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Chris Twyford Mar 2012
One can care, but takes two to share.
The price of admission is always ...due, ya know?

"The Price Of Admission..."

I never hear you
you wait
out of hearing...
out of - having.

...And the tears
- so pale, quiet and frail,
and my fingertips just trace
so softly and lightly...
and each nail edges and slides -
my heart ...our 'time.


- just beyond my reach
out of living...
- everything I can only dream - having.

so - flavor my world
-- silly-sad, ...dark and empty...
-- that Cheshire grin
held within
your cheek, your life ...our 'time.


I never hear you ...crying...
you wait - just beyond my reach
out of hearing... out of living...
out of - every thing I can only dream - having.

...And the tears - flavor my world
- so pale, quiet and frail, -- silly-sad, ...dark and empty...
and my fingertips just trace that Cheshire grin
so softly and lightly... held within
and each nail edges and slides - finds
your cheek, my heart - your life ...our 'time.

IS the price of our admission...

Part of the Chapbook "The Echoes Of Thunders

Feel free to comment as you want
Chris Twyford Feb 2012
"Watch The Sunrise..."*

triggers ...

...I sat a deathwatch with a friend - just this last November. She was quite a person... It became the ultimate "He said, she said..." and at the end - *dissolution
. We shared the creation of the world she was "becoming". At sunrise the silence was total... and the darkness complete
- the circle unbroken.

I still watch the sun rise...
her sun ...rise,
and others
and others...

With each brightening-
so many are "becoming"
more than they were.
New worlds -
to be explored,
remembered -
still other thoughts echoing within.

Sometimes all I do is stare
-that faraway gaze,
that stolid look into eternity's face

...and sometimes I hear the "birds" -
  distractions of the 'dawning'
- and sometimes not.

Sometimes I understand -
chuckling here, at me ...understanding
how and why the anger flows inside.
For what it means to have been me
things happened, were done, weren't done,
ended ...began -
. is merely my own "he said, she said..."

Life is sensual,
desire - ageless...
the need we feel
doesn't fade,
and loss isn't less keen now than then.

We hammer edges into the walls of our existence to prop
perceptions for renewel and then ignore the views
so they fade and fade away into our darkness.
And its almost like a physical distance
- to look into our thoughts ...almost.

I want ...
I want to ...
its not about ...
its ...

triggers ...remembering.

Feel free.
Chris Twyford Feb 2012
"The Walk..."

We spoke a bit -
in written thoughts
holding each our imagined hands.
and it was nice
and it was warm
and each felt the other's smile
and then we paused -
as the day intruded
the world  beckoned
and we moved on...

"The Walk..."

Would you be "a little girl" with me
or the young woman  
or the just what?  as we walked.  

Would you hold my hand,
run ahead,
mildly stroll along,
just walk beside?  

Would you pause - with me,
flow past me,
float hither and yon - lost
  in your own wonder and thoughts?

Stand close - arm entwining,
share a view, a look, gaze, stare...
perhaps smile?  

Would there be words?  
Would we listen to the world or place?
Would you listen - to me, to yourself?
Would we be a we *or
just a you and I -
or just a you or just I?  

If I saw your eyes it would mean you looked
  at me - looking at you...
and if I didn't would it be I didn't look,
or* you didn't look,
or each was afraid to look
or either just didn't want see
  an other looking into a me.

"The Walk..."

Wandering the aisles -
so many choices
flavors, things... branded and nots
Drinks, bags of heaven
or perhaps late night "hells"
cans and bottles - shapes to fit every
whim - any whim...

An aisle of bread
loaf after loaf -
styles, flavors - bagged, protected

I used my change the last time -
at the checkout...
people got angry - waiting
the clerk looked with impatience
  and a huff...
I get hungry too... ya know?

"The Walk..."

"Amazing grace - how sweet the sound..."
one step then another and another
- feel your heartbeat -
another step - another...
its heavy but you CAN do it -
are doing it -
another step - another
- almost there, almost, almost...
another step... pause... breathe
turn in towards...
timing now...TIMING
lowering, lowering - there, the base is holding
"...that saved a wretch like me........."

