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Rocket

 

hurtlingÖ.

soaringÖ.

way off in space

leaving it all behind,

but just for a while,

emptiness abounds

leaving behind the human race

useless fragments of cargo entow

as it drops - released

to the earth far below

All normal thoughts and worries,

gone for a while.

A solitary passenger

A solitary smile.

DESTINATION - UNKNOWN

Then reality returnsÖ

And all that remains,

is a burnt-out old man

in the blackened and charred husk

of a rocket that once wasÖ

his dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Partial

HERE I lay

alone without you,

confounded and empty

HERE right now

my joy stripped from me

as surely as if it was

taken with a gun

HERE I sit

and contemplate on

happier times than this

in days gone by

HERE I wonder

why the pain produces

such a numbing effect

on my brain

HERE I am,

or am I? you could

look inside me and see

my soul tormented and

ravaged as if by termites

HERE - Fragmented, and partial without you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dance Fever

 

 

and they played till the sunÖ

left them far behind. Their thoughts

on nothingÖ nothing but the next

moment. And that moment when

it came couldnít help but almost

be a disappointment because every

fraction of a second till now it seemed

was just as happy and cause for

as much exuberance as every moment

till then. This didnít matter much to

them, because they usually never gave

pause to think about such weighty

matters as that. And it would be

much the worse if they did, because

their mood might have a chance to

be dampened otherwise. Theirs

was a perfect relationship - one in

which dancing and frolicking pervaded

every pore of their being, touching

to the core of their soul

preventing them from thinking of

unhappier times or the uncertainty

of the future. Who in fact would want

to think of these things if they could avoid it?

And at night they slept, and dreamt of happiness

and holding each other in their arms, every thought

intent on making that dream a reality.

In the morning, the sun came up, and the dance began anew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Always and Whenever

 

 

A smile

you turned

you left

I knew

for this I did it all for you

of wonderful times

all gone by

always and whenever

I wonder why

time stood still

that fateful day

now I remember

I turned away

emotions of grief

agony and despair

your words to me now

linger in the air

and even though youíve hurt me

Iíll love you forever

so please remember me

always and whenever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short Stories of Time

 

 

The bell rang, the people sang.

They danced in frivolity, and drank

the night away.

Is that really what happened

grandfather?, asked the boy. Yes,

Harold it is, replied the old man

The rock tumbled to the bottom

of the lake, kicking up dirt as it struck

the bottom. The other rocks didnít

seem to notice.

The dog, the grapefruit, the octopus,

and the iguana all set out on a race. It

didnít matter who won, they were all rather

silly anyway

Real emotions tend to come out in tense situations"

the man thought, just before being eaten

by a crocodile who felt badly about it afterwards

Everyone laughed at the man who had

just made a fool of himself, little realizing

that they were hours away from becoming

fools themselves, and all the while, the

world turned as it should.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forget

 

 

Just stick me in a corner

try to pretend that Iím not there

did you forget all about me?

do you even care?

Am I a pain to look at?

Can you stand to see,

anything which vaguely reminds you of me?

Do I have some kind of disease?

one which Iíve never heard of?

should I be quarantined and kept away?

Donít try to explain it,

thereís nothing you can say

on those days that I think of you,

like yesterday and today

So just go if you want,

forever if you like.

and Iíll just stay here,

and remember our love some nights

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carnival

 

 

One day it arrived

and soon it was here.

The workers arrived, pitched their tents

and sat and waited for the rain, and thought

of better times and the travels that lay before them

The next day the rides were set up,

people paid their money, came and went.

Excitement and hubbub filled the air.

A little girl dropped her ice cream cone,

and smiled when it was replaced with a new one.

It isnít hard at all -

living in the carnival

you can see the world at minimum wage,

leave towns like turning a page

But soon it will be back again

the carnival in a caravan

You get off, and I can see

the carnival has brought you back to me.

