Whispered Words of Wisdom

I was keenly reminded tonight,
put straight, set oh so clear-

And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be

For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be

The Last Word was proffered
and you snatched it down.
Little else in the end really mattered.

For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be

Offerings were tendered, every resistance appeased.
Penitence in full, all your pious color replaced,
your palette as it was.

Let it be

Sustenance

I feel the primitive of you in my cells,
the untamable, wary, wild,
coursing over the edges and the rules,
teasing, purring, coaxing.

You loosen the tongue of my heart,
the root of my animus,
the grip I hold on tomorrow.

I feel the essence of you
threading the veins
that feed the nexus of my pen,
a marrow, sweet with light
a sustenance
that can fill the blackest shadow's chill,
that may counter my past's most cynical lies.

 

Two Old Geese

She sat - certain,
in control of the moment,
clutching her bag.

He of the pair
sat quietly - pert
attentive to her every move,
a stoic man with bone white hair
and cheeks of high pink.

Ancient doves - they,
pecking, looking after the other,
love in each glance of flutter and concern.

She sat - gathering her wool,
spinning tales of old travels
when airlines catered, fluffed, and filled your glass.

He held her hand with a gentle ferocity
as she patted his knee.
At eighty-seven and -nine it’s important
to hold hands and knees.

Old geese preening,
gaggling, clucking,
quite done with flying alone.

A Wistful Breath of Thought

Infinite fingers,
reaching through the fibers,
a wet communication,
broadcast on physical ether.
Touching one another,
ink to substrate,
spreading fiber to pixel.
flooding
the page in chromatic dream.

Our nature,
the least resistance,
Sea’s salacious secrets,
Sky’s delicious nectar,
a circuitry infection
rising through the night,
suspended…
released in a wistful breath of thought.

 

Ukraine

Everything is trembling
wounded spirits,
a shivering flag.
Democratic courage on the line.

The usurpers, invaders,
stab the borders, hungry
to press the jackboot again.

Something primal wants to rise,
to say not this time,
NO MORE!

 

 

Last Touch

You lingered one more moment,
then another,
until - as skin left skin,
touch left our primal forests of self,
released,
sliding, brooms franticly sweeping
easing the way,
curled back into the atmosphere of chance.

“Ohhhh!”, the crowd groans.
Not this time it seems.
No seven nor eleven.
No Red, Odd, or 22.
No O-69
No checkmate,
No Yahtzee!
No King Me!
Just another Craps.
Do not pass Go!

Poised

Amidst a reverence of violets,
or a choir of daffodils
I saw you in the shadows,
smiling back.

Between the whisper of nordic roses,
the high fives of sunflowers,
the limp stems of pansies,
the scream of zenias,
I saw the your spirit,
the joy behind your words.

I walked amongst the orchards,
orange blossoms pungent,
a sky so storybook blue,
and I remembered the maple,
how it oozed behind the bark.

I lifted a daisy,
from this fallow spring field,
white petals fragile,
a golden center of butter,
poised…

Maximus

I stood meters from your door,
a stander on the walk.
You passed me in flurry,
no recognition,
no notice,
no, how do you frackin do!

Off you go then,
huffing the blocks to your work,
working up a lather - some say,
pushing the gluteus of the maximus,
rack swinging
in sync lest you be late.

I stood meters from your passing,
a bystander near the door,
lost in my phone
as you whizzed me in a flurry,
anxious for tea,
to be warm,
to be set with your maximus again.

I said HEY! Got a light sweetheart?
You peed and then you cried.

I never got the light.
I've since Googled "maybe".
I've since Goolgled "It's complicated"
I’ve since Googled ‘'Depends"’.

Eels

Eels

Kneeling -
I don’t blame you
though I do.

Reeling -
lost
careening from the centerline

Ceilings -
No one left to torture,
my heart beneath my knees.

Dealing -
blisters of your silence
open, seeping, such polite quiet wounds.

Concealing -
my engines,
the thrust of this mighty purr.

Eels
slippery,
voracious - electric.

Peeling -
words from their husk,
pledges discarded in your dust.