in the river of good company

I dedicate this poem to
Mr. Harlon Rivers,
one of the best poets (here)
and from his good company,
i could drink all day and
never be quenched

~

Preface

sometime, the heart wants it wants,
denial, temporarily from your vocabulary, excised

sometimes, beauty keelhauls you, gets you
awestruck inspired, then arrogance overcomes
the brilliance of common sense and you go ahead and
mess with perfection despite every sensor flashing
uh oh, duh, oh no, fool on the premises, lockdown needed!

do believe this condition can be found in the medical books
under I, for Inspiration, Incantation, or S for Stupidifacation

my heart wants to write a poem,
cause I was a witness, sitting twenty feet
from the heavenly crime scene,
and every intonation swept my brain into that secret place,
when I heard KD Lang singing "The Valley"^

~~~

in the river of good company**

simple sentiment but good god
all I ever wanted and so oft lacked
such was my fate, one I made,
had plenty good words for boon companions,
the occasional touch of a woman rippling waves
cross my face, a love lapping slapping
of concentric pebble rings,
till like most good things
gone good goes bad,
it just happens to evaporate and
you think someday, maybe,
you will walk again in good company

the brain says quit right here
but the heart brooks no damning tantrum of sanity imposition,
for those handful of deepest, not quite six feet under
palpitations of insensible, cutting glimpses of that word I hate so,
memories,
of when
you walked in good company

men women no different - it is that heated aura
tween bodies that confirms that you are once again
a human being, just a being, temporarily
enhanced, elevated, by good company

so go ahead sweet talks ya, that devil id a/k/a desire, says -
one more for the road can't hurt ya,
write that poem -
and perhaps one good man, glory hallelujah, a good woman,
will read it and you can stop weeping you idiot,
do it so you will be back, nuttier but nurtured,
drinking from the river of good company,
mouthing not even dare whispering,
satisfied satiated, loving and loved
~
all reposts greatly and  grateful appreciated!



4/2/17 9:24am

She was the river
sweeping flow, caressing
the banks of his life
a run down town
inhabitants had deserted
      one by one
citing various reasons,
sounding perfectly legitimate,
gifting him a blue gown of fog,
magical, written loneliness
in pastel colors all over it.
She was the flow
he wanted to immerse himself
bit by bit, on her he wanted
to float as debris, left over
the current that electrified him
with her surge, gave solace
with gifts from the mountain
of her origin and the planes
she visited.

             "Ḧere is a word" she said
on a sad day of his,
when  sun scarcely smiled
which in retrospect he realizes
the day he was redeemed,
elevated to the planes of immortals
words surely are!
He was bathing in her
bubbly waters scented with
mountain herbs, wild orchids and
faecund earth
"Ä word that would have
all answers, spoken in silence
a word, ultimate that tells you
  who you are"
a lark sang that one word,
from the limits of her flight,
a star wrote it with it's light
under moon's watchful eyes,
wind boomed the word's high notes,
stringing it's sonorous lyre
He kept the river's word
as a treasure wrapped by his soul
he still lives in that living word
his true abode.

I walk into the river to forget my troubles
I walk into the river to feel again
I walk into the river to remember good times
I walk into the river to feel no more