But itís only three days of fun,

"Sorry Iíve got to run",

"You know I canít stay", as the train rides off

slowly carrying you away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Almost

 

I almost wish

that time would just stop

or slow down a bit, and let me get off

I almost wish

that every day

involved me looking at your lovely face

I almost remember

that time near December

when you kissed me, and pain disappeared

I almost want

everything Iíve got, and nothing Iím not

and to be near you, and just stop

I almost thought

that life could be fair

and then the wind picked up and changed direction

I almost was

looking forward to living

I almost had you

and now youíre gone

I almost had everything

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cycle

 

 

Out of control,

shimmering breath

tidal wave

swept over all

wearing it down again

It returns

with more intensity this time

and the ability to stop in a moment

but yet with no pause for anyone

Lashing out,

striking,

onlookers in its path are swept,

and all away,

Ö. are out of the way

Greeted by silence,

and returning to its roots,

retreating,

until momentary collapse

Ending,

but not stopping

waiting for the time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes

 

 

 

Sometimes in the stillness of the night you..

can almost hear yourself think.

The darkness envelopes you and the day comes toÖ

a sense of closureÖ

Sometimes I dream and Iím not here at all. WhatísÖ

going on? Confusion takes hold. The unreal becomes

real. Simple explanation are given for things andÖ

are believed to be true. Boundaries are undefined

Sometimes I donít want to move at all. Stillness

is the mode of choice. The void of sound is

heard as loud as the flicker of a candle. The

wind breaks the silence, and is heard as an explosionÖ

of gunfire butÖ.movement continues on unhindered

Sometimes everything happens at once. The catonic

state of things takes on ridiculous proportionsÖ

The complexity of the situation becomes a massive

Neanderthal. Massive, but slow of thought. Given

a task he may reach it in time orÖ.it may engulf

him as he will have to evolve into something that canÖ

grasp the fullness of the moment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trembling

 

When I think of you I dream in black and white

you have drained all the color from me.

I reach out and grasp what is not there

and remember that which does not exist any more.

I sent my love to you, and it came back

stamped "return to sender".

I donít know what is real anymore

I only know you.

Fading and distant memories

are all the more sad when they are all

you have to hold on to.

That hold is loosened more and more each day.

Why have you put up the Great Wall of China

between us?

Is there any chance of immigration?

Iím sorry I forgot my passport.

Love like steam dissolved and through it

the sun shone down brightly.

Brightly on me and even to

the dark place that you used to occupy in my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Half-Smile

 

Do you like it where you are?

does he keep you safe and warm?

is he the sunshine of your life...

when he holds you in his arm?

and have you forgotten about me?

and everything I am?

and about the way I love you...

whenever I can.

time was something I never thought about

until you broke me in two when you said "so long"

and before I knew it, my life with you was over

and all of my precious time.... was gone

I remember when you walked away

the last thing I saw was your back

and all the love I gave to you

you let fall away into a crack

If you ever have another cold lonely night

try to remember this as sort of a guide

to look beyond the wall you have put up

because Iíll be waiting on the other side

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

didnít you always think

that tomorrow would never come?

didnít you always want to be

shining in the sun?

Well now itís tomorrow

and what are you gonna do?

And if tomorrow is only a day away,

what happens the day after that?

Youíve got bags to pack

and no time to waste

And the world is waiting for you - pretty face

because I know they want to see

you waste - away

Well now itís yesterday

and you want me to stay away

and tomorrow seems so far that way

And if yesterday is only a day away,

then what happens the day after that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The waves washed up,

lapping away the shore.

I was laughing,

and you were standing there

- looking beautiful in the sand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wasted

In a moribund apartment, in a place

noticed by few, and admired by less.

An old man sat wasting away, drinking beer,

and coddling his favorite and only armchair.

Drinking was his only vice, and virtue abandoned

him long ago leaving him with nothing to do

but sit, eat his retirement money, and

wait for the end. Heíd stopped fearing it,

there couldnít be much more for him to fear

in his life. With happiness only a word and

a memory to him, he could either ignore

it or reach for it, and reaching for him was

getting harder to do these days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gone Fishing

The line left dangling

he took the bait and ran with it

Pulled up out of the water into an unfamiliar environment

the hook was wrapped in his mouth

- unable to breath or speak

Not what the fisherman was looking for

-back you go - after the hook is ripped out

And so the fish was thrown back

into the water

dangling and bleeding

but alive

And what does it matter?

