Soulful interludes Cento Taka

Walk up a country lane to farmhouse darkness the finesse the true an deep point of navigation everything bathed held in quiet glory
Become the farmer go to the fields at first light let the machinery flow through your eye gate steel formed with lines of brute power
Rubber round the glide across richest black soil these fields so common quickly turn from spurious to immeasurable splendor as told
In the farmer’s heart as he stands on his porch looks into this six foot stand dark brooding stretches endlessly away its volume weighs
On his soul as it comes in great waves into his consciousness the finest feeling of accomplishment brightness his face well done Cloyce
Gatewood you left a lot behind as you passed from this green productive land

Purposely walk along the streets of the big apple no senses it can’t activate music your taste go on a quiet early evening slip in unseen
To the concert hall look on from the shadows as the master opens the case tenderly and lovingly takes out the violin you will hear
Sounds that can only be formed in dreams it’s not possible in the realm of those that are awake you will hear the spruce plate and the
maple ribbing create such acoustic sounds only sounds of tears gently coursing that only God can hear are brought forth from the bow
And the strings take caution lean on something or set or you could fall from weak legs and a mind and heart to full overloaded with
Beauty the master uses outward physical means to bring and evoke the music of his hidden soul thank you Johann Sebastian Bach.
Or perhaps your interest lies in art paints and canvass art shows abound museums house every piece imaginable the higher beauty
Of New Mexico and its desert shapes not found on the surface no need to worry Georgia O Keefe went from these very streets her
Vision her eye that looked beyond barren waste made the desert flower before it biblical time that it bud as a rose when the prince
Shall come by the way happy birthday great prince on that note maybe your taste runs in ancient musty yesterdays the master piece
Of Rembrandt he stalked the world as a lion his brush his power his strokes exude genius timeless wonder captured executed with
Deftness enthralling praise of the crowd still is heard well at least in sweetest whispers it is a museum you know.
Great writing telling lines your delight book stores out number restaurants food for the mind far greater than the temporal treats
Consumed and then soon forgotten No man is an island John Donne (1572-1631). … "All mankind is of one author, and is one volume;
When one man dies” or the words of Henry David Thorough “most men live quiet lives of desperation”
Maybe you’re the outdoors man leave the soul of a city that flows back and forth from divine true heart and goodness to a city noted
As a volcano the pressure intense at times that’s the cost of greatness well walk among the redwoods john Muir possessed the good
Sense to set this treasure aside in fact a Golden gate is at one end of Muir Woods the Barbary Coast its greater cloak that defines
Beauty through breath taking sites cliffs that rise and border the pacific waters, detailed by a Salinas resident you might have heard of
His two stories Cannery Row Grapes of Wrath and several others made John Steinbeck an American literary giant not bad for great
Outdoors men well this completes my Cento salute. Authors and masters who elevate us all.

It struck me tonight
How impressive it is
The deftness of your tongue
Coaxing life
Out of shy, windless nights
I still remember
Sitting by your side
As your laughter floated westward
The bashful heavens made to blush
And you
Conducting an orchestra
Of sweet vivid flowers
Wet petals falling from your lips
Kissing me gently on the cheek
Painting cursive
On the sky's horizon
My words will never be so
Delicate
They are stiff; they are tired
They are made to roam abandoned alleys
And grow old in the open hands
Of a book
So speak to me
Drip your honeyed breath onto my chest
With shallow sighs
Wrap the fingers of your conversation
Around my hand
And don't let go

Dude! Disco dancing dogs devouring Dill duds
Digging ducks drew dreads
dreaming don't devour drool
Decked duet
Dimples dandylion deftness
Drink dead danimals.
Discharged!

for Nave*

Busyness makes one idiotic and forgetful.  And we nearly sunk the night
didn’t we darling, leaning on the wrong swing.  

(It is always the peach tree.)   Katrina doing her Harpy on Fullblast thing
with such deftness and professionalism she leaves us no room to respond

to legs and offers of spread cheese.  And poets cave in like lonely black holes
if they cannot response as fully as they have peaches in their coffers to do so,

or at least they think so and so do we so I escaped to shower, and tried to make
the water hot enough to round me straight again, but my skin still gets in the way.  

I wanted to peel off everything and douse my soul straight in the hot and the lavender, questing
for a readiness beyond the pale, some state rare, and infinitely usuable.  

It was only when, and this is true, when I decided to make a list of
why I love you that the water went in

and the lavender grew instantly between my toes.  And Rosemarey Clooney
danced you in to me and you were a happy Papa at last, and we knew enough.  And there
was finally room enough to
mambo home.

I, after difficult entry through my mother's blood
And stumbling childhood (hitting my head against the world);
I, intricate, easily unshipped, untracked, unaligned;
Cut off in my communications; stammering; speaking
A dialect shared by you, but not you and you;
I, strangely undeft, bereft; I searching always
For my lost rib (clothed in laughter yet understanding)
To come round the corner of Wardour Street into the Square
Or to signal across the Park and share my bed;
I, focus in night for star-sent beams of light,
I, fulcrum of levers whose end I cannot see ...
Have this one deftness - that I admit undeftness:
Know that the stars are far, the levers long:
Can understand my unstrength.

