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Aug 2024 · 102
'Made In Heaven'
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Language
a slave
to instruction

Music
a much
higher master

Together
they marry
and lyrics are born

To dream
beyond reason
— eternally free

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 497
Whispering Winds
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
It’s not what
you’re called
But what
you answer to

Your true
voice inside
As questions
renew

It’s not what
you say
But what
you mean

Spoken in
whispers
The truth
— never screams

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 136
Sound Bites 8-26-2024
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Festival Of San Fermin

Running the gamble
— living the dream

(Pamplona Spain: July, 1977)


‘Pathway To Hell ...”

Money is to promises
what bureaucracy is to care
Chasing lost indemnity
— uncertainty’s despair

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)


The Lost Garden

A bad seed
illy planted
Fallow
—and alone

(Denison Iowa, September, 1967)


Au Chante

The pathway
to happiness
Goes through
—the open heart

(Midway Airport: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 531
Nexum
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Titling a poem
or naming a child

Which process harder
  the future beguiled

“A Rose Is A Rose ...”
till maybe it’s not

Called do they answer
— once dubbed and begot

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 86
Veritas Celat
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Truth stays
naïve
As reality
profanes
The price of
fidelity
Unpaid
till inflamed

Truth often
hides
With its head
in the sand
Until forced
into play
A new crisis
— at hand

(The New Room: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 78
Not To Reason Why ...
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Accounting
for madness
A conflict
in terms

The devils
own details
In secrets
unlearned

What stays
ill conflicted
Stays
misunderstood

No rhyme
and no reason
When bad
— trumps the good

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 83
Paying Forward
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Dying invested
dividend high
Selling tomorrow
presence to buy  

Feelings compounding
destiny’s rate
One final moment
— blessed in His Grace

(1st Book Of Prayers: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 120
Eve
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Eve
A man
can wear two faces
a woman
— often three

(Deamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 216
Zealots Be Warned
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Not politically
correct
Or socially
adept ...
I curse upon
your demons
And ****
— your wanton souls

(Chicago: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 68
Censored To Oblivion
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
The half cost of silence
is still overpriced
Each question unspoken
a chasm for vice

When blind to the moment
all vision exhausts
Each voice that is muted
— its own holocaust

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 90
She Waits
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Death sleeps in my bed
a lover untouched
Betrothed to my longing
a ****** as such
She waits for a signal
as time closes in
To open her wings
— and fly me to Him

(1st Book Of Prayers: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 60
Night Train To Paradise
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
The whistle blowing
one last stop

Your ticket punched
— the gate unlocked

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 61
Beyond Sleep
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Many things
exist beyond
never
truly known
Every night
I die asleep
in dreams
left unatoned

Waking up
the weight’s still there
each breath
in labor bound
As voices live
within my ear
answers
— still unfound

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 97
The Road Not Taken
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Only heretics
will seek the truth
Against the grain
they find the proof

Pandering Angels
wings on loan
In fear of shadows
— where answers roam

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 81
The Circle Game
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
We build these
big houses
to live in
one room
We craft
lengthy speeches
words littered
and strewn
We travel
great distance
arriving back home
And tell
many secrets
the truth
plainly shown
We quarrel
and fight
with the outcome
the same
We craft
newer rules
for the oldest
of games
We live and
we die
as our
forefathers did
While changing
but nothing
entrapped
— in the grid

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 60
Until Saved
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
We become
what we see
We become
what we make
As ******
or forgiven
We reap
or forsake

Both scripture
and sermon
Prophetic
command
Until saved
by the Word
Our spirits
— disband

(1st Book Of Prayers: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 282
Locked In
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Does your secret life
define you
An image
not portrayed
Brush strokes darkened
pigments dyed
Your life force
oft betrayed  

Do the secrets
keep you prisoner
Are the bars
each choice you make
The key to freedom
lost and gone
Alone with your
— mistakes

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 70
Je Ne Sais Quoi
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Don’t let anyone tell you
they can explain music
Inside the melody
— words fall short

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 77
True North
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Writing so many
hoping for one
Each step polemic
— path zero-sum

(Deamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 76
Tail Of The Dragon
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
“Poke the bear
you get the claws
Chase the shark
you get the jaws”

