Dumbly Mused.

My mind reeled sinfully as my gaze found its lazy way upon,

your eyes drilled into me through the haze of shady recognition,

how the shadowy cobwebs of distant times,

have smeared many edges and blurred out the lines,

but the instant I saw you,

and knew you saw me too,

the moment I bowed my head in gratitude,

it seemed a flash of lightning,

something jarring and striking,

took my knees from under me,

so I dumbly mused hungrily,

on distant things resurfacing in plenitude,

an emotionally messy,

however, very sexy catastrophe,

was the spark of fire ignited by memory,

was the bolt of energy flashing between,

in its own way defining the physical being,

in that instant recollection,

of that distant connection,

when our bodies intertwined nakedly,

and our times were confined to history,

while our eyes were still quite blind,

and we couldn’t hear a thing,

the sense of touch,

was left to us,

the warm rush of skin in flannel sheets,

and in that moment,

so long later down the line,

our eyes got to touch one last time,

I touched yours,

yours touched mine,

and you remembered me.

 

Howl.

What is a name given by the Gods to a star?

with a twinkle they will not let shine anymore,

with the spirit of a beast broadcast from afar,

from the depths to the distance, howl evermore.

What is a name given by the Gods to a man?

with an poetic heart and outstretched hand,

with the eyes of the wolf in the heart of the den,

and a spirit that shines when the moon’s full again.

Here is the place where the Gods have hung him?

with the fizzle and fire of ancient constellations,

where his spirit lives on in the howling of winds,

and his words carry on in the hearts of his friends.

What is a name given by the Gods to a star?

with a twinkle they will not let shine anymore,

with the spirit of a beast broadcast from afar,

from the depths to the distance, howl evermore.

What is a name given by the Gods to a man?

with an poetic heart and outstretched hand,

with the eyes of the wolf in the heart of the den,

and a spirit that shines when the moon’s full again.

Here is the place where the Gods have hung him?

with the fizzle and fire of ancient constellations,

where his spirit lives on in the howling of winds,

and his words carry on in the hearts of his friends.

 

Just a One-Page-Entry.

We…
you and me…
it turned out –
not quite so,
meant to be.

Feet…
carry me…
right on by –
the desire,
for familiarity.

Me…
I’m angry…
at the truth –
and the lies,
so eye-opening.

See…
the humanity…
finally drain –
of these veins,
I stand empty.

Be…
my history…
more vague –
with each day,
a memory.

Running Distantly.

I remember these things,
the late afternoon’s lulling,
“G.I. Joe – A Real American Hero”,
the ‘Three’s Company’ opening theme,

the sound of an overhead airplane’s engine,
fading away to the south, as the evening draws in,
the sounds of a lawnmower, running distantly,
cutting down grass and sending the scent to me,

I remember the pipes in the walls that would moan,
a surefire way to know when someone was home,
the sound that the front gate’s dragging board would make,
the dogs in the back that always scared the Pizza Boy away,

Anticipation of dinnertime and seeing my Father’s face,
every evening, the hope of seeing him walk into our place,
the leaves skipping up our walkway alongside his tired feet,
the Gods blessed me with a Dad so dedicated and hard-working,

these things I remember, they are mine to recall,
only because of the good I had – my Dad, after all,
and I’ve never been sorry in the slightest amount,
for basking in his warmth before it was snuffed out.

Strings of Truth.

Inside just one of,
a hundred million,
beams that glow,
under the control,
of Universal starlight,
our few weary shadows,
somehow find a way inside,
find shelter in the perpetuity,
of nothing, and of everything,
from which we’ve come to hide;
while time spins by,
in Quantum Strings,
we close our eyes,
against the starlight’s shine,
and hear against the chaos,
a galactic symphony,
a universal species,
with one dialect, one voice,
one message to bring,
one beautiful song to sing;
the tears fall from our eyes,
as we listen to these things,
it’s all too much to grasp,
to get our heads around,
as such simple-minded beings,
and afterwards –
upon the whip of the last passing,
symphonious Quantum Strings,
and after the pain and the love,
that this old star burned in, genetically,
it’s a dream, where we are –
we can’t stay long,
our minds have both gone
to return to the likes of humanity,
is a painful suction in our ears,
an acid poured in our eyes,
our shadows still hum,
the symphony’s string tune,
shadows have much better memories.