Life’s Dismay
Wide River within this great confluence of time and eternity the engine of the skiff pushes it ever so gently forward the water flows to each side of the bow your way marked and bordered on each side by this unending fence line of reeds. Still waters beneath the skin of this water bound traveler come up the length of your being time rolls forward and back along the tunnel where it was set in motion oh so long ago the minutes hours soon counted by centuries to retell the story this maritime log what stories of heroism lays along the linear line. Trafalgar’s glory passes in the viewing ships of timbers and mighty sails ply broad waters the waves climb in great walls glistening and with a roar they fall the master commanded they obeyed peace be still. The ship’s captain born of daring seed no mans word will he heed only the sea his master who can resist ports so fair in mighty England the Union Jack flows with such flair or Portugal no fairer land can be found than the land of the Portuguese. Trust not yourself to the shallows the mighty deep is where glory stands in regal defiance does a cobra bow freedoms head the king a fitting name king cobra it will hold you in its stare then strikes as waves of terror through your body convulse you forgot your place now death will be read in your face. Only the wisest survive in a land shared with scorpions and bleakest dunes of sand Lawrence of Arabia showed the way his sea was the Sahara with her endless wasteland voiding every prospect of mans intrusions only the finest line of life this strung out caravan men here are mere ghost figures they faintly pass leaving no indication of their passing. The sand swallows any marks of their existence but for ever has this been the adventures holy grail test yourself against the Himalayas or here where it seems even God’s voice didn’t reach. The stitches of time that so effectively marks progress and history sewn with deftness not evidenced here. If one was ever to be dispossessed of his inheritance this fits the bill damnation’s warning can be read in all directions. They say God speaks his love in a thousand ways this has to be another valuable expression a veritable object lesson. You have here what is the natural outcome of what the devil works at without end one of his names is even a destroyer how fitting an illustration wasteland if sorrow had a birthplace this would be it the devils rightful place. He works without tiring to make your life miserable as his and the saddest thing the majority of the world walks hand in hand with him. So to keep from doing the most needed thing which is to check your own evil nature because it will cost you eternal death in a place finally even worse than an earthen desert. While all along God says my grace is sufficient for you meaning you never are expected or left to fight the battle yourself no one can beat the devil or self. Look at the contrast God’s part land mast of unequaled wonder seas that will test your metal build you up you truly will become as strong as the ships chosen timber and all the sea does is season it to a greater finer quality. There is a story of a table that was made from one of these ships who can compare it even mahogany was out classed. You could sit and observe the grain darker deeper the evidence of the many storms she endured and kept all afloat and made each trip. Here in a sitting room the glory displayed your glory one day will reside in a mansion that’s What God is trying to do in your life.

My calico looks like the Lion of Judah
preamble her deftness with cooked chicken
and a sprinkling of lactose
Poor dear , perfect though she is
we all have our travails.
I am finding it hard to believe
age does not make her wary
in fact shes grows deeper into her role
A totem and a sustainer curled up in the one.

life's dismay these Unchartered waters
Life’s Dismay
Wide River within this great confluence of time and eternity the engine of the skiff pushes it ever so gently forward the water flows to each side of the bow your way marked and bordered on each side by this unending fence line of reeds. Still waters beneath the skin of this water bound traveler come up the length of your being time rolls forward and back along the tunnel where it was set in motion oh so long ago the minutes hours soon counted by centuries to retell the story this maritime log what stories of heroism lays along the linear line. Trafalgar’s glory passes in the viewing ships of timbers and mighty sails ply broad waters the waves climb in great walls glistening and with a roar they fall the master commanded they obeyed peace be still. The ship’s captain born of daring seed no mans word will he heed only the sea his master who can resist ports so fair in mighty England the Union Jack flows with such flair or Portugal no fairer land can be found than the land of the Portuguese. Trust not yourself to the shallows the mighty deep is where glory stands in regal defiance does a cobra bow freedoms head the king a fitting name king cobra it will hold you in its stare then strikes as waves of terror through your body convulse you forgot your place now death will be read in your face. Only the wisest survive in a land shared with scorpions and bleakest dunes of sand Lawrence of Arabia showed the way his sea was the Sahara with her endless wasteland voiding every prospect of mans intrusions only the finest line of life this strung out caravan men here are mere ghost figures they faintly pass leaving no indication of their passing. The sand swallows any marks of their existence but for ever has this been the adventures holy grail test yourself against the Himalayas or here where it seems even God’s voice didn’t reach. The stitches of time that so effectively marks progress and history sewn with deftness not evidenced here. If one was ever to be dispossessed of his inheritance this fits the bill damnation’s warning can be read in all directions. They say God speaks his love in a thousand ways this has to be another valuable expression a veritable object lesson. You have here what is the natural outcome of what the devil works at without end one of his names is even a destroyer how fitting an illustration wasteland if sorrow had a birthplace this would be it the devils rightful place. He works without tiring to make your life miserable as his and the saddest thing the majority of the world walks hand in hand with him. So to keep from doing the most needed thing which is to check your own evil nature because it will cost you eternal death in a place finally even worse than an earthen desert. While all along God says my grace is sufficient for you meaning you never are expected or left to fight the battle yourself no one can beat the devil or self. Look at the contrast God’s part land mast of unequaled wonder seas that will test your metal build you up you truly will become as strong as the ships chosen timber and all the sea does is season it to a greater finer quality. There is a story of a table that was made from one of these ships who can compare it even mahogany was out classed. You could sit and observe the grain darker deeper the evidence of the many storms she endured and kept all afloat and made each trip. Here in a sitting room the glory displayed your glory one day will reside in a mansion that’s What God is trying to do in your life.

