THE MEETING

Alone one night neath lantern light, I trudged a weary mile.
Forlorn, I went with shoulders bent (the storms around me howled)
until I met a Silhouette behind a sultry smile –
She gazed with eyes that mesmerize (Her body caped and cowled)
and stayed my way with question fey, ‘Why don’t you while awhile?’

Though timorous (with slow address and gestures pantomimed)
Her voice was gracing echoes chasing waves in evening’s tide.
The churchyard groaned, an ***** moaned, the bells of midnight chimed
while wanton winds awoke and dinned, and mistrals multiplied.
The Persian moon, like stray balloon, arose and blithely climbed.

The Silhouette (a pale brunette) arched eyebrows meant to please,
and down the lanes, on windowpanes, the shadows danced and sighed.
A meadowlark within the dark, somewhere behind the breeze,
ennobled Her with wisps of myrrh while deigning to confide
to nightingales veiled whispered tales of human vanities.

She doffed her cloak before She spoke with sighs of sorrow sung
(like mandolins, as night begins, when mourning day’s demise)
and spun Her tale of grim travail and tears She'd shed when young.
As jagged volts of thunderbolts lit up the dismal skies,
a velvet fog embraced a bog in coils of curling tongues.

Through summer vales and winter gales Her secret thoughts were voiced.
Midst storms so cruel (neath lightning’s jewel that glistered on the ridge)
She reminisced, She touched... we kissed... Her lips were wet and moist...
A lighthouse dimmed, while moonbeams skimmed across a distant bridge
to avenues where residues of shallow shades rejoiced.

                        HER TRAGIC TALE

“Midst sweet perfume of youthful bloom, the lonely spirit braves
and often cries and sometimes dies in quest of her amour.”

While starry-eyed, a ship I spied, a’ sail upon the waves –
the galleon docked, the gannets flocked, the Captain swept ashore
where, debonair with gypsy flair, he led his salty knaves.

In passing by, he caught my eye - I tried to hide a blush,
but ambiance of innocence left fervour’s flames revealed.
His gaze (defined by eyes that shined) beheld my cheek a’ flush.
I bowed my head while caution fled, I felt my fate was sealed
- a bird in spring with fledgling wing - he’d snared a  falling thrush.

He said ‘Hello’ - I answered ‘No’ and yet before he’d gone
said I, ‘I’ll wait at Heaven’s Gate not far beyond the Pale’.
At dusk he came neath moon aflame, and left before the dawn
just humming tunes between the dunes that lined the sandy trail
beside a pond where morning yawned, where swam an ebon swan.

We met again, and once again, and once again, again
entangled in a love called sin, in whirls of make-believe.
While in my arms, with voice that charms, said he ‘I must explain -
the tide awaits in distant straits and I must take my leave’.
Then tempests stormed as passions swarmed through ardor’s hurricane.

‘Forsake your home and we may roam’ he smiled as if to tease
and still naive, said I ‘I’ll leave, in silver buckled shoes’.
He took the helm in search of realms, and quickly quit the quays -
with tearful eyes, I bade goodbyes to fare-thee-well adieus
and sailed above a wave of love across the seven seas.

We swept one morn around Cape Thorne while bound for Bullion Bay.
With naught to reck, I strolled on deck, a baby at my breast,
while flurries blew and seagulls flew within the ocean’s spray.
Our ship soon moored, we went ashore and off to Fortune’s Quest -
with gold doubloons which shone like moons, he gambled through the day.

‘The deuce is wild’ he thinly smiled; another card was drawn -
he’d staked and raised with eyes half glazed, was dealt a dismal three.
With betting tight throughout the night, the final ace long gone,
meant all was lost, at what a cost; alas, the prize was me.
To my dismay he slunk away and left me doomed at dawn.

A buccaneer with ring in ear sneered ‘now, my dear, you’re mine’.
He held my wrists to thwart my fists and then... my honor stained.
On sullied swash, the sky awash with bitter tears of brine,
I broke his clutch with nothing much of me that still remained:
a residue when he was through, left clinging to a vine.

In morning dew, the good folk knew, and spurned me in my plight.
The preacher man pronounced a ban and wouldn’t condescend,
ignored my pleas on bended knees and prayers by candlelight.
While cast aside, my baby died... my world was at an end.
Until this day, I’ve made my way beneath the shades of night.


                        AT HEAVEN’S GATES

To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.

To break this spell of living hell, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.

The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.

Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.

A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.

Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.

Safe in my harbor,
docked with you...
assured my heart,
was safe with you.

My turn came to take the crew,
time to part from the dock and you...
looked at you sideways,
but was forced to steer away.

Thought you would lift your hands,
and stop me from sailing by...
thought you would rush to me,
riding past the rough waves...

Felt your pain as you tried to break away,
your agonised look when the ropes didn't give away...
you grimaced and I felt the tremor in you,
as I took every step away from you.

Not so sure when we would meet again,
We would if the storms are kind...
I will brave the winds and the storms,
to rush to your side as soon as i can...

Wishing for another crew,
sail you en route...
What more can I do,
except wishing you would join.

The wait is inevitable,
The wait is frustrating...
The wait is intolerable,
The wait chokes me...

Wish we're merged on our sides,
that way we can move side by side...
Be it morning, be it night,
life would be fun with you be my side...

sunbathing on a sunny day,
fighting the waves on a stormy day,
not caring if the sun dries us,
or when the rain soaks us,
or when the wind tosses us...

Together we will stand proud,
like a flag at full mast...
fluttering with joy,
Gulls bellowing by....

Wish we're merged on our sides,
that way we can move side by side...
Be it morning, be it night,
life would be fun with you be my side.

