And she realised
(What she should have known all along)
That her hands were not tied together - They were tied to his.
As an intriguing song
Came on the radio
And this
Girl sang and struggled
With all her might
She wondered
If there was maybe a slight
Chance she didn't mind
The tether.
In fact,
She had secured it herself.

Father's Way: Tell me a story, Dad

What power we possess,
when the innocent demand,
at the time of cozy bed and sandman,
"Tell me a story,"

To gentle the monsters
in the closet of their heads,
grant them a peace naive that's lost after
they learn the D words, disappointment, death,
Till then, promises unfettered, the best yet to come.

The story, you, grantor, they, grantees,
Scent their dreams,
perfume their dreams,
sprinkle their safety net, blanky, rag doll:
- scent with mom's hairspray and dad's special smell,
musk, balsam, gasoline and body odor

- scent with cherrywood falsehoods to caress,
till morning's burnished glory ascends,
thru window, tenderize the cheeks of my babes,
prep them for the truths to be learned that day.

In tones most imploring,
glances fawning,
tis us, they do deceive,    
for adult arrogance demands
in God we Trust, that they,
will believe our words,
will indeed, make them rest
till new day's slow and subtle dawning

Tis the same tomfoolery that leads us
to drink repeatedly from the trough of
best laid plans and self-deception

You believed your own narrative
will be the one he scripted,
while standing day-dreaming,
sweating on subway platform,
admiring beaches and beauties
from station walls lifted,
waiting for the train
that only eventually comes,

that train, that station, whose smell reminds you
of mom's hairspray and dad's special smell,
musk, balsam and motor oil, and body odor,
a cocaine reminder of dreams yet uncrystallized,
and stories your father told, unrealized,
tho train has come, they have not

Write me a narrative, Dad,
and please advise
if tinker or tailor will be my trade,
fix my details, dear pater, par example,
pick my institution of higher learning,
my future alma mater, on my day of birth,
promise me gentility, no harm no foul, mirth,
All the days of my life.

Please advise if I shall be a
wife abuser, communist, or a damn
junkie poet/user,
word rich and pocket poor,
stealing ideas from everyone,
red blooded or blue~green,
a true believer, a born again,
an agnostic, my own truths, to disabuse

tell me father, will I die warmed,
surrounded by generations of my progeny
or in pauper's grave, a life long ward of
one true mate, in loco parentis all of my days,
a child, a dependent, of noster paternal state?

Please Pop, pick wise,
the life and lies, the faces and disguises,
I will need employ to achieve success
in the eyes of my reading beholders,
who own the liens on my soul
because of the promises I believed,
when you sang me
glowing lullabies of my future days,
how everyone would love my stories,
my poems, someday...


June 11, 2011
Updated on Father's Day 2013

Last night I told the moon to send my hello to someone
The moon didn't say anything back
I told the moon to keep an eye on somebody
The moon didn't blink even
I told the moon to brighten that path
The moon seemed a little irked
I told the moon my desires
My words seemed to irk the moon even more
I told the moon
Perhaps I am no poet
I'm a songsmith
Then I huddled, abruptly
This is the account that I earned from talking to the moon
My palaver is now going nowhere
Perhaps I am no poet
I'm a songsmith
At that instant I got up
I picked up my stringed machinery
Instrument, tool, gear, whatever
I sang glancing to the moon
I told the moon many things
Only to find out the moon has no ears
Perhaps I am no poet
I'm a songsmith

I miss nights
Where the saga
Of Coheed and Cambria
Filled my head.
When my violin sang
Sweetly in tune with my mind.
Tonight, there's nothing but silence
And all my instruments are sitting
Broken.
I have no more favorite albums
To sing me
Slowly
To sleep.
All I have is me
And a couple broken strings.

Nobody knew, but you and I,
How the sun flew to the sky.

T'was long ago, but it is clear,
The memory and truth is here.

One fine night, we walked along,
We whistled and we sang our song.

     If I remember right,
     T'was always night,
          Until we finished our tune.

     And we stopped,
     The moonlight hopped,
           It led us to a pond.

     We looked and stared,
     And then it flared,
          The reflection of the moon.

     It was rising near,
     The moonlight's tear,
          'Til we took a hold of the light.

We tossed it up, into the sky,
And through the air, stars did fly.

Each night as the moon grew fuller yet,
More and more stars we did get.

     And finally, on zenith hight,
     I let out a little cry,
          T'was the beauty of a tiger's eye.

The full moon's face reflected down,
And then we heard a golden sound.

Shimmering, shining, the eye drew close,
The moon flew aside as the beauty rose.

Then suddenly, t'was in the air,
The glowing orb of shine so fair.

We stood and looked and then I said,
"What shall we call what burns overhead?"

After sitting still, and as one,
You said this: "We call it our sun."

And to this day, only we know,
How the sun came to shine and glow.

Only we can be right,
For we know how the sun met the night.