With each lie
foundations crack
A friend once hurt
your soul left wracked

Timeless rules
do still apply
Where you can run
but never hide

Truth outdates
the oldest Sage
With us its servant
— time its slave

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 304
Present Perfect
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Verse sublimation
skipping the will
Centering the message
critics are chilled

Listening to silence
voices dethroned
Freeing the moment
— tomorrow on loan

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 119
Breaking Through
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Art nothing more
than an act of creation

Becoming Divine
every new inspiration

Tunnels of wonder
your fortune to mine

Time as the drill bit
— transcendence sublime

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 240
Praying Mantra
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Only through the act
of self-reflection
— is the Creator truly known

(1st Book Of Prayers: January, 2000)
Aug 2024 · 78
One By One
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
In youth
the words were
loaned to me
from others
as their source

Till that day
one refused
to leave
and camped
on my front porch

It said ...
“I have
a lot of friends
no need
to be
alone”

And one
by one
they climbed
my steps
to stay
— and call me home

(The New Room: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 109
Sound Bites: 8-7-2024
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Verbal Foundlings

Free or blank
tomato
tomatto

Without rhyme’s link
there’s no
bravado

The verse left orphaned
all kinship
spurned

As unconnected
words crash
— and burn

(The New Room: July, 2024)


Death Grip

The tighter
we hold on
The faster
— it slips away

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)


Now Is Now

Freedom in the moment
the past is the past
Throwing off chains
— tomorrow recast

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)


Reaching Back

Closer in the distance
than what endears my touch
I focus on your memory
— reclaimed in fated lust

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 77
Destiny's Mime
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
He wanted to be
around clowns
but never wanted
to be happy
He wanted to write
great melodies
never wanting
to sing
He wanted to stand
on the mountaintop
but never wanted
to fly
He wanted to read
every book
never wanting
to speak

He walked in
the twilight
of tragedy’s
sunset
He loved several
women
only after
they were gone
He called to
his dog
who was stuffed
in the parlor
He answered
every question
that couldn’t
— be asked

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 111
Reinventing Time
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Knowledge of the future
memories of the past
Caught within a final vacuum
dissipating fast

Wanton disbelieving
eyes are liars still
Perception changed then rearranged
sensation thrice distilled

The philosophy of physics
logicians burn and melt
Time but smirks as gravity flirts
judgment prior dealt

Memories of the future
knowledge of the past
Once you slow the ebb and flow
— the moment is recast

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 179
Paradise Lost
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Apology
not good enough
Intention
still to blame
The road to hell
left burning red
its deviance
in flames

Excuses
rolling off the tongue
with lie
compounding lie
A higher power
judgment bound
the devil
— in denial

(Bryn Mawr College: July, 2024)
Aug 2024 · 197
The Jailer Within
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Loneliness
trumps anger
as love
wields its sword

No shielding
or armor
will lessen
or ward

Loneliness
a prison
its jailer
within

No ire
or fury
compares
— to its din

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 98
Sound Bites 7-30-2024
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Abeyance

Raging
against the machine
Dying
in the light
Counting
the hours till darkness
Waiting
— for delight

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)

Storm Clouds

I wanted to speak my mind
until I changed it
I wanted to write a book
without the critic  
I wanted to fall in love
until I lost her
I wanted wealth and fame
— without the thunder

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)


Cosmic Shelf

A Shooting Star
In A Mason Jar
Preserved And Waiting
So Near — So Far

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)

The Weight

Some carry the burden
early
Some carry the burden
late
Some carry the burden
deep inside
Some carry the burden
— of fate

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)


Circuit Bard

Neurons
are mindful
And fire
as healers
Defying
the symptoms
Igniting
— the cure

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024
Jul 2024 · 54
Haunting Words
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
All he had
was his longing
and he shared it
with no one
The years
a cruel mistress
that haunted
him so

All he had
was a fever
brought on
with the darkness
His memories
a warden
in a prison
alone

As he sat
in the twilight
he wondered
and waited
For something
still missing
he’d lost
in the past

As he looked
at her picture
the frame bent
and broken
He uttered
those words
his heart
— never asked