I went fishing with two witches
Out in my new boat
There was me, the witches
Two black cats, and a little pygmy goat

We sat out on the water
The small odd group and me
And in the first few hours
Not one fish did we see

The witches looked on skyward
Grabbed hands to cast a spell
They said that this worked wonders
And then they both did yell

Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew

Suddenly the water around the boat
Started to steam, and then it did boil
The sun disappeared, the sky went all black
And the clouds went the colour of oil

The witches both gathered the nets on the boat
As the fish came on up from the deep
They were out of the water and up in the air
And through this the goat went to sleep

Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew

Fish were around us, high in the air
The witches waved nets as if mad
The cats didn't move nor did the goat
It was the best catch that I'd ever had

After a while the sky turned to blue
The witches sat back with a look
We'd netted hundred of fish from the lake
Now, they would have to be cooked

Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew

I took the boat in, and docked on the shore
With our fish all strung up just for show
Everyone there asked what bait did we use?
I just smiled, for they weren't set to know

I go fishing with witches at least once a week
My freezer is full and then some
Their spell is amazing, it works every time
They say it loud, and fish come

Icarus, thickarus, giraffes and wild dogs
Lizards, and giant gnu
Bippity, Boppity, snakes and we wish
An airborne callipoe stew

Cleanliness and ******

The ship was old once it had been a big ship now it was small
it had been overtaking by time, its shower system had sea water
which was nice enough to cool off when it was hot.
After having a shower, you needed a bucket of fresh water to rinse
the salt away if not you would scratch all night have irritated skin
For month we did not have a proper wash when our ship docked in
Bremerhaven for repairs and we got fresh water found I had
an extra pair of socks I didn’t know about
it was wonderful having a hot shower I stayed under it til someone
complained I was using all the warm water, even today the sense
of cleanliness makes me shudder with delight.

Whatever I had done in my youth the night before it helped
to have a shower and wash the sin away the smell of “life buoy.”
the only soap we knew about, made the difference the ******
loved it they knew you were clean ******

My ship,
docked,
in your harbor,
waiting
for the rage
of your storm
to die down.

How long will I wait,
my love,
for your turmoil to be done?
How long will I long,
my dear-
For your wide open blue,
and the salt of your skin
and the awe of exploring your greatness once again?

My mast is down,
my anchor heavy.

I sit here between the hard earth
and my dream.
I sit here waiting for you
to come around.

The Phoenix
(To Love and Lose Part 2)
by Ryan Kinney

It started with a broken heart. Through the crack seeped liquid fire. It engulfed me, burning away all that I was. The flames shall purify me. Boil me down to my base components, and then rebuild me. From the ashes will rise a new entity.

Who am I?

Following my divorce I began an identity quest dubbed The Phoenix. It is my own personal trial by fire. Fire is the essence of life itself. As it destroys it also creates. I will create a new life from the remnants of my former, a persona not defined by another.

Chapter 1-The Quest

Depression and Suicide
“…my life before you was very chaotic and unstable. You were the stability I needed and the foundation on which I built my life.  I never doubted that you would always be there for me. You were my rock. Of all the people that had disappointed me you never let me down. Yet you did, You pulled the rug out from under me without warning and the foundation upon which I built my entire life crumbled…” –email correspondence to Lisa; Nov. 21, 2008

It took four months to undo ten years of my life. A debilitating depression overwhelmed me. I never saw anything in my life, but Lisa. What did I have left without her? What would I do? Darkness clouded my heart.

A rusty blade in my hand. A message in blood written on the broken mirror.
I lay in the tub, leaking crimson life. In my haze I barely make out the words.
What does my final message to the world say? I cannot remember why it hurt so much.
In a few minutes it won’t matter anymore. What the hell did I write?
I can only think of one thing that torments me enough to drive me to this darkness.
Trailing down in letters, clotting on the wall…
“I loved you.”

This revolving drama played on a loop in my mind. I was lost, a walking corpse. All I felt was cold hollowness.
“All that is left is emptiness, an empty house, an empty soul.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008
I so badly just wanted the hurt to stop. In my tunnel vision existence I was oblivious to those whose hearts bled for mine. All my substance and passion was gone. Lisa took my heart with her and left nothing inside. Without her my existence seemed meaningless. The cloaked figure smiled, offering me the almost irresistible temptation of sweet release.
“Do I give in to the darkness? Let it consume me”-journal excerpt
Ultimately, though, there came a day when I awoke from the fog. I was living outside myself watching this unknown drone on a worthless trek. One phrase finally broke through the shell.
“What a waste!”
The Phoenix was born in that moment. The match was struck to light the way on the difficult road to recovery.
“The pieces of my soul are on the floor for everyone to trample on.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008
I was in over my head. I needed help. A therapist helped at first, but the relationship quickly cheapened because I was essentially paying for a friendship. Antidepressants proved to work too well. I have a manic level of natural intensity. Lexapro ignited fireworks inside my brain. Both, however, gave me the nudge I needed to help myself. Eventually, I grew beyond the need for crutches. A previously unrecognized army of supporters each lent their kindling to the fires. One day at a time I battled my inner demons until I was ready to accept happiness again.
“You will be amazed on how much of the original Ryan is back. Why? Because I'm over my depression about change because something I feared more came to fruition.  I lost you.  I'm doing my best to survive from that, but my past fears now seems trivial and meaningless in comparison.”-email correspondence to Lisa; Sept. 8, 2009

Denial and Desperation
“Run, Run away Ryan. Open another book, turn on the TV, surf the Net. Delve into your fantasies and escape reality. It’s how you survived your childhood…”-journal excerpt; Oct. 2, 2008
The cracks in my facade were beginning to show. I shielded myself in delusions. I lied to myself to soften the full scope of Lisa’s betrayal. I more than lied. I was absolutely sure. I trusted her with my life. I trusted a lie. I was living a lie. I betrayed myself more than she ever did. The realizations came in shards, each piece punching holes in my heart.
I wallowed in self-pity and desolation.
I yearned so badly to feel some warmth, anybody’s warmth.

