TWO VERSIONS OF THE SAME STORY

                                          ( I)
lost in a thousand days our lives are twined
like  deep rooted trees we grow, embarking on a destiny
digging deep into the  rich soil of life, that which sustains
we take from it, giving in return, sharing the elements
that make us who we are, continuing to thrive
we are bold, boundless- letting our roots go where
they need to go, we are capable, inclined to be more, we give
into the future and past, for we our delineated, crisscrossed
we live in possibilities, we are ancient still young, living invincible

                                              (II)
love as a canvas expressed in this portrait of us
made from our flesh and feeling exposed, to be
artfully designed copied, envied, worshipped, whispered
as we take repose upon the alter of love, letting our passion burn
we are ageless, advantageous, ever-knowing
while there in the corner, a soundless spy stays ready
to keep watch over us, candle flame flickering, it burns through
illuminating our shadow, as we grow bigger from floor to ceiling,  immense, ready to breach our  boundaries that hold
us down, we tell ourselves, no more as we make ready to
accept this destiny and not some alternate version copied from  

by Michael Perry

UNTITLED

                A light we
once possessed
this want- had a name
a common thread, all at once
beginning, to unravel, still
I had in my mind
to hold on to, you, to linger there- deep in
side my veins, made me insane
you came like a drug-to flow
under my skin each time, in
need of a fix, to retain my sanity
             our perfect storm, with conditions right
you were what I  needed, to make me dependant
                     now all for nothing,you turned, cold
my withdrawl complete like bugs under my skin- to
crawl there, I was left cold and
shaking, for days on end-  you left me behind, as I
tried to focus, somehow retain- get a grip
                                                   on loves new reality

by Michael Perry

UNTITLED

a red curtain-torn, askew, made ashamed
as an insult to hang low, abused,   unloved

from within these four walls lies the stink of
the stale breath-overcome with the moss of age

and as the silence surrounds, it lets out a baleful sound
that screeches of jagged glass teeth-exposed, ready to bite

to the coldness that remains intact, over a once held claim lost
to time and space, where only now, live the ghosts holding court

by Michael Perry

from this place of pain, wanting to reach out
the snow falls tonight, looking from the window
into the darkness beyond
     as  it falls
                     falls
                             falls
                                       falls
into tears cold and anonymous to the ground below
                    made of sticks and stones
I am alone       I am hurting         does anyone care     despite this
I am made of steel                    I am better than this, so
           in my momentary bout  of weakness - take notice
    by the morning                  still and all                              I                               ­                             
                                          will
                 ­               OVERCOME      

by Michael Perry

untitled (for you know who)  09082020

thought i  knew of love-or just
the mention of the word- what
does it mean- truly deep down-back then
I had no idea, until I met you- the love of my life-
you-who has evoked so many feelings; inside my head-body, soul
having taken our vows- to understand-you are God's gift to me
you are the love that makes me so high -ready to touch the sky
I would name a star just for you-nothing will ever feel the same
all because of you, I would  sacrifice my life- simply, for
the ground you dare to walk upon-I have been blessed
-me for you, so with the on- coming years- ready for us to look
ahead- know with each day that passes- my heart still beats
and my pulse quickens faster, even after all these years, it will always happen- each and every time you walk into the room

by Michael Perry

UPON THIS SPOT

canopy of leaves
unto this tree
undaunted, while remaining
year upon year, ready
to shed secrets,  of all that it knows
of those gathered, once here
upon this spot before and now

By Michael Perry

VERSION OF A TONGUE TWISTER

so as the summer sizzle stalls into simmering on
and the fire flies flit catching light-deep into the night
so it goes- with each new day unable to carry
it's own weight from the heaviness the heat has wrought
rightly or wrongly, each day and night becomes
more brought about surrendering , slowly, sluggishly, straining into a
miasma of monotonous memory, where one needs a break from-
for nothing else will break this impasse excepting a cold front fast

by Michael Perry

VINCENT
         (Homage to Vincent Van Gogh)

did you know when your genius came to you?
did you see it, materialize through your own eyes
or did someone tap you on the shoulder, is that
when the recognition for you became a reality?
no worries,  i am conflicted about being famous too
but it's sure nice to know, people know your work
being on a first name basis, still, your inspiration where
did it come from, read you had a tough life, blue periods
cut off your ear, and those starry nights, ahh, the sun flowers
too, sorry for it all, still you did well, and you never made a
dime while you were alive, but know even after all that
with generations to come, those of us who appreciate art
already know your name, so sleep well tonight Vincent, and know
your anonymity is safe with me, as I admire your genius from here

by Michael Perry

VIOLIN
Play me like a violin
with no need for words, right now
to strike the right chord
I am swept away by your spell
in such a way, this intoxicating music
it has me, taken, under your control
I am brought to tears from  
every rise; fall, inflection, in symphony
giving rise to a musical cadence;  our progression of love

