Epitaph

I would have been known like J.R.R.

But lost my path in the burroughs of a forgotten shire.

The words came, except that they flowed only reluctantly

An inconsistent stream of ideas and dialogues

Of unfinished characters and meandering plots.

I died without knowing love save for those quick passions

That fill youth like bottle rockets shooting into the night sky.

I did not find out what the lasting embrace

Nor the familiar touch.

The meaning now gone as lost relationships that end

In messy fights and tearful disagreements.

I die with no resentments for is loss or the apparent

Lack of it’s mystery.

I still wish I had but a drop of bittersweet drought of the

Unripened nectar all the same.

I taught in vain.

Who will remember me?

Save for the fact that I once drove a vehicle the same as my name?

And was obnoxious enough to deserve the grudging respect

Of the younger generations I had wished to help mold.

Now the grayness of the encertain voyage draws nigh

And the fear of parting this life beats my heart to a stop and I look

To the only familiar friend I have known to visit me soon.

lonliness

Loneli Ness

alone in a backroom of a garage-apartment.

sitting in front of a keyboard tip-tapping away into the night

looking through webs alongs digital nets

in search of life

in search of truth

in search to escape this prison called Loneli Ness.

Like a mysterious monster from the depths of a Scottish loch

it rears its unseen head and looks long at the shadow of the

man sitting alone in the twilight of a moniter reading

conversation from another place in the world.

alone in the night, lost in the silence beneath an airy vent

whispering rumbles of the system as my mind searches for words

that I am slow to find and hesitant to type

as the iron disk of memory whirs

as the imagined touch warms my back

as the chill settles on my skin and

sleep slides into my eyes until I wake to write this again in draft to draft

with fluctuations of dreams clouding my senses of the feelings of my hold on the reality and the nature of the state from which wine flows and Loneliness.

Camel

I stood on the hot sands looking

from east to the wide open west.

The wind rising from the north to sing south

blowing crystalline tears sparkling in waves

across the shallow dunes.

I realize that I must be along way from my home.

Bagwah, City of Golden Sands, rises out of the night,

promising the treasures of Sharizaddi's thousand and

one nights. Delights undreamed of fill my thoughts

as before the great gates I fall finding my knees in the

the same hot sands I have crossed.

I feel the might of the Semitic God upon my shoulder

forcing me to bow down as if demanding a prayer,

but the new warmth tells me it is the newborn sun

rising to remind me that I have no more water.

In the silence the thunderous whisper of a memory

reminds me as to what drove me here.

The passion for a woman with dark skin and deep eyes

burns hot like the hunger that has brought me to this

parched end at a dry oasis, and

neither her beauty nor my desire can bring me back

to my feet as I pitch forward with one last memory

to accompany me into darkness,

lust and desire can lead a fool to drink from a poisoned well.

she walks in my dreams

She walks in my dreams, a song of olde English on her lips

She sings Bonny Portmore and Tennyson, Shakespeare and Soul

Somewhere a harp slides out its steel stringed tune

As the fall of her gone moves like silken water across

The shapely curve of her hips

Take from me this moment, take from me any mention

Of this forgotten love, take from my mouth the

Power of the pen and cast them out into the desperate darkness

The promise of beauty, the pleasure of this night

As I walk the streets of New York City clad only

In my poems shimmering like urban mirages in June

She walks in my dreams out of the fogs that no longer roll in still the mists remain

She speaks in a husky whisper of things that we can only share in small rooms

Somewhere an Mp3 player blares out a staccato of sound that decries the city heat

as life shapes itself around her passage and my heart skips its expected beat.

The curve of her cheek, the slope of her shoulder

the way her hair falls down her hear, the smell of

her perfume, the traces of past tears and unfulfilled 

laughter as the Sun surrenders to the darkness of night

the dreams return and my words run dry.

School Haze

School Haze

It was a time of introspection exploring things I thought I knew

Trying to learn things I believed I could use

Listening to others whose pretense was wisdom

Writing words of truth and lies of appreciation.

There were days of discovery, the stolen moments of youth

The wandering wondering in and out of shadows

The passions felt the hours of stillness

Waiting for something anything to happen

My school haze is now passed and all that remains

Is the golden recollections that it meant more than

What exists now as I recall my confusion and shock

Upon realizing that I knew little and learned more than

I had before.

needs work

I saw a Vision.

A woman floated in pools of light

As sunlight through windows misted

Tinting shards glowing against gothic stones.

You moved across the floor of marble glistening

Bearing a candle burning a flame glowing

Towards an altar rising, rising out of the shadows

An architecture dominating the sky.

I saw a vision-

You were lighting candles around you

Casting shadows to every niche, every corner

A hall of darkness ritualistic designing.

You turned and fixed a stare upon me,

Your eyes unblinking, naval and deep

Like midnight waters shimmering on a blue lake

You spoke to the silence that no man can

Hope to hear or live if repeating

Words like songs of music filling

The emptiness of the dominion of man.