The New Girls
Upon Lisa’s departure I sought to quench my loneliness in the convenient woman around me. For a moment’s time, they took pity on me.
Rebound-I immediately sought solace in the arms of a good friend. She’s always shown me nothing but love and idolization. I was ashamed for disrespecting her and our friendship. I knew full well that our brief encounters were all that would ever be between us.
Crazy Chick-She was a brute of a woman, yet conversely, very maternal and comforting. She had a unique talent for forcefully ripping out my raw emotions, breaking through the masks. As she said, though, “I’m not Lisa.” Pathetically, that’s exactly what I wanted.
One Night Stand-ups-Several brief encounters fed my addiction for attention. Like a ****** with a needle, my appetite grew. Desperation was becoming my scarlet letter.
“…but it did seem that the thing we are most proud of and the thing we are most ashamed of are but the front and the back of the same coin. They torture and thrill all at once.”-Grotesque; Natsuo Kirino
I felt guilty and *****, yet loved for but an instant. These experiences were very cathartic. I had completely lost the ability to cry, feel pain, rage, or joy. They were the prefect drug, just so that I may feel again. Without these women to reopen the wounds, the numbness would have consumed me.
“Every angel has a little devil inside them.”-Manda; 2009
What attracted me to these women was mock chivalry. Each had their own “hard luck” story. So ingrained in me is the comic book ideal of heroism that I constantly seek to rescue the damsel in distress. Women will always be my kryptonite. However, as Crazy Chick put it, “ When is it time for you to be rescued?” The divine irony is, it was they who saved me.
It too, was not to last. A long period of isolation followed, as the women grew tired of babysitting me. Another lie to myself, a band-aid on a wound desperately needing stitches.

The Crush
Hers was the first light I allowed to pierce the darkness. She did more to heal me than any who said, “Yes.” Her secret, she said, “No.”
It has always been my curse to be eternally misunderstood and underestimated. I could see her scars bled the same as mine, although hers had begun to clot long ago. I am attracted to those who have a depth chiseled by adversity.
I identified with her. Her intelligence far exceeded my own, an Einstein in a circus. My eyes saw straight to her soul, seeing only the gorgeous woman she was on the inside. My friends would point out my eyes would sparkle whenever I spoke of her.
Yes, I loved her, but only in transition. We came from different worlds, but met as wounded soldiers on the battlefield. She was the catalyst to open my eyes. A sweet smile for my shredded soul.
“A worn beaten heart trapped in by bars.” From “Painless” by Tracy Reed
She held the key to my self-imposed imprisonment. My growing frustration with her opened the door for my transformation. For all her grace, all her amazing potential, she was wasting away in the same feeding trough as me.
“You can do better.”
Then it hit me…
“I can do better!”
I began to rebuild my empire. My never-queen rejected me…
I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The Emotional Spectrum
“Stuck in a prison of abstract ideas and overpowering emotions.”-Zach; mypsace blog
Shock
1) ‘I don’t love you anymore.”
2) Letter…”I can’t wait until my divorce is over!”
3) Ryan-“So I guess this means we’re getting a divorce.”
Lisa-“Well, yeah. You knew that.”
4) “Ryan, they’re together, and have been.”
5) “I’m moving out.”
6) “By the State of Ohio, I hereby grant this dissolution.”-Judge; Dec. 30, 2008

Six bullets to my heart, six separate, devastating phrases that brought about Armageddon. I gave her a decade of my meager existence, nearly half my life. She threw me away like garbage, and couldn’t have been happier.

Fear
As the gun smoke drifted, I clutched my breast. I was frozen in horror that I’d lose myself along with her. Fear, you see, was the beginning of the end for our marriage.
I never dealt well with change. When we bought our house, the combat that ensued left me crippled. I ultimately built myself into a comfort zone again. “I don’t know what I want to do” was always an excuse for me. I lay stagnant and complacent with no true purpose or direction.
It was Lisa that first took action. She sought to elevate us from the ranks of lower middle class into which we were born. I fought her, determined to lay docked in the doldrums. “Leave me alone in my bubble.” I made attempts, but with each failure became depressed. She became frustrated and took matters into her own hands. It is obvious she loved me then. She worked effortlessly to give us a better life.
I was blind to the truth and in time Lisa lost sight of her motives. She plodded on, mechanically, no longer sure of why. She drove herself to extreme exhaustion, afraid, that if she stopped, for even a moment, she’d realize it was all for naught. She lost faith in our combined, bright vision.
So, she did the only thing she knew how. She ran away, straight to another as miserable as her. She kept running, further and further, taking greater risks. All just to not have to feel her own hollowness.
She left and my phobia ended there. What followed was a newfound fear. “I don’t know what I want to do” became “What the hell do I do?” I was afraid I was doomed to be alone the rest of my life.

Sadness
“Are you ok?”
“We’re worried about you.”
“How are you, Ryan?”…

“MISERABLE!”-Ryan

I always speak the truth. I’ve never felt so surrounded and alone in all my life.

