a window ajar
cold body likewise open
the devil creeps in

You texted me last night
telling me to come over and hang out
and I was real excited
and kinda nervous
but I tried to clean up as best I could
got in my car
and headed over to your house
and then turning left onto your street
I barely saw it coming
Crash
trapped in my flipped car
It was my first crash
and the cops came
and the EMT's
and the firemen
and somehow I walked out
completely unscathed
and I know I should be thankful for that
but my first upside down thought
was that I wouldn't be seeing you tonight
and that maybe it was some sort of sign
but I've always been one to ignore signs
Nobody was answering my phone calls
and I was freaking out
vibrating in the midst of an adrenaline earthquake
but you came
when I texted you what happened
and you brought me a little juice box
and gave me a hug
and even though my car was destroyed
it was still nice seeing you

what am I I don't know I think I'm a boy I grew up one time reading a book with a gun in my hand with a pellet gun in my hand I grew up a boy

Faith is a troubled word in muddy
clothes, walking with the unthinking,
the enraged, the **** tube prophets

Still: I believe a few things, like
that You exist
that You reward the seeker

that the greatest anything is love,
You always did say that:
'Love each other, love Me'

Faith reveals the invisible
hope which lifts sunken eyes to
Love

which is the only redemption
in the burning streets
of a condemned world.

Choosing a love ethic means knowing
you are connected
to every other life

and even to eternity
which Tagore describes
as the place where nothing can vanish:

no hope
no happiness
no vision of a face seen through tears

I  know you.
I have been watching you
For a while.
I know you want me to
And that you want me too
I can tell this from your smile.

You know me
I know you have seen me around
I am somehow always there.
Every thing you do, I have to see
I have to hear every sound
You see,  it is all because I care

I knew it all along
From the way you smiled in class
That I was meant to be your girl
Is this totally wrong?
I know you've checked out my ***
I just know that I'd rock your world.

But I have to lay low
A relation is not allowed yet
But soon,  when you graduate...
So I'm planning to take it slow
Savouring the moments we get
Until we're allowed to date.

...and yes, I am a teacher!

I'm
So
****
Disoriented
In between
Lines
And irretrievable
Touching

Paroxysm
Creaking
Me awake
For hours
On end

I'm
Tight - lipped
Tongue - tied
Dumb struck

Still

Ever since
Your slam
Of the
Door
That point
Of entry
That
Could
Have
Lead
Us

Nothing
Never

Now it's
Nowhere

And
You're
Never
No where
Now you're

Nothing

At all

Lunatic calling....... Earthling.........

Yes, you...fool..... tiny Earthling!
Wake up, you intractable iota of pulp
I watch you on your little planet, with relish
Playing depraved games on your spiritless  ilk.

I inhabit a moon much larger than your scrap of sand
You already appear so infinitesimally  small
When seen with a magnifier, from this innocuous distance
But now, you're even less than a speck of dust.

Seemingly important, you prance and preen and strut
Your feathers ruffling so easily, I do note
Look how you fret your heartstrings and gnaw away
And I didn't get to say that much....yet!

But fear not: collide with each other, we will not
For conversing amiably with my solar sibling, I've pled
To wield its forte and rein out all magnetic fields
So's we never make acquaintance of regret.

See how bloated and full of yourselves you have all become
Feeding on yourselves, sick with bilious envy
Scurrying like ants, at least THEY know better
For when you reach inside you, there ain't too much of note!

You try aimlessly to prove your dull existence
By crawling all wild-like and filling up the gaps meant for silence
Instead, you leave gruesome tracts of rotating noise
I constantly quake at the revolting  mess on Earth.

Scamper along now, as you are wont to do, brain-scooper
You can hardly hold still a thought in mind
You seek and ferret out answers not meant for your likes
Soon you will sever and break up into little pieces insects love!

You think that what you do, is so gripping
But don't you know we're all varying on the same theme
Roll up the deified curtain and you might find
Everything's an inflated rerun of what passed before.

So, even here on this jaunty moon where I live
I'd rather you not join me in my solitary abode
This lunatic prefers the osculating of kind craters
And communing in the solace of orchestral stones.

You delude yourself with ludicrous ideas
That you have the swell of sultry oceans at your disposal
All tied to deceptive spider-like strings, kited fraudulently in your hand
Hoping to catch that salty surge and drift away.....

My scathing  job perchance, is to spot that pattern of power
And when Eros comes rolling in on that mighty tide
I plan and do my best to make you fail spectacularly
Oh, to climb on and ride that sweet wave for all it's worth!

There is nothing to lose, cos you have nothing!
But your acquisitive nature lets you think you do
Yes, go and ape your latest hobby: quickly run to your house
Check that  no-one has stolen the dust from your gate!

Temporary custodians of that rock, is all you are.
But you......You're absurdly afraid to lose what isn't.
Tiers of neglect show how little you learn of what's around you
Hello, look up.......please. Do you see me? Oh, you do.

Well, well now ! Grand planes and happy steaks to you!
Two swell ticks bestowed on you......for neatness.
But even as I study and decimate your paltry existence
Turning, I'm growing painfully aware of three eyes on me.......

Hey, hang on.....wait, wait, WAIT........help!
Earthling.....please!!
Lunatic calling....... Earthling.........
Somebodyyyyyyy....?

Lunatic calling......dear Earthling.........



Star Toucher,  10 March 2013

Today I went to a bookstore
A grief observed by C. S. Lewis.
Into a ziplock bag went this book, and
A quote from C Raymand Beran
--what is a friend?
I will tell you.
I drove the forty minutes along the dull highway
Lamposts like hovering, ghostly figures,
And slipped this package under the windshield wiper of your car.
Why is it that my own words can't express
What I'm feeling, so well as others do?
A-
For the tenth
-a friend
Those were my only words.
Your mother died eight months
Ago tomorrow, and here I
Sit. Selfishly hoping you'll speak
To me again.