By Michael Perry

WAITING FOR MY BREAK

you in the morning, sleepy still
there in your eyes, i give you a moment
prepare your coffee, black with lots of cream
we don't speak, just sit, the moment
is a moment, already passing us by
so just not yet, i wait, i can always tell
even after all these years, you were
never an early riser i was, the one
who was up before dawn, writing my
greatest hits, waiting for that big break
still, the years have come and gone
it was never meant to be so it turned into
something i did for fun, as i sit at my
writing desk-throwing out ideas, she says
to me, you always make the best cup of coffee

By Michael Perry

WALK AWAY

like a spring snow, passing over our heads, burying us deep
within whose depths, it was hard to see, without knowing
for sure, the feelings we had in mind, precious but hard to keep

here we were, ready to succumb, while seeking so much more
It passed us by time and again, unable to see, what the heart was for

whether right or wrong, both our feelings were ignored, for awhile
tossing them aside, exaggerated, justified, or simply nullified

should I, would she, just walk away this time, for all that we know
or take one step back, to being worthwhile, make a flame grow

should I, will she, could we, just stop, taking a page from fate
reconsidering it all, to make it better, fix it before it breaks
so that we can go forward and move beyond our love stalemate

be it a mistake, misunderstanding, or else the consequence
of a heart, figuring out what it needs, whether fight or flee
left up to happenstance, it never crossed our minds, to walk away

we fought our way back, trying to survive, against the tide
like a sea storm swelling, the ebb and flow, in and out
searching the moon and stars, struggling, till we got it right

now with eyes wide, and our love where it belongs, we know the score,
letting the heavens fully align, to be our guide, from behind closed doors

be it a mistake, misunderstanding, or else the consequence
of a heart, figuring out what it needs, whether fight or flee
left up to happenstance, it never crossed our minds, to walk away

By Michael Perry

WATER
water is healing
flowing through the vein
of bodies tributary;   water is power
night and day, hour by hour
ready to create life, take it away; water is personified
sacred, purified, to sanctify, carried on for
generation after generation, constantly moving, unfazed, by everything else it surrounds

by Michael Perry

WATER BIRDS- a Haiku

the water birds gather
wading in dark ponds moon lit  
skittish fish, frogs hide

by Michael Perry

WATER IS LIFE

for me water is life
i am a child of the water
born in January, an Aquarius
i am like a fish, with gills
for lungs, kept under the water
i live and breathe, thrive
but if i am kept from, taken away
made to lose the source, all but keeps me alive,
the essential essence of all that I know
i will suffocate, unable to
survive, die

by Michael Perry

WE ARE LOVERS

we are lovers
through all of our years
collected, neglected
off and on living familiar
once or twice a shared spite
coming  close to adversarial, we have
come to this place , accepting, with our eyes wide
through our shared sacrifice and many trials
for no matter how long we have left
love was a constant  companion, given or take
making something stirred; never to be shaken
from those first years, to these last, we are
like a fine wine we have aged well enough
as we look forward not back

by Michael Perry

WE KNOW OTHERWISE

there was a point to feelings unfinished
of all those little moments stacked up
once there was love, we called it that
our link to one another, still its about
those little moments, out of a life time
we took them for granted, in our
last attempt at feelings lost, we lived
we fought through it, we sought refuge
in each others arms, holding on, as if
our life depended on it, now we realize
without those moments, when love
tried to deceive, we have seen it all with
renewed eyes, making us stronger for it
like in the early days, when love was new
thoughtful, unable to break, we know otherwise
until that moment comes, regard it, anticipate

by Michael Perry

WE'VE WALKED THIS BEACH

we've walked this beach
in all our seasons of change, every kind of weather
whether it was days or nights, why did it hit me
in this moment, right here and now