Anger
“Like koi in a ***** pond, you can see your rage barely hiding below the surface.”-Erin Kompik
The most intense rage fueled The Phoenix. I lashed out at everything. Everyone was burned. I was ******* and the world would pay. The spectacle burned so bright it threatened to eradicate all that I was.
“I can feel bitterness and anger coming. I am fighting for control over the anger”-journal excerpt; Oct. 1, 2008
“The seams in my heart leak nothing, but hostility.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008
“I’ve become a monster. I once loved someone so hard I would die for her. Now all I can feel is scorn and hate. My heart is twisted and black. I fear I will become the bitter man my father is. I hate myself for being so.”-journal excerpt; Sept. 30, 2008
Who was I so angry with? For all the hurt I felt from Lisa, I was most angry at myself. How could I let this happen? How could I have been so blind? My blood boiled as I berated myself. The loss I suffered left my heart festering with hatred, as nothing but fire and volatility overtook it.
“The red light of rage is violent action without consideration of consequence. It is uncontrollable. So I will unleash it.”-Final Crisis, Rage of the Red Lanterns
Then, the root of another anger broke through the fury.
“I know that you may not see it now, but time really will heal these wounds.”-Michelle Kinney
She was right. I had absolved myself of my original rage. I had forgiven her. I could forgive myself. I couldn’t be held responsible for another’s irresponsibility. The anger dissipated into the smoke. It left behind a few flickers, but I’ll not extinguish them yet. I still have a use for that rage.
“Do not be afraid to expose the darkness. Only by bringing it to the light can it ever truly be resolved.”-audio journal excerpt; Aug. 16, 2009

Love and Happiness
During my marriage, hers was the only love I let myself feel. Then, she took it with her when she left. I felt scorned and unwanted, a refuse of human waste.
I was wrong. I am a man that seeks love as an end all for my existence. Lisa unlocked my caged heart. Over the next decade I cultivated relationships with countless individuals. There was more love in my life than I ever realized. They were there when she wasn’t. My parents sacrificed everything to give me a life and family they never had. Lisa’s family had become my permanent family. She divorced me. I did not divorce them. All my friends gave all they could. Even my harsh enemies stepped off the battlefield, for they understood the casualties of this war. All of them, a shining sea of compassion, poured their hearts into mine. Their light overcame the darkness. When I finally crawled out of the pit, they got me to my feet.
“For them, I must continue.”-Naoko Takeuchi
I had to be strong. I owed it to them to survive. They gave me their love to fill in my missing pieces. For all I had been given, I could never give up or give in.
“I am meant for greatness. I am meant for happiness, for joy, for me.”-Zach; myspace blog

Chapter 2-Evolution

Picking up the Pieces
“I need to be out there.
Living.
Looking for my own life…
I need to open my mouth.
I need to be heard.
I need to live.
You’re gone…
I’m not.”
-Goth Girl Rising; Barry Lyga.
It was time to rebuild that which had been broken. My life was fragmented chaos. I needed an order to the chaos, or more to my tastes, organized chaos; anarchy with purpose. I learned to become a master strategist. The civil war I waged on myself demanded a general.
STEP 1-Stabalize finances.
My pact with the devil to keep my beloved home required emptying the coffers completely. How delicious the irony that I wound up working the same long weeks as Lisa.  Hard work and sacrifice were absolute necessities if I was ever to afford to live again. It was Lisa that taught me that. The only difference, I must never lose sight of why. Money is not the reason for existence. I simply needed enough to achieve my goals.
“Money is nothing.  It is an imaginary concept.  Its only value is what we put into it.  While often a necessary evil to survive, it is not important.  The only possession of true value is time.”- The Most Valuable Possession; 2009
STEP 2-Tear down the Mausoleum.
My home had become a testament to a dead marriage. Lisa’s five day moving notice threw a grenade into my living space. It was disheveled and disorganized. It was no longer Ryan and Lisa’s. I had to reclaim it as my own. Out of respect for our past, I kept a few pieces of Lisa as a constant reminder. I will never forget where I’ve been.
“Your spirit helped build this place and it still flows through its walls.”-email correspondence to Lisa; Nov. 21, 2008
Physically putting my environment in order likewise put my mind into an order. As I rebuilt my home, it became the new foundation for my life. The Phoenix had a place to perch.
STEP 3-Know Happiness again.
“I seem to find that my great periods of change, evolution, and growth precede an ultimate betrayal from someone I’ve let close to my heart. Is survival mode the only way I can fuel my passion? Where do I find the love that ignites my will, yet does not drive me to complacency?”-audio journal; Aug 13, 2009
The answer, I needed to love myself again. I could not rely on someone else to complete me. I had to become independent, to be ok with being alone. I deserved to be happy, to be loved, above all, by myself.
This was going to be hard.

Breaking Codependency
Not having another physical body in the house left a void. Without another heartbeat close to mine, I stopped sleeping at night. My appetite was lost and I started shedding pounds. With my depression receding, I awoke to find I was living in a desolate wasteland. What would I do in this solitary confinement?
Utilizing survival skills my mother taught me, I used it. Ever the artist, I took the pieces and created an existence. Then I improved it, again and again. Loneliness is a disease that attacks only if you let it. I had to learn to accept myself, before I could expect anyone else to. I used the loneliness to redefine and rediscover myself. I would not rely on anyone to do for me. My honor and respect for my loved ones demanded I do for myself. The stifling quiet, the sleepless nights taught independence. The silence used to frustrate and anger me. Now, I use it for peaceful reflection and meditation. Th

This ship docked in my lonely harbour
It was the prettiest catamaran I'd ever seen
Delighted the captain shouted it's name
"The EDB" his hazel eyes beamed
He was filled with beauty inside and out
And with his withdrawal came pain, no doubt

After him came the figure that was the real mystery
With charm and charisma he came to me
"Hey my name is Jay, okay if I docked at your bay"
Flashing an award winning smile
I couldn't resist
"Ofcourse! ofcourse!" I instantly hissed
However it was the storm that he brought along I wish I had missed

