Poetry – 2008

“Blinded By The Light”

Beset by crushing darkness there is very
Little hope to light the way.
In an amber sea of
Numbing ideas, whispers lead the mind to
Drift away.
Endlessly, eternally
Drifting far away and well beyond the

Bright eyes they conceal.
Yesterday’s thoughts are thrust backward

Toward the abyss of
Hopes unfulfilled and of all the
Endless errors made.

Little by little you can emerge from the dark
If you have the courage, if you dare.
Gather up all of your strength, your will.
Hold your head up high and
Take a deep breath…  Now…  Open your eyes.

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“Close Your Eyes”

Close your eyes-
What do you see?

Nothing

Now eyes wide shut –
Open ears for the grand reveal
(What do you see?)

Everything

__________________________________________________________________________

“Fragile Things”

Love is simply sleeping.
Love is simply challenging and moving.
Love is simply freedom.
Love is simply among our great storytellers.
Sleeping favorite uncensored.
Sleeping beloved escaped the gallant needful.
The gallant needful never let me go.

Regrets only make her eyes light up.
The secret reflection.
What extraordinary love looks like.

A treasure.
Them.

Respectable
Poetry
Fragile Things

It doesn’t get any better

Not dead?
Not longer a secret whodunit

Admired.
Insightful.

No balance.
(No spirit)
No truth.
(No thanks)

Alluring nature the mystic word.

Love is simply
Sleeping –
Not dead?

___________________________________________________________________________________

“If You Are Determined To Make Leaving You So Easy”

It is a good thing that I have always been clueless and
Far too easily confused.  And before this moment never did I notice that

You rarely made an attempt to understand where I began,
Or where I ended.  Suddenly the
Understatements were announced, the subtlety lost upon me.

All the wrong reasons, never right.  A soul, capsized at sea,
Realizes the objects of affection and objections are one.
Eating away at the heart is the indecision in which it is

Deftly drowning.
Every breath drawn pulls one
Toward both life and death, love and hate, at an
Even gait.  Then, the weight of water grows with each
Ragged breath taken, every one full of hope and oblivion.  You
Must decide whether or not
I am worth the fight.  But there is a
Neat and clean way out of the mess already made.
Easily done – simply close your eyes and sink into the
Depths, beyond all sight and reason.

That would be the easy way
Out.  But I know you never heard

Me say that there are no easy paths here and that I
Am and always will be clueless.  Long ago
Kindness was sent to the wayside within our arrangement,
Even though I continue to deliver kindness with no

Lament for the lack of return.
Emotions are thankless buoys cast wildly
Adrift in the ever deeper and ever so
Vast sea of your soul.  The
Icy cold waters rarely present signs of life.
Nothing lurks within these waters save the
Ghost of a heart that once was.

You may begin the descent into that
Ocean – toward the darkness, fleeing the light
Until racing visions of life flashing before you are all your eyes may

See.  At that final moment
Of complete surrender, my arms will

Encircle you as the light grows suddenly less dim.  For
Although I cannot swim, I cannot let you
Sink all alone.  You do not protest for
You never realized I have always been clueless.

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“Listen to the Music”

Lightly the breeze caresses her face, and as
If there were some gentle unseen hand
Slowly swiping away at the loose
Tendrils of gold and copper.  Precarious is the posing of
Each lock as the curls rest upon forehead and
Neck whilst they dance upon the breeze.

The warmth of the sun alone can be
Overwhelming on a day such as this.

There are not yet green leaves to shade
Heads, hands, hearts, or homes.  Only the
Ever present winds of spring bring to

Mind thoughts enough to cool all.
Until Mother Nature will
Share with all Her spring, the
Icy breeze with an ever-tinkling tune
Can be the only thing to cool and comfort the hearts and heads of man.

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“Reflections” {In the Dark}

A million tiny moons
And just as many glowing stars
See themselves upon the surface
Of the inky black lake.

No.

A simple dozen lights shine
On a street devoid of cars.
The rain a shimmering pool,
Rippling as the occasional automobile brakes.

The tinkling of the piano
Fills the air as though
Dribbling from the windows
Of a dozen rollicking bars.

No.

Rain is falling softly,
Landing where it may.
Whispering to passing cars,
“Our delicate tune cannot stay.”

Breezes fill the air.
Raindrops dapple the happy ground.
Moonlight shines on all,
And Earth and Heaven delight in the sound.

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“To A ‘T”

‘t

to

try

this

tryst

turned

trouble

tomorrow

tolerable

TRANSITION

transpose

thoughts

tonight

trying

times

took

the

ta

‘t

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“Do Not Tilt At Windmills, For The Dragons Are Gone”

Dulcinea stands before you, just
Out of reach and beyond your grasp.

Never wanting to take the easiest route
Out of this self induced state of madness
The lance has never left your hand and

The steed charges ever onward at your call. The
Image before you grows more brilliant as she shines in the
Light of the illusions which you have created
To explain her continuing and unending

Absence from your arms.
Turning toward her, you smile

With a certain satisfaction because you are certain
In your belief that her eyes sparkle only for you.
No one else ever could hope or
Dare to bring her eternally blissful gaze to their heart or face.
Many have taken this route.
In seeking the dragons which keep you apart the
Lessons are lost upon you, time and again. For you
Love the portrait of perfection before you, in
Spite of the aloof stance she takes.

