Monday, December 25, 2017

A Visit from Cousin Nick (in the shop for edits)

'Twas the day of Christmas
and all through the house
no one was stirring
except for my spouse
ribbons and paper were
strewn all over the space
The tree leaned wearily
against the fireplace
its lights were fading
about to go out,
the ornaments dropped
the tinsel in doubt.
The children were asleep
lost in toy-filled bliss
having checked all the
corners for anything they
might have missed.
My wife was wrapped up
in her new terry cloth robe
hot mug cradled in her hands
like a wintery snow globe
a twinkle in her eye
that never gets old.
Whilst I stumbled around
as my feet grew cold.

When all at once, there came
a rapping on the window
frame, such a clatter,
that I ran to see
what was the matter
I squinted out at the skinny
man on the porch
with a foreboding
that made me feel sick
only to discover
that it was Cousin Nick.
He rang the doorbell
with such force
that my wife mentioned
something like
"if you let him in there will be divorce"
I looked her with as much fear
as I could muster
she shrugged
I knew that I still I love
and trusted her.

"Who is it?" I asked at the door
checking the locks, the wood
strong and thick
"It's me" came the whiny voice that
belonged to Cousin Nick.
"Just a minute" I declared
making noises of a fuss.
How lucky I was that
he had chosen to come visit us?

With a certain dread, I crept to the window
to take a quick peek, what I saw made it
hard to continue to speak
for outside upon my lawn was the family bus
I could see his brother Blixon, his son
my cousin Dixon,  who with his brother
Donner and Connor, sister Sheryl, Susie
and Uncle Nixon. Edna his wife, their kids
the Jetty twins, and old Aunt Betsy.
Randy his son and his girlfriend , Ruby,
with a red snotty nose
wearing little more than mini skirt and
pantyhose.

I looked at my wife in a panic
"We could take a holiday vacation."
She said in caffeinated heaven, leaving
me to have visions titanic. I mentally
crossed off escape routes and considered
how serious my wife threat was about.
Thinking of some untried trick I returned
to the door to talk to Cousin Nick.
"Can we meet you at Grandma's house
the place is a mess" I spoke all this as
I added a prayer for success.
Outside the door came such a laugh
that I knew I was doomed to the shame
of my cousin's wrath.

"You tried that one last year Larry"
Goshdarnit I did and silently thanked
the stars that he did name his other daughter
Gary.
"No Worries man," He said with a wink
"We'll come back in an hour- what do you think?"
"Sounds great buddy," I replied as he turned to leave
"Merry Christmas cousin," he said then dusted off his
sleeve. The insult obvious, I began to wonder what in
an hour I could achieve.
As my wife and I packed, I could still hear his final call.
"Happy New year, y'all!"


Friday, November 24, 2017

Amazon

She was always the woman for me.
Warrior, Lover, Sister, Shield Cover
the first in, last out
the One the gods had warned me about.
Sword and Flame
Amazon was her name
All this the Fates would entwine
by fine threads wrapped
eternal game.
She was for me as
I was for her
but without time and loss
nothing could occur
Across the Styx, I return again
and again
driven by quest, drawn by desire
I am the weapon in her hands
the honor for which she stands
between life and death
between passion and breath
Alpha and Omega
her beginning,
my end
I will lay down my life
for her,
defend.






Friday, September 15, 2017

Love, Mercilessly Forlorn

La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Sir Frank Dicksee

You can find him there on the Faerie Moor
alone, clutching at wisps
frozen forever by the motion of her elfin lips
Clad in rusted armor, sword forsworn
rasping of lost love, mercilessly forlorn.

I asked him once what he thought of love
he espied a bee swooping down upon
the sedge, remarking that flowers withered
be, that all young lovers should come and see
the sojourn of such vital tragedy.

The Knight of Arms wastes away by the lonely lake
dispensing wisdom and sorrow for any who
will come partake.
He dared to dream of mythical things
lured into this mystical traps by beautiful ideas
this cold creature that moaning sings.


Friday, September 8, 2017

No More Words

Time passes slowly when you are waiting
for change
then quickly when you wish that everything
would
remain the same.
It's the human condition,
this bitter ironic game
There isn't really anyone at all to blame-
no one it to blame
No more words,
I cannot write any more
no more pages
no more questions
no more
I have given my all
I would stoop to stand tall
I would place my back against your wall
I would tell you this before I fall
down into the silence that comes
creeping like the symmetry tiger
in the dark, stolen kiss in the park
Blake and Shaw, Eliot too
whispering rages missing their marks
I would write until there is no ink
to scrawl across
the page
No more words
I have aged
no more feelings
to re-engage
to the promises that were striven
to the sins that still remain
unforgiven
no more.



Saturday, August 19, 2017

Sky Falls Up


Sky falling up, this is us
trusting in God, who do
you trust?
moments, waiting in space
far below the stars
over the clouds above
Dust.

Thoughts I have in
while we pause inside
Heaven's window
time enough to fall, to race
earthward bound
vast so expansive that
our passage is marked without
sound.

