Purgatory

The sweetest nothings,

And the grandest of somethings,

Slip lips.

Hot breath, in the numbing chill,

Lingers, ever still.

In this eternal moment,

Somewhere between

Meeting and leaving

For all to see

And

None to notice

Save one!

A true believer,

In "the beautiful lie"

His heart will shatter, and scatter,

On this most frigid day

While the hoar's frost

Blooms full on the cottonwoods,

And dutch elm alike

All is dead...

Will spring never come?

Death

I went to see her, and there she was...

Bones, fighting to the surface,

Spiky promontories,

Aching...

From within.

Brittle protrusions, fairly breaking skin.

And she, looks...like death.

Demon within her feasts,

Taking it's fill,

In flesh,

And spirit alike.

Musculature eroding

And, she looks...like death.

Stagger of a bourbon drunk, walking a tightrope.

Unable to lift her light head.

And she looks...like death.

Bruises, left by whispers,

On a once healthy esteem.

Only doubt

Would remain,

It seems.

And, she, looks...like death.

Her lot, a constant aching.

Listening close....

I can hear her soul breaking.

(her heart, was long ago)

And she looks, like death...

I read the fear, in those sunken eyes.

And feel her resignation,

In every sigh.

And, she looks....

Like

Death

Aspiration to Conflaguration

Could i aspire to your affection?

Make you swoon?

Despite my glaring imperfection

Entice a rosy flush?

Extolling virtues, of that "little black dress"?

Coax a giddy giggle?

With stories of my imagined prowess...

Could i seize your imagination?

For a minute? an hour? a day?

By lofty dream, or incantation

Or stellar, artistic display?

My rejoinder? Alas, likely no...

Even as i resemble, what you profess to seek,

Steinbeck's translation of "Vacilando"

Is, i admit, utterly foreign, to me.

just a thought...

as i type these oldies out...i'm a bit embarrassed. i really, really liked these when i wrote them....now, i see every flaw magnified....perhaps i should force myself to read each one a thousand times over, to ensure it's what, and how i wanted to say whatever it is i attempted. of course then, there's the fear i'd never write anything at all....at least never share it. a conundrum....to share spontaneous, and flawed "poetry", or, polish, polish, polish, until it doesn't even resemble it's original form? hmmmm.....i think, for now, i'll share them as-is, and if they bother me enough, i'll re-write....

Sister Stockholm

There are remnants

Of a sweetness,

You once couldn't hide

Behind those slate-grey iris walls,

Moats of small-talk

And the razor-sharp constantina wire

Of righteousness

Sister stockholm, as always,

The blue bleeds through

Despite the depth

Of those wounds

That walled-off your soul

You built them,

One insulting brick at a time

Bolstering them,

With survival-strength mortar

Mixed all alone...

Emulating those souls

You never could touch

Anger, and toughness

They served you well

Back in East Berlin,

No one could see your pain,

If they couldn't get in

Neither, could you feel

Sunshine on your face

Sister Stockholm,

Let them crumble....

Crush, fall and tumble,

Down

After all, ain't it time,

To find your way home again?

more later....

well, there are a couple to start off with. not amongst my best, but, not my worst. finally got off my virtual arse, and posted something...

Salvadorian Dream?

I dreamt...

Of St. Anthony's Temptation,

At the tender age of ten, or maybe twelve

Long before I'd seen

The Elephants of Hell

Or had been introduced

To Salvador's three ages

Old Age, Adolescence, and Infancy

I'm sure I felt the same sensation,

Dreaming, as viewing

The Christ of St. John of the Cross

Confused, confounded

Ownership usurped,

My dreams impounded

Decades before i'd touch

Canvas to brush...

Or,

Feel the visceral rush

One Moment After Awakening

From a Dream

Caused by the Flight

Of a Bumblebee around a Pomegranate

Or bore silent witness to

The Persistence of Memory

Or even, set in words, mostly his own

This humble homage

To The Hallucinogenic Torreador

The esteemed,

Senor, Dali

Apoco-Cryptic Ditty (for Chucky and Chad)

Gemini will burn

Evermore bright

Castor's solitary sorrow,

Eased, this night

Tethered by heartstrings

To our communal plight

Pollux ascends,

The twins, re-unite

day one

ok, i'm here thanks to a friend coercing me to post some of my "poetry", which i'll get around to pretty soon. right now, i'm still checking out the place, seeing how everything works. i'm a bit of a techtard, so it may be a while before my little corner looks worth a damn. i'll be sharing the aforementioned poetry, some artwork, pinstriping, photography, and probably some other ill-advised creative undertakings...as well as some commentary. all comments are welcome. (of course, after there's something to comment on...) thanks Marcie! (i think..)