I never told her, I hated cold weather, I did it for her
she always felt invigorated as the biting wind pricked
the sea spray hit my face like a dead reckoning, she
laughed at my expense, her cheeks flushed crimson red

each season as we walked together, like this
her hand in mine, there was nothing better
after each walk, weather permitting, we'd stop and
sit down in the sand huddled, watching each sunrise and sunset

dusk is soon approaching, and as I walk this beach, reflecting
able to reconcile loss, it has to be , so i turn my head into
the biting winds once more, facing my unknown, alone, as the salted tears flow above the din, made of the wind and sea

for a moment i swear i can hear her laugh, or is it
the wind just playing tricks on me, I turn my back
from the wind and cold, to our usual spot in the sand
as I look around for anyone, there's nobody here but me


by Michael Perry

We Were
We were just kids       living for back in the day
it was 1984                  San Francisco remember?
I do,  Ileene was a girl  I knew          full of fun
she was    ready for anything                 one day
it was at the                               end of the year
she dressed herself                                 all up
head to toe  in                          calendar pages
what a sight                               she didn't care  
what people thought                    or said of us
we were young                          wild and crazy
it was the year                          fleeting days of
                   willing to just standout
to be                                                whatever
we wanted       in varying     forms of expression
                   what can I say?
that year                           she said it for all of us

By Michael Perry

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

the sun finally came out today, peeking through cracks
in the curtains, all at once making its presence known
and you laying beside me undisturbed, unaware
warm and nestling as your blond hair lay tousled
tossed like a nest, and i brushed back a few strands
to see your closed eyes, made simple as a child's, innocent
you, free-spirited, happy-go-lucky,  lips full and composed
dreaming happy thoughts, as i continued  to lay next to you another minute more, while i did i thought all about us, what
if, what was, what we had, and what needed to be done
if not today, certainly by tomorrow, as i waited for an
answer to fall from the sky, i got up silently to get dressed
trying not to make any noise at all, not wanting to wake you
on such a beautiful morning, as i started closing the door behind
me, i heard you say in your sleepy voice "where are you going?"

by Michael Perry

WHAT I TELL MYSELF

what it must be like- for just one night
to be loved, liked- to just be-the good-bad,
in side of me- comes out- (I am waiting) as thoughts swirl
- around the bed room-if I go to sleep now
say my prayers- always;  minds in overload-- (if I could) to side step
the obvious- (how can I) concentrate-settle-down
make it one thing-at a time, two, three
four, shut the door-sure thing- (do I)- feel better?
now, have one eye-open, long as it takes- for
the duration of the night- I wait (have my doubts)
every-thing in the dark-
stays exaggerated; or better explained
in the morning- (hope so)- at least I think (what I tell myself)

by Michael Perry

WHAT LITTLE HE HAD

when he died
the family came
forward

unannounced
out of the woodwork
to claim

some thought they
were due, what
little he had

to fight over
clothes, a few pictures
a John Deere riding mower

is that
what it takes-
to bring a family around

by Michael Perry

WHAT OF LOVE

what of love
let this be our distraction, as we willingly
give sway-to the heart, of it, playing a part

what of love
a source having claim will, with no objections to-who knew
we have only ourselves to blame

what of love
being bigger than us both, to speak it- we dare not
without having to compare, there are no words that come close

By Michael Perry

WHAT OF ME

the car seemed in constant motion moving fast as
the world outside was all but passing by in a blur

what of me in this world the lonely, caught up
lost it seems to be spun on an axis out of control

so put me in the driver seat, for i know how
its the words stuck between teeth and tongue

even if i speak clearly, aloud enunciating words on paper
they are sure to be lost, left to the abyss, stagnant still

we are all here for such a short time, as i take notes the
writing is on the wall in cursive or print will it survive

i want to wake up on this ride that has me so tired
always searching down the endlessness of avenues

so as i pull the car slowly to the dirt road side noticing the
vastness of the night sky its purple crimson  bruises  intact

i remark to myself, as i get out to stretch my legs anticipating
i am the last of a dying breed, a lost writer in search of a story

By Michael Perry

WHAT OF MY MOTHER?

