Let me tell you about the sun and the moon.
He falls everyday to see her rise,
And craves the sight of her sparkling eyes.
She prays for him to pass by soon
They share a love the stars despise.
Her shimmering glow,
And his glorious heat.
Never has been found a love as sweet.
With each gentle kiss their feelings will grow.
Within the darkness they arrange to meet.
He’ll see her face with each coming night.
Behind her smile is a glint of charm;
Under his protection she’ll endure no harm.
He is the source of her undying light.
Awaiting the day they’ll be arm in arm.
I wish I could meet and talk with you,
To see your faces, to see your children,
To drink with you, have coffee or wine.
What is your story? Where were you born?
What is your star? What is your compass?
I'd like to see your bedroom, your favorite book.
Do you have a favorite shirt? Where have you traveled?
What are your secret fears, your gnawing fears?
Would you rather be elsewhere? I'd like to see
Your face when you're near your mother, your father,
Your wife, your husband, your devoted dog,
Your gestures, the glint in your eye, your smile.
It would be nice to see you with a coffee cup
When a lake or the grass or a tree is waking,
Or when a car is clearing its throat on a winter morning,
Or when a few birds dart past your window,
Or when the first snowfall of the year comes
And children are up to their usual mischief.
Does something pierce your heart? What happened, my friend?
Is that why I woke up sad this morning?
It's just that you and I will die someday...
It's just that I cannot survive without you:
You made my shoes somewhere far away;
It took your knowledge, your effort, your time;
You designed my apartment, my building, the room
Is warm, the window shields me from the elements,
The shower works, the toilet works because of you.
You wove my shirts or you built the machines that weave;
I know nothing of electricity, yet there it is;
I know nothing of computer mechanics, yet the computer
Works beautifully, smoothly, and you fix them too;
I cook, but I don't grow my food, it comes from
You who packaged it, who grew it in a farm.
The apples are crisp and sweet thanks to you;
My body is comfortable and warm thanks to you;
The water is clear or nearly clear thanks to you;
I have a water purifying system thanks to you.
I learned some things, but millions of brains, your brains
Learned and learned, my friends, things I don't know.
It would have been damned hard to smell the roses,
It would have been damned hard to soak in birds' song,
The symphony of stars, my lover's eyes,
Without your effort, your discoveries, medicine.
In another century, I'd have died in infancy perhaps,
And varied experiences would not have smiled on me,
Would not have set on tables their bowls of fruit.
I would never have seen the Taj Mahal, the Eiffel Tower,
The beautiful souls I met in other countries,
Without you, the builders, the designers.
And you, mother, you decided to have me...
The dawn with its vast poetic speech,
The glassy lake with its articulate silence,
My lover now who comforts and cooks for me,
Who waters a flower I never knew I had
Before I met her, were made available to me
Because of your decision and your care.
You were especially careful in what you ate
When dawn and dusk were still concealed.
When I was out screaming in the crib,
How many peaceful nights were denied you?
Every few hours witnessed you
In my room, changing diapers, giving milk.
You sheltered me, bought clothing, and for a while
I was your world, your dawn, your night, you scarcely knew another,
And your love would not be overcome, sweet mother.
While I grew and grew inviting as many troubles
As a clear summer night does the stars,
You extricated me, you'd always come;
For all your anger, your love was not overcome.
For every shadow you may have cast
Where lines of irritating ants crawled like redundant arguments,
You shone ten beams or kindnesses,
You showed me God knows how many gardens.
For a few years the winters had claimed you,
You woke up to a twilight wind, bony fingers of bush
Scratching the kitchen window. You went to a job
You could scarcely tolerate, the place was far away,
And at the time I didn't know or care to know
Of your anxieties and dissatisfactions,
Though shuffling your cards as you did
In the wan light of the kitchen made me suspect...
I remember the evenings when you'd come
With your burden, yet your love was not overcome...
You did this when I thought I had problems,
When I was snubbed by a girl or dejected
By the fact a girl lived too far away,
Dejected because of some low test scores,
Because I thought the pimples drove the girls away.
You did it when I was convinced of my cleverness,
When I was convinced I understood the world
In a way that you and father hadn't.
How many meals of yours had I not savored,
The ingredients of which you bought?
How many times did I find clean shirts, underwear,
A clean room and thought it was my due,
While sometimes, to my friends, I criticized you?
Father, yours was a tougher kind of love...
It was a love in which doubt played a part.