At the height
of their pursuit of elusive light,
in the inner core deep,
they set about
translating the ardors of night
in to a sublime fire
that would lead them
to a new awareness.

She had a deftness
that crossed limits and
found new possibilities
in any thing she did.
Art of body coupled with
urges of the heart
she transformed with her  magic:
a tree full of scented flowers
that are dreams of eternal spring.

He had spread creepers,
on the foliage and chunky trunk,
with his caresses,
she forgot herself  completely as the pleasure
swept over  her every cell.

Continued embraces tight and passionate,
anointed them with perfumes,
in their quest they collected star dust,
from her swelling sculptured *****
he inhaled narcotics and got high.

Sea breeze covered them
with fine grains of salt from far away waves,
and an ancient mariner's quest.
A sublime fire simmered
in their nerves.

Mirror Image

The pallet of God’s true water colors we pick up the story of creation when God is putting on the finishing
Touches in the forever of his existence he has an inkling a beginning a persistent nagging there has
To be more something is missing as all birthing of the superb and marvelous don’t think it strange that the angels
They to see and feel like a question is floating around in the ethereal mist and it must be sorted out and
Addressed what would make perfection expand to a greater detail this vague formless idea continues
And from the thought formless God made a connection I need to form a world it has to be special
Rival heaven in a conventional way we seem to be shadowed by a noticeable degree of loneliness we have
everything provided for in every way I see to it that my arm of might has brought all this to our realm that’s
It what can be perfect if it’s not shared but where and with what am I not a preeminent father in
Creative acts we need this world and it will be inhabited by my own children yes a family will complete
Me that is the logical dilemma that sought a voice now I hear and I will dedicate all I have to give an
Answer so fine will be oh the shinning yes of course we can’t have them stumbling about in the dark I
Will make the most powerful orb made of gases that will burn without end the black void will be pierced
Its reach will have to be placed properly or disaster could happen even before we get started I don’t
Want to be foolish or have the angels snickering how disruptive what does disruptive mean in the whole
Well of course such a powerful light must have a counter balance thats it I will make a great white globe
To set in the division of light and darkness I will fill in its uses later in the natural event of things. So
Creation of earth once started speeds to a conclusion but we find God as we said putting the final touches in
Place as a master builder he does one thing well and then repeats it around the globe for our story we
Will concentrate on the northeastern United States that would eventually come into existence it all
Comes in a creative rush and with God’s orderly mind all is defined he understands such soil will have to
Be regulated the sky will be enhanced with clouds that will cary water this suggests a natural runoff it has to have a catch basin so our lakes were formed with
Deftness God takes the bottom of his palm dips deep and pulls away significant earth there now a basin this
Extra scrapings will do fine for a mantle to cover the lower ranges of my mountains that jut go high and
Free but their will need to be a surface texture or the water will make a fine mess and just fill up my
Beautiful mirror that reflects already created glory yes a small common plant I will call it grass it will
Cover the whole earth where it is dry well those steeps is going to create a forceful downward run off
There has to be more and they have to be sturdy and surly with heavy population I will have to have an
Answer to eventuality of pollution and need to make them strong and fibrous they can’t be puny and
Hold their own in identity or in usefulness against the mountain’s reign something to catch the wind as it
Passes creating a cleansing affect in heaven reeds front the Crystal Sea well just a little change using
Reed As the root word well tree of course we will give them grand branches the wind comes and then
Leaves poetically they will be known as leafs what more fitting place to put a whole lot of dazzle the
Earth will be turning on its axis this will make natural seasons what a time to bring out my color palate
Beauty will find its free and unequaled expression and the moods let me take a little rustic hue a blazing
Fire filled red can’t forget to give a subtle honor of yellow to the sun a little orange to fuse it all
Together now what has been so long coming back to the free coursing Euphrates I have my best work to
Do in a garden rich and full but needing that final element just like when I started all this my children are
Going to draw their first breath and be my wonderful family.

The mystery of you flows in white did I draw you from chilly waters and you were
Reborn to me if the colors speak that are showing you in finest light are true the perfect blending of
Flowers in profusion that contour to your essential frame do you not form the center of a spraying sprig
Of unequal quality as in life woman divides herself between wife mother and daughter I choose to
Further divide her into honor for a brief moment speak of dishonor men can at their low point can do
This with ease and apparent arrogance I’m not an old fashioned relic of the past others speak these same
Words you shouldn’t use fowl language in the presence of a lady not all of us are accustomed to
Chauffeurs and butlers but you still can be a gentleman you can esteem the greatest gift God ever
Created man is sadly knot headed it takes a woman with deftness and grace to loosen the knots on with
Her honor the great place for this discovery is in an ancient temple a woman is a rare individual sadly
Bought and sold way too cheaply by both sexes one under fire and constantly having to defend her
Worth and at times they succumb to the lie that they are not as good as men well look in on this scene
Deep in the jungle heavy with undergrowth indicative of life you stumble on this rare find as can be
Imagined it leaves a lot to be desired time has broken outer walls the outer court lies in disarray and
Then the inner sanctum built to hold off the ravages of time some things remain as they always have
Others for one reason or another have suffered and show wear but near the altar over to the side one
Last help is giving for you to condition your mind to give up the occupying thoughts that would bar you
From your true blessing that all this was created to provide first you hear the gentle cascading of a water
Fall for long periods of time the sun strikes squarely in the middle and to add eloquence and boldness
The water receives this assistance the ancients were greatly versed in paints of extraordinary
Pigmentation and of lasting durability they coated the solid rock with a green that was sheer and
Imitated the glory of sun in the waves of the sea they sought to have it breathtaking and they succeeded
And as the center piece they had a statue of a woman of striking qualities was she a goddess or a high
Priestess she was adorned in white her dramatic pose flowed out to the end of her gown there is a
Depicted statement captured here she holds a pitcher it is full and the tint of blue shows this and the
Idea is she just drew it from the pool and is offering it to all of the strangers that come and are thirsty
In this solitary fact women are observed so acutely as stated sometimes women pressed and crowded
Feels the need to be showy or go overboard to please that is the farthest she can go in error her beauty
And privilege is derived from the tenderness she possesses just small acts that denote mercy carry more
Weight than ever can be found in outer attempts to be **** or alluring that is for private times that
Understanding and love combine to give a flourishing it goes the distance to bring the final completion
You wear a garland a crowning a defining moment that only women can know celebrate who you are

