m-h - Hello Poetry

I sleep with the window open The air, now chilled with autumn, rushes in to sap away my resolve Waking me from troubled sleep Covered with only the thin blue cotton sheet from my college days Comforting, though it’s hard to gauge when last the warmth of another supplanted the foothill of blankets amassed beside me The loneliness of night: When only cars pass below Sounding like freight trains as they clamor over the slab of steel prostrate on the ground Protecting the suspensions from the pockmarked face of asphalt Each a brutish chime filling my apartment The stark vulgarity lashing out A garbled cry, anguished and dejected Dragging from my subconscious Memories of a different time Now free Jostling for position and attention, as though I am the jester king Holding ghostly court Clad in the stark regalia of bitterness years in the making Pour me a glass of that vintage and to what shall we all toast?

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Nov 5, 2018

Nov 5, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC

Autumn Nights off Broadway

I sleep with the window open The air, now chilled with autumn, rushes in to sap away my resolve Waking me from troubled sleep Covered with only the thin blue cotton sheet from my college days Comforting, though it’s hard to gauge when last the warmth of another supplanted the foothill of blankets amassed beside me The loneliness of night: When only cars pass below Sounding like freight trains as they clamor over the slab of steel prostrate on the ground Protecting the suspensions from the pockmarked face of asphalt Each a brutish chime filling my apartment The stark vulgarity lashing out A garbled cry, anguished and dejected Dragging from my subconscious Memories of a different time Now free Jostling for position and attention, as though I am the jester king Holding ghostly court Clad in the stark regalia of bitterness years in the making Pour me a glass of that vintage and to what shall we all toast?

19

Once there was a threat of summer And rain showers dared to live, hungry within the clouds And dying, the raspy gasp from the blackened asphalt, coughing Lightning, fireworks on a funeral pyre. Childhood incarnations of paradise usurped by time, the thickened aromas of a faded season. Portraits flavored in now, rewinding to birth: Dusk, midday, the cool of morning. Hair darkly swept, Red radiance burning the blurs of grey, the chalk outlines in the skies. Finally the eulogy, a Writing In the air, speaking, perhaps, But who knows?

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Sep 22, 2017

Sep 22, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC

Equinox

Once there was a threat of summer And rain showers dared to live, hungry within the clouds And dying, the raspy gasp from the blackened asphalt, coughing Lightning, fireworks on a funeral pyre. Childhood incarnations of paradise usurped by time, the thickened aromas of a faded season. Portraits flavored in now, rewinding to birth: Dusk, midday, the cool of morning. Hair darkly swept, Red radiance burning the blurs of grey, the chalk outlines in the skies. Finally the eulogy, a Writing In the air, speaking, perhaps, But who knows?

12

I hear distant thunder, an echo of a heartbeat Buried deep within the youthful breast of a forgotten lover How quickly we push aside the nervous panic The palpitations at the slightest touch As words sweeten as each year flows onward Until we all are poets in our own mind. I can feel the wind, pulling up the smothering humid air A lustful Southern breath, faint with smell of azaleas and car exhaust Somehow choking and teasing me with each breath An addition. Does love take sanctuary from such frail copies Hiding in the shadows, waiting to step out into the light As passions flash and spark, burning out underneath the mid afternoon swelter Biding time for the cool of eve. And still the storms approach The laughter of the leaves fills the air, The creaking bones of the branches, sinews straining Reaching out in anticipation, anxious to capture the intimacy And I am here Waiting for the moment when cast upon the ground, a silhouette Swallowing the world, and I am reborn

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Aug 21, 2017

Aug 21, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC

Resurrection

I hear distant thunder, an echo of a heartbeat Buried deep within the youthful breast of a forgotten lover How quickly we push aside the nervous panic The palpitations at the slightest touch As words sweeten as each year flows onward Until we all are poets in our own mind. I can feel the wind, pulling up the smothering humid air A lustful Southern breath, faint with smell of azaleas and car exhaust Somehow choking and teasing me with each breath An addition. Does love take sanctuary from such frail copies Hiding in the shadows, waiting to step out into the light As passions flash and spark, burning out underneath the mid afternoon swelter Biding time for the cool of eve. And still the storms approach The laughter of the leaves fills the air, The creaking bones of the branches, sinews straining Reaching out in anticipation, anxious to capture the intimacy And I am here Waiting for the moment when cast upon the ground, a silhouette Swallowing the world, and I am reborn