You doubted my abilities, you doubted my strength.
You thought my mother's love was sending me to the grave.
Pillows and feathers couldn't teach me to be brave.
I was too self-enclosed, and you were right...
It may be you never supported my passion,
Yet each denial or doubt made me stronger,
Each harsh word, really, gave birth to a bird
That would skirt the bright blue with poetic speech.
I complained that you never understood.
Yet I never understood you, I just thought I did.
From a comfortable room I sifted through
Your stories, thinking stories make the man,
Thinking descriptions are reality,
As if the word "rose" is in fact the rose,
As if the word "dawn" can help one drink the dawn.
And what could I really know of grinding it out
In post World War Two Russia, shifting about?
You had supporters, but you were hurt too.
You got to know anxiety a little too well.
But I, being the conceited child, thought:
Aha! But I would have done otherwise!
Where comforts abound, a fanciful Otherwise
Gets bloated, ingratitude assuming a spider's eyes.
You - you took me traveling, I remember France
Most vividly: we descended the building's quiet stairs,
The lobby carpet conveying a musty smell,
Strangely endearing, and crossed where the light had fell
Like a geometric dream, walking out to the song of birds,
To leaping architecture and buzzing cars,
As though we may have been Adam's first words.
We took a taxi to Paris' heart,
To a street where bold awnings were, tinkling glasses,
Rippling words, waiters shuffling to and fro,
Where linear lawns dreamt manes of grasses,
And tourists were taking photos or on the go.
We had brunch, crossed a bridge: All was wonder...
The blue trance of sky served sun of elation,
Served sweetness, delicious disorientation,
As we walked, radiating the city's heart,
Toward the Louvre museum, royalty of art.
The spirits of gods congregated there.
The walls unfurled heavens of the ages,
The sufferings, visions of seers and sages,
And I nearly swooned in the rarefied air...
When we passed lawns dreaming manes of grasses,
Returned to the apartment for a while,
When I saw your nod and approving smile,
And you began preparing for your master classes,
Playing Bach slowly, sweetly on the violin,
My calling whispered to me from within...
Father, though much those few days had unfurled,
It didn't yet hit me, it didn't yet hit me
It was thanks to you I was shown a world...
What is this feeling? Is it embarrassment? Shame?
To think of my fellow beings who taught me languages,
To think of all the teachers I had who gave their time,
To think I was difficult and I scoffed,
To think I regarded affection and comfort as just my due,
To think how many unknown fellow beings
Nurtured me, enriched me, helped me to survive...
The sun is setting, and for a moment it stares...
A few petals swirled on a winding trail
With a creaking gate, are the thoughts of twilight...
How much have I given back? I have complained,
I have judged, but how much was given back?
I had a dream the other night
For people like me, dreams are nonexistent
We never sleep, so we never dream but I was so tired
I had been around the world more than hundred times that day
My body was drained of energy
So I fell asleep, and well, dreamed
The rain has finally let up, clouds begin to clear
Rays of light soon peeked out from behind
Trees surround the walking paths, grass covers patches of land
I take a seat right next to a fountain
Mist attacks the pores of my skin
My fingers graze against the slight sheen
Just as I am about to turn around, let the water hit my face
A woman appears next to me
She wears a red scarf with a bright, yellow coat
It sort of screams McDonald’s
But when her elegant, innocent face with big blue eyes and brown hair
Turn to me, Mickey D’s is the last thing on my mind
A soft smile graces her lips and I return it hesitantly
Not sure why she is here, or what’s going on
Do you come here often?
She asks and I almost laugh at the pick-up line used by so many
But those eyes and that innocent expression refrain me from doing so
Um no, I don’t even know where I’m at
I reply honestly, because I don’t remember this place
There are so many; I can never keep track
That’s a shame
I love coming here
There’s a silence here, not many places have that
Silence, something I rarely hear
But it encompasses this entire area
I notice it then, we’re the only ones here
The thought vanishes when she speaks again
So why are you here?
I stare at her then look all around me
Tall and lean trees surround the vicinity
Encroaching on the small stone trails
Sunlight blotches in thin lines between leaves
Green, plush grass covers the land between paths
The soft water of the fountain can be heard and small chirping sounds emerge
I begin to relax, let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding
I needed a break
She nods her head and doesn’t ask why
Something I’m grateful for
Instead she says
I know what you mean
Someplace to catch your breath
Find a moment of peace
When she says it, it hits me square in the face
Peace, that’s what I needed
I nod my head once, indicating I understood her
You can’t stay for very long, can you?