Not the romantic.
The control.
A single white digit,
the sprawl of cool
smiles extend to
taste and see.

Their lives like
hyacinths that drink
the air in books,
plastic lips.
Slime from the marble.
A widow-dream.

Metal midair that
speaks a rat's tongue
with the deftness of
a seasoned lover.
His eyes can see your circuitry.
Her mouth the tree of night.

The bard spoke this night to me with concern
Cautioning should I write a sonnet fair
It would in the pages of history burn
Yet I'm pursuing the course with heaps of dare
Thy hand is set to work to prove him wrong
This composition will not in ashes fail
Determination is my consort song
Syllables ten to each line to couplet tail
A challenge put forth by musketeers three
No doubts yet have arisen of deftness
In completing the task given to me
The bard's classic form will cause no duress
On this journey one has taken a bet
The end product is now forever set

her it
the soporific
very dreaming
split of
easy night
falls so lovely
brushed of balmy
hair short
in tender heap
of girlness heat

it the deftness
of a wrist
hangs
softly loose
uncurled
lightly the fingers
in

her such steeply wonderful brain
a song is me
by love's lips it
i
the earth the
night
echo primly
kissing

and
couth
so a fancy
is all the world
to her in lovely slumber's keep

such as i would like to enter
and of its beauty reap

a flower on who would rise
all youth in me to crown

and lay my *******
in crimson parting's drown

He Who Presents Visions


He personally fills the frame with a largeness broad shoulders wears the western hat perfectly the
Quintessential westerner handsome he projects comfort he stands good in tall trees he meets life on his
Terms confidence he projects easily with ease he takes his surroundings from their settings transfers
Them to canvas with deftness perfect tone and hue he captures his subjects he takes breathing living
Creatures and landscapes projects his vision of them in intricate detail he creates their life anew in
Flawless demonstrations he prepares this depth of understanding in the studio it is compelling it will
Touch draw ignite your emotional will into the viewing of his work you will see strength exhibited as
Naturally as if you were observing the original in the sight that he had the same light and shading the
Boldness that crosses from ordinary to beautiful his eye never wavers from magnificence and his
Fingers delicately follows the mental picture soft to strong the essence of being is being told wonder
Lives large in his expressive paints a telling by a master in full power of his talent nature is fused
With every ounce of reality that she gives of her proud display structures rise their presence
Phenomenal they have an essence that grabs holds your imagination only lets go when it has given all
Of the pleasure it contains one represented beast of the field causes a staggering effect that empowers
You to make a connection with the heard that is unseen but in your mind you know that it is there the
Billowing cloud and blue sky activates sensations that flow out and over you overwhelming feelings
Burst over you like a cloud burst on a rainy spring day flowers in profusion carpet the land they start
At the edge of the coral at the end of the barn and gently climb up the sloping hill far beyond the snow
Capped peaks shout of grandeur untold sweeping you to the end of a world bordered in a frame and
told on canvass

Who You Are

The mystery of you flows in white did I draw you from chilly waters and you were
Reborn to me if the colors speak that are showing you in finest light are true the perfect blending of
Flowers in profusion that contour to your essential frame do you not form the center of a spraying sprig
Of unequal quality as in life woman divides herself between wife mother and daughter I choose to
Further divide her into honor for a brief moment speak of dishonor men can at their low point can do
This with ease and apparent arrogance I’m not an old fashioned relic of the past others speak these same
Words you shouldn’t use fowl language in the presence of a lady not all of us are accustomed to
Chauffeurs and butlers but you still can be a gentleman you can esteem the greatest gift God ever
Created man is sadly knot headed it takes a woman with deftness and grace to loosen the knots on with
Her honor the great place for this discovery is in an ancient temple a woman is a rare individual sadly
Bought and sold way too cheaply by both sexes one under fire and constantly having to defend her
Worth and at times they succumb to the lie that they are not as good as men well look in on this scene
Deep in the jungle heavy with undergrowth indicative of life you stumble on this rare find as can be
Imagined it leaves a lot to be desired time has broken outer walls the outer court lies in disarray and
Then the inner sanctum built to hold off the ravages of time some things remain as they always have
Others for one reason or another have suffered and show wear but near the altar over to the side one
Last help is giving for you to condition your mind to give up the occupying thoughts that would bar you
From your true blessing that all this was created to provide first you hear the gentle cascading of a water
Fall for long periods of time the sun strikes squarely in the middle and to add eloquence and boldness
The water receives this assistance the ancients were greatly versed in paints of extraordinary
Pigmentation and of lasting durability they coated the solid rock with a green that was sheer and
Imitated the glory of sun in the waves of the sea they sought to have it breathtaking and they succeeded
And as the center piece they had a statue of a woman of striking qualities was she a goddess or a high
Priestess she was adorned in white her dramatic pose flowed out to the end of her gown there is a
Depicted statement captured here she holds a pitcher it is full and the tint of blue shows this and the
Idea is she just drew it from the pool and is offering it to all of the strangers that come and are thirsty
In this solitary fact women are observed so acutely as stated sometimes women pressed and crowded
Feels the need to be showy or go overboard to please that is the farthest she can go in error her beauty
And privilege is derived from the tenderness she possesses just small acts that denote mercy carry more
Weight than ever can be found in outer attempts to be **** or alluring that is for private times that
Understanding and love combine to give a flourishing it goes the distance to bring the final completion
You wear a garland a crowing a defining moment that only women can know celebrate who you are