"The Walk..."

It isn't as easy
to find
to just - wander at whim
pause as you want
hell, even WANT to pause AT
anymore - it seems.

You get these looks
from others
if they don't know you
and its THEIR world you're in
- intruding, trespassing,
- their sidewalk or path or berm.

Being a ghost
just isn't easy anymore...

"The Walk..."

... ... ...
and on.

feel free
Chris Twyford Feb 2012
Today the winter is not as chill, nor as gray.  An azure depth backdrops the "fade"-to-white and the eyes remember what to see beneath patterns that shift and flow.  You hear your footsteps and ...feel the silence leave your mind.

"Inside A Snowdrop..."

Driplets - droplets
pitter and pat
echo and float
...and the sun is here
its touching
edging patterns smooth and

Feel the air
- its fingertips grasping
finding each bit of you all at once
...teasing and tickling your cheek,
nose THEN down the throat
filling and growing 'til
becoming an exhale
becoming you out and upon the world.

Feel as each hair lifts and spreads,
gathers and becomes waves eddying and rising free
freefalling and floating and rising again -
riding the unseen exhales as the world
- your world - flows by-and-by
grasping and tasting life
grasping and BEING life for all the other exhales
to find and feel and be felt in turn.

Reach - palm up...
     catch a miracle!
- a world within worlds within -
a snowdrop
a single glass to gaze in-and-in
to focus - deep
deeper still
... 'til
I see you
...behind my eyes
and the shadows and shades
surround and enfold
tighter still...
holding me
gentling me

I am lavender ghosting in the air
the taste and sweetness of your skin
the softness of each lil hair flowing by
the lips that found their home on mine.

Breathing is one long purr
and life is gently kneading into the softness
...of you.

Chris Twyford Feb 2012
"There's No Kiss In Your Eyes..."

You ever notice how you purrrrrrrrrrrr
when you focus on

- thought I was going to say me didn't you?
  well I didn't...

puppies and kittens.

How the sun FEELs so **** good
in your eyes...
how that first taste of
cold winter's air just bites
and makes you FEEL so

I make snowballs
- still -
and throw them
and **** accurate too
- and laugh
and duck
- well - for ANY age.

No one asks me to make a snowman anymore...
I miss that.

I don't curse the snow I shovel
- never have, that's strange I guess
I like snow
and how it feels, tastes, touches me back.
Seems theres a Snow Angel in every bank...
and the feel of crystals
each as unique as we.

Its not the taste of coffee
that draws me
holds me
- nor its aroma
as the wisps meander to heaven
- one cup at a time...
Its the thought of the anchor
that binding HOLD
that keeps me focused and from floating off and
and yet it still gets cold
while setting unnoticed and unheld and
...untasted and unwanted after all the herald's smiles
and teasings told.

I don't like water... theres no HEART to water
no ...squeezing GRASP to be had
no ...warmth shared
no ...bitter dregs to be mind-chewed
and eye-candy.

I never want to be told
"There's no kiss in your eyes..."

I'm thinking of re-continuing the Cafe Series... with this one.  Feel free...
Chris Twyford Feb 2012
"The Cafe' - Life As We Live It"

"Once Upon A Time..."

I've found myself 'day-dreaming' again - dangerous to be doing that because it makes for intense thoughts... and just how can emotional stability survive when your mind is re-inventing your 'heart' over and over and over again?  And its not spring-generated fantasies of long-svelte-limbed, angel-faced, hour-glass-figured, cookie-cutter, 20-ish, magazine-material women - though god KNOWS there ARE a few of them around... lol, quite a few on sunny days and this IS a College town!

And its not just sexually-oriented-day-wishes; though I am a MAN you know, so a few of THOSE have been known to slip in from time-to-time.  Its mainly that I find myself ‘playing’ a mental ****** game of - he says then she says and he says and she says and they go and do something quite bland - but its done together, and it HAS heart and meaning, and then it continues on-and-on until maybe there’s a ******-oriented moment but most usually its just a soft kiss, shared-smile, and a see you tomorrow thing.  Yeah, ‘dangerous’.