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 54
Painted Voices
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Colors
resplendent
when making
a sound

Vibrant
and dancing
their palette
resounds

Colors
transforming
with richness
imbued

Visual
and sonic
merging
— the two

(The New Room: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 59
Joyous Wings
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Angels
rejoice
more
for one healed
sinner
than for
a hundred
who
haven’t
— sinned

(1st Book Of Prayers: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 212
A Diamond Mined
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Reducing a book
down to one chapter

Reducing that chapter
to a paragraph honed

Reducing that paragraph
to one lasting sentence

Reducing that sentence
to a word
— truth atoned

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 132
Leaving Tomorrow
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
How deep do we travel
inside the divide
When crossing a line
we may not survive

How much of existence
lies waiting beyond
Those things without answers
— in moments becalmed

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Chapter 20: The Formality Of Acceptance

As he entered the village, it was not what he expected ...

“The women are in the process of building a great fire. Before you can be asked to sacrifice on behalf of The People, you have to be honored and formally welcomed into Piegan society,” said Jimmy.

Cutty wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was sure of one thing—there was no mistaking honor when it rose up to greet you. “These people may be down on their luck, but their fundamental spirit is intact.” He repeated this sentiment to Jimmy. “Only because you returned tonight, Major.”

Only Because You Returned!

Cutty and Jimmy had walked through the trees with the big white horse at Cutty’s side. Behind the horse had walked the rest of the Piegan Tribe: First Stoneheart with the Council of Elders, then the Warrior Societies, then the Hunters, and finally the Women and Children.

Everyone From The Tribe Had Come Out To Greet Him

The big horse had neither bridle nor rein but seemed to know exactly what was happening and where they were going. That was good, because Cutty hadn’t been sure. In times like these he had learned that the most successful route was the one of least resistance.

He had slowly walked beside the large stallion by the light of the three-quarter moon—with the torchbearers all behind him. The few times he had slowed down to make sure they were still on the trail the horse had lowered his head on Cutty’s right shoulder and brushed his cheek.

“It’s almost as if he understands why I’m not riding him,” Cutty had thought to himself.

The big white stallion was reminiscent of the one The Emperor had ridden during ceremonial parades in front of the Imperial Palace in Tokyo. He could now hear the women chanting behind him, and their voices were raised in what sounded like somber celebration.

The path opened up into a wide broad area with burning campfires and clapboard shacks extending as far as the eye could see. “So, this is what a modern-day Indian Camp looks like,” Cutty thought out loud.

Jimmy could tell that Cutty was confused as he said: “Only the elders and medicine workers live in teepees, Major. The rest of the tribe lives in wooden shacks that are both cold in the winter and hot in the summer. Many of the People have lost their way and for that reason the Siksika have been able to prey on us so.”

The Piegan Were Caught In A Time Warp Between The Old And The New

The next voice he heard was that of Chief Stoneheart coming up on the left side of his horse from behind. “Ichiban, would you please mount the white horse as we approach the fire? It would mean so much to the People.”

Cutty’s initial feeling was one of embarrassment.

His mind flashed back to the story of Jesus triumphantly entering Jerusalem on the back of a donkey as people waved palm leaves at him in celebration. His self-consciousness was again tempered by the importance of observing local customs. He had learned this on several continents, and it had served him well.

After Stoneheart had passed by—and was now in front of him—Cutty spun 180 degrees throwing his right leg high into the air and over the back of the big horse. Like all good horses, this one immediately knew that he was now in the hands of an experienced rider. Cutty sat motionless on the horse’s back as it slowly made its way toward the flames.

Wooden shacks had been built in a circle around a large stone-rimmed fire pit. It reminded Cutty, in a strange way, of the squares or pracas he had seen in Portugal. Three women were standing inside the large pit and had lighted a fire. The flames danced in the moonlight as Cutty wondered what was coming next.

Then Instinct Overtook Intellect

Without fully understanding why, Cutty reared the stallion up on its two hind legs. He kept the horse in this position for what seemed like forever, before patting it on its right wither and dropping it down on all fours. It was then that he charged.