The mystery of you flows in white did I draw you from chilly waters and you were
Reborn to me if the colors speak that are showing you in finest light are true the perfect blending of
Flowers in profusion that contour to your essential frame do you not form the center of a spraying sprig
Of unequal quality as in life woman divides herself between wife mother and daughter I choose to
Further divide her into honor for a brief moment speak of dishonor men can at their low point can do
This with ease and apparent arrogance I’m not an old fashioned relic of the past others speak these same
Words you shouldn’t use fowl language in the presence of a lady not all of us are accustomed to
Chauffeurs and butlers but you still can be a gentleman you can esteem the greatest gift God ever
Created man is sadly knot headed it takes a woman with deftness and grace to loosen the knots on with
Her honor the great place for this discovery is in an ancient temple a woman is a rare individual sadly
Bought and sold way too cheaply by both sexes one under fire and constantly having to defend her
Worth and at times they succumb to the lie that they are not as good as men well look in on this scene
Deep in the jungle heavy with undergrowth indicative of life you stumble on this rare find as can be
Imagined it leaves a lot to be desired time has broken outer walls the outer court lies in disarray and
Then the inner sanctum built to hold off the ravages of time some things remain as they always have
Others for one reason or another have suffered and show wear but near the altar over to the side one
Last help is giving for you to condition your mind to give up the occupying thoughts that would bar you
From your true blessing that all this was created to provide first you hear the gentle cascading of a water
Fall for long periods of time the sun strikes squarely in the middle and to add eloquence and boldness
The water receives this assistance the ancients were greatly versed in paints of extraordinary
Pigmentation and of lasting durability they coated the solid rock with a green that was sheer and
Imitated the glory of sun in the waves of the sea they sought to have it breathtaking and they succeeded
And as the center piece they had a statue of a woman of striking qualities was she a goddess or a high
Priestess she was adorned in white her dramatic pose flowed out to the end of her gown there is a
Depicted statement captured here she holds a pitcher it is full and the tint of blue shows this and the
Idea is she just drew it from the pool and is offering it to all of the strangers that come and are thirsty
In this solitary fact women are observed so acutely as stated sometimes women pressed and crowded
Feels the need to be showy or go overboard to please that is the farthest she can go in error her beauty
And privilege is derived from the tenderness she possesses just small acts that denote mercy carry more
Weight than ever can be found in outer attempts to be **** or alluring that is for private times that
Understanding and love combine to give a flourishing it goes the distance to bring the final completion
You wear a garland a crowning a defining moment that only women can know celebrate who you are

The colours swing in a pendulum attached to the mind
as if
each shade knows its final resting place
in a landscape packed with the purity of clarity.

All of the brushes have been tenderly placed
in a potholder soaking
up the sensations of previous lifetimes
now slowly turning to ageing grey shades
of temperament

To touch the sunflower grey would be a sin
against the sun it glints off the minds magical array
but green beckons in an eversoft seduction
with silver on the undersides to offshoot
the tantrums of the painters reflection.

The scene emerges from a warm blanket of texture
into a tone so gentle that it seems to whisper its presence
in a vase of rounded personality.

I watch
as she loses herself in every stroke of deftness
stepping out into the limelight
taking a bow before an audience of murmurs
soon retreating into that world
that has captured her for today.

She will return when she is ready.
to live amongst us again.

Jimmy returns from a grand escapade
Bruised and bloodied and laughing,
His smile too wide and a glint in his eye
“How proud and wild a figure I cut”
He wears the thought like armour
Because he’s a charmer, a rogue,
A brave renegade.
Fuelled by laughs and tuts and praise
Of those he loves, he’s blind
To their concern.

He sees the sighs, the rolling eyes,
The cries of ‘classic Jimmy’
But to him they’re just his just desserts;
An ironic awe. Reserved for he who flirts
With danger, uses outrageous behaviour
With a smile and a wink
So that this charmer,
This rakish renegade can get away with ******.

Oh no!
Here comes Billy
See Billy’s a bully and Billy thinks Jimmy’s a c*.
Where Jimmy is eloquent, Billy is blunt.

Now Billy, this boorish bully,
This hulking brute, leaves Jimmy's flesh untouched
But he creeps upon our hero still,
A pat on the shoulder
A warm tone of voice
He whispers in Jimmy’s ear.
At the sound our hero frowns, but continues to entertain.
He can’t quite push aside
That shiver that climbs his spine
At the memory of sinister whispers
And the pain he had to feign away
With smiles that never quite
Reached his eyes.