I saw a vision of a woman staring at me

As if to question

The validity of the emotions I was feeling.

I looked deeper into the wells of your sight

The gateway to your heart

But I fail to gain entry only to be left wandering

Around your presence in the space.

I reach out to answer your prayer

Although it was not mine to reply or grant

Then in this night I hear my own

Desparate cry and my vision blurs

With tears as I scream alone in my bed.

last rites

Now I am revisiting old poems that need work and or a decent burial:

Last Rites

Last rites in the darkening sky

        Coming forth from the dragon’s cry

        Singing of his dying race

Echoes out into the night and space.

        Wings of red fury

        Rising to the skies

        Thunder sounding

        As the dragon flies.

Gone is the old age

Bring in the new

The old code is past

And the heroes grow few.

The new order is here

Men of steel now ride

In waves of dread and fear

See the destructive tide

Ancient origins in the birthing pool

        No more hatchlings, no more fuel

        We are born from the immortal dreams

        To the days of the haunted screams

        Wings of sleek silver

        Soaring above the sea of cloud

        Slipstream wind ripping

        Secret shadow above the shroud

The millennium has come to the evident end

        Histories becomes epic, myth and pretend

        Eternal lives have been cut short

By the Knights questing for renown and sport.

        A time of delay and of shock

        Desolation, the decapitation of the slain

        As the culling of a flock

        Dragons are dying in this deadly reign.

The old dominion on our hallowed ground

        Abandoned, we are hidden, not to be found.

        We are coming close to being on the brink

Of extinction, the bitter betrayal, the poisoned drink.

        Wings of red steel

        Fall like lightning, an arrow

        No mercy, I will not feel

        Rend and rip no sorrow.

II.

Our kind has come to this unfortunate fate

        Our defense comes too slow, too late

        Our young are orphaned in birth

Our mates are slain, their blood stains the earth.

        Anger has robbed us of our deep wisdom

        Hatred and anger is now all we can sum

        Where is our might against our common foe?

        All we have left is vengeance and woe.

Death and ruin, I stand against the dying sun

        War torn, scattered the man army on the run

        Many are dead, dying in the ruddy dirt

What cost victory? Was it worth all this death and hurt?

This passion leaves me, I find myself alone

What of my sins, how can I atone?

My kind is lost, I am the last

A monster of legend, from the past.

III.

Lost to life, my hopes, dreams, and visions fail

        All that is left will be found in fairy tales.

        I wander this new world in silence and grief.

Hated by some, feared by all, trusted by none, a thief.

        I have stolen the man from his kin

        I have killed the son, an unforgivable sin.

        I have taken the husband from the wife

        I am the pariah, the enemy of life.

        Wings in grey mists

        Hiding from the days light.

        Hunted, marked on the lists

        The prize for the chivalrous knight.

Old magic found deep in forgotten forests green

        She finds me hidden, unfound and unseen.

        She reaches out without fear, without hate

Binding us together, damning us in the game of fate.

        Beauty and the beast, known to few

        Peace now comes, she is true

        Her innocence heals me

        She sets my heart free.

The old storms only visit on the silent nights

        I sleep content in her company and light.

        She is now my hope, my passion and my life

Wed by nature, unified, the end of the past strife.

        Sunlit fields waving in the breeze

        Far away from any civilized place

        Wiling away the days with ease

        Happiness is ours, a moment of grace.

        A season to stay by my side

        To swim together in the ocean tide

        To share my life, to take my part

        Until she took an arrow aimed for my heart.

Sorrowful dirges I sing in the quiet morn

        I clasp her body to me, wishing I had never been born

        She was my soul and it has died within me

        Rage is revived and struggles to be free.

        Wings of Black Death

        Shadow the scorched land

        Scarred by the dragon’s breath

        Struck down where they stand.

I am the destructive juggernaut

Speeding like a plunging bird of prey

A sword forged in pain, terribly wrought.

Swift as lightning, I enter the fray.

There in the path of destruction, a child in my way

        Bravely trembling, stopping my wrath.

        Confronts me with her memory, I betray

        Her love, her trust, her smile, her laugh.

Turn now from this madness

My violence comes to an end

Now I see only her sadness

As this girl cradles her dead friend.

Last rites in the darkening sky

        Coming forth from the dragon’s cry

        Singing of his long dead race

        Calling out for her lost embrace

Wings of gold wonder

Rising above the desolation

I sing again as I wander

Echoing over the shattered nation.

She clutches at the hands of her fallen friend

Knowing that she came this close to the legend

She looks back up into the starry night

In wonder at the dragon’s flight.

Finis.

Whispers in the wind

Song of Myself or Whispers in the Wind

Begun May 5 2006

This morning there were whispers in the wind

I dreamed of the many pasts of my life and

Wondered about my justifications for the decisions that I made.

This morning I sit under the overcast May rain and

Wander in and out of literature in hopes

Of finding some Whitman in my soul.