Cutty charged up the right side of the fire pit at a full gallop. He rode completely around until he was back where he started from—but he did not stop. He drove the horse even faster around the fire, two more times, before rearing him up again in front of Chief Stoneheart and the Council of Elders. The entire tribe was blinded by the aura of Ichiban. Cutty whispered something into the horse’s ear before dismounting in one fluid movement.

“So, you speak to horses too, Ichiban,” said Stoneheart, as he touched the stallion’s mane. “You two seem to know each other well. Maybe from a previous life?” Stoneheart said these words with the first smile Cutty had seen from him since leaving the train station in Missoula.

“There is nothing like a good horse,” Cutty said back to the Chief, as Stoneheart escorted him to a place of honor.

Cutty was being led to the southern end of the fire pit, when Stoneheart asked him to turn around. The women had all stopped chanting, and in a louder voice than all of the women combined—Stoneheart began. As he chanted, he raised both arms to the sky and rotated slowly.

Cutty Was Discovering Just How Important The ‘Circle’ Was To Native Americans

Stoneheart rotated in two complete circles—first to his right and then to his left—before stopping where he had started directly in front of Cutty. This reminded Cutty of the many Katas he had practiced—always finishing in the same spot he had started from.  Stoneheart never lowered his head as his eyes had been fixed on the night sky.

“That sky is almost as impressive as the one over the Himalayas,” Cutty thought.

Stoneheart ended his chanting and turned to face The People. His head was now down as he started a slow and rhythmic dance around the fire.



Chapter 21: The Dance

One by one, they fell in behind Stoneheart dancing their way around the fire. Each tribal member had their own personal interpretation of the drumbeat as they danced through the mixture of moon glow and firelight.

Jimmy had now walked up to Cutty and was standing beside him.

“This is all in your honor, Major. The People can feel the magic of this night, and to them the magic is only real when it is felt in the heart. Stories, and the retelling of legends, don’t often create what they are feeling at this moment. After they have completely circled the fire, they will one by one take a seated position around the circular stones.

When the last dancer is seated, Chief Stoneheart will stand again and raise his arms to the sky. He will then chant a Blackfoot Piegan poem of thankfulness and lower his arms in your direction.

“That will be your invitation to dance, Major. I know this might make you uncomfortable, but it is a great honor to be asked to dance in front of the entire tribe. It will bring untold meaning to everyone. It won’t matter how you dance as long as The People can feel the spirit of your movement.”

When the last dancer was seated, Stoneheart rose with his arms reaching for the sky. It reminded Cutty of when he stood in front of Captain Nagata while first being introduced aboard the great Japanese warship—the Kagoshima Sun.

Eternal Moments Are Never Measured In Blocks Of Time

Chief Stoneheart dropped both of his arms with palms up in Cutty’s direction. He then spread them widely in a gesture of welcome.

Cutty had never really danced and was known as a notoriously bad dance partner both by Adrian and by the few girls he had tried to dance with at Academy *****. He knew he was bad, but there was one thing he could do better than anyone of his generation. He retracted his Katana from the Saya (scabbard) on his belt.  The entire tribe sat motionless—feeling his power—waiting for what he would do next.

“KIAI”

Without warning, Cutty let out with the loudest vocalization anyone seated had ever heard. It filled the night sky, as it bounced off the mountains with its echo of immortality. The power of its reverberation infused into the tribe, and for the first time they felt the connection between themselves and this ancient warrior.

He would share his spirit with them, and their hearts would be renewed. Their ancestors were now looking down from above and smiling at what they saw.

Cutty had watched Stoneheart as he danced around the fire. His movements seemed much slower than the other (younger) dancers, but they had a subtleness to them that seemed to contain great meaning. The other dancers—no matter how energetic—could not capture the feeling that had poured out of his every movement. He knew he could not dance like that.

Cutty Raised His Katana Over His Head With Both Hands

He then dropped his head, before beginning Kata #8. It was the same Kata that he had performed for the crewmembers of the Kagoshima Sun. This form, when done perfectly, took exactly ninety seconds to complete. It was based upon a circular attack, and Cutty would have to amplify its movements to be able to make it around the fire as its last strike was ****** into the air.

