there is nothing to compare to what the feeling would be to hold you- in my arms- right now, my love. and to hold you close then- forever and never question anything ever again. (oh for just the chance I would trade my soul)
notes… and yes, I would trade it all sometimes to reverse the past, to reverse the shame, the mistakes, damn I hate my memory, I see people, most people just can move on and forget, but I am wired the way I am because of the dna I was given, the brain I was given, I can not lament – or I can but what difference does it make, the struggle, damn, I don’t know what to do even if everyone looks at me like that dude who knows it all.. I know so little, feel so much, I think I know more than the average joe, but who knows? we all wind up the same, the fuel for a star or the remains… damn sometimes I hate awareness, I might rather be a cactus just hoping for rain… but that would rob me of my faculties… damn, I just don’t know.
so she appeared in the now. brilliant room time stops. spotlight on. traffic parts these usual cliches. catch me off guard this does not happen not to me, at least hence my confusion frozen. in a situation I was not expecting; so has. halted breath and eyes lock met; I have to have her when of course she already has… me.
your eyes uphold me like a lotus blossom upon a pad upon a pond a path I have walked into that beyond I wonder if I will find you there when you are right here surely I am lost in this moment in your stare in your eyes for your love is my compass and my guide
are we fibers or just strings or links in a chain I wonder as I hold you closer I imagine we begin to combine at the molecular level can we now pass through each other? or simply merge for a moment two spun as one no wonder the separation feels as this does
notes… lost love letters staccato style (as I call it), I am very aware of rhythm in my words and flow… maybe it is all in my head, sure, but those who get it are wired into my frequency, I do not expect that to be everyone, just you, so thanks for the time, any and all comments are appreciated
‘statements of stalemates’ the erasure of love the slow descent the disappearance the failing specter the fabric of life begins to falter the path has come to no end in the dark.
my beautiful flower for what have I done poisoned my garden ’till kingdom come
notes… since my father passed I have been posting photos on my facebook page daily, and of course I wound up running across photos of her, my true love, the major screw up I can never mend, well, I hope but that was many years ago, time is supposed to mend or heal, not so much here, I try not dwell but honestly it is always there, somewhere, some days just rise and it is all I can think about, just happened to coincide with V-day, I used to make her special meals, with red themes, heart shaped veg or the like, always something ambitious, I miss those days, but I am still here and there are days ahead, so that has to be my focus, but seeing those old photos, the closeness, her holding me and me her, in addition to my old dog, Chestnut, whom I loved so very much, and made mistakes like any first time parent, memories, of all the animals we had, practically a zoo, birds (amazon yellow front, parakeet, parotlet, monk parakeet), a degu, pacus, turtles (mississippi mud and soft shell), a mexican tarantula, a sugar glider and a texas ground squirrel… yeah it was pretty nuts, and I leaving out the scorpions and betas… retrospect always breeds romanticism, but who am I to argue with my own feelings? but accept them.
you are my sunrise the realization of the dawn my reason to awaken, my eyes travel over – to your pillow tracing down your sleeping form and I answer an angel at my door sleeping-soft-pose I wonder of what you are dreaming or, am I ?
as I might contemplate that last moment before I leave this plane and wonder my last thought will I see you oh lord will I see my love once more
on a beam of light so singular in this life left bereft of completion longing to be whole again the separation and we pray to write, unite a fabled ending
and I must confess my faith wavers doubt simmers for I am just a man but I look to the sky to the sun to the stars to you oh lord will I see my love once more.
notes... been awhile since I opined for my love (her), other things, life going on, I suppose, but it is always there, isn’t it? just under the surface, always there like a shadow beat to my heartbeat, like an echo to my every thought reverb, my love I hope you are well and content, wherever you are these days… (from a poem perspective this was me being deliberate and staccato, something I do sometimes to hear the timing in my mind)
perhaps this is causality and I am the casualty of- the rain a grey veil of gloom over even silver linings wane not some days not all days today, one of those lingering an insidious thought invades, breaks the levy ‘I have nothing’ or feel that way perhaps only because I ‘had’ I can not stop the swell, the surge the rush back, a rampaging flood now converges that a bound fist in my abdomen confirms my eyes well, we all want to travel back, to rewrite; and we do, in a way, down that path, in our mind but know, always know the foundation the truth is in the earth, hands clench this the cruelty of the steadiness of dirt support of life and burial of the dead roots as far reach as heaven, up into the air roots buried, anchors, always, memories a library, a curated collection rows and rows of known, wanton forgotten I am alone- most days this is not a bother some days a marker, a visitor, my own host I scrape for false shelter draw out the homilies on my lips all the words I left out a mantra to my burden to wait out the storm and pretend some more.
note… to any new people (as I am seeing more traffic), hello you (waving), my work is off the cuff, one off, unless otherwise noted, perfect? no way man…. but I post it… and here it is… when I write the thing it is visceral, you get me facial, that’s all… and if you like it … great, if not, also great, I appreciate the read, the time, your eyes, thanks… we are existing right now at this time…. which is a miracle, billions of the years of the universe have brought us together… for corn dogs… well, er, at least that or more I hope, so all your comments, recipes, thoughts, coherent rants and advice for my garden – are appreciated. I am the bamboo whisperer… I tell ya…
against the setting, purple rippling sky reminds, in countenance shadow doth reflect I dream of your form with empty hands out-stretched; my body swells with starvation in the famine of the death of sensation (your touch), illusion bores and marks the eyes falling on to moon lit-skin, an ache born upon the conscience of time.
in distant mind voice reflects to listen with my eyes the song of your words upon my ear (as I admire how they escape from the supple valley of your lips). the many places of daily travel warm (and light) with the presence of your candle’s glow and yet cold as the lands that separate live souls; with hands entwine and walk the path upon fantasy rides the thoughts of man, Upon that gallant-fanciful steed might glide the miles in memory; -but yet what warmth does this night-shadow bring? The song to sing in faintest past and yet all is owed, on to the future.
palm upon palm, (might I flourish for a moment in your scent) falling hapless rather than to this lament I drift to sleep amongst the fear of dreaming- and do I deny what my mind decrees? The ancient charm of dreams pulls so heartily at my ropes and binds, dancing and prancing logic and delirium In all the cotillion-; embraced, and all the body waits for the texture of her naked skin baring against the dew that forms; contours are the guide of hands instinct as the guide of minds, And sweet sufferance is this bliss un-achieved in the day-light hours, finds the night to write a script of wish, a castle from which to survey and capture lands beyond and afar from worldly reach, and yet lucid as the life a picture framed in the eye of mind a committed memory, in a curved line.
Notes… generally speaking my works I post are 96.2% off the cuff (a totally arbitrary number made up for this post, but you get my drift), this post is certainly not, this is something old, pre-me being the blog hound dog that I am these days, if I had to guess this is in the neighborhood of 15 years old, something I wrote and stowed in a box, with other poems, which I might reveal, given the feel, if I feel like it, and I might, I had this typed out and folded up stuck in an old book, it was always one of those I ‘liked’ straight away, the title, the whole darn thing, I am sure my fellow fellowship of writers/artists out there get that, there is always those that you just ‘love’ right off the bat, and this is such a dove, I did alter it a bit, given my modern taste and flair, or whatever I am doing these days. So, hope you enjoy it… As always your thoughts, likes, and adulating praise is always appreciated… any good non obvious habanero chili recipes are also warranted… (damn I love the hot chilis)
Shades of My Garden 