After all,

thereís plenty of other fish in the sea

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Child

The child awoke

and began to cry

tears streamed down

his baby blue eyes

not knowing that one day he would grow old...

and soon to die

The boy awoke

and began to cry

he just discovered

his grandfather died

but he wanted to live

and to breathe

and a twinkle appeared in those bright blue eyes

The youth awoke

and began to think

he wondered about the price of mink

his girlfriend wanted one, and she must have it

she was beautiful, (but no Jessica Rabbit)

The man was now old

no longer a youth

heíd gone bankrupt -

a tax dispute

Whatís to become of me?

he wondered

and those old blue eyes lost some luster

The grandfather was dying in his bed

a feather pillow aside his head

the light in the room became shaded

as those bright blue eyes sparkled, closed

....then faded

and the child slept

 

 

 

 

 

Ramblings on a Sunny Afternoon

Outside

Inside

Itís all the same

Step outside

take a walk

who will walk with you?

Itís sunny

Itís warm

the sidewalk stretches on forever

you reach up

almost touch the sky

fingers outstretched

and then down again

Turn around

watch the squirrels run

but where do they run to?

It becomes dark- the sun leaves

The rain comes down

Back inside again

Outside

Inside

Itís all the same (all in one day)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About Face

Keep it in a box,

or in a public place

Be careful, indiscretion

is an invention

that only you can face

And if your face

has two faces

then what are you to do?

I suppose itís easier when crossing the street

you can always look both ways

and when pouring yourself

a cup of tea, itís never one

but two you see

Sometimes you bring it out with you

sometimes itís your favorite friend

But whether you keep it locked away

is something you try to pretend

and only you know

itís there to the end

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Courtesy of the Elevator

Oh the places you can go

inside your mind

inside your mind

leave it all behind

Just for a day

take a tour

or a walk if you like

Stripped and confused,

wandering about,

step away from it all,

let it all out

Close your eyes,

let the colors mesmerize

everything sparkles and fades

now that youíre half a world away

Wide awake and screaming

or fast asleep and dreaming?

Itís just a choice we have to make,

before you hear something break

And itís never over or is it too late?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Day in the Sun

slowing

but still spinning

still there

but you canít see it

the morning after

the waves break

the sun comes into view

people set up chairs on the beach

boats pass by

they carry off people into the distance

in for a swim people go

others try to catch a tan on the shore

the salt water is uninhabitable by fresh water animals

hours later

a few more revolutions of the earth

the sand dissapears

and the people in the ice can catch the suns rays

and they rejoice

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Permanent Transitory Nothingness

Looking back, a heart attack

fenced in sideways, with nowhere to run

The giant waterbug comes over to help you out

But heís not real, all I do is steal,

and run away from the monsters in my closet,

who are making friends with my skeletons.

The rain outside is pouring down,

the cats and dogs they fell on me.

Iím not confused, Iím just easily amused,

just close my eyes and let me see.

Come back for the truck that came to pick you up,

and leave all of this behind.

You make friends with the sandman in his

sandcastle, and the ocean washes up - it wants to play too.

Wake up to find that your bed has been repossessed,

seems some folks in Missouri want to sleep too.

Catch a falling star, and it burns right through you,

thats okay you only need one hand to hold your face with.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me

Together it seems,

is only a dream

that I dreamed long ago (when I could dream)

Vibrations of sound

and fluid motion

flow through this dream,

and are quickly forgotten

Shapes and colors

twist and turn

reminding me of the one

for whom I used to yearn

Memories flicker like lights in the distance,

standing at the train station and waiting,

for the train that will never come,

and will never take you where you want to go

Shudder at the sight and sound of another waking day

without the face that seems distant and far away

I used to remember how to dream,

I used to remember how to feel,

and I now I wake up in the morning (alone)

is it all real? (why)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pretty

Hello pretty thing

flying about in my head

Wonít you come visit me?

lying in bed

Are you for real?