Cutty KIAI’d again! He then leaped forward with both feet while striking with his sword both right and left. He jumped and rotated in mid-air, striking an imaginary opponent with a downward killing blow as he landed.

Opponent after imaginary opponent was slain as he made his way around the fire. Everyone seated was frozen in amazement as this intrepid warrior vanquished his enemies in ways that they had never seen. He swept the blade through the embers of the fire as he passed between tribal members seated in front of him.

Not One Of Them Ever Moved Or Flinched

In the shadow of the fire’s glow, there appeared to be three warriors dancing and slaying their enemies. Cutty made his way back to his starting position and then KIAI’d again before dropping his head. It was customary—in Samurai tradition—at this point for someone of authority to release him from his exercise. Captain Nagata had released him while on ship with the command “MOKUSO YAME!”

Cutty Stood Silent With His Head Down In The Firelight

A red-tailed hawk then cried out in the distance, as Stoneheart rose with his arms extended and again started to chant. Cutty took this as the signal for his release. He sat down where he stood and waited for what Stoneheart was going to do next.

Every member of the tribe was still seated and facing Cutty, many with their backs to the fire. Jimmy got up from where he was sitting and took a position just behind Cutty. Two young boys had also walked over and were now sitting quietly beside him.

Stoneheart Finished His Chant And Began To Speak

As Jimmy translated, Stoneheart told those seated that…

“Tonight is a new chapter in the history of the Blackfoot Piegan People. A warrior has been shot from the bow of all that is good, and he has come to free the Piegan from our enemies and to resurrect our spirit. He is a warrior who has fought many battles and walked on foreign lands—lands that we can only wonder about. His enemies have been many in the pursuit of his honor. Early on, he conquered the only enemy that might ever truly defeat him—and that was fear.”

Cutty smiled inside himself, as Jimmy translated Stoneheart’s final words.

“The wisdom of savages,” he remembered the Colonel once saying. If anything savage had happened—since first meeting the three Piegan at the station—Cutty wanted no further part of what posed as civilization.

Stoneheart looked at Not-Many-Prisoners and, with sign language, instructed him on something he wanted done. Jimmy did not translate this, but the look on his face showed total disbelief.

“What’s the matter, Cadet; is something wrong? Is it something I did?”

“No, Major; there is nothing wrong. A new chapter in the long history of the Blackfoot Piegan People is being written tonight—a chapter that none of us had ever foreseen. Please remain seated until Chief Stoneheart and Not-Many-Prisoners come to get you.”

Cutty looked back and forth across the fire. Every member of the tribe was looking directly at him, and they were shaking their heads up and down.  Several of the men had gotten up and followed to where Not-Many-Prisoners had walked off into the darkness.

“I wonder what kind of ceremony comes next,” thought Cutty. “I hope it is accompanied with food.”

His Stomach Had Started To Growl



Chapter 22: The Intercession

Two women—seated to Cutty’s right—approached him and started to tug at his blouse. He was instantly confused at this strange behavior, as Jimmy said: “Please give it to them, Major. The reason will become clear before the night is out.”

With a slight bit of embarrassment, Cutty removed his military blouse. The brass buttons reflected the fire’s light as the women walked off into the dark.

Cutty stood there naked from the waist up as every scar he had ever suffered in battle seemed to dance across his body. The People were mesmerized by these scars and started to talk among themselves.

“Holy Markings,” said Jimmy. “They see your scars as something holy, and in their storytelling, they will become symbols of reverence. It has been a long time since any of them have seen scars made by a sword, and this will only add to the sense of immortality that they already feel for you.

This is a truly magical night, Major; and the best part is still to come. I hope you can feel what we are all feeling.”

The Best Part Still To Come

Cutty started to feel the cold and moved closer to the fire. He tried to do it inconspicuously so that no one would notice, but an old woman sitting on the other side of the fire was watching him with great interest. She stood up and started to walk his way. When she got to where he was sitting, she removed the blanket she was wearing from around her shoulders and wrapped it across and over his back.

Her Head Was Down

Her eyes were almost closed, and she never looked up, as Cutty turned to thank her. Jimmy said something to the old woman in Piegan, and she stopped and turned around. Cutty reached out for her right hand and pulled her down closer to him by the fire.