Deep in the meadow, long long ago,
I saw in a circle, a bright ring of snow.
Not snow, but the fairest, faeries they were.
Their hair light and long, with grace it would flow.
Their hair shone jet black, then a shimmering white.
It changed with the wind, and it changed with their fright.
Thirteen were dancing, their faces aglow.
They swept in a ring, round silver and light,
A song filled the air, like mist in the night.
And as I watched, the high moon slowly grew full,
They sang to their Mother, the moon did hold high.
Their sisters, the stars, twinkling burned through the sky.
Then, with a hum, their Mother did show.
The silver and light, it murmured and shook.
It took shape of a maiden, her beauty unreal.
She said to them, "Children, daughters divine,
You were born to me, and you are mine."
Then she summoned her king, the sun did appear,
Not in the sky, but there, in the clear.
The meadow was bright, suddenly filled with a radiant rain.
The sire hath come, the king of the day.
"They brothers, I summon" His voice had called out through the mist.
Owls and hawks and eagles did fly,
They changed in to men, handsome and tall.
The Faye and the birds bowed down all at once,
And sang a song of frost and snow.
The winter then came, the field filled with chill.
Then they all stood and started to dance,
With elegance and pride, they moved in a trance.
With that, the snow, it started to fall.
But this snow, it was different, unnaturally bright,
They were the stars, the sisters that once burned through the night.
They changed into women, shining and small,
They fluttered about and sang with them all.
And, thought why, I do not know,
I started to cry, and my teardrops did glow.
They suddenly turned and looked at my face,
They told me to come, to take my place.
Through the fog, I started to walk,
To the circle, to the meet.
The youngest daughter, the prettiest one,
Came to me, and started to hum.
She touched my mind, my soul and my heart.
Then she kissed me and said, "Now you're one with us."
Then she kissed me once more and I turned to a hawk,
I flew through the night, and flew through the hush.
And thus to this day,
I remain one with the Faye.

As I wandered the dunes of Evermore,
I sought the golden key of light,
Found you there,
In my darkest night.

Now what dreams, these, that drift at night?
They break my bones, reveal a plight,
As star struck wanderers wove their tales,
And sang songs to one another of purest light,
There slipped a crack through the veil.

I hang my head now,
And sing this sad tale.  

The purest love, born on high,
Did ring our hearts and bind,
Yet faltered step upon the path
Did lose us on our way.

Dim grew the day,
As secrets held,
And puzzles became the way,
Of reading hearts and asking thoughts,
The clouds began to rain.
  
What love is this that sings my heart,
And draws me ever near?
More than mine to have and hold,
Shame brings me to reveal.
  
Slipped and fell upon gentle trails,
Now this love, how it longs!
I read the struggle in my words,
I hear it in every song.

I sing now, to set it right,
To show I know the truth.
My blood it boils, and face does flush,
Yet cannot keep, the love I feel,
With no place here to rest.

I slipped the path,
I slipped the path,
And broke your dearest trust!
  
Words to find to write this time,
Can not ever tell,
The sorrow I now feel,

In losing you,
In losing true,
Losing, losing you.


I loved you so much,
I wanted to see all of you,
Surround you with my love.

I still do.  
I still do. 

How can this be righted now?
Will there ever be a way?

I wanted to speak honestly,
Not darken all your days.  
Not cloud your brow,
Nor break your heart,
Nor cause you any, smallest pain.  
But could not find a way to dwell,
And keep this in my heart.  

You burst upon me night and day,
I've fallen off the ledge.
Barely breathing from wanting you,
It's time you cast me away.

To keep to true,
Keep for you,
Leave me mine,
Leave me behind.

To say I'm sorry, seems so small,
And doesn't heal a thing at all. 
I didn't know,
I didn't plan,
I did not come to steal.
Nothing I can say at all,
Nothing i can do.  

Losing true,
Losing true,
Losing, losing you.

I met her in the parking lot of a liquor store one Friday night with my naked body hidden beneath a dressing gown.
I’d put it on whilst I finished the gin from my 20th birthday within my boyfriends closet as he drank his dick down in beer and asked why I was in the closet.

Impotent, it was a quick exit as I thanked the drink for making me able to ride my bike back minus the safety of a sanitary towel, without my cunt left to think of his grunts and groans and his hands which branded my thighs as he fed me lies that it was just in the moment; his finger prints left signatures citing his latest triumph of lasting one hundred point thirteen seconds.

The magnetism between the Alchemist and me was instant.
She held out her palm and asked for mine as the lines in my hands rewrote themselves in twisted, hopeful anticipation; reaching out, what I felt from the tips of my fingers was magic as I traced her navel to the logo of DKNY on the front of her black, cotton panties.

I taught her how to blow out smoke rings like the clowns at a circus who sit within purple tents and repeat sums of the class of 1969, the date they got their cocks kicked in, indigo, violet, for being performers.
I taught tobacco. She taught me sex.
There was sexual deviation towards devilry as I delved into the darkness between her legs as her erotic enchantment captured my hand and leaned me back;
Black blindfold, sight slaughtered.
Burning desire rolled over my bare breasts and left a trail of rouge; yet her warmth was not tender nor loving, but raw, earthly.
A sensual split as she clawed my back and licked the drips of blood that seeped into the bed, which was our place.

I felt myself become an astrologer as I left my body and rose in starry bliss; I became an adventurer as I breathed out ships, which sailed us to Stonewall as I stuck two fingers up, not her sadly, but the blue meanies, the pigs which ate out of the trough of shit Tim Loughton fed us from our backyard.

I said we are making love. She said we are making a revolution.
Our energies combined, our spirits sang as it is in all and all is in us.
Time was alive as my fingers curled, my teeth bit into my open lips,
My back arched and my arms reached out in holy restoration.
Her incantation was irresistible.

Cosmic forces worked effortlessly as we evaded time and entered a transcendent state. Magical longing; primal consciousness;
Fate brought us together, past the phallic stage of our sexual evolution
As what we felt replaced what Freud saw.
A climax of witchcraft.
An orgasm of obsession.
The day I stepped out of the closet and away from my boyfriend I drank the elixir of life from your lips and knew our love would never die.