my father was a young man when
my mother died suddenly, both
families encouraged him time
and again saying, he was young
he needed a wife, his boys needed
a mother, after  awhile, he took their
advice and my father did remarry, for
better or worse he was ready to move on-
what of my mother, would  she have been
given the same advice? if the circumstances
had been reversed-  probably not, they would
have said, tend to your children, and tend to
your husbands grave, be a dutiful wife
you do not need to be married again, so she
would have poured herself into her duties, raising us
as best she could, and she would have continued
being the grieving wife, for as long as it took
until it was her turn to die, doing everything she
could to make his lasting repose;  her life's work
like a good wife if the situation had been reversed, she
would have accepted her circumstances; not changing a thing

WHAT WE TELL OURSELVES

there are sad things we can accept as fact or shrug it off
as our little voice whispers, depending on which small voice
is talking to you;  so picture this, as you think it through
in a house on a quiet street, lined with fences and trees
is a woman sitting on her barcalounger alone, on this last day
of the year, she is feeling unloved, still it doesn't have to be
as we all make choices daily- that's what we tell ourselves
still she cannot accept the fact of why her?-she ponders this,
with a cigarette glowing through clenched lips, she takes in
a long slow drag as the stifling silence completely surrounds her
all this time; so we surmise, it comes down to guilt of conscience there must be deeper things going on; we cannot get into her head, as she carries this around like an afghan shawl, it's her bitter pill- which she takes daily in a shot glass on a table by her side- steeling herself to cast away ghosts that appear from each year past- and all that it represents, will it be enough as the clocks ticks down, she can see the new year coming into view as she takes in a deep sigh, preparing  for the inevitable, she steady's her nerves for what lays ahead, she has no one else to blame, she accepts this as her norm

by Michael Perry

WHEN THE MIND GOES MISSING

my mind feels blank
making me devoid
of a conscience- something is missing
i cannot put my finger on it
as the air is cool against my face, chest
i don't remember getting out  of bed
still here i am standing  in the dark
at the end  of a long driveway, staring all around
trying to get my bearings, while
being naked, feeling afraid- i try to think
hard - putting a fist to my forehead
rubbing my brow but nothing comes
just white noise-i am so confused
- but I shouldn't be, i remember
yesterday and the day before, but
now nothing, it's like i woke up a
different person- my true self gone
the lack of clarity chills me, i am feeling lost
i am overcome, wanting to feel something
i look up to the stars they look back twinkling
they have  no answers for me either, so with
last efforts i begin to cry-all of a sudden
a strange woman comes to me, calling Daddy
i don't recognize her, she knows me
she wraps me in a blanket, taking my hand
i feel the warmth of her hand, still her face
is unfamiliar to me, she smiles like
she is caring for her very own innocent child
- she talks to me, softly, tenderly, saying, come back
into the house, we'll have a warm cup of tea

By Michael Perry

WHO DECIDES

it's cold today
as we stand near
the upturned earth creating
the last resting place for him
too young to succumb, his body
could not help itself, so it
succeeded where he failed, taking him
without fight or argument
so we wait here as
the hearse pulls in, followed by
a couple cars with others like us
who cannot believe, we are here like this
saying our good byes
it doesn't seem fair, or real but, who gets to
decide that- obviously it wasn't him, if it was
he would be here too, standing next to us
looking down-instead of up

by Michael Perry

WILD FLOWERS

of the elements
seen and unseen
the wild flowers grow
as colorful pinpoints-up through cracks in
the pavement, against a mottled gray
backdrop, where did
they come from
who knows, who cares- just relish
in the fact, in the midst of a blight, reminds one
of a Jackson Pollack canvas-
taking shape, ready to breathe life

By Michael Perry

WINNING TICKET

He was a poor man
willing to put his last dollar
on the counter to buy
himself a lottery ticket

thinking this might be it
a little piece of paper
that will finally bring him luck  
filling his life full with riches and dreams

in the morning, when he awoke
touching the ticket inside his pocket
he found a morning paper to read the winning
numbers aloud, and nothing matched

feeling sorry for himself until when
as he walked down the street, dejected, he came across
another dollar bill to spend, he thought to himself, this is luck
how can it not be, the next ticket will be a winner for sure  

by Michael Perry

WINTER UNFORGIVING

in a winter unforgiving
be it sacrifice or sin
eerily cloaked in the white
of piety, no where to be found
in this, the season of lonesome times
we watch as the pigeons across the way
head for the park ready to scramble
and scrounge for a crumb or two
looking for battle, their survival depends
on it, for little sustenance found, they will fight
to the  death defending what they find
along  with the homeless man who
claims this as his home away home

by Michael Perry

WISH UPON A STAR

the sky is beginning to darken
just enough for the stars to
make their appearance, putting
on a show they are twinking
on and off in a ritual, old as life itself
we two are standing close watching
holding hands, we continue looking up
at the dark and the light, illuminate
all around, filling the night
with millions of heavenly bodies
craving an audience, then from right to left
a falling star begins its decent,  i tell her
hurry, make a wish, she closes her eyes
and does just that  i tell her i hope
your wish comes true, she whispers
back breathlessly, it already has