I couldn't bare another heartbreak
No more vessels I'd tell the rest to skate
But then M/V Drew came through and blew me away
With a saddened heart I knew I could not allow him to stay
My dock just suffered two terrible shocks
No more, no more I want off these rocks

Today was it my day to be free
To embrace the ocean, find a ship that loves me
Beyond the horizon floated my chance at more
It was finally my time to leave Heartbreak Shore

- (jrew)

the morning sky
performs a hot dance of rain.
ever-growing lime washes away,
white and sour mistaken
by some noses as
aromatics.
a season
of ever-ending frost
absent from windows
and misty
misty
journey
through the rain
without an umbrella.

rain jilts
its luscious sun-lover
behind clouds.
it beheads drops into
the thin morning air
only to be crushed
by the sidewalk.

this excites the worms
who unearth themselves
like fishing-bait zombies.
the worms are then eaten
by the birds who brave
the rain and the slick
sidewalk, once baptized,
now eats their ****.

I step in a puddle
with my rain boots.
there are holes in their
heels, and I feel
my skin start to crinkle.
I think of you
for the first time in sky water
unsubmerged
docked
landed
and lean in
to the liquid veil.

Ship has docked
Where is the sea?
I'm all alone
Only me
Sadness overwhelming
Fantasy is over
Back to reality
My lonely life
No one waiting for me at the airport
Take a cab again, alone
Did anyone miss me
even notice I was gone?
If I never came back
Would anyone care
can't think this way, I don't dare
Tears roll down my face
I can't make them stop
I sit and cry
While the ship continues to rock
I'm a scared little girl
Pretending to be strong
while I die a bit everyday
and continue to run away
When's the next trip?

(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 14, 2019)

To lead is to be light and fluid
like a pied piper.

But often they are like lead,
silver and immovable.

They sanction in times of mercy
like when your parakeet died
and you’re late to work.

They don’t remediate with punishments
of docked pay for your inability
to get over it.

They buckle it together:
strategic plan and daily ops,
team to team to team.

They never buckle under
like King Lear
or a bad knee.

The overlook the floor.
They know everyone by name.

They never overlook a widget,
flaw or warning signal.

They are stakeholders.
They hold a stake.

They are never proxies,
holding stakes for other leaders.

The are transparent, obvious.
Never out of sight.

They weather the downturn, withstand the force.
They do not corrode.

The seed. They put down seeds.
They do not rob the fruit.

A rotating wheel. Turning an axle. Grinding. Bolthead. Linear gearbox. Falling sky. Seven holy stakes. A docked ship. A portal to another world. A thin rope tied to a thick rope. A torn harness. Parabolic gearbox. Expanding universe. Time controlled by slipping cogwheels. Existence of God. Swimming with open water in all directions. Drowning. A prayer written in blood. A prayer written in time-devouring snakes with human eyes. A thread connecting all living human eyes. A kaleidoscope of holy stakes. Exponential gearbox. A sky of exploding stars. God disproving the existence of God. A wheel rotating in six dimensions. Forty gears and a ticking clock. A clock that ticks one second for every rotation of the planet. A clock that ticks forty times every time it ticks every second time. A bolthead of holy stakes tied to the existence of a docked ship to another world. A kaleidoscope of blood written in clocks. A time-devouring prayer connecting a sky of forty gears and open human eyes in all directions. Breathing gearbox. Breathing bolthead. Breathing ship. Breathing portal. Breathing snakes. Breathing God. Breathing blood. Breathing holy stakes. Breathing human eyes. Breathing time. Breathing prayer. Breathing sky. Breathing wheel.

Ya know ...
I used to use ... " Dots " ...

or what's called ... " Ellipses " ...

to Connect ... My Scriptures ... !!!

but Now ... use ... " Squiggles " ...
to Connect ... The Lyrics ...
That I ... sit and ... " Scribble " ... !!!

So I DO ... Connect Dots ... !!!
with rhymes I ... " Jot " ...
About ... Terrorist Plots ... !!!
and ... " Corporate " ... Bods' ...

Whose jobs are ... " Those " ...
where agendas ... "Hold" ...
the keys to ... " Gold " ...

and Maybe ... " Oil " ... !?!
AND ... DRUG LORD ... Spoils ... !!?!!

Dots I ... Use ...
CONNECT ... Issues ...
That Some ... " Confuse " ... ???
as ... " Deluded " ... Views ... !?!

So WHO's ... " Deluding " ... WHO ... ?!?
with news they produce ... ???

Groups like ... W.H.O. ... ?

The types who ... FUEL ...
EBOLA News ... !!!!!

As if Africa ... IS ...
A place where the ... SICK ...
Get ... INFECTED ... !!!!! ...
By ... ALL KINDS OF ... " Things " ... !!!

That ...
Seem to ... STING ... !!!!!

EXCEPT ... " Projects " ...
Set by ...  " The West " ... ?????

That are ... " Scientist Led " ...
to FEED ... Black DEATH ... !!!!!

or WORSE ... Black PLAGUES ... !!!!!!

That They then say ...

"NEED TO BE CONTAINED
IN VARIOUS WAYS !"

BEFORE ... They Arrive ...
in ... Western States ... !!!!!!!!!

Something seems ... " Strange " ... ?
AFRICANS ... fade awayyyyyyyyyyyyyy ..............................

While Westerners ... SURVIVE ... !!!
When Ebola Strains ...
Reach ... Their Coastlines ... ?!?

Then OF COURSE ... They CLAIM ...

"Africa NEEDS AID !"

From The West ... who say ...

That ...

