Seeing you again

Forbid me not, my dear, a moment's pause
For all my senses now are overwhelmed
My muscles won’t obey the natural laws
I’m helpless as a ship that's come un-helmed

And in this state confused I’ll make attempts
To stay my bursting heart and give a smile
Though every awful raging thought preempts
And madness boils within me all the while

This from a chance encounter with your face
Not even words -- a simple, fleeting glance
In passing in a crowded common place
A sight my heart could bear? No, not a chance.

No other heart but yours torments me so
Trust me, I've tried a hundred, so I know

7/7/2017

Frozen

The bitter wind beat red my cheeks and nose
As I stood, watching, on your step that night,
And with my skin, my feelings for you froze
My face stung from the cold, my heart, the sight.

He stroked your hair; your head was on his chest.
Four days before, ‘twas me with whom you lied.
And now those lies upon my heart depressed
Weigh more than all the helpless tears you cried.

The revelation came so fast and grave:
I'd thought -- sad fool -- that your love for me burned!
You merely loved what I, and now he, gave --
A love for you that never got returned.

The way it hurt to see you true did burn
Still, what you are was worth the sting to learn

Unwelcome

Awakened to the sound of knocking
On a Weekend morning rocking
Me from sleep, peaceful and deep,
To all my senses sudden shocking

Is it the angel Michael come
With trumpets and an army from
Heaven above, with push and shove
Exacting God's great wrath on some?

Or is it governmental bane
With bulldozers like hurricane
Tearing down wall, and waking all
Enacting imminent domain

Or woodpecker out in the sun
Enjoying his idea of fun
Pecking away, what time of day
And me without a BB gun!

Then comes the knocking as before
This time upon my chamber door
It's Mormons and, their holy band
Can't wait 'til noon?! It's 9:04.

hanging a picture

flat, solid, thin and pale
was the wall - and too, too bare
knowing my limits, i take care
to measure twice, then drive the nail

flat, solid, thin and pale
was the wall 'til this hung there
for i had thought it too unclear
that anyone resided here

I don't usually do this...but you're kind of a big deal

Inspired by a soul so warm and kind
That all the world would weep that she should frown
And every autumn breeze with her in mind
Blows only for the theme of her renown,

An artist by most generous broad call
Whose one trick always on pathos depends
Leaves comfort, better judgment, wit and all
To laud a thing that to him condescends,

But here when I have started I am stopped
Though I cite reddest rose and calmest shore
And all the sunsets with colors most pop'd
And though I heap these praises evermore,

Your grace and beauty words cannot declare
For to be near you is without compare

Growing Up

The world is white and black
Serious as a heart attack
Wrong or right
Flee or fight
Hues lack complication
.
The world is black and white and gray
Good and bad and just okay
Stand, Walk, Crawl
Laugh, Frown, Bawl
Hues have complication
.
There’s only gray - no black or white
If nothing’s wrong, nothing’s right
There is no Cold - just lack of heat
There is no Dark - just light's retreat
Hues are complication

The Greater Fool

I'm not sure what you said last night,
But I recall his name
Then thinking what you thought of me
And then some more thoughts came

Like how it's all a game to you --
A game which you are winning
By doing whatever you want
From the very beginning
Though when you win you beat your own
Brow bloody for your sinning

Never a thought for someone else
Who else even existed?
You thought of yourself, hated yourself --
Oh, how your thoughts were twisted!

But greater lunacy was mine
For doting on you still
Reasoning your insanity
Gave to me some sad thrill

If I could probe your madness,
Somehow ask you for a clue
I'd ask why your mind was so set
That I give up on you

Pisgah

I looked out
Over all I knew
And saw that which was promised

Turns out, what
I was told was true:
I'd never step upon it

As I looked down
I wondered, was
It all just smoke and mirrors?

Just for a few
Does hope pan out,
Or should we get the scissors?

