in anger

my wounded
animal
took
refuge
in aloneness

solitary
in the
horror

dug in
with
resolve
to
disappear

perhaps
to die

simple breathing
a
considered
labor

each
breath
weighed and
measured

its worth
evaluated

most times
found
of little
value

but still
I drew
them
hesitantly

counted
every
tear
that fell

struggled
with
the hand
of death

my hand

my
hand
of deliverance

debating
should
I bid
it end
this
misery

this agony

again and again
debating

pleading
in the
soothing
blackness

to barter
my mortality
for
yours

begging
the
bargain

holding it
in
the light
of
grief
to see
just
how
it might be done

over and over
day after day

night
upon
horrific
night

my empty
shell
beseeching
that
my
broken life

somehow
be
sacrifice
enough

to make
yours
whole
once more

the
catalyst
to spark
the
fire of life
into
your eyes

your
cold

dead

empty eyes

but I
found
no takers
for
my deal

only
painful
abject loneliness

soul-wrenching
regret

and so
I lay

shallow
breathing

unfed

unwashed

unsaved

resigned
to
simply
vanish

to pull
around me
the numb
of
sacred
death

but in
my
time
of forfeiture

a dim
but
growing light
fell upon
the faces
of
the others
who survive

the others
whom
I love

who look
to
me
to lead them
from this
dark
and chilling
pit

from
this
brutal plane
of
hopelessness

from despair

to be
strong

to find
the
reason
to go on

ever slowly
this
dim light
grows

and
the chill
to lift

my eyes
again
to see

my purpose
taking
gradual
form
as I
reluctantly
observe

so

slowly
I emerge

but
please

no quick
or sudden
expectations

I fear
I
may flee

never
to return

permit me
slow
and steady
emergence
from
my
chrysalis
of anguish

do not
attempt
to ease
my
return
with feigned
sympathy

or
hollow condolence

don’t assault me
with
declarations
of
your knowledge
of
my feelings

my state of
mind

do
not
insult me

for you
do not
know

you
do
not

so
please

be still

stand off

and
let me
find my way

back
into
this mortal world

this is
my return

not yours

offer only
patience

and
safe distance

 

17

 

bent

they slink
the
netherworld

beyond
the mirror

where
loosed
the
vengeful beast

veiled –
their eyes
from
sacred truth

prod –
to walk
a
mournful path

begot
beguiled

their fate
besot

cursed
to
wrest asunder
the fidelity
of
dreams

deafening
their
plaintive cries

misery’d pleas

and
guttural
moans

savaged forth
from
forlorn souls

lost

unchaste

forgotten

blind
is
virtue’s
sullen eye

dim
now
evermore

sad beings
in
a brutal world

torn
in
ceaseless
pain

rending
horror

unending
strife

a horde
quite
misbegotten

yet

concurrent
with
this
dreadful plight

a reality
of
consuming bliss

of
knowledge
vast
and deep

beauty
pure
as light itself

goodness
strong
as sterling

the song
of
spheres
so
sensuous

a place
of plenty
where
no one
wants

precious gifts
bestowed
sublime

to
feast
the spirit

to
dwell
in grace

to
behold
the infinite
face
of truth

to
hear
the voice
all-knowing

whole

these
differed realms
abide

reside
in time

though
not
congruent

unseen
the
gossamer curtain’s
fall

that
divides
these
dual realities

that share
no
commonalities

on and on
their
continuum

an unbroken
strand
unfurls

parallel
in separate
space

unknown
each
to the other

unaware
of
the
fragile thread

that binds
them
fast

dark
to light

seen
to unseen

tethered
everlasting

eternally
apart

this
counterbalanced
hidden link

the lifeblood
of
existence

 

16

 