"Africa was, the first place
to have aids !"

A.I.D.S. .... !!!!!!!!

The type that left .........
A Trail of ... Death ... !!!

Just like ... " The Feds' " ...
when they SHOOT ... Bullets ... !!!!!

Could cash be spent ?
by the ... I.M.F.
to " Aid and " ... PROTECT ...
and STOP ... These Trends ... ?!?

Well ...
Aid They ... Give ...
These days I ... Think ...............

Seems to be the ... " Type " ...
That Has ... A PRICE ...
That's ... WAY TOO HIGH ... !!!!!

" These " .....

" Dots of Mine " ...
DO NOT ... Contrive ...
to ... Formulate ... LIES ...
That ... DAMAGE ... Lives ... !!!!!

THEY ...
OPEN ... Eyes ... !!!!!
and ... OPEN ... Minds ... !!!
to the things ... "disGuiSed" ...

As TRUTH ... Defined ...

I Think ... You'll Find ...
That ... Truth's ... DENIED ...

Pretty Much ... ALL THE TIME ... !!!

But NOT ... in rhymes ... I ...
Sit and .... Write .... !!!

From ... Relationships ...
that ... Bear ... WITNESS ...
to the ... " Types of Women " ...
Who Play ... " The Victim " ...
from The End ... Back to Beginning ... ?!?

What's with these chicks ... ?
Who Think ... They're ... " Slick " ...

They're SLICK ... Alright ... !!!
Like ... " Grease and Slime " ... !!!

UNTIL ... " Chauvinists " ...
Treat them like ... ***** ... !!!!!

and ....
Leave them ... " DITCHED " ...
Like .... My Lyrics ....

So THEY ... WON'T LIKE ...
These words I ... write ... !!!!!!!

The Dots they ... " Connect " ...
AREN'T GOOD ... for Men ... !!! ...
when they get ... UPSET ...
Over ... PURE NONSENSE ... !?!?!

Or Let ... Their NEED ...
for ATTENTION ... Be ...

The Thing that ... DESTROYS ...
Relationship ... " Poise " ...
because ... " Boys with " ... " Ploys " ...
Can ... OPEN THEM ... Up ...
Like ... ******* Toys ... !!!!
and ... OTHER ... Stuff ... !!!!!!!!!!

These Girls ... " Employ " ...

That ... SATISFY ...
MORE THAN ... These ... " Guys " ...
Who ... TRY and TRY ... !!!!! ...
to ... Make Them ... " Smile " ... !!!!!

By ...
Giving them ... " Child " ...
and ... Marriage Vibes ...
Where ... CONNECTION ... is the Key
to .... Relationship .... GLEE .... !!!!!

But .....
How Many do we see ... ?
who are Living ... " Happily " ... ?!?

CONNECT ... " Those Dots " ...
and you ... Might Get ... SHOCKED ... ?!?
by those now ... "LOCKED" ...

In Relationships ... " Docked " ...
with .... NO iPod ... !?!?! ...

" Hold on, that's wrong ! "

Like couples who ... " Plod " ...
For the ... " Children's Sake " ... !?!

Which i'm ...
Primed to say ...

is a ... BIG Mistake ... !!!!!

If you ... DON"T ... get along
It's time to .... Move on .....................................
WITHOUT ... " Using " ... Your Child ...
Like some ... " ******* " ... !!!!! ...

to be USED ...
while you ... ABUSE ...
Yourself and ... THEM ... !?!?!

Does that ... Make Sense ... ?!?

Children NEED ... " Dots " ...
That Connect ... WITHOUT The ... STRESS ...
of Parents ... FIGHTING Like ... Dogs ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Who Got Married ... Just because ...

" The Premise " ... seemed ... INVITING ...
Before they got a .................. " Sighting .................................
of Who ... The Other ...... WAS ...... !!!!!!

The TRUTH is ... That ...
Our Lives ...
DON'T Always ... " Intertwine ' .............  

which is WHY ...
We SHOULD ... " Take Time " ...
to YES ... CONNECT The ... Dots ... !!!

with someone who IS ... Strong ... !!!
and DOESN'T Cause ... PROBLEMS ... !!!

That SEVER ...
MORE THAN ... " Bond " ... !!!!!!

My Style of ... Rhyme ...
IS ... Clever ... !!!

Because .....

Problems ... " I Solve " ...
Within The Verse ...
I put to ... WORK ...
Like THOSE ... Who have ... " The Job " ...
of being ..... NEW ..... " Sherlocks " ..... !!!!!!!

STOPPING ....
Violent ... " Yobs " ... !!!!!

and Those who ...
Choose to ... ROB ... !!!!!
Or WORSE STILL ...
Choose to ... **** ... !!!!!!

But Nowadays ...
Their Dots ... Display ...
A BLATANT ... DIS-Connect ... !!!

Between these heads in ... " Uniforms " ...
and " Basic " ... " Common Sense " ... ?!!!? ...

and Being ... MORE ...
Than KILLERS Who ...
Are Causing ... STORMS ... !!!

Because they're ... NO BETTER ...
Than ... " Hannibal Lector " ... !!!!!!!

MURDERERS Who ... " Stalk " ...
More Than They ... " Walk The Walk " ...

of .... " PROTECTING TO SERVE " ... !!!!!!

They Connect and ... HURT ... !!!
MORE THAN They ... " STOP " ...

The CRIMINALS ... Who ...
SIT IN ..... "Boardrooms" ...... ?!?

and DON'T GET ... " SHOT " ... !?!
for the CRIMES They ... "PLOT" ... ?!?

Something seems ... " WRONG " ... ?!?
when Blacks get ... SHOT ...
For Being .... BLACK .... !!!!!!!!