He stared deeply into the old woman’s eyes. There was a wrinkled and withered beauty to her face that he had never seen before. Every line and crack seemed to be hiding something of extreme importance.

Cutty could feel the power come through her hand, as her eyes never blinked. She was another one of those kindred spirits who had seen more than can be observed in any one lifetime.

Cutty smiled and asked the old woman for her name. “Mimiteh,” the woman said as she held on to Cutty’s hand. “New Moon,” said Jimmy.

“The old woman’s name translates to New Moon. She has been a source of knowledge and renewal within our tribe for many years. No one is certain how old she is, but her stories go back to before the whites came to our land. She is one of only two people who can talk directly to the Old One and enter her teepee unannounced.”

After looking the old woman in the eye, Cutty said: ”She has stories that go back much further than that—further than even the Piegan language can tell.”

As she got back up and started to leave, Cutty repeated her name. She turned once more in his direction and said: “The wind only blows—and the waters only run—in the shadow of your spirit. The Piegan People now live in that shadow, waiting for a new dawn.”

A New Dawn

Cutty tried to speak to the old woman again as another woman wrapped her blanket around Mimiteh and led her away. “That other woman is Hanata, the mother of Stoneheart,” Jimmy said. “It is best now to just let them go about their work.”  

A new drumbeat had started in the distance as Stoneheart and Not-Many-Prisoners walked back around the fire. Cutty stood up to meet them as Jimmy looked over his right shoulder. The two Piegan Elders flanked Cutty on each side and walked him toward the darkness.

No one spoke, as they walked quietly along a narrow trail. The moon’s light was hidden by the cottonwood branches above—spread out in full bloom—and acting as a canopy.

Cutty looked back over his shoulder, but Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. He wondered where they were going and how long it would take. After ten minutes of slow walking, Cutty heard the sounds of running water. The drumbeat had gotten louder, and now seemed close, as it magnified each image inside Cutty’s imagination.

As they got closer to the stream, Cutty could see that it angled steeply down from a ravine high above. The moon’s light was again visible along its banks. There were seven teepees going up the stream’s rise. They were spread twenty to thirty feet apart, and there were curious writings and drawings on their outsides.

Stoneheart and Not-Many-Prisoners walked Cutty by six of the teepees not stopping until they arrived at the last one. It was situated at the top of a short rise where the land leveled off and he could see for miles even in the dark. Cutty could hear voices inside, and he could see the glow of a fire through the teepee’s deerskin covering.

The Other Six Teepees Had Been Dug Into The Gently Sloping Bank

Stoneheart took the blanket from the back of Cutty’s shoulders as Not-Many-Prisoners bent down and pulled back the flap. “Please enter, Ichiban,” Stoneheart said. “Please enter this teepee as a visitor for the last time.”

Cutty ducked his head and stepped under the flap. In the center of the tepee was a smaller version of the stone-ringed fire pit they had just danced around. Ten Blackfoot Piegan men were seated cross-legged around the fire. Cutty was led to a seat of prominence, at the very back of the teepee, where he could see the entrance when he looked straight ahead.

Stoneheart walked back around the fire and took a seat right in front of the flap. He was now 180 degrees across from Cutty and sat cross-legged as the rest. Cutty also crossed his legs.

For a long time, there was silence inside the ancient dwelling with the crackling of juniper wood the only sound being made. Cutty thought it brought peace—along with great warmth—as the spirits of those seated chased away the past.

Old Memories Were Now Free To Leave, As New Ones Rose From The Flames
Jul 2024 · 78
Full Circle
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Her face held
no memory
Her body
no past

The light trapped
within her
As first comes
— to last

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 50
Killing The Host
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
All artists are frauds
most deservedly so
Escaping themselves
into something unknown  
Their costumes transform
always trying to hide
The truth of their natures
— left dying inside

(The New Room: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 57
The Famine Of Bliss
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
We were in love
but never at peace
Starving together
— choking the feast

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 48
Aesthete
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Not the painting
or the sculpture
Not the music
or dance

But the process
leading up to
Their beauty
— enhanced

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 87
For Whom The Bell Tolls
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
To write
like me
You must
think like me
And see
like me
And feel
like me