The significant reluctance
of being.
Such as the world all
around us is worth seeing.
while here in this bright abyss
you could blink too long
then sufficiently miss
our descent
ascending into 
such motivational
bliss.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Achilles


Achilles

His mother didn't dip him in the River
two fingers on his left ankle
but it made a good story.
He wasn't gay, but he loved his men.
Patroclus was best friend
Guilt drove him crazy, but it wasn't his end
He lived to fight in a war that was not his own
he went for renown, wisdom in combat overthrown
He didn't die there, ended by an arrow shot by
a former shepherd out of misplaced revenge.
It's all just myths anyway, she said giving me 
a look.
Little does she know that she's speaking about
my father. Little does she realize that the truth
is often found hidden in these lies
that for my father, finding more than glory
would lead him to my mother's arms
out of the Illiad and into another man's story.

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Portrait of a Woman

She holds the book to her breast
the pages bent, well read showing
the marks of time spent in communion
with the words within.
She looks out of her world
pensive with the doubts that plague
her, the fears that await her comings
and goings, the need for love,
the desire for self, for worth,
for touch.
Her fingers, on the crease of leather
the binding pressed, her thumb poised
her voice silenced in the thoughts
of love and life and the desire for
hot coffee, silken cream on scones
the moments alone when the mists
play against her window to the
morning lulled by the violins
and cello, the bassoon wails
into the space that fits all these things
that are now and will always be her
place.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Mischievous Chagrin


She caresses the pages as she reads
my words I have written, her breaths short and quick
she is already smitten,
her eyes dilate, it must be fate as she looks from
the paper to me, checkmate.


Fingers plunge inside the pages, soft surfaces crease
passion rages,
I will come to the climax in a matter of stages
A chapter here, an introduction there, 
her plot heaves, as her heart thunders to share
our fiction is interwoven into our diction
dialoguing as we embrace
each connotation trace
we kiss each book we touch
blood race, this means so much
my pen on her skin, 
these moments that our eyes lock
mischievousness chagrin.

photo was taken from Twitter. 

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Morning Routine

Cool sheets, skin meets, soft treats
morning snore, lace more, silken core
precious things, the sun light brings
my fingers trace, my heart sings
dreams dance, serene romance, 
serendipitous chance..
her murmurs, legs stir, fan whirs,
the dice roll, my lips stroll, naked goal
breasts heave, morals leave, I believe
Mischief in bed, erotica in my head,
passionate love instead.


Monday, July 3, 2017

Rain Song

Men thunderous, storm rolls across the pensive skies
Dark luminescence sparking with lightning
like neon wires ripping through the fabric of clouds
all the furious rage of unknown crimes committed 
against the mother of earth.

Women rain, tears from the heavens unleashed
torrents wept then wiped dry only to be wept again
as the children below forget all the rainbows
promising that life and love will be held
more dearly than greed or selfish
cruelty.

The winds come and go, the world turns slow
the grains grow, the birds fly low
the desperate days pass, the memories of those
gone from memory, the rains came but 
only the earth remains.




Thursday, June 29, 2017

Fatigue


Fatigue
It, comes with sleepless desire
punctuated by Stress
It, robs you of life, interest, ideas
stealing your identity
It, monotones exhaustion
amplifies loss 
taking control
leaving you mindless
enslaved
as from page to page
you become its troll.


Thursday, April 27, 2017

Stardust Drawn


Lost, we walk, stardust drawn
under the Midnight moon
It's light reminds me that the sun 
will rise soon.
Wandering under the Oceans of Stars
hand in hand never thought we'd
make it this far.
We are together in the vastness of space
Alpha & Omega
Adam & Eve
Representatives of Belief & Fact
we are, in fact
the human race.


copyright MV2studios.com
ccl photo credit


Monday, April 17, 2017

We don't talk anymore


We don't talk anymore
time unravels
I find myself asking myself
what was the whole idea
of getting married for?
We don't argue without fear
you leave your food untouched
get up and slam the door shut
I sit there wondering if it
was just what I had said
and Am I back on the couch
instead of in our bed?
We don't lie to anyone else
days into nights
we aren't like those other couples
who make love and fight
this was what I bargained for
this isn't what I asked for
Am I even right
to expect forgiveness as
you walk away, out of sight.
We don't talk anymore
I cry at the foot of your front door
only to hear your sobs
on the other side
breaking my heart to the core.


cc MV2 Studios. Stocksnap general license picture.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

A Song for the Mermaiden

for those with e-readers.