I feel you
living

breathing

thinking

deep
within
the confines
of my
shadowy psyche

your presence
is palpable
visceral

I
am not alone

my emotions
obsessions

my impulses
are not yet
mine
exclusively

I
am not

we are

and
we are
at odds

conflicted

schizoid

torn
between
the heroic

and
the horrific

dark
evil urges

spawned
in
the dank
blackness
of
a soulless
void

at war

with
an inclination
toward
the sacred

the desire
to uplift

nurture

to seek
balance
between
the compulsion
to
ravage

and
the wisdom
to
embrace

the
unfettered mania
to
consume
and corrupt

and
the foresight
to
sustain

between
murder
and mercy

madness
and clarity

the duality
rages
unchecked

struggles
against
the constraints
of
convention

morality

and
the confusion
of
mindless chaos

stirring
the
unquenchable ache
to break
the shackles
of
suppressive
acquiescence

longing
for
genuine freedom

until

ever so
gradually

imperceptibly

the
moral voice
and
the manic whisper
are stifled
and
still

rendered mute

unleashing
the power
of the
beautiful beast
within

the
natural
essence

primitive self
birthed

I
am now
one

Nietzsche’s begotten

guided by instinct

attentive
to impulse

 

15

 

emerald eyes
stare

fix me
in their grasp

lift me
bodily
into
the atmos
of
unfinished dreams

strip me
of
fear

longing

of
inhibition

to render me
transparent

as I rise
weightless

care-less

untethered
being
of
pure now

filled
with universes
within
universes

a vessel
of time
and
space

ever-expanding
consciousness

aware
of all

not
as separate

but
as the is
the was
the
to become

with
infinite reach

embracing
the
strand continuum

drawing it
forward

reeling it
back

in
uninterrupted
linearity
of purpose
and
reason

for
no reason
but
the being
of its
universal
presence

its
omnipotent
here-ness

now

seeing through
the
emerald eyes

with
glassen gaze
I
behold
the meaning
of
the meaningless

to learn
what
is not
known

to reveal
what
cannot be

now
until forever

an epiphanal
unveiling
of
the mystery
of fate

to understand
the
why
within
the why

ever
I ascend
to
realization

comprehension

that
the meaning
of
the meaningless
is
the void
in
those
emerald eyes

 

14

 

I see them

starving
eyes

diseased
eyes

abandoned
eyes

eyes glazed
hollow
from
complete
lack
of human
contact

bruised
with
the violence
of
abject
loneliness

devoid
affection

no vestige
of
saving
hope

instead

cruel
neglect

burning
Infection

a vessel
of flies

dysentery

and
soured bile

caked
in filth
and
fecal waste

not yet
arrived
at the age
of reason

yet

so far beyond
anything
remotely
of reason

of sanity

reduced
to
something
less than
human

below
the dignity
of
chatteled
livestock

and for certain

less
valued

less
cared for

un-mourned

yet
so human
are they

it aches
to
look upon them

they
are a blight

a blight
on my
indifferent
soul

an abomination

my
abomination

my
condemnation

a stain

indelible
in my
heart

a mark
of
injustice

so
horrific

that
I am forced
to look away

they are my
denial

my
greatest fear

they
are

my sin

the sorrow
that
chokes
my spirit

wrings
from me
tears
of the
privileged

the glutted

the
guilty

they
are my
deep
unrest

my failure

my great
discomfort

my
interruption

and so
I reach out

I reach out
to
take control

to
make a change

and

by remote

remove
these
images
that
confront me

that
haunt me

taunt me

to
surf away

into the land
of
plenty

into the
oblivion
of
promised opulence

of corpulent
consumption

of fantasy
fiction
and
porn

into
no friction

no
fault

to have
those
images
recede
and
drift away

until
I do not
see
the pain

or
hear
the wailing

or
feel
the suffering

I
fade away

to be
comfortably
numbed

to
just do it

to be
all
that I can be

to enjoy
that
refreshing
sensation

teeth
so white
they sparkle

to
have it
my way

every
night
‘til 3:00 AM

 