See, words from the mouth of Billy cut as good as any knives.
They linger first, but soon
With practiced deftness, cut at the straps,
The leather tendrils that keep Jimmy’s armour in place.
Until it falls, with a clatter, to the floor
And where, not a minute before,
There stood a God resplendent
Now cowers a boy.
And this ugly, naked,
Whimpering wretch gazes up in fear and hope,
And now all he can see are the sighs behind the smiling eyes.

And now every time he laughs too loud
Or unwittingly draws attention.
With every look just a little too long
With every ‘what?’ or ‘huh?’
He feels knives digging into his back
And sags a little lower.

…

Until one day, they’re gone
The whispers are far away
And Jimmy finds he’s come up for air
To a place where things are bright and fair
And laughing means more
Than just a social game - a display to spare feelings.
And there are things to love and cherish.
The sweet taste of wine; the brush
Of a pair of soft and willing lips.

The racing of theories and thoughts
And the meanings of things; shocking
In the clarity of their colour.
Fattening the soul in shades of cyan and amber.
Filling this bedraggled wretch with the glowing warmth
Of a crackling fire. Shooting through his limbs and trunk
Until he expands and stands on legs of iron.

As the furnaces of joy are stoked
A grin begins to spread.
The flames a glitter to light the eyes;
Quenching fears put to bed.

…

Yet still, deep down he knows, that every
Time he comes back up
And dons his shining armour,
He feels just a little weaker.
And the armour hangs a little looser.

of an unhurried look
held softly steady

stirs even swirls
the room like a drink

I am spinning
I am circling

orbiting on a tether
to your smile

Lost, bobbing
along in delight

When you laugh
at your power

Yes
You still can

Rock a room

Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis

Letters
With a little paper and ink and the time it takes to think you can tie time and space together
Hearts warmest caring tucked and folded speaking stands in neatest rows sweetest love it shows
Mathematics consoled in problems extolled reaching bearing the load of heavy thoughts they to know
Some lines are like stairs they climb to heights the reader brought so far to enjoy pure delights

Some expression organized in quiet detail meant to push and move the listener beyond normal thought
Or in playful tunes the idea has no other content or purposes it only design is to leave you amused
Some would care to drive the point fast but the object is to assure you find what is urgently sought
Some contend and desire they be perceived with style they stand clothed in grandest attire

Perplexing other seems to go for the childhood game of hide and seek who isn’t intrigued by mystery
Others harder to define surely a secret communiqué these twist and turns truly cloak and dagger
Your mind devises images of stories that are found like currents ebbing and flowing with telling history
Stages are set everything in finest detail is set for viewing and dramatic effect your guest expect the best

Then for the end you must paint with deftness this portrait of words will be kept only in the heart
At first it enters the portal of the mind only the anteroom there the decision where does it belong
Then after careful study to deduce the senders true meaning you search a place for endearing art
What a read in the still quiet the mind smoothly draws the blinds closing you in with sweetest thoughts

He Who Presents Visions

He personally fills the frame with a largeness broad shoulders wears the western hat perfectly the
Quintessential westerner handsome he projects comfort he stands good in tall trees he meets life on his
Terms confidence he projects easily with ease he takes his surroundings from their settings transfers
Them to canvas with deftness perfect tone and hue he captures his subjects he takes breathing living
Creatures and landscapes projects his vision of them in intricate detail he creates their life anew in
Flawless demonstrations he prepares this depth of understanding in the studio it is compelling it will
Touch draw ignite your emotional will into the viewing of his work you will see strength exhibited as
Naturally as if you were observing the original in the sight that he had the same light and shading the
Boldness that crosses from ordinary to beautiful his eye never wavers from magnificence and his
Fingers delicately follows the mental picture soft to strong the essence of being is being told wonder
Lives large in his expressive paints a telling by a master in full power of his talent nature is fused
With every ounce of reality that she gives of her proud display structures rise their presence
Phenomenal they have an essence that grabs holds your imagination only lets go when it has given all
Of the pleasure it contains one represented beast of the field causes a staggering effect that empowers
You to make a connection with the heard that is unseen but in your mind you know that it is there the
Billowing cloud and blue sky activates sensations that flow out and over you overwhelming feelings
Burst over you like a cloud burst on a rainy spring day flowers in profusion carpet the land they start
At the edge of the coral at the end of the barn and gently climb up the sloping hill far beyond the snow
Capped peaks shout of grandeur untold sweeping you to the end of a world bordered in a frame and
told on canvass

an uninterested archaeologist studied the bones of eight
dead citizens who had a gradually tightened their grips around our dreams, tapering
as furling curtains swathed the incoming light, swirling, forcing it into nonentity
one would steer the ill-fated course of all.


bury the hatchet that was used to hatch you
put all of your eggs into one spermicidal basket
only the heavy-handed preamble to my funeral
could weigh against such lofty comparisons

we commuted to separated isles, each with their own emulation of truth
with cathartic perspectives, trees wait to abed in your predestined lynching
placing viney nooses into mother nature's scrapbook, a cherished keepsake,
your freckled dna, an infinitesimal page in her tattered cookbook

only in an afterworld will you be allowed to read your book's foreword
know that there is no snooty producer to create for you a cash-in sequel
they all watch you from afar, hungry, salivating
failing to make a distinction between your life and demise

their story's nothing but an interminable sad ending
a null conclusion with nothing to conclude
it holds its breath, crosses its fingers
hoping again to come through
as I placed defeat to my temple and squeezed

