Poetry, Random Ramblings and Rants

Pictures of you

visions coming into view

Now a chilled whisper

tickling up my spine

Caressing your hair

as fire and velvet entwine

The memory reaches

semi-sweetly into the past

That smiling flame

was exstinguished must too fast

Tho I feel it reaches remotely

into some forgotten caste

A casual encounter

you felt was not meant to last

Still, when I think of you

how can I be blue?

Seasons come & seasons go

& as we all should know

One & one are not always two

Hey, it’s me, your often absent host, letting you know how this works for me… I’ve been writing for over 40 years, thru adolescence, active alcoholism and drug addiction, and into more than 20 years of recovery. I pick and choose from stacks of notebooks, editing and trying to capture fleeting glimpses of past, present , and/or gazing towards an always uncertain future. I hope it’s what I believe good art should be, non-linear, abstractly personal and hopefully relatable. You know, the old comedy/tragedy mask thing, because if you’re coming from a place of darkness OR light you’ve got to learn to laugh, or risk taking yourself too damn seriously. Watch if you will my continued childlike wants, needs, and dreams twist and turn, sometimes maturing, sometimes regressing, sometimes vacant or stagnant, idle hands being as some say, the devil’s workshop. Finally, like everyone else growing up in the 70’s I was gonna be a rock n’ roll star, so there will also be lyrics thrown in, as well as brand new finished “product”. Don’t know about you, but I think I’m ready… “HEY, HO, LET’S GO!”

I sit alone

With my demons

& dead desires

Waiting

In what feels like vain

For some sign

That I am, indeed

Where and when I’m supposed to be

Ominously

Feeling like I’m on 

A sliding board to hell

Just a feeling

Seems unshakable 

Some metaphoric

Mosquito swarm

That swallows me with dread

This moment in time 

Grinding thru my very bones

Leeching what used to be my will to live

Now some antagonizing 

Razor blade numbness

Making itself at home

I know better

But knowledge 

Doesn’t always set you free

Eyes like twin sunsets

    Beautiful, turning into night 

    Into stars that shine 

      Into mine

Evening with a charming one

Hiding within reach

My fingers have sifted through the the sand

Looking for the pearl

I know is on this beach

Seagulls have their freedom

And the breeze laughs with them

At me

Perplexed at my imprisonment

Sand is crumbled rock

And my fingers bleed

Something Heaven sent

Some escape from penitence

I guess that’s what I need

Seagulls have their freedom

And the breeze laughs with them

At me 

I stop to gaze along the shore

Wind kicks up and nothing’s left

Where it was before

Those eyes, those eyes

I thought I saw them shining 

As another rock is pounded into sand

What offbeat Deity was flung upon this earth?

Some silent call commanding me

Tortured into birth

Come to life my Hyacinth

Set my fingers free

The voice keeps calling from some unseen realm

The mystified sailor dreams he’s at the helm

… while his fingers bleed

A string from someone else’s past

Now noosed around my neck

Someone who was slaughtered

Or taken in a wreck

Dead men have their freedom

And the breeze laughs with them

At me

Little girl, what ya gonna be… when you grow up

Little girl, will ya still love me… when we grow up

Spent the tender years, wrapped in your arms, your loving arms

All the years, fears and tears, in your arms, your brutal arms

I’ve got you, you’ve got me, tell me what we’re gonna be

Streets are filled with empty love, intensified insanity 

Memories, miseries, another day

Ecstacies, enimies, night and day

Little girl, hometown blues, I’ll leave you before I die

Little girl, I love you, tho you live a lie

Little girl, Little lady, Angel. Angel, Angel… Liar!

Angel of darkness, do you have a soul

Angel of darkness do you have a soul

Laughing, Loving, Living, your streets are calling me

Crying, Raping, Dying, your blood is drownding me

The words, they’re all screams

The clouds, they’re all green

Live to please your dying day

Maybe you’d better learn to pray

So…

I’m waiting on a bus

Talking to this strawberry blonde

w/ iridescent sapphire eyes

& silky snow white skin

Wondering why a she-devil-angel-rainbow-princess

Hasn’t been thrown my way

One w/ long sharp velvet claws

& wings that cut through

My self-centered indecision like razors

I’ve seen hints of her existence

Nestled brightly in the shadows

Of what some might call Heaven

She’s got wild waterfalls of hair

Where

Childlike dreams smile sweetly

In their sleep

Safe in the blanket

In the warm sunshine

Of her gravity

I’m not PC

I’m an equal opportunity offender

Don’t care about your race, class, sexual proclivities or gender

I myself oozed out of an amped up philosophic blender

My first act was to wipe off the stamp that said

“Return To Sender”

I’m not PC

Ask my boss… I’m more like PO-ed, tinkled 

I mean sprinkled thru w/ bitterly amused

& more than willing to

test your tolerance for being abused

By my humor or my caustic dipped in poison well honed tongue…

when my little world feels bruised

I find the moment or it finds me

Heaven and Hell don’t need eternity

I’m not PC

I’m not white, I’m melanically challenged

My busted heart pumps blood that’s red

Thru my poisoned brain in my damaged head

& to top it off, sometimes my balls are blue

I’m an all American

Emotional terrorist built for two

The years are twisted and fed

By the number of times I shoulda been dead

& I’m smiling at the vague shadowy memory

Of some half-lived fantasy that reaches out for me

But has yet to be…

Then genitalia in a bear trap irony 

Rudely wakes me from my dreamed of reality

At the supermarket checkout line

The tabloid headline

Assaults my whys and whens with

“Some of your co-workers may be space aliens”

I’d be more surprised if some were not, but that 

Aside, what do I do with the time I’ve got?

Satanic Romantic Charming Alarming Comic Bit

Call it what you want

I’m still the same old dude

Pulling the same old shit

Making my life performance art

& calling myself a Poet 

Beauty walks beside her

In a gentle sisterhood

She shines through mediocrity

With a sunshine all her own

I see her dancing

To a drummer I can almost hear