To write
like me
You must
ask not tell
For words
rung clearly
By fortunes
— bell

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 53
Strike 3
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
When you spit
into the face
of destiny
— eternity watches

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 186
Barding Time
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Can you put the past
behind you
is there nothing left
to learn
Can you look toward
the future
your dreams no longer
spurned
Can you ask that
final question
that unanswered
sets you free
Can you step inside
the moment
to be or not
— to be

(The New Room: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 62
Agnostic Nightmare
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
The fear of God
is not as threatening
As the fear
— he might not be

(Augustinian Graveyard: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 138
A Poet's Eyes
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Seeing — Unseeing
the words drift away
far into the current
of what’s left to say

Passing my cortex
far into the void
where blind recognition
awaits to destroy

Familiar or foreign
once stopped in their tracks
new meaning escapes
with no looking back

The Poet’s eyes squinting
as light filters out
transcendence recaptured
ascendance remounts

Through slivering darkness
a vision appears
and mocking the order
old images clear

Those words once discarded
reform juxtaposed
through eyes resurrected
— released from the flow

(Septa R5: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 72
The Pond In Sight
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Rural people
self-reliant
vote red white and blue

City dwellers
vote dependent
subsidies anew

People with space
are free to think
harbingers of truth

Leading the way
the pond in sight
— where sits the Golden Goose

(The New Room: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 191
Battle Royale
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Take me
to Hell
Take me
to Heaven
Bless me
with kindness
Curse me
as leavened

Angel within
me
Devil
in waiting
Salvation
unseeded
Damnation
— equating

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Chapter 30: This Ain’t No Country Club

He stared longingly out the back window of his Dad’s

car. He was headed off to the country club again, missing

the nightly ‘Wiffle-Ball’ game with the guys.

The playground was not a country club. There was no price of admission, or exclusive standards necessary to be admitted. You could be black, white, red or yellow. It didn’t matter. What did matter was how you played, and how you fit into the group. You may have been a social outcast or juvenile delinquent outside the playground, and yes we had a few, but what really mattered was how you acted inside the fence.

In 1958 my parents joined the local country club. Being a young, upwardly mobile couple, and enjoying the success of my father's growing business, my parents decided that this was one way in which they could celebrate. I hated it! Not because I didn’t like the people there or didn’t want to learn to play golf. It was because it took time away from my favorite place — the playground.

After dinner in the summers, my parents would hurry up and clear the table and then head to the ‘club’ with us kids in tow to get in nine holes. This of course meant that I had to miss the nightly ‘Wiffle-Ball’ game in the street. I would then have to suffer through the entire next day hearing who hit twelve home runs and who threw who out trying to make it home. It just wasn’t fair. How could a country club ever compare to a ‘Wiffle-Ball’ game or the playground? It couldn’t. Not then, and not now. The country club was stuffy to a ten-year old, and the country club had strange rules. Most of them seemed to be about what you couldn’t do.

A Direct Opposite From The Playground

How we go from the inclusive nature of our nation's playgrounds to the exclusive practices of our golf, tennis and yacht clubs is probably the subject for another book and another writer. I am just so grateful that my earliest experiences were on a grass field surrounded by a chain link fence. It was inside that fence that I felt the playground wrap its four-acre arms around me and, through its spirit of free-play, teach me the greatest lessons I would ever learn.

How we develop the later prejudices of black/white, democrat/republican, or any choice at the exclusion of another is not something we learned there. At the playground, in the absence of parents and adults, we had to fit in and find a way to adapt to one another. The weather and the big guys called all the shots. That’s the way it was, and that was A-OK with us. It worked, because at different ages, and at different times, we all got to be squirts, then decent players, and finally the big guys.

It Was Fair Even When It Was Unfair

If that doesn’t make sense to you, then you probably didn’t grow up on a playground, where the whole truly was greater than the sum of its parts. There were no polo ponies or alligators on our shirts symbolizing our dreams. We lived them every day, and we lived them together!


Chapter 31: Violent But Not With You

The stare-down was over. Joe took the first punch but

delivered the second, then five more. To his credit,

Bobby was still on his feet, but the fight was over.