21

The moment before sleep That instant when time is frozen A slow motion picture playing out Caricatures of the world alive in the shadows, swaying Is it in reverse or forward? Somewhere in my mind I can hear the sounds of places long forgotten A whisper, quietly sings through the haze And I strain to hear every word The tones Flowing around me, a cloud of warm air Swaddling my dreams

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Sep 1, 2016

Sep 1, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC

The Moment Before Sleep

The moment before sleep That instant when time is frozen A slow motion picture playing out Caricatures of the world alive in the shadows, swaying Is it in reverse or forward? Somewhere in my mind I can hear the sounds of places long forgotten A whisper, quietly sings through the haze And I strain to hear every word The tones Flowing around me, a cloud of warm air Swaddling my dreams

11

It's quiet in the afternoons now The stifled laughter from the other side of the wall Has died down as the morning shift Worn from the day, Has resorted to finalising any lingering task, Or, more likely, staring blankly at a computer screen counting away life Before joining the funnel out the revolving door. This was the time when if things weren't busy (And face it, things never are THAT busy) I would walk across the hall to have a quick conversation Usually about nothing in particular As we both pretended to not know the pretense And little jokes took on life To pass the time before 5:15. But now the hallway is untraveled The empty desk tomb Where before secret laughter was born Only serves as a lingering reminder, A jagged edge fang Embedding deep into my mind Tearing out memories with intentioned pain Each time I cast my gaze And see the ghost of you.

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Aug 16, 2016

Aug 16, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC

Office Ghost

It's quiet in the afternoons now The stifled laughter from the other side of the wall Has died down as the morning shift Worn from the day, Has resorted to finalising any lingering task, Or, more likely, staring blankly at a computer screen counting away life Before joining the funnel out the revolving door. This was the time when if things weren't busy (And face it, things never are THAT busy) I would walk across the hall to have a quick conversation Usually about nothing in particular As we both pretended to not know the pretense And little jokes took on life To pass the time before 5:15. But now the hallway is untraveled The empty desk tomb Where before secret laughter was born Only serves as a lingering reminder, A jagged edge fang Embedding deep into my mind Tearing out memories with intentioned pain Each time I cast my gaze And see the ghost of you.

23

I sit in the winter air On the worn metal park bench Where we watched the wind blow the last leaves across the grass But there's no life now nestled amongst the pack of lonely trees Like hunger driven carnivores they huddle A dying breed I sit in the winter air A long sleeve shirt and my black athletic shorts You always hated how I dressed. I could be another runner, but I sit and feel my legs and back slowly go numb where the metal hugs my skin The bench is always cold, Few rays of sun break through the tree limbs I sit in the winter air Could I move, stand up, walk? But I came to be cold, to shiver and breathe deep the poison that stings my lungs I came to forget warmth and soft smiles The heat of another so close that it is as if we are one body Until then, wrap me in the arms of the frozen

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May 31, 2016

May 31, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC

One Day Closer to Seeing You

I sit in the winter air On the worn metal park bench Where we watched the wind blow the last leaves across the grass But there's no life now nestled amongst the pack of lonely trees Like hunger driven carnivores they huddle A dying breed I sit in the winter air A long sleeve shirt and my black athletic shorts You always hated how I dressed. I could be another runner, but I sit and feel my legs and back slowly go numb where the metal hugs my skin The bench is always cold, Few rays of sun break through the tree limbs I sit in the winter air Could I move, stand up, walk? But I came to be cold, to shiver and breathe deep the poison that stings my lungs I came to forget warmth and soft smiles The heat of another so close that it is as if we are one body Until then, wrap me in the arms of the frozen

18

The news report on the radio mentioned something about sun And all around, revelers, bob between waves of light Shadows playing eternal catch up-- But somewhere along the way I missed the word And clouds, swaying from the hidden winds, form sunglasses, In shaded vision I walk Dragging my heels, the many fingers that crunch and snap beneath the weight Fallen from the silent giants that dot the roadside, How reckless, absently rejecting the parts well-worn The memories Litter the concrete, a gravesite, a memorial to progress and growth So much for holding onto the past. I’ll take a branch and be on my way through the shade And, smiling, whisper to nothing but the wind: One day we all become twigs.