I veered into a claustrophobic brick encasement
colored with lifelessness, detachment
and learned infinity is combustible;
an unfolding polygonal paper
forever unwrapping

I've walked with wrecked leagues
casually entered fiery caverns
and the chilling daytime before me,
never is it compelling

I resigned my mind, contemplated grave comprehensions
redid everything, coughing opuses, deftness, drugged insight

my tactics turned to taciturn. no one was conducting
the open metaphor of your eyes, rendering
internal captions. endless captive renditions

my adoration:
the thickly-caked rust in the kitchen faucet
if you catch my spotty, deposited
despot eyes in direct sunlight,
you'll realize their dimness

staring vacantly
into oncoming traffic,
looming passages

i'm so tired
of the lightning
in your words
the ensuing
tightening
of my heart
the deftness
as you practice
your killing art

My footsteps this day make no sound
As I walk these halls unhallowed.
Like a shade passing through corporeal bounds,
Hollow, holding happiness shallow.
Day after day I'm fading away
As my masquerade is breaking.
Frustration and fury, foreboding, that for me
Forever humanity's faking.

I stand amongst the normal and living
Their faces so hopeless, so broken.
Some may be friends, others have enemies
But for me no single one has spoken.
This place has turned strange, it's greying,
Decaying, my bane begets this Perdition.
The stench of a tomb from the rot that consumes
The doomed place ****** to a fission.

It has been my misfortune in which I delight
I'm accursed to blacken the sun,
To bring the ruin of all by devouring the light.
Now again has this cycle begun;
Darkness, disaster to dastardly droves
Debauched by a daemoniac foe
Who dissembles man to hide diabolic designs,
For what man dares brave the unknown?

I walk into the abyssal gloom
Of foetid and harrowing decadence.
The webwork of veins that trace every room
Betray the presence of an Asmodeus essence.
Is it me? Could it be that I've become so vile
That merely my presence defiles?
The pariah, it seems, is all I can be
In so sweetly tormentous a style.

It happens that here in my darkest hour
When I feel the facade is fractured
I see the bright purest light that breaks through the dour
Dark leading me to my attractor.
An angel I wonder, or maybe someone sent for
Me to cause me to blunder?
Perhaps today her angelic array
Was displayed for her spell I'd go under.

My hunger subsides in those crystalline eyes,
In their glow my bloodlust turns calm.
A warmth I feel, emotions belike,
Yes, foreign to me, I have qualm.
She is purity, surely there's a pulling toward me
Enduring my stubborn eschewal.
No tragedy to speak of, her majesty must be of
A flawless aethereal jewel.

How did I come into this sudden infatuation?
Enticed by the taunt of her lure,
Her perfection, it stalls me, indescribable exaltation,
Yet somehow this morbid mind's torn.
It's confounding, she's sounding profoundly arousing
And drowning my sense in her charm.
I love it, I hate it, that this consecrated
Divinity isn't met without harm.

How damnably refreshing my ambrosial dream
Whose glow can subvert the most heinous!
Her light can reveal worlds beyond what is seen
And the shadow I cast will sustain us.
A Devil, an Angel, together disdainful
In the eyes of the fools that surround me.
But I glimpse in that shadow a horror I now know
To mean that my Angel has bound me.

The light that shines forth casts a most vivid shade
Of this man-shaped form that I am.
But to my limbs were attached something of linear shape,
Like strings on a marionette.
What could this mean? Could it possibly be
Something I've been too smitten to see?
I've been such a fool to be blind to the truth:
My Angel is a Demon like me!

At this revelation I turn to the shrewd Enchantress
Who has been manipulating me from the start.
No shame, no fear, only with the most chilling deftness
Does she command the strings of this heart.
Of all the rotted, defiled, insidious, hideous
Things that dwell in my darkness,
Nothing more evil than this tentacled being
Can be conceived of in the depths of Tartarus!

Sensual, seductive, psuedo-seraphic shrew!
I'm enslaved by the lust she engenders.
Repeatedly beguiled by the lies that she used,
Still to those eyes I surrender.
The sinister spirit that taints all that's near it
Is an evil the both of us share.
She chose a prey who cannot be slain.
The challenge is an alluring snare.

As my Angel now dawns a horrific appearance
My obsession burns ever indomitably.
Apocalyptic, unquenchable, bloodbathed coherence,
Nefarious and haunting so ominously.
Darkness is ours! Eldritch bloodthirsty fiends:
Angel of Death and Devil.

The masks are peeled away, we're free
To cleave and bleed the world and revel!

I crack that ****** spine
with the deftness of a pro.
The scent of her potential wafts
into the deepest recesses of my brain.

It's enough for only a moment,
a cursory glance at the supine sides
already becoming supple beneath
my nimble fingers as I push the edges wide.

The anticipation is beyond containment
as I lie back on soft pillows and take
a sip of wine. There is no point of return
the weight of my deed is filled with guilty pleasure.

And I sigh...

I gently remove the cover and peer
hungrily upon her bold delicious title
and we begin our journey together,
I turn the pages, and she, tells me her story.

Hope is a fragile thing
When it rests on any shoulders.
You've carried my hope, at times,
Like a juggler carries his apples;
Other times, like a young mother
Who cradles her newborn babe,
Protecting him,
From the wolves that circle 'round the yard;
Other times you are the wolves.
              
There was hope then,
Where butter knives tripped locks
And shoulders broke down doors;
The landlord was not pleased
But I had to make sure that you would still be there
Holding up your half of my life,
My dreams still cradled in your palms,
The deftness of your green fingers still tending them.