13

 

my eyes

crisp
from the
day’s
sun

from
devastation’s
fires

from
cruel vision
of
relentless
horror

scorched
by
vicious
awareness
of
sentenced
gaze

take refuge
in this
heavy
late evening
dew

settling
like a
shroud

diaphanous

opaque

obscuring

I am
sustained
by this
damp
cool
pall

that
descends
upon me

wraps ‘round
my
pained
countenance

fevered
with fatigue

crippled
with despair

driven
by a
faint
memory
of honor

of duty

of
human dignity

I
stumble

broken
by
this sin
I
shoulder

this
perversion

not of
my
making

but
of my
charge

my sin

conceived
and
unleashed
by those
who
would
impose
their will

their
twisted
utopic vision

who would
advance
their agenda
of
domination

those
who
would
take it

all

who would
rule
the world

a world
now
broken

corrupted
by their
vision

spoiled
by their
vanity

a world
in
chaos

I have
but
this
bloodied
ruin-riddled
highway
of
deepening
nocturne

of
dying
dreams

crushed
innocence

destruction

death

of my
duplicity

of my
guilt

of
burdened
shame

and so

I
stumble on

saturated
with
this
falling evening

with
this
drenching sorrow

slinking

in
exhausting
alert

hollow

empty

into this
coming
night

and
the
next night

and
the night
that
follows

that always
follows

captive
on this
road
of
murder

of
mounting evil

of
brutal
human
arrogance

prisoner
of
this
lost highway

seeking
forgiveness

 

12

 

a lightless
void
of
soundless
vacuum

spinning
masses
of
revolving
orbs

hurtling
fragments
in
crystalline
vapors

molten
cores

mingled
gasses

dead husks

black
holes

a
frozen
dance
of chaos
on the
tentative
edge
of balance

attractions
and
repulsions
of precarious
fragility

magnificent
obscurity

unquenchable
wonder

unrealized
dreams

untethered rubble

relativity’s
fabric
tangled
in the cloth
of
time

reality’s
illusion
set in
fantasy’s
foundation

the ultimate
frontier

unfounded
fear

hope
adventure
catastrophe

humankind’s
triumph
and
sad folly

the
seductive
promise
of
a future

our
salvation

infinity’s
threshold

the eternal
question

the elusive
answer

the
everlasting
bastion
of
never-ending
truth

a
constant
listening

a
longing call

home of
the
gods

the
fountainhead
of myths
religions
and other
odd
superstitions

a reason
why

a source
of
mystery
font of
knowledge
cause
of
fiction

Heinlein’s
cathedral

the unknown
of
the
unknowable

ever
expanding
everything

and

nothingness
absolute

…space is

 

11

 

radiant
nude
of silken
skin

translucent
alabaster
blaze

torrid
as a
teen’s
temptation

now
leaned low
before me
yearning

stiletto’d
feet
on carpet
firm

availed
discretely
forward
bent

stimulated
hot
with craving

your graceful
face
is tilted
back

held aloft
so
delicate

my fingers
tangled
in
your hair

your forearms
rest on
velvet
sheets

eyes
aflame
in sapphire
need

blatant
in your
fetched
seduction

back
softly bowed
like
silk desire

in
supple taper
warm
and glowing

smoldering
in
golden light
that falls
satin soft
‘cross
nape
of neck

a wonderland
for
fingertips

to touch
and feel
and tantalize

I explore
your
tingling
body

soul-addictive
luscious
form

divinely-pleasing
sculpted
vessel

brought forth
by
Aphrodite’s
hand

from which
hangs full
and ripe
your
fruit

of
tender flesh
caught
silhouette

enticing
in
the candle’s
shine

fondled
by my
hungry
eyes

that
stroke
and tweak
the
blossomed
berries

that burst
engorged
with
passion’s heat

that taunt
my tongue
to twirl
‘round

my teeth
to nip
in playful tug

draw
to
my lips
now
lewdly
moist

to
take
and taste
in eager
suckle

I wrap
willful hands
of pleasured
probing

round
slender waist
then slowly
slide

down
pleading hips
of
sensuous rise

that fall
into
erotic
folds
molded
by the hands
of Venus

dual
swells
of
burning myth

that writhe
atop
two
lathened stems

turned
by angels
with
great care

tempered
in a
sacred
fire

long
and lithe
as liquid
love

stretched
taut
raised high
on
6” heels

proud
defined
and
goddess buff

enough
to make one
want
to stuff

to thrust
and thrust
in randy
lust

’til
passion’s
seed
has turned
to dust

and my
wanton
carnal
flame
is snuffed

 