Oceans deep
whale calls weep
hear the waves
rip tide drifting
songs lifting
dreams sifting
sandy brine, maidens
silver scales entwine
this is the sea
this is the secret
part of me
this is the sea
I am more than
you want to see
swimming sleek
words echo
whispered truths
no need to speak
eternal youth
ageless life
the gifts of
my mermaid wife.


art: John William Waterhouse
@mv2 studios 2017

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Duets

Photo by Sacha

The sound that makes her violin sing
is the same that makes 
 my heart beat in time to the pluck
of bowstrings,
on chance, we dance, the ivory keys
bounce
the romance paired, feeling with every
ounce
of music, petals on the evening wind
this is our piece, at least
the mix of love and loss
marking the passage of time
sunsets, moonrise, lest the passions cease
a pause, her lips speak to me as she stands
beside my piano, barefoot on the sands
then we fade aways into the night
a mirage disengaging from sight.
***
the words are mine, Amira Saleh is our music and Sacha the visual inspiration
copyright Michael van Vuuren.
please share with respect to the artists.



Wednesday, March 15, 2017

I don't Dance, unless you speak to me in Spanish (rereleased today)

the text for the e-readers is:
It was late, that moment when the music in the bar was no longer loud enough to drown out the laughter as my fear that someone would ask me to dance with them.
I don't dance.
Unless you speak to me in Spanish.
It was crowded, so close that shoulders rub as murmured “excuse me’s” would be mouthed as the drinks were consumed as I avoided contact with her
I don't flirt.
Unless you speak to me in Spanish.
The dance floor emptied. I felt all the eyes turn around scanning the
cover I was using to avoid the moment that had arrived as the drums struck up the tempo. I begin to shiver from my knees down to my feet.
I don't mambo.
Unless you speak to me in Spanish.
It was cold, no, it was so hot that the sweat dripped off the tips of my hair onto my neck, the chills I was feeling was more like the thrills that the music was sending through my soul.
I don't Pasodoble.
Unless you speak to me in Spanish.
Then I see you out on the wood tiles, the double step, the sway of your hips, feel the thunder as my heart beats drown out even the Mariachi beat, I am all strings to be plucked one by one by your fingers
I don't sing.
Unless you speak to me in Spanish
Silence save for the hammering of in my blood followed by tapping of my heels on the floor.
"Escuchar el ritmo- no te asustes, ven a bailar conmigo"
The world is a blur as my feet move of their own accord out to where she waits for me awash in light- then she whispers into my ear.
"A life lived in fear- es una vida vivida medio. Si te caes te sujetare."
I don't dance.

Unless you speak to me in Spanish.

Friday, March 3, 2017

The Muse

Photo by Sacha, #93
website: Photography by Sacha

Mercurial wind, music upends
the rhythm that flows through
the veins,
hear the divine whisper, feel
the fever pitch in the dulcet
strains.
Movements redux, the strings
resound, everything in flux
notes float out, flowing in the breeze
she's a wisp of light
dancing amidst the trees.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Morpheus


Fallen Falling down into sleep
a spatial chaotic persistence
I dream of ravenous sheep.
sheets entangled around my dreams
imagined dragons claw into bed
their breath thick with organic steam
these visions at war inside my head
hear the hew & call, running headlong
through mist-filled wood old & tall
my heart beats strong, I am wont
to belong to the evidence of night
as with each sand-filled creation
I am Morpheus, awake, contrite.


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

We go to the movies Part I

This is, of course, a capture from one of my favorite movies- Fight Club.
The still is a reference to a clip where the Tyler Durden personality reveals one of the things it's been doing while the Narrator is "asleep."


This is one I wrote then constructed online using footage from one of my top ten movies, Strictly Ballroom. I find it encapsulates part of the emotional response I have when watching the movie. I am trying to capture the energy of this moment from the end of the film. 

This is my second poem taken from Dangerous Liaisons, both of them written about a moment of truth in the film where Valmont confesses his love even as he bleeds out the remainder of his life into the snow. This poem is drawn from his actual lines.
The other poem "A Kiss before Dying" link here AKissbeforeDying



This is from Cyrano De Bergerac. I felt it as with each version of the film passed. I myself have been guilty of writing love letters for less prolific friends, never getting to know the love of another-save through vicarious means.





Sunday, January 15, 2017

Tribute to Carrie Fischer

with acknowledgement to Chris Marlowe and Faust.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt in the dreams of so many nerds?
Sweet Leia, make me a Jedi with one immortal kiss, wish the luck as to the Death Star I shall fly and then without the power of the force miss
the hole in one vent with my torpedos and down like a flame I shall crash away like jetsam.
I will be Luke and for the love of thee will I shall blow up the local comic book store and battle the Sith Lords around the salad bar.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Lest we forget

Lest we forget
that this is
winter- when
women
suffer
the cruelty
that is
man's rage
over sports,
over anything,
over nothing.

Friday, January 6, 2017

She Whispers


She whispers her apologies as I let her cry
her tears cutting my soul in two
all the regrets, all our fears, 
in the darkness between us
She stares at me, will I be the one to break
my silence, can our love survive such
infidelity?
She whispers to me, I hold her hands in mine
forgiving all and nothing, forgetting every
line save that I can still feel every lie as it 
carves out a hollow in my chest, I would shut
her out but I cannot force myself to regret
that I have loved her always even now as she
tears my life apart, this is the pain of sharing
lives, rooms in the caverns of the heart.

She whispers the final refrain.

picture credit Anna Shakina (self portrait)