What's up with ... THAT ... ?!?

I Think it's TIME ...
To STOP ... These CRIMES ... !!!!!

As it seems to be ... RIGHT ...
To STOP ... These Rhymes ...

Before ... These Lines
are Deemed to ... " INCITE " ...

When ALL They ... " Reflect " ...
Are Some ... " Thoughts " ... Expressed ...
That ... talk about ... " Health " ...
and The ... HARD SELL ... !!!!!
of ... "Devious Plots" ...

That Seem .... ALL WRONG ... ? !!! ?

Until YOU ...
Take The Time ... to ...

" Connect The Dots " .................................................................­....................

Listen Here :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/connect-the-dots?in=user-16569179/sets/the-cmi-sessions

Heading up the coast a ways
The fog wall rolling in
Couldn't make out where we're going
Much less see where we've been
It covered like a blanket
A black hole by the sea
It was like something from a movie
One that now was starring me
The road lines were invisible
As we ventured through the mist
I couldn't see a single thing
I'm sure you get the gist
We pulled off at a sign of life
A diner on the side
We figured we'd be safe here
And rest some from our ride
The hostess seemed quite startled
When we entered from the gloom
You'd have think she'd seen a spirit
As she led us through the room
"No one's out on nights like these"
"The sane folks hunker down"
"A fog like this could last for days"
We said we're from out of town
We asked about a haven
Somewhere we could get a bed
She told us of an old place
Run by a fellow known as "Red"
She made a reservation
While we were waiting for our meal
Told "Red" we'd be there rightly
He could not disguise his zeal
"Not many folks come out this way"
"At least not for the night"
"The fog here is monotonous"
"It gives most folks a fright"
You could hear the rolling thunder
of the waves upon the shore
But, beyond that you heard nothing
Not a sound came through the door
"Red' said if we were willing
He'd tell us 'bout the place
It was nautical in flavour
A real interesting space
He got our bags secured
And he came back to the fire
He said "What I'll say is all the truth'
"I'll not be called a liar"
The b and b we were now in
Was a lighthouse in years gone by
It stood upon this craggy cliff
To see that no one did not die
One hundred twenty years it stood
His family manned the light
There was always someone here to see
Sailors made it home at night
Ships were lost upon the rocks
From waves come straight from hell
The light was there to guide them
And the town had a large bell
Most times the ships weighed anchor
Stayed away and rode it out
But others, tried their mettle
They wouldn't turn the ship about
There were life boats manned and ready
To go and get survivors from the sea
I've been out many times myself
And I only saved three
The rocks and waves and currents
Take a body far from shore
if we don't get there right quickly
Then we'll n'ere see them no more
The light was a stern warning
That the rocks were looming fast
And if they didn't alter course
Then they surely wouldn't last
We asked who manned it nowadays
He said "no one at all"
It was run by automation
It all changed after the squall
A storm came in five years ago
The light was burning bright
But the snow and ice and wind
Were blocking it from sight
The boat went down without a trace
The boats were still left docked
We couldn't hear their sirens
All the boats remained here locked
They couldn't hear the fog horn
And the light would not shine though
They'd lost communication
And they took down thirty two
The government came in and said
"We have to make a change"
"We need a better lighthouse"
"One that has a longer range"
"So, they put in a new signal"
"Amped the horn and closed me out"
"I was allowed to live beneath her"
"So, I knocked a few things out"
"I opened up the "Lighthouse"
"Never thinking folks would stay"
"But, business has been steady"
"But, only on bad days"
"I've never been back to the light"
"Since they amped it up a notch"
"They took away my livelihood"
"It was a kick into my crotch"
"But, now I get a pension"
"And a few people like you"
"So, I sit here and tell stories"
"And you'll bet I know a few"
"But, now I see you're tired"
"Some advice and then good night"
"Make sure you wear the blindfolds"
"Because I can't turn out the light!!!"

Thus on my genesis Love's fought Regret
My Ardent Sire whose Merits installed
These English Gifts whom I have thanked just yet
Carried Misconstruction; And docked the Fine Toll
This that Penance be my Honest Attempt
Yet still besieged in case of Bad Timing
The Gold I carry an Issue I Contempt
Will try once more to Win his Best Blessing
My how the Fortunes some drive the Mind mad
And took my Heart back to a Wildman's State
This cannot continue; Much have I had
Sponge this Circled Self back to my Constraint.
The Human in me, the Cause of my Lone
And Sister's Reason I banged on the Phone.

a nacreous tossing around at
the sides, a dappled silver
sunlight if looked one way, an

apocalyptic gloam if another,
exhaled from a seeming
mouth, feeding on what has

already eviscerated an unfelt
*****, a predator certainly its
own prey, a heat certainly

poison-breath on a cheek
falling when a meretricious
lover spouts that spurious

hypocorism, and also just a
wavering, iridescent puddle—
cornered, soft as a liquid steel

echo of a futile struggle
rolling around, bouncing off  
a wine glass, and a porcelain  

table edge, while a listening
head shakes, looks down
despondently, gloom glowing

out the hair, a voice jaded
since birth saying some
thing about differences, or a

helpless slender strap of hope
hanging itself on the way two
other eyes look at it across

checkered watered wings, two
swirling god whorls, two
effulgent galaxies the color of

melting pine bole circling
around in living umber striae,
pulling its gaze, raising it, as if

they, they were blazing truth
cased behind lithophane, and it,
only an aporetic puddle now

of tepid ocher, a mild earth
stone placed in a hand, asked
what is thought of it and the

response: yes, yes of course,
before foreign distance splutters
its face, and it retreats from

its meaning imparted to every
thing (with the vulnerable
precision of a swaying finger

tip) to the baby lanugo of a
delicate floating, through
human rills, of what is horizon

docked, dead, not merely
deciduous—forever jilted with
breath bulging as when beating

a flopping eyeless fish to
half-dead, head tilted up a
throat trying to pry itself

free, trying to live by
streaming snagless, airful,
without spirant sound of going

lost straight from the hands—
then a short chop of fullness
finally expunged and sputtering

like an escaped tuft of
shackled wonder soaring up
the sky in a puff and soul ring.