By Michael Perry

WITH THOUGHTS OF YOU

with thoughts of you how can I compare
this or any- to another day, being the same
without you in it-for I want to be selfish, wanting
you for another day, if possible; like before without
even speaking, using any words, we had a language all
our own; to communicate, all our hopes and dreams
into a promise;  that was meant to keep us immune from
being apart for any length of  time- so then how is it
I let you go-for real- without putting up a fight, when
not even your memory will suffice, I need your flesh and bone
for the comfort; now the lack there of- as I comprehend
what's happened; and the fact that; while, you- were
in your sick bed;  I let you down when you needed
me the most, making myself blind to the fact; avoiding
even eye contact; and ready to shut out the thoughts of, I was
not ready to hear,- and you trying in your weakened state
to let go-I would not have it-now it's too late- to this day
I will never bring myself to think of the word;      good-bye

by Michael Perry

WORDLESS LOVE

in the spring of my youth, I
spied a quiet moment-I wasn't
supposed to see between
the two, they were speaking in
quiet tones- in the kitchen by the
sink- early light filtering in-I
was unable to make out- what
was said- but it was their bodies
which caught my eye; their bodies
spoke volumes between the two
he looked steady, commanding
into her eyes-raising her chin
looking eye to eye; his focus
on the words he used to comfort
to reassure-while she; relaxed her
body felt the reassurance, as he
wiped her tears away with his thumb
and they stood like that for the
longest time seeming an enternity
but it probably wasn't-she with her
head against his chest, he clung on
taking the full weight of them both
the two becoming as one-and in
that moment- I knew of wordless love

by Michael Perry

WORDPLAY

there was no wordplay
between us, on point
of fact, anything more
leading to full conversation between us-over the years
as the words became less and less
knowing ourselves;  as we do,  in the silence explicit
between us-felt reassuring, as a blanket to cover us up; it was
what we wanted, craved, coveted, expected of ourselves
until the day, you came to me, knelt down
with your hand on my knee, and began to cry still born tears
I knew then, our silent world would be shattered
without any words or objections, I held you; felt your heart beat with mine
we stayed that way as the day melted into night.

by Michael Perry

WORDS

there is something more
out there- we lack still-where did it go
harder to find-
we will never get it right- unless we treat words with respect

WORDS
when spoken, they matter- so say it with empathy
touch a mind- make it soar, make it think, tug a heart string
mean what you say, don't bend or twist- to suit yourself

WORDS
when written are meant with the heart's desire-  gives you a chance
to explore, your romantic side- or said with boldness, take a stand
show strength-one man's bond unbreakable to the other- to be believed

WORDS
used as iconic adornment on walls, or a building's face are for one and all
as the author asks us to live tall, dream big, to aspire for something more
words on monuments are meant to inspire, to make us bigger -then we are

by Michael Perry

WORTH THE WAIT

there are many things
a man needs, not the least of which
is the love of a good woman
so i have had plenty of time
in order to truly make you mine
over the years since we worked out the details
to give our relationship time, you were worth the wait
we let our personalities meld, in the pursuit of love
we took on the years that have come and gone, it now
leaves  us full and without remorse
this love of ours has taken on life
one smile, one tear at a time, so i  don't
make this confession lightly when i say
my life would not have been worth living
if there were no you- there would have been no me

by Michael Perry

writing in front of a window, my view obscured

in the early morning, it's my time to vibrate
move these words to the page, as if i may, delegate
organize the words, shake them up, give some sense
propagate, try to expand, extract  on what I want to say
it may take  all day, or a short while, still as I
look out into this window, made black by the dark
my view obscured, in a clean slate, I will stare until
the words do come, ideas made plentiful, full- born
out of trials, circumstance, stream of consciousness
and when I look down, , the lines, the fruition, a poem

By Michael Perry