10

 

their fire
and
light
incandesce
my essence

burn deep
my soul

trouble
my spirit

unsettle
my being

ignite
my wonder

whet
my
seeker’s vessel
with need
to be
filled full

at once
familiar

yet
exotically foreign

strange

wrongly boxed
but
exquisitely
wrapped

in angst
indignation
longing
discovery
loss
love

with all these

and
infinitely more

they reach
to a hollow place
deep within

echoing
my past

awakening
my myths

exposing
that which
I embrace
in the moment

as truth

stirring my pain
my anger
my loneliness

my hope

offering
just enough answer
that I combust
with questions

sacred uncertainties

I’m held
suspended
in inquiry

in memories
of neverwas

enrapt
by your
careful words

transfixed
by mystery

elevated
by insight

impaled
by vision

spellbound

 

9

 

I hear
chill winds of time

rise in dissonance

seasons of cold rain
hiss and tick
the weathered panes

I feel
life’s essence slowly slip
my being’s grip

it’s warmth
ever-fading

the pall and ache
wrap firm my bones

suppress my spirit

slowly steal
my living core

I know despair
of rigid form

drained of vital sap

drawn and withered

robbed
of flex and grace

I watch
my light of memory
dim

my pool of knowledge
cloud

I see beloved leave

one
by
one

beyond my call

to depart the joy
and chaos

of this temporal plane

what remains
is sorrowed pain

then

I hear you
call my name

summon me
to your embrace

to sooth and comfort
my discontent

to draw me
into your sphere of faith

that life is good

that we are blessed
just to have known
all this

and in that moment

I too believe

 

8

 

muted void
in
soundless gape

through which
language stumbles

strangles
struggles
stutters

fails

cruel fate
impales the heart
of broca

thus
grasp-less meaning

darklinged
amorphous

ever-elusive

tongue-less
exasperation

unsaid frustration

‘round and down
cerebral corridors
in search of words

unfound

unbound to sound
of worth

or clarity

dispossessed
of diction

of spoken function

of comprehension

and yet
to nearly know

but no

lost
just below awareness

it fogs and fades
unformed

and so to stumble
struggle
stutter

to stammer

but all within

trapped

in a soundless
prison

expressionless
as stone

alone

and silenced

 

7

 

heard it
all
before

empty
platitude

feigned
gratitude

promised
beatitude

false
attitude

no latitude
of vision

toxic
agenda

single-minded
lust

for power
dominance
control

megalo

your god
of
need

mammon

your god
of
greed

inaptitude
to lead

ineptitude
to know

no rectitude
to
even
care

walking dead

talking head

voice
of
the machine

that gives
you
life

conjurs
your
image

makes
you
dance

pitiful
puppet

powerless
dominated
controlled

mindless
specter

ghost
of
the machine

ghost
in
the machine

of
life

shell
blight
parasite

mouthpiece
mr. webster

manipulated
nominated
elevated

so dangerous

 

6

 

distant
slurred
reverberant

like a voice
in a canyon

I hear her calling
in my mind

my name
rolling
sweet as nectar

from lips

soft
as orchid petals

full
as a bursting peach

glistening
deep coral

as they wrapped
softly
‘round each
pouted syllable

when she bid me
tender farewell
so long ago

our fingertips
had strained
to grasp

until
the final sensation
of warmth

of touch

had faded

and they had
drifted apart

I had struggled
to tear my eyes
from her
tears

that glistened
on her lashes

and around
her swollen
crystal blues

to slip softly
over the crests
of her velvet
cheeks

then
down the contour
of her face

flushed as sunset

to lightly salt
her quivering lips

and
as I passed

numb and dazed

through the tunnel
of the
loading gate

toward the jet
that took me
to hell

I had
at that moment

locked the image

of that sorrowed
face of love

deep in my heart

It had proved
my salvation

my only grasp
on sanity
in those
horrific years

my lips
too
had quivered
on that day

with the sting
of separation

and the chilling
knowledge
I would
soon taste
the bitter blood
of war

foul with the
stench of death

having not yet
departed

I had already
longed
to gaze again

into her
brilliant blue eyes

and taste
her sweetness

yet

as I return
this day

trying to face
reality from
30,000 feet

I taste the salt
of sadness

for I fear

a kiss
from me

with my killer’s
mouth

will forever defile
the fragile innocence
of those
luscious lips

soft
as orchid petals
full
as a bursting peach

that glistened
and quivered

when last we parted

 