Another week, still no Mona Lisa

Artifacts of a more poetic age
In my life send my heart and me reeling
Resurrected as I turn each page
From my past's soul-surplus I'm now stealing

How did I lose that wide-lensed gape
How did I become boring and stolid
My mind on things business and ape
My hands neither busy nor squalid

O for a foe whom to best
O for a maiden to rescue
No matter how trite the quest
To rip me from suburban fescue

Determinism

To think
Just being another person
Could have allowed me to keep her
But I am what I am
And she left who I was

My heart shattered at the time
And since has crumbled
And the person I've become without her
Is worse than the one she left

i quit

i find myself in new attrition
my true condition
left the fold

the lie once bought i've now resold
out from this band of thieves
i take my leave
to start something

what it is i couldn't say
if i'd've had to
before today
but now i'll take the time to know it
to really owe it

men must have a love with fury
or they in themselves do bury
truth and light
go out all night
chance replaces Surety

so i'll settle my passion

my life must be for Jesus' sake
poured out for those who need His love
and know it not

this is my lot and must be my joy
for if it isn't
life's toys revert me
to myself. and i waste away.

Two Men

When love maketh me to fear
I wonder of my soul's state
For nothing ever kept me from slumber
When I was innocent.

I know now the distress of love gone bad.
I know the trap of lust.
Yet in me is a man who longs to go back down
To the pit of hell and scrounge, with dogs, for food.

There is another man in me
But he is less decisive.
He fears the other man, you see
And fear is so divisive.

Splitting the core of all I am
These two foes lie in wait
For the battle inevitable
-Or is it?

11/2/05

Too late

Stunning, isn't it?
The way her words entomb the nearest soul
And, sad, he paces, contemplating.

Cunning, isn't she?
The way she walks around and stalks her prey
They never see her coming.

Funny, aren't we?
The way we see that which we want for what it is
After it kills us.

The rub

If my woos a girl won't chide
I'll be the thorn in her side.
What purpose serves it?
Only that she deserves it
If she won't make plain
Her view of disdain
For me.

Why can't she say it?
Why won't she relay it?
Does she enjoy confusing me?
Tacitly abusing me?
Of burning bridges is she scared?
Or is she just not prepared
To be labeled 'unkind'
Just because she won't be mine?

Here is the rub: I summoned the courage
I asked. Now discourage me.
Mock me. Deride me.
Just don't stand beside me
With coy little eyes
Flitting - you're getting
On my last nerve.
You disserve the truth.
Let it be seen!

O why can't girls just say what they mean?

the old store

how forgetful i am
of the grace in your eyes
every time i see you
it's again a surprise
your beauty won't
held captive be
in the old store
of my memory

Ghosts

I dreamed a dream, (what else could I dream?)
asleep in my nightly tradition,
when I had the distinct and exub'rant delight
to meet a long-haired apparition.

T’was a bit of a fright to be met in the night
by a man who I never have known.
But I soon would discover sans word or description
just why through my window he’d flown.

Just as my heart stilled and I was about
to ask if he came from afar,
three more ghouls flew in and brought big amplifiers,
a bass, some drums, and a guitar.

I jumped out of bed and I thought in my head
that this undead ensemble might linger
until I was audience to a concert from
this ghost trio and their lead singer.

I listened intently as this band tuned up
And then they turned to me and said,
“We hope you enjoy this medley comprised
of the best tunes by the Grateful Dead.”

When they all said goodnight and they all flew away,
The show I had seen was just monstrous.
And I’ve never again seen a concert as cool
as that ghost-band that toured my subconscious.

Love Poem

I will not write of love, for love is stale
Of poetry, the thing is not affording
But with all sober mind, here I'll regale
Your loving features with a just recording

Your heart may be more flat than tender
But your eyes make men surrender
Full and deep

We fall like sheep
In line to graze
To pine and gaze

_____________________________

Now mine own dumb stare abating
I find these things nauseating:
Your rosy cheeks
And pouting lips
Your perfect form
Your graceful hips
Your silk-like skin
And hair so wild
The way you act--
just like a child.

You are what you love

I did a study in self-loathing
Read some Milton
and some Reznor
Sat in ashes, tore my clothing
then got better.

Want someone to make you jolly?
Better look into a mirror.
It's easy to be melancholy--
just enjoy it.