There was hardly room for hope
As soles of feet became crusted with eggshells.
I never learned to stand still
When the floor was littered with them,
And the floor was always covered.
"When did we replace hardwood floors with these?"
I chanced to ask once.
February's gale was my only answer,
Coming early
To strip bulbs, tinsel, and needles from branches.

Our hope turned to stone
In the furnace of our anger,
Each wagging tongues of flame
At the splinters in the others' eye,
Each too full of pride and fear
To stand with tweezers before the mirror.
The sudden rush of crimson humility
Could have healed the wounds that Pride inflicted,
But Pride was wrong at the top of its voice.

Hope has fled now,
But it has not gone far.
It has fled into the wilderness
And come back to watch for me
From the woods outside our door,
Where no adventurer worth his salt
Could ever fail to find it,
If only he has the courage to begin the search.

What will we do here, my beloveds, without hope,
Here where knees scrape carpet and hardwood,
Where backs, once straight, bend in equine condescension?
Saddles and bridles made of love we have,
We have no need of hope,
Here where tomorrow will always be forgotten
In the long, golden now.

impromptu drug adventure.
      (terrible incrimination)
              at an end, at least
enough to pass out.
M-dude hit me up, years
out; i'd given up.
      things fall apart.
shoulda trusted in time and
let allow what will.
      NEW AGE HIPPIESTER.
  been alone a while,
had lost faith. still doubtful.
            always aware of kindness,
         sighting with hoped deftness.
                 mind over matter,
                           just keep swimming.
           (Mariner's Revenge Song)
        to keep their nursery
               nice and neat.
   ***** Den
        of present has been
           christined
        to almost pinnacle;
   the list requires
      a few more things.

                   yeah?

His younger sister was the bride
And he sat facing the gushing girl
He fondled the **** of his walking cane
As he waited for her eyes to meet his gaze;
When they finally did, he smiled a knowing smile
A vexing, blackmailing smile
That sought a response- a glint of acknowledgement;
It sent chills down her spine, sweat broke out on her back
She now regretted having been the one who'd started-
The impetuous demands that violated the natural
And made them feel like some Old Testament pairs
He'd become relentless, with pickpocketing deftness
At the drop of a hat, he'd drop his pants

Now, rising from his seat, he blew her a kiss
And that did her in

A mind in conflict
with his spirit
will find judgement,
permanence,
possession,
unreality.
The human spirit
exudes the ultimate power
in the stillness of thought.
A spirit
that cannot discern
between a man from a woman;
a white from a black;
a christian from a jew;
a child from an adult.
The spirit of mankind
is the same breath
within us all.
Intensity of being the spirit
is the only difference.

A spirit
that contains strength,
serenity,
and deftness.
An essence
that can beam through
the windows of our soul
and inspire
with even the faintest glow.
A spirit
that is fully experienced
as a youth;
boundless and ecstatic,
allowing the world
to be the teacher.
Even as a dark cloud
of misery and torment
invade upon the child,
shall the tender age
be optimistic:
living out the human essence.
Only until
confusion and pain
catch up to the learned action
of mind chatter,
will the growing heart
turn cold.

Yet,
this spirit
still dwells within.
Even as rage and hatred
poison the body
and earth,
the human spirit
still lingers underneath
the layers of unconsciousness.
With the magnitude
of the spirit's power
still intact,
this entity
will sometimes break
through the mind
and into the heart.
A sense of immediate presence
that astonishes the being,
if only to entrance
for but a moment.
In those moments
of acute stillness,
a perverted human
finds peace.
A bliss so deep,
and so vast,
this state of being
surpasses any written language;
a happiness
that surpasses
any emotion
that could be felt
in the pleasures
of society.

To sense your essence
is one aspect,
but to sense the essence
of others
and the universe
is a completely different state.
A state that bounds you
to the impermanence of life.
A wholeness
that is realized;
an interrelated connection
between the influence
of your own action
and the entire universe.
And this essence
is within us all!

We can choose
to live the essence,
or to impugn it's presence.
And many have denied,
not because they disbelieve,
but because they fear
the power they could posses,
the power of the human spirit.
Many tremble
at the thought of responsibility;
at the thought of control
over their own life.
Yet,
those who think
about the power
of the human essence,
is missing the reality
of what is.
They are missing
the presence
of that power,
that arises
when thought is still.

The human spirit
cannot be grasped
by the intellectual mind,
but only felt.
And in those who feel
their underlying spirit
is a joyfulness
that rivals
with the jubilance of a child.
And those people
are the envy
of the ones who suppress
their inner essence.
But,
what they have yet to realize,
is that they posses
such a solace already.
They merely need to embrace
their human spirit.

For this spirit
is the state of being;
a spirit
that knows no boundaries,
who knows
of no right or wrong.
A spirit
that cannot,
and does not discriminate
a man from a woman;
a white from a black;
a christian from a jew;
a child from an adult;
one life from another,
for all lives are precious.

A spirit that can cease
the inner wars,
and bring about
an eternal peace.
If the inner wars
still wage,
the outer wars
will too.
Bringing harmony
to the strife
of unconsciousness within,
will bring harmony
to the unconsciousness without.
Realize
and live
your human spirit,
for the peace
that is your essence,
will bring amity
and union
to ourselves
and to the world.

The spirit of mankind
is the same breath
within us all.
Don't fear your power,
embrace it.