5

 

she
is away
1 • 2 • 3 days

I am dis-spoused
for this time

getting reacquainted
with myself

my
self
that is not
a part of her

reacquainted

also
I think of her

she
who is away
1 • 2 • 3 days
and 2 nights

gritty
piercing nights

of dangerous navigation
into the id

into the dark place
of primal fear
irrational insecurity

but enough

I also visit
sweet memories

of her
at twenty four

dewy
vulnerable
beautiful

the day we met

she
is away

now

I am
getting reacquainted
with my
self
that feels love

that misses her

away
1 • 2 • 3 days

 

4

 

that is unquestionably joy
in a most unexpected place

in the eyes of an innocent
cruel society deems disabled

bent and stooped
drawn in
unimaginably twisted

confined to constant care
and his rolling metal chair

his gentle eyes
reflect a wonder
my jaded soul
has long since lost

by vanity extinguished

his timeless spirit
knows only trust
it pours forth
from his being

he rocks
and waves
and vibrates

his person full alive
his essence full aware

wholly in the now

positioned close
to the modest stage
he is enraptured by the rhythm
enthralled by the magic

the band plays fast
the band plays slow
the band plays loud
the band plays soft

he is filled with every note
every beat
every nuance

he experiences an ecstasy
at which I can only marvel

its purity and power
I can never know

I now realize
just how much
I do not understand

as I behold this able man

faint envy stirs
as I witness
his unbridled joy

so complete
and unexpected

 

3

 

do not look upon me
in this untended state
grown over
with regret

rampant with cynicism
with unbridled bitterness

in this winter season
of dormant bloom
waning hope

my color has all faded
gone to random hues of grey
the faintest blush of tint

like the cushioned adirondacks
abandoned on the deck
left exposed
too many seasons

brittle
tattered
faded

uncomfortable and unwelcoming

there were seasons
long ago
they embraced laughter

the excitement
of precious friends

once

this garden echoed joy

bloomed long
full and fresh

petals
berries
fruit and leaf
hung heavy

urgent with essence
bursting with life

but biting winds have blown
chill rains fell

rude sun
relentless
in harsh insistence

the suffocating snows

caretakers of the garden
have lost regard
season by season
year by year

misplaced
the tools that nurture

no longer sought

desire wilted
like this scarcely tended plot

too frequent
cruel indifference
haphazard care

dieing embers of concern

like fire
in the great hearth
no longer fed
or gathered round

ignored

no laughter rises
no faces lighted
no warm encounters

passing in the hallway
mumbling over breakfast

no warm encounters

400-thread-count passion
a dieing ember
no longer fed

the hearth grows cold
unwelcoming

chill winds of apathy
prevail

unwelcoming — this garden

grown over with regret
choked by weeds of discontent
from years of withheld love
and failed attention

the untended garden withers

its ember of life
dieing

 

2

 

I lean upon my folded fist
cool against my temple
elbow solid
on my cluttered desk

eyes drooped
and closed
aflame with spoiled sleep

face slacked
head cocked
tilted to the right
heavy with confusion

skull upon the finger bones
in weighted indecision

procrastination presses down

the whooshing hum
of cooling bytes
relentless in my ears

thoughts like digits
on a dollar slot
spin unsettled in my mind

they neither click
nor lock in place
they tumble
in a jumble

they roll and blur
just out of focus
lost in mental fog

sunken in my office chair
I remain
immobile

paralyzed by perplexity

imprisoned
by the chaos
awhirl in my mind

the freedom of decision
impossible to manage

nothing will be done
this day

no first step can be taken

 

1

 

a place within
closed away from scrutiny
from the world

angry at the wind
at the rain
at daylight

angry at your smile
at the sound of your voice

angry at it all

this is where I live
and how

you come
like a void
false journey-mate

embossed with promises

a coat of synthetic
edges peeled back
its leatherlessness
revealed

shivering
I wrap it round me
seeking warmth

but it is not supple

ill-fitted
it does not hold my form

you do not remember
the bend of my arm

nor the silk
that slid
slippery underfoot
on the marble aisle

as we stalked love
and the vain promise
it would be constant

as the wind
as the rain
as daylight