Or are you pretend?

Does it all matter in the end?

Pretty thing with a pretty face,

golden hair dancing into place

Please wonít you be mine,

for just one night

Near you the stars are out of sight

Just hold me, just talk to me, just comfort me so,

Itíll make it easier when the morning hours come....and you go

I donít want to hurt you,

but Iím afraid I might hurt you

I donít want to hurt you,

but Iím afraid I might hurt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Girl in the Window

Everyday I pass by the girl in the window,

hoping sheíll throw a smile in my direction. Her

radiant snow-white skin, and lovely face outshine

the brightest of stars. The stars are far away,

but she is oh so close. I long to be near her,

and feel the warmth of her embrace.

She seems familiar, but if she knew me

she gives no sign of remembrance. All this

along my way, I leave return to life, and toil

at my work. Every day the same, not a glance

in my direction, just a girl who doesnít know me,

and a smile that could melt butter. Other men

come to see her, and her happiness is almost

too much for me to bear. I suppose Iím jealous,

but jealous of what? I donít know her, I only

know what I see, or at least what Iím allowed

to see through the window. I canít get too close,

or else she would see me watching. She smiles

through the glass, and that smile rips a hole

in my heart, in my soul, and brings me more warmth

than anything I have ever known. If only the smile

was for me, but it is not, and time passes. The girl

doesnít come to the window anymore, and the house

becomes a dark place. The window is boarded up,

and a for sale sign put up, and she is gone. Never

to return. But I will always carry her smile

around with me in my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bath Tub Curtain

 

Tired one night,

a shower would be nice

Behind the curtain,

cold as ice.

Lock me in, and keep me safe

Forget about everything else.

and watch the water dripping

its held in place by the shower curtaining

I know thereís a world out there somewhere,

But right now,

I can see nothing but a green sheet.

Me and nothing else.

And then it parts,

Iím out there somewhere

in the world again.

And Iím not held safe anymore,

by the bath tub curtain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapstick

I skate along in the winter chill,

and its freezing out here,

and quiet

and still.

My face is fractured swollen red from the cold

Numbly I move along

Without thinking, I blindly stumble inside

An almost involuntary action

I reach inside the cleft of my left pocket

and pull it out

and there it is still

The chapstick, my chapstick, to cure all ills.

After smoothing it on, the world seems much brighter

the snow outside becomes lighter and lighter

and the chapstick goes back in my pocket,

where it came from.

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Telephone

Sitting all alone,

waiting for you to call me,

but nobodyís home.

I canít hear you.

Why donít you just pick up the phone?

Itís so cold outside,

Itís so dark inside,

Iím along for the ride.

..............................

I walk into the other room,

but not the other side.

I can almost hear your voice now,

breaking through to me.

I can almost hear you telling me,

what you want to see.

Maybe Iíll just go away,

and leave all my troubles to yesterday

everything seems so far away......

As I pick up the phone.....

and dial....

and listen.......

to the silence......

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bottle

wrapped away in a corner

hidden somewhere gone.

Itís always interesting

to find out that youíre wrong.

Do or do not do,

they say there is no try

Somethings always missing,

and you never find out why.

All baked, and caked, and out of place

Out of sync, out of time, in outer space

Donít you know?

Donít you see?

Is it something you would rather be?

But itís out there somewhere.

Maybe hiding in a corner.

All round and about,

and waiting for another.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Fruit Basket

People are together all over the world,

but some others want to fight.

They just donít realize the truth,

they havenít seen the light.

Some people look different,

Some people look the same.

But God knows and loves all of us,

he calls us by our name.

Thereís so little precious time in this life,

that we have to hate one another.

So letís spend that time instead

on loving each other.

With God in our hearts,

he can cut away sin at its root.

Because he loves us all,

- his precious little baskets of fruit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Upstairs

I lie awake upstairs on the floor thinking about you,

and you are asleep maybe, dreaming about who knows what.

Are you really this close to me?

Did we really just kiss thirty minutes ago?

Will I really awake in the morning and see you downstairs?