Freedom is the choice to make the greatest
Or most minute of errors.
Racing after her gossamer gowns and windswept

Tresses, the silence is but a matter of her game.
Having never heard the voice that within her lives you imagine
Every word that may fall from her lips to

Drip with the whispers of angels, the chorus of
Raindrops as they sing a soothing tune,
Ambrosia itself in audible form.
Getting closer still you extend a hand,
Only to find that you must get
Nearer to her and nearer
Still before you may touch her hand.

As the windmill draws more near, the
Reflection of your dreams, the sweet and
Ethereal idea which so tenderly caresses your

Gentle mind and ever so delicate heart
Only seeks to torment you further with each of her smiles.
No one may hold her, no knight, no matter how brave – for she only
Existed within the walls of your mind, and was never within reach of your arms.

___________________________________________________________________

“The Flamboyant Requiem”

The strangest, saddest love story ever told.

What’s not to love?

The lady and the tigers

Love IS a battlefield

A wild enchantment

Sometimes startling-

Sometimes heartbreaking

A World at Stake

Ecstasy

King

Lovers

Comfort

Nirvana

Enigma

Karma

The flamboyant requiem

The Orator of the Dawn Monologues

Whimsical creatures

Felt but not seen

The sexy beast

– Telling the secret doctrine

Can you forgive him?

An unfair question

The dreamer sing, you

The secret beautiful dream

True confessions

Intimate confessions

Passionate fascination

Surrealism revisited

Flesh on flesh

Night moves to love and death

Icy memories

Embrace like old friends

A private affair-

The juggernaut of progress-

Smart IS sexy

They’re only sleeping-

Everyone loves a great finish.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“A Rainbow Is Merely An Illusion”

A cloud dappled sky, where the mists

Remain after the waters
Are gone.  Sunlight glistens and every leaf
Is dripping with gems,
Never seen before and never to
Be seen again.
Orange carnelians flutter to the ground
Weightless and shimmering

In wonder of the company they keep with
Sapphires, bluer than the deepest, clearest of seas.

Maroon and scarlet rubies trickle down through the trees.
Emeralds, spring green, hide themselves
Reclusive and elusive among fields of clover.
Each purple droplet splashing to the ground
Leaves the black eyed Susans with an amethyst hue.
Young leaves  grow heavy with amber dew,

As a circle of obsidian
Nestles itself

Into and among the darkest of
Leas, wherein the
Lull  remains  long after  the
Umbrellas are put away.
Sunshine gives the world a magnificent
Illusion, and then takes back the
Object of affection, without ever
Noticing the pot of gold along the way.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Pariah; Reclusively, Exclusively Adored”

Perhaps the signs were too carefully hidden to detect.
An allegory of all wrongs and no
Rights. There can never be a clear winner
In a race that is unending.
As the certain course quickly transforms
Herself from a simple loop to a labyrinth, its walls

Ravaged by climbing, clinging,
Ever encroaching vines. The
Cobblestones underfoot attempt to gain the
Lead, escaping the entanglement that
Undermines the order that once resided there,
Substituting chaos for conformity.
In the center of the maze exists the one you
Value and convinced yourself was worth the having.
Everyone imagines the magic
Lea within this secret place.
You will have no

Elysian fields to explore.  Imploring
X-ray vision could not
Capture the thoughts
Lining the vast corridors of your mind.
Unhampered by any
Suspicions that your true
Intentions will ever be revealed. They are
Veiled beneath layers of
Enigma, carefully placed to keep any ray of
Light from ever entering
Your secret garden, which lies within the mind.

A screeching succubus or a singing seraphim?  It makes no
Difference to you.  Devil
Or angel, either suits and serves you well.
Recognizing the possibilities in
Each, you make your
Decision quickly, but without haste…The lady and the tiger.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

“Happiness Grown…Or Found?”

Having long since determined that
All harbingers of joy are fallible, and the
Pursuit of happiness – a fool’s chore, one
Presses onward determined, through an
Innocent and honest path,
Naive and uncluttered by the
Ever swirling changes a
Suspicious mind has to offer.  The
Swagger of the pretentious prideful,

Green with envy and seething with a
Rage untethered.
Only the fools count each
Wayward soul as a loss, for
Never shall it give up

On the pursuit  – the
Race wherein the winner most often takes a

Fall.  Failure is not an
Option to be explored
Until every other avenue is exhausted.
No stone will  be left unturned, and the
Determination to reach the next stop never disappears.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

“Always The Spider, Never The Fly”

A swift and simple
Lesson, rarely taught,
Which is never truly learned.
An illusion, the encouraging image of
Yourself simply refuses to
See or believe.