My darkness is still within me

But the tiny round pill

Stands to block access to it

Yet its dread weight summons

Me like a black hole eats the

Light of stars.

I watch the cat wash himself in the sunlight of morning

Methodical and prissy, his movements are so

Much like a woman who stretches out a leg to

Shave, I rub the night’s growth with a sigh

Yorick sleeps in the morning heat

On a quilt made by still yet American hands

And I realize that I love him as a cat

And my sole companion.

In the silence of morning

I choke up the remains of sleep

And wish that I could breathe like I did

When I was younger than the age of my days

Sadness comes creeping up my stairs

And slips into my joints as I struggle to

See the light of another overcast day.

37 years later and what have I learned?

I learned that I could live alone

But always yearn for the elusive love

Dreaming of kisses and brown hair

Touching the small of her back

Sleeping with her at night.

37 years later and what have I learned?

I realized that silence is beholden to emptiness

And that music is my emotions singing

Out my losses and victories

My desires and fears

My regrets and

All the good things about living.

37 things later and what have I learned?

I learned a lot about life

Time begins long and then gets too short

Sickness and pain will dominate

What little joy and happiness that you feel

Unless you find a savior who will release you

From the bindings of human misery

I learned something about God

that we don’t communicate well

that we fail to understand what God wants

that we want rewards and punishments

that we reject the one simple teaching

that I believe to be true of the universe-

that there is nothing that can’t be forgiven-

that God and even us can forgive

and seek forgiveness  we so desire it.

I learned some things about women

All women are beautiful and mysterious

That their willing to lie in order to be kind

That they want to be lied to on the same note

That words are theirs to command and wield

That most still scream in unification at insects and mice

I learned what it is to be a man

That all men really want is passion

That all women want is love

That you can share both but it

Is not the same thing

I know that men pursue for the thrill

But once the hunt is over that nothing

Is left but to find new prey.

I learned that men conquer everything

That we are fire and violence

That when we create it is fury and wildness

That we destroy the same way

That we fail to see the softness

And beauty of creation

And change is not subtle nor is it

Silent as the thief in the night,

Several days later and I have dreamed

Of sleep and warmth

Of cats and cuddling

Of silence and sheep

Of sunlight in the mornings

Of rainfall thundering in the night

Of my mother’s quilt

And my daughter’s future

Several days later and I have planned

To journey to the west

To seek a wife

To find some peace

To learn a new song

To let part of my self die

To let the dream come back

And to sleep and to rest.

Last night, there were whispers in the wind

Change is coming they said those voices

In and around my head- change is coming

I am sure that is what they whispered what they said.

The wind blew a chair up and off my deck

It yowled as it fell to the ground in a wreck

I am sure there was laughter in the night

My doors swung open and all about as that

Gust ran havoc in through the house

I moved everything around in my house

Again today, change is coming I was heard to

Say. The sun beamed brightly through my

Window pane and I thought about why I could now

Live within the rain. My life is not some poem

On an unwritten page, I am 37 and come of age.

II.

Two years later

Two years have come and gone

As I fast approach forty and look back

To what I have so profoundly lost

Am losing and still have yet to lose

But probably not my virginity as some

So crudely would put it

On a mountain high above a historical event

I sit now into the darkness and long to rhyme out

What I would write next to express this day spent

I learned how to sharpen the steel of a chainsaw blade

I watched my father split wood like hairs

I longed again to kiss a woman again almost

Tasting the ruby abandon of years long past

I looked out to the scenic skies framed with clouds

And said strange things to myself most often aloud.

Two years later and tragedy and joy have both visited

Me with death and birth, my life has changed

I have lost more family and the two most influential

People I was ever blessed to know in one thoughtless

Act of petty childish revenge so complete that even

The avenged was wronged by his lack of foresight

Father murder, mother regret, who pays but their children

And all who knew the victims of such a heinous deed?

Two years gone and I have at least bid farewell to some

Of my lesser parts, the petty selfishness and longing greed

To the sum of my greater parts I hope to never see again

To debt that haunted me day in and out

To credit and debit that controlled my every movement

To fear that limited my world

To sadness that darkens the landscape of my memory

III

Four years Later

Words have come, time has gone

my loneliness is palatable but I still eat and drink in its shadow

I sometimes feel rage, sometimes it is just loss

loss for things I have never had like love and laughter 

a kiss like cursive upon this page.

I seldom regret much anymore. I found my god, I found a life

I live in peace, I walk without my former strife

I know great people who know great things

I know some women who can still make my heart sing

I have found music again after years of deafness

I have found art again after years of blindness

I have found truth again and have no need of lying

I have found me again and learned the power of crying.

Maybe one day, there will be no more tears

no more monsters, no more loss, no more fear.

Maybe I can look forward to the sunlight 

and stop dreading the night

Maybe I will find someone to share life with

words with, laughter with, 

Maybe

I live in the light, out under the stars

I find words in more places than I would have thought

I find pages of things I once wrote

I find stories and poems pouring out from my soul.