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Aug 10, 2015

Aug 10, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC

Shaded Twigs

The news report on the radio mentioned something about sun And all around, revelers, bob between waves of light Shadows playing eternal catch up-- But somewhere along the way I missed the word And clouds, swaying from the hidden winds, form sunglasses, In shaded vision I walk Dragging my heels, the many fingers that crunch and snap beneath the weight Fallen from the silent giants that dot the roadside, How reckless, absently rejecting the parts well-worn The memories Litter the concrete, a gravesite, a memorial to progress and growth So much for holding onto the past. I’ll take a branch and be on my way through the shade And, smiling, whisper to nothing but the wind: One day we all become twigs.

15

I walk and the world stares With cracked glass eyes, the thick green antique kind, Or was it only yesterday When my lips touched the chilled oceans And with each foray into the depths The emerald vessel, catching the light, splayed out across the walls A projector of sorts And with squinted gaze I watched as only the shadows dance Characters in the same old movie playing out a scene from a day gone and forgotten And under the magnified burn How easy to sneak off To wilt from from the heat, curl up Await whatever tomorrow is selected The broken jukebox with only one song to play "And a rock feels no pain/ And an island never cries"

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Jul 28, 2015

Jul 28, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC

I Walk and the World Stares

I walk and the world stares With cracked glass eyes, the thick green antique kind, Or was it only yesterday When my lips touched the chilled oceans And with each foray into the depths The emerald vessel, catching the light, splayed out across the walls A projector of sorts And with squinted gaze I watched as only the shadows dance Characters in the same old movie playing out a scene from a day gone and forgotten And under the magnified burn How easy to sneak off To wilt from from the heat, curl up Await whatever tomorrow is selected The broken jukebox with only one song to play "And a rock feels no pain/ And an island never cries"

15

As weeks slip by And moments fade from memory When the final scent of another day Is tossed away in the breeze And nothing remembered remains in the conscious But a shadow in the night sky What is lost? As the grains within the hourglass slink along So many white, flakes of snow The shade of a lifetime Lasting for a season And scattered within a blue, a black, a green grain Intermixed. Staining the bland with the pains and joys A molding of a self, visualized amidst the banal stones, That salt away the minutes and hours and years Between the few worthy of mention. And when the lost and wasted time drips away Does the filler of life amount to anything more Than a tree falling in a lonely forest?

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May 25, 2015

May 25, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC

If a Tree Falls in a Forest and No One Hears

As weeks slip by And moments fade from memory When the final scent of another day Is tossed away in the breeze And nothing remembered remains in the conscious But a shadow in the night sky What is lost? As the grains within the hourglass slink along So many white, flakes of snow The shade of a lifetime Lasting for a season And scattered within a blue, a black, a green grain Intermixed. Staining the bland with the pains and joys A molding of a self, visualized amidst the banal stones, That salt away the minutes and hours and years Between the few worthy of mention. And when the lost and wasted time drips away Does the filler of life amount to anything more Than a tree falling in a lonely forest?

20

What do you think of me now "dear old friend" Once you said all that is will pass and what's left was never worth having Do you think you were right? I felt a twinge of sadness when I heard of your passing And maybe it's true we are all shadows of what we could be But did it matter when they came for you The men with the big, strong hands hardened by the labor we never had to do Will they look down on you and I for mocking their achievements As we sat drinking five dollar coffee getting fat on success With fancy cars and house poisoned with possessions The comforts of life: self expression in the highest order Tell me my friend In the end did it all stop Time frozen in the instant between here and gone are we all a puff of smoke off the **** of a smoldering cigarette Flourishing only to be choked out by the fresh breeze But Then again, if I knew would it make any difference?

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Mar 18, 2015

Mar 18, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC

On the Passing of an Old Friend

What do you think of me now "dear old friend" Once you said all that is will pass and what's left was never worth having Do you think you were right? I felt a twinge of sadness when I heard of your passing And maybe it's true we are all shadows of what we could be But did it matter when they came for you The men with the big, strong hands hardened by the labor we never had to do Will they look down on you and I for mocking their achievements As we sat drinking five dollar coffee getting fat on success With fancy cars and house poisoned with possessions The comforts of life: self expression in the highest order Tell me my friend In the end did it all stop Time frozen in the instant between here and gone are we all a puff of smoke off the **** of a smoldering cigarette Flourishing only to be choked out by the fresh breeze But Then again, if I knew would it make any difference?

20