I thought I sensed a whiff of former life
Through the tingling of my fingertips
Through the tingling of my fingertips.

                    Admiring the silhouette of your posture
                    Letting my eyes linger on your face
                    Letting my mind drift to your words.

I feel the breeze calling me to greater heights
That my eyes really cannot see
That my ears really cannot hear.

                    I see the leaves waving me good-bye
                    To the life that I do not live
                    To the moments oh, that I let go.

Chorus:
Slowly falls the sombre light when the sun offers
Its adieu to this side of humanity.
And I dare wait no longer
No, I dare waste no longer
I dare wait no longer!
To live...to live....to live.....oh, to live.....


I hear the cadence of arpeggiated chords
Being played on a guitar
Letting it lift me so far away.

                    And I realise I'd rather be the fool
                    Who dabbles in amusing tales
                    Than the sage who pretends.

I feel the magic being born when you're around
You're weaving butterflies of love
Carrying my silhouette away.

                    I touch the candles placed within my heart
                    You're the one lighting up my core
                    And my wings will not melt away.....



Star Toucher, 08 March 2013

Braced,
For the rough, graceful sandpaper offered
by the saxophonist while he woos you with
outright randomness arpeggiated.
The titanic soul of the double-bass
quivers my body,
it lives in the catacombs of my ribs.
And,
I'm jazzed.
Pure chaos,
with a complete understanding of order
but a gleeful disregard.
"I could do that."
Then do it.
And, exhale.

it bothers me that
arpeggiated piano
still incites in me
[saudade(for you)] on
these empty evenings;
and it bothers me that
this silly irish girl
feels the same way
i do, and that your
sister shares a name
rooted in gaelic, just
like her; and now i
might be grasping
at straws, but never
have i told a bigger
truth than when i
say i find the most
arbitrary ways to
remind myself of
you, or accurately,
the lacking thereof.

and it bothers me that
the only seeming cure
is to purge (myself) of
you with [ballads sung
by sobbing ivory keys],
like [baking soda] to a
(bee sting), drawing
out the venom drops
of your last acidic kisses,
and neutralizing them
in the stark alkalinity
of these spare words,
little more than dimes
dropped into the tin
cup or upturned hat
of the beggar i have
become.

Please allow me to bestow upon you a nocturne
  The music of the night...
Just listen to it...
  ...the reverence...

Why must I sit here in grey silence,
  Listening to the hard rain on the window sill?
I dreamt of you.
  Your smile.

Every arpeggiated chord.
  Every melodic line.
Every soft passage.
  I dreamt of you.

I awake and read your words
  And fall deeper into enigma.
Where am I?
  I dreamt of you.

I heard a voice in my right hand.
  Trying to escape, it led into an appoggiatura of trust,
A suspension of sympathy.
  I dreamt of you.

All of these crazed non-harmonic tones
  Clashing high above my flashpoint.
The dissonance carries.
  I dreamt of you.

Am I just so lost in the music I see in you?
  Or am I once again over-analyzing?
It's you! It's you!
  I dreamt of you.

Where am I?
  Why am I not near you?
This entrancement is becoming indefinite.
  I dreamt of you.

Please come closer.
  Beyond this shadow of thought,
Lies the key to a locked door.
  I dreamt of you.

Your words pierce my heart like a dagger,
  Making the soft nocturne glow as bright as you.
While I breathe, I hope.
  I hope we meet in our dreams tonight.

expectations held in a moments’ breath
before the start to Schubert's impromptu
we feel them coming
the lost children of the world
as if from a mountain path
along the first strains of the piano
        our senses hear them
before the lyric scene sets our vision
imagination shows us
bowls held by tiny fingers
hungry for life
starved for love, affection
and that expression of hunger as they march
little heads in unison
stretched in the downward direction
of the needy
the left behind
arpeggiated descending notes
depicting procession
a parade in our minds’ vision
        rhythms as they breathe
in and out
up and down
expectations of survival
for a life needing to be cherished
        tapped out with each shadowy step
are of harmonies in constant modulation
steps forward, toward the green valley
of hope just beyond
it rises as it does to greet them
open arms through a juxtaposition in the base chords
that suggest a tension that grows, then dies
into a reflective mood
one that welcomes
sunlit trees that invite
standing grand in their path
        softly on bare knees
we feel their relief, hear their prayer
as it is answered
free from pain comes the relaxed
tensions in diminutive harmonies
as the impromptu
like the children themselves
find peace in the effortless melody
of final notes
that drift away
into salvation

Jon Von Erb
6/2020




https://youtu.be/FxhbAGwEYGQ