I looked up from the page… tracking, tracking… Ah there she is.  “Mary?”  “More coffee please?”

Sitting back - straighter, straighter still, body stretching itself internally in sections - tensions easing away.  My head moved slowly (with intent) side-to-side and I felt those telltale ‘tweaks’ of - oh GOD that feels good!

”Coffee-time huh?” she said as she poured.  “So how IS your daily scribbling coming along?” “Mind if I,” she began as she looked over the page.  “Dangerous huh?”  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

And then she suddenly had this ‘look’ on her face… and actually began to blush… “****, uh… I gotta get back to work.”  Turning away, she quipped a “ Holler when you need more coffee hon,” over her shoulder.

She IS cute… well back to it.  

Drifting… drifting… How many shades of auburn are there anyway?  And what is it that makes me want to see and appreciate just how the hair frames the face and eyes.  And it’s not an unconscious desire by any means - I really do SEE just that way - most days.

I like the feel of a woman’s hair.  It’s softness and strength, the way it flows so naturally through fingertips.  And then there’s the way it moves as her head moves, echoing so many things she’s feeling inside - demureness, excitement, heat, heart.  Hmmmm… yeah, dangerous.

I paused, focused on the present and an awareness of my surroundings.  Mary was just moving away… the coffee cup was full and a Hershey’s Kiss was next to it.

"Little Things..."

It’s the little things
we do
oft without thought,
and yet sometimes with so much more
than mere

Little things we didn’t HAVE to do
but just wanted to -
because we could,
because we can,
because if we don’t - then who would or will?

Little things -
that break my heart
because they were never noticed.

A piece of an interrupted chapbook.  Feel free...
Chris Twyford Feb 2012
"The Cafe' - Life As We Live It"


”…Martin!” my voice got louder.  “Martin, it ain’t right.”  …and louder - just after the ‘angels’ gave their customary pause to all conversations - but mine.

People at the nearby counter took notice and started edging away.  The ones at the diner’s tables, a little farther away, gave me that ‘you-aren’t-there-so-I’m-ignoring-the-loud-*******-ruining-my-lun­ch’ glance and went back to eating.

“It just ain’t right!!!”   I slammed the phone flip-face down onto the top of my table.  It crunched - felt like it broke my hand too… ****-it - was THEIR cell anyways, not mine anymore… ‘nothing of theirs is mine anymore’ crossed my mind right then and my body - my whole body, sort of just slumped in on itself.

They could have waited until Friday - ****, at least til Friday.  Tuesdays and I have a continuing ‘history’ - little of it ‘good’… The waitress took that moment to reappear, a coffee *** in her hand.  “At least the refills are free...” she said.  I looked up at her face - sad eyes and a small smile; yeah, she knew.  I guess everybody there knew… even me, now.

I edged the cup toward her.  She leaned a little, refilled it, and her free hand lightly touched my shoulder as she straightened, then turned and walked away.

I straightened up again… found MYSELF again - with that light touch on my shoulder.  “Thanks hon, I needed that.”  I said toward her back.

She paused in mid step, turned, and looked me straight in the eyes.  “I know, and its ok.  I’ve been there too,” she said softly.  Then she continued on to the other tables.  Coffee can be a luxury and serving it - a necessity… yeah, I guess she DID know about being here.


For some it’s a moment,
for some it’s a lifetime -
and its what we face

what we risk -
with every reach
every try
every hope and dream.

We want so hard
to control OUR existence,

our ways -
of being

of living
of loving and being loved
of having todays
of having tomorrows.

It hurts…

each slap is felt,
each ‘dig’ bites,
each laugh at our expense -
eyes that don’t see,
heads that turn away.

...and its MEAN!

not fair,

not always justified by what WE did

or do
or know
or say
or anything at all…
its just life
as we live  -
as we TRY
to live it.

Its hard being me.
Sometimes I wish so much
for so very little in the grand scheme of things -
and sometimes it’s a touch
that’s needed and isn’t given.

A piece of an interrupted chapbook.  Feel free...
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