No freeing me when im caught up
Not broken bones nor gelded wings
We've forgotten about a thing
And once flying high
We fall so far

Would you be there in the slaughter?
Could you be there when the demons raze?
And all I say is emptiness
And my mind turns low
Don't cry for me
As its time
And the only thing that shows
Are the lights won't glow
And no one knows

No saving me when im martyred
An unexpected consequence
Of living life and seeing light
what you believe in
And dying in ways unnoticed

Would you be there in the slaughter?
Could you be there when the sword cuts deep?
When all my blood is memory
As my heart turns stone
A complete unknown
Under skies
And the only thing that's real
Are these crumbling walls
And the pain we feel

I'll know your face
A life
away

Here again,
At the gates of my demise.
Back too soon.
Drowning ever so slowly.
Wanting to turn back,
To start over again.
Irreversible inclinations.
Constant fury.
Breathe,
Tomorrow is a new day.

Somebody bundled
it into a clock
and slung it up high on a wall,

with numbers
like bars between us,
where there had been nothing before;

before,
my days had come open,
open and endless like sky,

but boxed on the wall
there looked no room for all
of the rest of my lifetime and I.

my self most intimate,
unspoiled,
keeping every scar alive,
albeit cloaked in metaphors
like bandages of silk
that hide the oozing;
my self most raw and
un-defiled,
unguarded,
revealed in phrases
composed to ponder
with your time;
is here in lines of poems
playing like a child in the trees,
like a game of hide and seek
a breeze may help you win.
but to find me
you must read between my lines.

Mister Blister, there he goes!
His shoes, they open for his toes.
His jacket has no sleeves at all.
His trousers, well, they just might fall.

He is a coarse and hairy sight.
He limps and dares not stand upright.
He has a shopping cart to push.
His bathroom is the nearest bush.

People yell and call him names,
and talk about the way he shames,
the neighborhood, and those who "care"
about the world they say we share.

But, Mister Blister is my friend.
He always has some time to spend.
He cares about what I say,
and remembers this from day to day.

He knows about my cares and fears
and what I try to say he hears.
Perhaps the others are too old
to see without life's blindfold.

I wish that he could freely live
and that the town, he could forgive.
They just don't know you like I do.
Mister Blister, I'm glad I do.

For Mom:
(b. 1925; d.2016)*

She held on to the sunlight
longer than anyone thought.
Palms swayed as she breathed
in all her strength,
all her power
until it all calmed
peacefully,
serenely.
Night cooled
as barren
descends, now
a dark that sings no stars
or sweet songs of life.
Her last breath
carried by crows
brushed across my cheek quietly
as I did not get to her in time.

As my sorrow fingered with my heart,
I saw the hungry abyss descend with her smile,
Still I heard in her whisper,
“do not mourn for me,
like our ancestors before,
I have found the balance
in natural tones;
in the music of stars
and in the songs playing
on Owl’s wings.
Do not mourn for me, my loves
I am alive still in the flow of worlds.”

There is a weight
taller than Denali;
heavier than Big Mountain;
I carry it with me
in my back pack
next to my jeans and dreams
as I follow her tracks,
smiling with her life.

Aztec Warrior/redzone  12.29.16

For all of you who "liked" and or commented on this poem I thank you from the bottom of my heart... your words are a comfort to me and my dad (I showed him the comments)... you have touched us deeply... I hope all of you the best...

And Nagi, you are wonderful in your kindness and a special thanks for shinning a "light" on this poem....

Curt

I wish I wish
I wasn't like this
Can't give to get
Can't aim to miss.
To be alive is such a gift
If only I, could learn to live.

Glow glazed in my guilt
Sick swallowing pride
Feeling all that I feel
killingme inside.

sinking is my spirit
Missing is my mind
Bodys long mistreated
Lost is all my time.

The heart, the warmest sea;
night dives in
chasing dreams,
then suddenly
the day has come ashore;
a smile crawls blissfully
and parts the waves
to reach the sun
to ask for more
of the same
exchange of warmth