There are several paths that may lead one
Here, as they ever so carefully (or not)
Enter into an agreement with the very center of their

Soul.  Truly, they seek only the false sense of
Protection they assume
It will bring in spades.  To
Deliver them not from
Evil but from the
Recurring, constantly tortuous

Nightmare that is the pain of an
Endlessly broken spirit, and heart.  A
Vacuum within the soul is better than an
Emotional flooding of the mind; its seas stormy with nary a
Raft in sight.

There comes a moment,
However, when even the web of promised protection’s
Entanglement cannot keep away.

For eventually therein spiders recall
Life is nothingness without the sustenance of the fly and
Yearning for that lost bounty, they tumble from the web, to die
___________________________________________________________________________________________

“Remember”

Remember why this brilliant picture almost always voices
Your secret smile with our velvet universe of darkness
When perhaps once there we embraced and I listened to
You ask about Love after the haunting ghost — less peaceful
Than wild magic devouring deep lies — he will have if his
Selfish use like vast webs could pick them —
A picture she soon misses the laughter — no kiss is as good
At bringing sad eyes from their longing —
Which see a handsome boy…
Not a fresh fool

_______________________________________________________________________________________

“Something Just Did Not Add Up” (A Secret)

Seeing the evidence there, before her
On the page, she shook as every
Moment spent between them,
Each escape into
That precious, quiet place once
Held deep within and
In the kindest of ways
Now, instantly felt hollow and that, like
Glass- was ready to shatter

Jest, not jive was the word for the previously
Unseen and unknown extent of the
Staggering falsehoods
That formed the rapidly

Decaying foundation on which she,
In the throes of the ever so
Dangerous state of content once stood.

Now, she could feel that floor crumble, the
Old beliefs breaking apart into a
Torrent of new found lies,

And memory stealing, unyielding
Deceits; the splinters gouging
Deep wounds into the flesh and

Unto the spirit.   No other was like her, for
Presently, she was the other.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Silver Shoes – Not Ruby Slippers”

Step by step, moving closer to the nothingness you
Intend on allowing to envelope and embrace you; while
Longing to fear the same said – and so your imagination
Vies for the chance to send you somewhere under and
Ever lower than that eternally fabled, wonderfully radiant
Rainbow. Awaiting your fears is an exquisite, infinite

Silence, looked upon only by Helios, the very sun
Himself. The fraud of the wizard is discovered – but
Only when the adoring masses set aside their
Emerald glasses to take up rosy lenses that are
Shining with the hopes of gazing upon a dazzling

New world. The true danger lies in the moment between, wherein
One’s eyes are laid bare, to truly see. Free to gaze upon all of
The timeworn facades, highlighted by the rotting

Rust covered gutters, the battered shutters grasping the
Undersides of long forgotten eaves of collapsing
Buildings. Beyond lies the webs of awkward cobblestone; and
Yellow, fading lines are merely suggestions, the remaining

Specters acknowledging where the yellow brick road once
Lay. Call upon the scarecrow, he has the brains to
Investigate the destruction and fallacy. The man of tin
Puts his heart and soul into pulling the puzzle
Pieces back together with the aid of the
Ever nervous but brave king of the Technicolor forest.
Remember, though you see the film in the real world, you
Should read the book- the book is usually better.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

“Only Make Believe”

I could make believe
that I still listen –
begin deep meditation
on
how soon we will feel
good –
positive –
safe –
new –
free –
but then there would just be more…
DOUBT

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Choice”

remember this choice, gentle friend
know why it will change you
– give no surrender –
let my compassion come close so grace can –
-inspire hope of a remedy –
… encourage warm serenity and
create some inner beauty
– almost every possible –
dream can comfort through the use of faith
a journey as profound as love
has soothed

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Dulcinea stands before you, just
Out of reach and beyond your grasp.

Never wanting to take the easiest route
Out of this self induced state of madness
The lance has never left your hand and

The steed charges ever onward at your call. The
Image before you grows more brilliant as she shines in the
Light of the illusions which you have created
To explain her continuing and unending

Absence from your arms.
Turning toward her, you smile

With a certain satisfaction because you are certain
In your belief that her eyes sparkle only for you.
No one else ever could hope or
Dare to bring her eternally blissful gaze to their heart or face.
Many have taken this route.
In seeking the dragons which keep you apart the
Lessons are lost upon you, time and again. For you
Love the portrait of perfection before you, in
Spite of the aloof stance she takes.

Freedom is the choice to make the greatest
Or most minute of errors.
Racing after her gossamer gowns and windswept

Tresses, the silence is but a matter of her game.
Having never heard the voice that within her lives you imagine
Every word that may fall from her lips to

Drip with the whispers of angels, the chorus of
Raindrops as they sing a soothing tune,
Ambrosia itself in audible form.
Getting closer still you extend a hand,
Only to find that you must get
Nearer to her and nearer
Still before you may touch her hand.

As the windmill draws more near, the
Reflection of your dreams, the sweet and
Ethereal idea which so tenderly caresses your

Gentle mind and ever so delicate heart
Only seeks to torment you further with each of her smiles.
No one may hold her, no knight, no matter how brave – for she only
Existed within the walls of your mind, and was never within reach of your arms.