The playground’s resident tough guy could be violent, but he almost never directed that towards you. Not unless you were dumb enough to challenge his honor by publicly embarrassing him or making him look like a fool in front of the other guys. Then, the punishment was swift, like being shown the door after making your company look bad because of a dumb comment you made at the quarterly board-meeting. Nothing was more fundamental or learned earlier than the recognition of power.

The young neighborhood girls sensed this more than anyone, and it harkened back to Robert Bly’s ‘Iron John’. “Men are attractive because of their fierceness”. The Playground took on an aura proportional to its ‘tough guy status, not unlike many corporations. The tough guy’s roles were limited but invaluable when called upon. He was the playground’s last line of defense, even though his role was mostly one of deterrence. Similar to many companies, the tough guy’s role was usually passed down from the resident champion to his heir apparent, sometimes willingly, and sometimes not.

The mechanics of this process were mostly known only to the tough guys, but it gave the playground the stability and the security it needed. In the movie ‘A Few Good Men’, Jack Nicholson, while under interrogation from Tom Cruise says: “Somewhere in places you don’t admit, you want me on that wall, where four thousand Cubans try to **** me before breakfast”. He then finishes it with the immortal line: “You want the truth, you can’t handle the truth”. In our playground, the truth was governed by principles based on natural selection and the Law of the Jungle. Bobby Gross was our resident Tarzan.

Bobby was from the poor side of our town and was almost sixteen in the eighth grade. He had been ruling our four-acre domain for as long as anyone could remember. Bobby always seemed so much bigger and older than we were. It wasn’t only his age that made him the resident tough guy. Bobby earned and retained this title due to the several times when he had successfully defended his crown. These events though seldom, were major occurrences in the playground and were attended like a championship bout. They almost never happened by accident and were full of anticipation and bravado. The challenge usually came from another playground, and we were all extremely proud of Bobby when he successfully defended our honor.

Bobby almost retired undefeated. At sixteen, just about everyone leaves the playground for the world of cars and girls. I say almost because of Joe Church. Joe was a Navy brat whose Dad was an Admiral at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. They had just moved up from Norfolk Virginia, and one gray Thursday afternoon Joe showed up on the Playground for the first time. No words had to be exchanged, or threats made, it was just something you knew. Bobby and Joe knew it better than anyone. There could only be one playground number one, and today there would be a changing of the guard.

Like Bobby, but even more so, Joe was advanced physically for his age. He was very athletic and muscular. He had an air of quiet defiance, bred by years of moving from one Navy town to the next having to defend his honor at every stop. No one quite remembers exactly how the fight started. Someone heard the word ‘punk’ shouted and it began. It was over almost as quickly as it began. After taking Bobby's best shot, Joe pinned Bobby up against the chain link backstop and beat him to a pulp with less than six punches. This kid could really fight. It’s funny though; with Joe there was no bravado or posturing, just a raging controlled fury that you hoped would never be directed toward you. Joe was later highly decorated in Vietnam, and all of us who shared our waning years on the playground with him were very proud— including Bobby Gross.

Another Playground Legend Was Made!

Most corporations have their resident tough guy, or gal. You can only hope that they got their training, and cut their teeth, on the grass and asphalt of a distant playground. That way you can be sure that their lessons were true. If not, you may have to suffer the rants and tirades of some William Agee or Jack Welch wannabee. The real tough guys pass their strength along in the form of confidence and security to those working under them, just like Bobby and Joe did for us. This creates an atmosphere of stability and confidence that allows everyone to thrive and prosper and comes from lessons truly learned and paid for. The god’s of the playground instilled this in all. They entered your soul on the fields and courts of adolescence ...

And Never Left.
Jul 2024 · 122
Memory Answers
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Life is precious
and people die
and people die
and people die

One day closer
a last goodbye
a last goodbye
a last goodbye

Questions asking
forever bide
forever bide
forever bide

Memory left
to answer why
to answer why
to answer why

(The New Room: July, 2024)
Jul 2024 · 147
Tomorrow In Flames
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2024
Smells like
diesel
Tastes like
fire
Exit
burning
Kindled  
liars

First step
taken
Through the
flames
Ghosts left
melting
Tracks
— of pain

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
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