The loud ring of the phone
brings him back to the
most important
day of his life;
his marriage

He doesn't know why
that memory was
triggered, but it's
all he can see

He longs to be back at that time
Falling, falling
The sweet tune of
"Here Comes the Bride"
plays in the back
of his mind

He sees the ground below him now
as he sees his wife walking
down the aisle
Closer & closer
Flirting with death

Near to the ground now
She's at the foot of the altar
She made it
So did he
"Till death do us part"

Sometimes a poet has to ponder upon:
substitutes
suspense
building
breaking
glueing
grooving
gazzillion
broken pieces
put back together
Love
Heart
Rhythm
pace of words

Rhythm !

Shall words be beautiful ?
Or aggressive ?

For some opponent heavy readers Lovely words just don't suffice!
Love words, cheesy romanticism and odes to beauty
turn out to be:
too easy
too light
not a delight
a psyche's cry is heard:
"Where is some drama!? For God's sake!!!"

We hear annoyed reader's comments...
"Brother, this cheesy woobadaloo, smoochy kind of poetry ain't nothing but pure ****!
An effort compared to one, two three, slight steps in muddy warm water
nothing much to do, a lurking pudding, fibble will... oh, my my
oooooohh"
no harm done
but boring
but! - there's always a - but!
some badass poetic freak
with it's head in
the clouds
tell me about Love
dear!
till
the day's tiles
are done.

"Where's some culmination!!?!!
Crime, anger, passion!!!?!!!
Terriffic twists of turmoil, sweat, deceit... !??!
At least a bit of dark matter puked on a silver platter!! Where is this abruptly amazing, abolishing lust for hedonism!!!?"*

fortune
torture
pain
lust
give me some more!
blood, thorns
screams,
tears
sweet ****!!!!  

Does beauty suffice!?!
Without duality?!
Is there a Real Poetry without
Suffering ?

Tell me poets!!
Is there a Poetry- Divine without ugliness ?!? of words, energy, meanings without a constant fight!?
inner dialogue
characters
opposition

HAIKU!?!

all i got's a rusty truck
some dreams and my guitar
out of all them three
not one will get me far

the truck don't run
the guitar's out of tune
the day just must get better
it's only ten past noon

i'm building bridges out of sand
with water and some glue
i'm building bridges that won't stand
unless they're built with you
i'm building bridges out of sand
that may not last the night
i'm building bridges out of sand
and with you i'll build them right

my roof is always leaking
my boat won't stay afloat
i'm tone deaf and i stutter
i can not hold a note

the truck has rusted floorboards
they've rusted clear on through
the thing that makes me keep it
is it's where i first kissed you

i'm building bridges out of sand
with water and some glue
i'm building bridges that won't stand
unless they're built with you
i'm building bridges out of sand
that may not last the night
i'm building bridges out of sand
and with you i'll build them right

with your voice there beside me
a new truck and new guitar
the dreams won't seem so distant
we'll be closer to the stars

a good and strong foundation
and belief in what i dream
with two hearts it is stronger
with two hearts, we're a team

i'm building bridges out of sand
with water and some glue
i'm building bridges that won't stand
unless they're built with you
i'm building bridges out of sand
that may not last the night
i'm building bridges out of sand
and with you i'll build them right

Not all bridges are made of wood,
you tell me,
when I ask you why you have not yet
set fire to the pathway
that connects us

Some of the ugliest structures
are the ones that last the longest-
the ones where you can see the insides
and there is no masking
the wear and tear
of years of rain and wind and snow

Eventually,
those structures become landmarks,
pieces of importance

I realize that our structure
is by far, the ugliest,
and I hate it every time I see it

but I will not remove it

"As we build our Earth, we are also destroying it"

you are post-apocalyptic
cluttered with debris
ruins
under siege,
destructive.

you are filled with nothing but smoke,
I fight for you,
search for one flash of light,
for one hidden memory of brightness within you:
the lights are gone at Yonge & Bloor
the 501 to Roncesvalles has disappeared
the condo showroom at King and Blue Jays Way
is no longer filled with your hands on my hips.

you are empty,
vacant,
save for the souls of those who choose to remind me
of days long forgotten:
a hand grasped at Harbourfront,
tears littering the patchy expanse of Bellwoods,
your laugh at Queen and Dufferin.

you are a nightmare;
a poltergeist,
you are breathless
and soulless
and hopeless:
nothing

you are cavernous
Toronto –
so encompassing,
you will cut me in half
before I heal
and gain
the desire
to fight
to stay.

I have the city
Beneath me. If I fall, they
Will catch me, won't they?