Or is this all some kind of crazy good dream -

the kind that once you have, you spend the rest

of your life trying to remember exactly what was

in that dream.

And trying to have that dream again.

Do I have to go home?

Canít I just live in this dream?

Nearby you forever?

You engulf my thoughts in a great gulf,

that is not so far as it once was.

The darkness brings us closer together

in my mind because in the dark you canít

tell where anything is.

But I know where you are.

And I love every bit of you.

My radiant beauty, do you not glow in the dark?

Will the morning never come?

Will you be there when it does?

good night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Through love and hate

and peace and war

I love you now,

more than ever before

your face, oh your face

I see it with me

wherever I go

I carry it around

at a distance

Does anyone know?

It haunts my soul to love you

It tries to tell me there is a different answer

and sometimes I believe it

Iím scared of the future,

and I embrace the past

in a celebration of what was not meant to last

of what never could be

Where is that perfect world?

That piece of you that exists inside of me?

These shadows that follow me,

with no body attached.

Why wonít they leave?

The stillness is not broken

but my silence is broken

Spinning, and spinning, and spinning

in great revolutions

your memory orbits about me

Sometimes the cycles are very long

I donít understand your frequency

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sleeping Beauty

Chilled hands and face

look up at me

Pleading for the help that

I cannot give.

Sadness in her eyes

a metaphor falls from her lips

and sings her softly to sleep.

Quietly

in the cold of the night

until all is still.

The moon hugs her very essence

the frost worships her being

the air moves about her with care

in deference to her beauty.

Even her shadow watches her in wonder

and the racoons stop their forraging for a moment

as she slips away

and is gone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry

Words are my paintbrush

The world is my canvas

I stretch my fingers out and encompass everything I can imagine

But what to touch?

what to feel?

what to paint?

what to immortalize?

What lofty subject of the earth

could be brought down to our understanding

by the mere description of it in words?

The snow falls,

but is it truly felt,

is it truly understood?

Can we really understand anything?

"Look at that"

they say

"Itís lovely isnít it?"

And indeed it is.

But therein lies the problem

how to address in a few simple paragraphs

a few twists of the hand, a few sentences strung together,

no matter how carefully

a subject of your work, your art, your description

that has existed until now

without any help from you.

How indeed.

Reach out,

and absorb it with every core of your being

find out what holds it together

what tears it apart

and write about it.

Give it life.

And when you are finished

a work stands alone, apart from you

a finished, complete thought

Itís lovely isnít it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry flows out of a troubled soul

like water from a sieve

pure, twisting, and violent

an unrelenting source

of pure passion

but sometimes it trickles

out of the imagination

from where dreams come

and love and beauty intertwine

And when it is stanched

and dried up and twisted

and barren

itís all the more wonderful

when it bursts forth free again

and colors spring out

all manner of reds, and greens

all shapes and sounds

of reeds twisting in the wind

of herons standing on one leg in the marsh

 

 

 

 

 

 

Times and Places never gone

Now youíre here

Goodbye so long

When I stayed I was far far away

Now that Iím gone I think about yesterday

I think about yesterday every day until the day goes by

I donít stop to think if I did Iíd cry

Just move along and let the tide go by

And all the pain will keep you inside

What will the future bring?

Are you gonna buy me a diamond ring

Are you ever gonna listen to me sing

If you donít pay attention then nothing means anything

Nothing means anything anymore

Youíve shut me out of a locked door

Not a scream not a cry

Just a whisper and goodbye

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tea for Two

It would be nice

That would be just fine

If you were here

And we could dine

A table reserved

With two seats Ė just two

One for me

And the other for you

What would we talk about?

What would we do?

While weíre waiting for dinner

How bout tea for two?

You look lovely tonight

Just like a book

Whose pages contain thousands of words

And each word worth a look

Numerous words and phrases ran through my head

As you smiled, looked at me, and said

"Thanks for a wonderful evening, maybe we can do it again sometime?"

"Again sometime? Yes, that would be nice, that would be just fine"

An overt gesture, a smile or two

The evening over

Nothing left to do

Except sit and finish drinking our tea for two