I shake my head no
That’s what I thought
Don’t you ever just want to settle down?
I look at her—this girl, this woman, this stranger
Who reads me like a book
Turns every page and reads every line
And finds all the secrets hidden inside
I wish it were that simple
I say looking down the shady path
Well, I have to be off
She says as she rises and rearranges her scarf
I grab her wrist, signaling her to wait
Where are you going?
I ask looking up with an expression that surely reads displeasure
She smiles with a teasing glint in her eye and takes my hand
Come on, you can walk me out
I follow like a man in a daze
Her hand warm in mine
I glance down at her and realize how much taller I am
She’s so petite but so breathtaking
What’s your name?
I have to know that at least
Her lips turn up slightly and the glint returns to her blue orbs
We reach the end of the path
Where the trees widen
Into an open area
Full of grass, knee high
But I see it, in a distance, another trail, as trees part for its way
One, I assume she is going to get on
Well, here we are
It was a pleasure
She states facing me
I look down at her
At a loss for words
I stare at her in discontentment, not knowing why this has to end
I don’t want to say goodbye
She smiles wider this time and reaches up to touch my cheek
Oh how different you are
I almost forget to breathe
Emotions swirling around me
Captivating my body
I blink to regain some motion
And she’s gone
I look around frantically
Searching for her
Then I catch sight of her
Across the way on the other path
Waving in yellow and red
I attempt to run to her
But my feet don’t move
I look down and see them fading
Before I know it, the sun becomes cloudy, trees blur and vanish
And I wake up feeling a loss like none other
I had lost time, during the dream that night
But I knew, those hours, those minutes of peace
Were worth it, even for just a moment
Then I remembered, I did know her
I try to stop by every chance I get
Just to look at her, make sure she’s okay
Even though she sees right through me
Her innocent charm, her wonderful personality
Of course, it would only be her
Growing up, you wanted to be a princess. But you wanted to be your own hero. Insisting all you needed was a bit of love
They say, "No, a princess cannot wear a crown and suit"
Handed dolls, cars taken away
They say, "Oh, that's so gay!"
They say, "Hey, tranny"
They say, "What a fag"
They say to grow up. Be a lady. Get some manners; grow a pair
But then you do, and they stare. Bonded with tape; compressed, hidden away from sight
Tucked away in your pocket. Except that pocket is your skin, your bones
If you are one of us, then do this. But you cannot. There is not enough testosterone; not enough muscle
So they laugh. Say you are weak, and a liar
This is a phase. You will regret it. It is simply not possible
Zachary does not exist. He is not real. You are just young
You do not know
You are a female. Despite your protests, they insist anyway
They say, "Have you seen it? Is it a boy or a girl? Is it gay or straight? It's an it. An it. It's a monster."
They say, "I bet I can make you straight" with their glint in their eyes, that have already lowered you, to that of dirt. And then, when you get hurt, it's your fault. For tempting them, for being yourself, not
You are nothing
You will get hurt. And they are right They do not lie, but they are dishonest
Whispers pass you. Pointing from children, and mothers shielding their eyes
"Don't look at that, it'll make you sick"
Adults of authority, giggling and taunting
Hushing each other, to no avail
Putting you in classes where you don't belong
Making you cry, when they do not listen
The urge to scream, "I am human, too. I deserve comfort"
Anxious to speak up, fear of being dismissed
People misgender you
Call you a girl, if you are a boy
And vise versa
Call you sir or ma'am, when you are neither, or both
You are afraid to speak up. Say, "No, that is not me"
Parents who don't understand. They all begin that way
Not believing, and blaming themselves
Zachary is here, standing on his toes
To be seen
To be acknowledged
No longer a scab you feel the urge to pick;
No longer skin you feel the urge to tear
Zachary is here
He has always been here
He is not an it
Mirrored concrete, no details,
Drops of rain, carried in trails,
Of footsteps, of therapy, in a retail
Disguise, while eyes of well dressed
Crows, glint with the glitter of the decor,
Shop for more, shop for more, evermore,
Evermore, for tomorrow it may be gone.
But sharing, for I need a community, I have a home, I have a family, I have words, are they birds and take flight or rocks and take a different path, or just hot air balloons, destined for the moon?
No one likes an ending,
but without an ending how
can you call a beginning a beginning?
