Echoes
lingering
residual
textural
not memory…
there
it is,
tongue on your tongue,
and lips,
and skin.
that soft spark
of sunshine
that slipped
so satisfyingly.
stuck
in this
never-ending bliss:
decadent
depraved
heightened
pleasures revealed.
truth
or
fantasy
cleave onto hope.
a temporal
orgy
manifests.
now,
back to work.
there is a moment,
in the blink
of an eye-
a pause
in bird song,
as wind
turns corner,
to howl.
Magic slips in
quietly, but expected.
seeking
to confound
and
to please,
and then to
disappear
again
as rumour
of the return to order
passes through forest ears.
to touch.
to know.
the right time.
the right words.
the feelings
of wonder.
and
the joy of living.
all erupt
unbidden.
a yearning
to feed
unknown addictions.
a genuine need
for more.
heart knows not
what it wants.
but it wants
it all.
life
and
death
nothing slides through.
this moment is,
and the next
It’s snowing.
No poem.
return all good cheer and
place all hope
back in its original wrapping.
snow in March
is like a
a groundhog’s fart.
Exactly,
go back to sleep.
on wings of gold
i find thee
hovering
above me.
healing
teasing
prodding
thrusting
me
back into the heavens.
did you miss me?
are you lonely?
or did you catch
a glimpse of
the glory
inside of me?
buried deep
beneath shame
and pain
and fear.
bring your candle
closer
to me,
please.
there was a song in my heart
but I had not the words
nor the melody.
inside of me
it ached.
it burned.
it made me cry
yearning to be free.
So,
I wrote
I ran
I danced
I fucked,
but the song remained
painfully deep
until I heard
your soulful tune:
my song heard your song,
and said,
Hello.
I sang my song
through your lyrics
a counterpoint,
harmony of spirit
there is only one
song
and we all have a part
Thank you Musician,
for sharing your art.
with me.
The wide embrace
of coming grace
is hastened by
fearful face.
in the arms of doubt,
and indecision
Serenity Surprises,
Hope again
rises.
just when you look away,
knowing,
that love will not stay,
a bud of revival
Screams
for survival…
Out there:
In here:
Spring comes again,
unabated.
Love finds
the uninitiated
Keep faith in both,
for I swear to you,
they tread softly,
as morning dew.
Free
to love ourselves
as we promise to love another
means
that there must never be
a promise
to bind
at all.
crudely
interpreted love
in fact
does blind
us to our need,
and our right
as
souls
to be
free.
” ‘… Some people never observe anything. Life just happens to them. They get by on little more than a kind of dumb persistence, and they resist with anger and resentment anything that might lift them out of that false serenity.’ ”
-Herbert, Frank. Heretics Of Dune. New York: Putnam’s Sons. 1984. Print.
This is not a poem, because the meaning is Secret
today she came to me.
through the beauty of morning sky
she came to me.
through connecting with old friends
she held my hand.
through playful, nonsensical banter
she tickled my insides.
through confronting my totem
she challenged me.
through learning of a friend’s current path
she inspired me.
through mastering a day’s work
she gave me confidence.
through a dog’s trust
she made me vulnerable.
Through all these things, and so much more,
My Muse spoke directly inside my soulplace.
She filled me with so much…..
ahhhh, I cannot explain.
there is too much, so much, …..
No really, I have no words for you today
only these paltry few letters strung together
masquerading as love.
just know
My Lover gave me quite a gift,
and it was for me,
and me alone.
My Lover, is grand, wise, and such a looker
My Lover inspires,
even when She speaks
through the rising sun
or a shaggy beard
or a beautiful tiny witch
or the wings of Heron
or didactic method
or capitalist goals
or a trusting dog’s eyes…
The Universe gives,
and gives,
and then gives me more.
(yes – we’re dating, the Universe and I)
I’m sorry that all I can share
are these measly,
incapable,
and small
little words.
but inside is a Magic
only for HER eyes.
theDeprevation 