Hello old friend.
It’s been so long.
You look good.
How have you been?
Your family? Sister? Brother?
You look so good.
Your voice sounds so lovely.
It’s lower than I remember,
and your face,
though still handsome as I remember,
your face is longer
than I remember.
It’s only been a few short years but,
you seem older.
I know that sounds redundant.
Has corporate life gotten the best of you?
I love you too dear friend.
Your skin used to be so golden.
Radiant.
Go outside more.
Remember the countless hours we spent on the lake?
I do. You glowed then.
Where have you been?
I’ve missed our talks,
our time spent simply being young.
We were so young. Do you remember?
I’m still so young.
Responsibility has made you forget.
Have another beer!
It will help you remember.
My dear friend, you look so good but
I’m afraid you’re not.
What are you hiding behind those eyes?
I can hardly hold your stare.
Smile for me. Let me know that you’re good.
You don’t seem as happy as I remember.
My dear friend, what happened to your light?
Where has it gone?
Where have you gone?
Come back to me.
Come back to you.

That's the thing,
we did it to be free.
We wanted to be liberated,
to not have to take no
for an answer.
We did it
so that we could taste the fruit
without fear.
It was easy.

I can show you.

Others may think it wrong,
but to us they were movers and
shakers.
The precedents setting standards.
And we wanted to be like them.
We did it for the Innocent and the ******.
We did it for the young and dying.
We did it for the ones who think they're king
and for the rebellion.
We did it in honor of the sinners and the righteous ones.

I did it for you and me.


So call us guilty and we'll face judgment,
but that's why we did it.
We just wanted to be free.

The clock in my ear
is a constant reminder
of the dying fire
that is this life.

With time comes age.
Flames turn young wood
into embers and ash.

When time runs out
what will be left of my fire?
Will it leave a burning trail
or will the trail burn me?

Photographs of my family hang on the wall.
Some I know.
Some would recognize me.
Others I know only from the stories
that immortalize them.

There is a family portrait in the hall
it tells tales that great legends envy.
For the stories left by these faces
will never be forgotten,
retold at bedtime for generations
to come.

The portrait speaks of a time
before cancer and old age.
Back when Linda and Debbie ran the house
and Jorge still went by Georgie.
Kathy was falling in love with dirt bikes,
Joey had to take Jimmy everywhere
and Nena made everyone save food
for when Silvia got home from school.
All the while Papo sipped his scotch
and watched his legacy leave their footprint
in the sand.

Truth is I’ve always known
he’d live forever.
Long before he began his walk home
Papo was already immortalized
in our memories and spirits.

Now that you rest
I find comfort knowing that I
carry your story with me,
and have the honor of calling you
Grandfather.
For us, you will always be
the legendary
Vincent Joseph Schement.

Bye bye Mr. Blueberry pie
Checked the fridge for some milk
But the milk jug was dry.
The tears welled up
And I wanted to cry.
"Back into the fridge," I sighed.
"Back into the fridge," I sighed.

The hanging star
falls to the west,
the heavens and earth
become one
and cue our travels.

Hazy smears of pink and orange
spilt the horizon
from the approaching darkness.

The road melts into shadows.
The celestial bodies awaken.
The sky goes black.

The past is put further
and further behind us
and can be seen in the
mirrors that watch our back.
We simply aviate between
two collided worlds.

Our eyes can only pick up
the yellow lights
rushing by port side
and red lights
that we pursue.
Vehicles of other travelers
searching for rest.  

In the distance the lights
of a small city
are speckled
strategically in the black.
They tell us
where the earth ends
and the sky begins.
White and yellow lines
draw our course.

We fly through the black.
Faster now.
The illuminated city peeks
in and out
of flint covered silhouettes.
It comes closer
with every intercepted minute.

Our compass points north
and we chase the arrow
until we find our final stop.

Your love is the dance in my heart
that keeps my blood moving.
It is the fluttering of a thousand
excited butterflies in my stomach.
The sparkle on the water at sunset
which rests in my eyes
when they fall on you.

While I'm with you
I could never be too hot or too cold.
Nothing is more just right.

It is a love even cinema envies.
The song you play for my soul
is the one that I could never
sing alone.

marvel at the complex-pattern
painting such a span of swirls
light-panels less than shimmer
in the afternoon shadows on the wooden kitchen-table
biggest fear - your leaving


1.
beautiful summer-days lost in your eyes
oblivion dances like a wily-***** at hypnotising fire-licks
from our languid-bed, I'd lazy-feed you lox-on-crackers
and everything you liked
heaven never had it so good

........................till

woke up and *you weren't there
where'd you go to?
no letter, no call.. for days


2.
to overcome this fear
I brought in a  b-i-g-g-e-r  one
that used to drive me to serious-pitfalls in the past

off to the exotic pet-shop, my toes marched me
and I got one - very toxic thing on legs
without a natural terrarium

once home, I set it free
I set free.... my biggest fear
        to blot out your absence
        to overcome your presence
        to forget you

it crawled around and made a home
while I hardly breathed nor slept
and moved about on ginger-steps


3.
I kept feeling strands of your hair
          in my sleep
          on my cheek
          inside my cry
and woke to moonlight bathed in sweat

I did not wash your pillow, after weeks now
I bury my face in olfactory-memory lingering
and pine for you, but I see your missing set of keys and..

/ scratch .. scratch /

I hear a sudden scurrying
heartbeat jumps out cage
eyeballs to the parquet-floor

nothing.


4.
I'm getting used to this new pet
and she doesn't mind my breathing
                    oh, I swear she's a brain-scanner
                    when she looks at me that way
                    like she can read me.. through and through

I dare not pet, I dare not touch... ohhhh no!
       I leave her the daily-bowl of delicious, fresh worms
       to find it empty in the evening
I guess, thanks for freedom.. of sorts

one day, I left the window open
as I jotted down some poignant thoughts
at my antique-escritoire
    espied her legs upon the solar-sill
    thought she'd be running... a leaver, too
but no..    
                 she was sunning all her legs awhile


5.
the season's changing.. leaves are falling
crackle of wind in the air

now, I'm making me some coffee in my silver whistle-***
hot, solo beverage to calm my settling-mind
when.. ping-ping.. comes a text
lo and behold....
it is you...

you!


6.
delirium / delirium /
(I'm on cloud-nine... you're coming home tonight..
                                      you love me so much, you say..
                                      made a mistake..
                                       you've got something big to share..

I've taken time to prepare a special-meal.. candles and all your faves
but must pop out quick to get some lox...)


I'm back now, got the stuff now
key in lock
but the door.. jammed by a weight.. of sorts
can't seem to push the ****-door open...
shoving hard, I see........







fear compounded by a minus
simply multiplied
disaster




S T - 4 dec 13

Outside this window the air
bites the faces of pedestrians
in the streets below.

Despite the argument
between the bitter cold
and the approaching nightfall
the people seem happy
to ignore the tussle
that has begun to shake
the leaves from the trees.

The glass panes sweat
with nervous hot flashes.
The brightly lit coffee shop
is a sanctuary amidst
the concrete tundra.
People scurry to the red hue
that melodically flickers
like a rising fire.

Warm mochas and foaming milk
calm the chills and frighten
the geese from our skin.
While the sauna in their bellies
heat their core; for a short time
the grey skies are forgotten.
The substance numbs the cold.

But if the awareness of this chilly solstice
is put aside completely and preparation
for the snipping wind is side stepped,
then where would we be?

Happy to ignore our surroundings,
Content with freezing.