There is no birth
without the shadow of death
nor death without remembrance of the beginning.
To remember is to forget,
and vice versa,
for no detail is spared but at the expense of another,
the glint of an ending reflecting a beginning.
And sometimes we can't predict
what beginning we'll see,
thrown back at us in those last seconds,
be it shadow or reflection or a scene in our mind's eye,
so when the nights are too short
and the days ahead longer than we can know,
beginnings fade to endings
through darkness and light,
and sleep is the title
which comes before the beginning.
silken honey dew essence ,
natural bioluminescence , Aura pulsates in time to the flowing blood veins ,
fingertip lips taste like lightning just before it flicks the ground with his forked tongue -
stomach tingle , heart dip , drop.
lose it all , lose it again -
transfer the same -
enlarge the plane,
feel the vibrations of: never the same , again. Expansive minds roll on ...
Escaped moan is free, darkness turns to light.
kept between you and me.
Animal instinct , Divine instinct
carving chasms and canyons out of skin...a glint of menace and copious amounts of mischief dance in his eyes , like a snake charmer sashaying the imaginary into existence.
the space dew tastes....like raspberry Champagne bubbles...
the energy flows are opening now, to handle the cosmic orgasm...
one must prepare -
an untrained mind , might combust -
or worse yet , attract the dijins for foolish endeavors into treasure map waters...
Sensi bows - game , set , match.
Practice makes Perfect..
Stone of massive solidness, shards of gemlike flint
Crystalline refractions flash in noon day's sunshine glint,
Obelisk in grasses green, immense in grey repose
Has lain in place for centuries here, how long, nobody knows.
Created in the hellfire deep and thrust up from below
Molten in its’ infant form to flow with orange glow.
To work its’ way down mountain flank to plunge to cascade’s grasp
And tumble, grinding river stone, worn smooth in torrent’s clasp.
Rolling swift in flooded flow to beach by river’s edge
With grasses green against it’s’ girth in shade of leafy hedge.
Seasons come… cold rain and snow with baking heat in summer past
Millennia doth flow on by to leave untouched this boulder, vast.
Until this day I happened by, perchance beneath a clear blue sky
To rest my bones upon this rock, remove my boot and empty sock.
Admiring, in the midday sun, the snow clad peak and river run,
In wilderness of debris strewn from high volcano past it’s noon.
To notice with discerning gaze the rock, on which I sit, is glazed
With crystals of refracting fire to capture, now, my eye entire.
What secrets lie within this stone that lies so massively, alone?
What history has passed it by beneath its centuries of sky?
What stories could this boulder tell should I remove its silent spell?
Bemused, I tie my boot and yield,this obelisk to chosen field…..
On the timeless bank of Taranaki’s wild, wild Stoney River.
25 November 2013
I begin to play
Growing tired of the shower head
I throw it away
Sitting pinned against the walls of the shower
My eyes locking on the razor
That sits there
Harmlessly on the floor
I sit there and stare at if for a good long 10 minutes
Finally making up my mind
Perking up only the slightest
Twirling the handle of the razor around
Watching the light glint off the metal
Slowly i would place it against my arm
Right below my elbow
And slowly and softly drag it down to the bottom of my wrist
And slowly drag it back up
Applying the slightest bit of pressure
Feeling the tight pulling of my skin
As the blades do as i have asked them
Shivering lightly at the sensation
Soon going still as i do it 2 more times
Dropping the razor, pretty much throwing it across the shower
Blinking several times
Looking down at my arm
Admiring the little bubbles of blood that spring to the surface
Sitting there letting the luke warm water run across my skin
Realizing just how numb I feel inside
I've walked that path
So many times
But something slows me down
When I see your eyes
A burst of light in the dark
I followed willingly
Believed in them with every ounce
Even when I felt the rigidity
Even when I found the hole in my sweater
And found your blade that held the missing yarn
Even when my heart gushed out
And I lost feeling in my arms
I believed when I felt the tape
Placed over my mouth
Cutting off my every word
Forcing my thoughts south
But still I kept them north
I kept on seeing that light
Except that was not so much a light in your eyes
As it was a glint out of spite
You turned out to be such a sadistic soul
You cut into every sweater I own
So now when I step outside
I will feel the winds harsh cold moan
I will feel that burst through that hole
Placed right on my heart
You have left a permanent reminder
I never realized you were that smart
You mastered the art of suffering
You placed it on me so well
So that we all live with your demons
And reside in our own versions of hell.