The smoke stacks that line the waterfront be like giant joints puffing thoughts of her into air embalmed by hundreds of rainy days
That slow burn, against the icy bay and the barges that carry their loads through them
This corner of the world gets six hours of daylight, tops
Greys seared by neon, smoke and clouds and fog produced as one
continuous substance
There's a pleasant blurryness here
floating amid the buoys and the docked ferryboats,
In the way the monorails glide above toward a 1960s dream of the space age through an Amazonian jungle of glass and cranes
in harmony with the clouds sailing overhead
Here is where you go to let off steam deferred, where you ride trains through a kind of dark that arrives early, stays up late
as shadows wander across the gum covered walls of Post Alley
like ghosts made of espresso mist
freed from lit joints protruding from the skyline
to a high beneath starless heaven
Resting into the glow of that harbor
against thoughts of her that cloud the view of the sea.

Two inches was the measure, of young Stevies blunder,
Digging out concrete, not knowing whats under.
He felt a nugget, that wouldn't yield to the Pick,
So he used the Jack-Hammer, until he got that "kick".
Caught fire on the spot, looked at me, shocked,
Died in flames, got a days pay docked.
Cut the main cable, Fifty millimetres, metric,
I know you hate to ask, but Friends aren't Electric.

Dennis stepped back, pleased with his graft,
Fell two hundred foot, down an unguarded shaft.
Been on the Grinder, cutting out steels,
So the Elevator boys could fix , their cogs and their wheels.
Never said a word, no shout or no fuss,
Dennis died like he lived, just one of us.

Me and Baz on a roof, we knew was asbestos,
Brittle like toffee, temperamental as Kate Moss,
Had no crawling boards, so we tip-toed like burglars,
Clinging on tightly, think Ivy on Pergola's.
I heard the crack, leapt to the hip-tile,
Baz clawed and scraped, resistance was futile.
They spread out the sand, where Baz hit the deck,
To mop up the blood, from a broken neck.
Health and safety, if's and but's,
Shoddy workmanship, taking short-cuts.
We have no say, we try our best,
Hard hats, harder boots and high-visibility vests,
Are all that we leave, not Time-Shares or Merc's,
Just daughters in tears, Dads not home from work.

Garden Parkway YMCA
Dallas, Texas
22 November 1963

Darling Sophie,

Could it be only two months since I let your fingers slip from my hand as that train departed Voronezh station? I fear that this trip was a great mistake. . . .

The boat sailed from Sevastopol as scheduled. Just two days and we were through the Bosporus/Dardanelles and into the incredibly blue Aegean and the Mediterranean. On September 27 we passed Gibraltar and started the long haul across the Atlantic. The work was not demanding though the ship was quite ***** and not really very pleasant.

We docked at Houston in the state of Texas on October 9. Defecting was surprisingly easy. There was supposed to be work in Dallas so I walked/hitch-hiked here last month. But I have not been able to find any work.

The people here, though friendly, are coarse and brash. The stores overflow with televisions, record players, mink coats, but there are many very poor people here too...

The great American leader, Kennedy, was shot and killed today, driving in his open-topped car along the streets of this very city.

My money is gone; my strength, exhausted. How blithely I left you and Russia behind! I feel my lips brushing the tiny hairs on the back of your neck, your ******* swelling. . . . Sophie! May you know great happiness and love! I only ask that in the spring when you visit Krymskaya Pond, that you remember how we knelt there, how I whispered in your ear there, when the air is filled with the scent of its cherry trees that you remember what we felt there. . . .

  Yours, always,    Nickolay

Whether I’ve waited too long,
or I’m coming on too strong
I feel the need to put my words
where they belong;
In the drum of your ear,
beating to the sound of this nondescript fear
of “have I said too much?”
or “too little?” --
of wondering when my feet
will reach the middle
ground, between overkill and not enough.
That just right feeling we’ve all built up
for one girl or another,
trading one choice for the other
and never being quite satisfied
with the path you’ve taken;

but every time I choose you
my heart is breaking.
The crackling sound that
my heart keeps making
is like the sound of
a burning wood fire on a cold winter night
where I stare into the flames
like I stare into your eyes,
and remember you staring back like
you were looking for something.

And what that something was
is beyond me
but I sure hoped
that it was there for you to find.
and I sure hoped
that you could read my mind,
because my nerves stopped
my lips from moving,
and I’m constantly in question
of what I might be doing.

Now we’ve had our share
of one night stands,
and I hoped they would progress
to maybe holding hands.
But what I’ve learned is that
you can’t make life rewind
and run backwards
from the finish line,
you can’t make time
turn counter-clockwise.
I know driving through life
there are no u-turn signs.

As much as I wanted
to start by saying “I like you”
and do those cute things
that new lovers do,
it was never the case,
and I just got used.
nothing more
than a kid
to keep you amused.

Newly two decades old,
we’re both still young,
even if you’ve reached
the year of twenty-one.
Your heart doesn’t rest
atop your sleeve,
it’s comfortably hidden
away from me.
but I only ask for
one small peak
to settle my inner child’s
curiosity.
When night falls, I don’t want
what you think I do
what I really want
is to get to know you.

I couldn’t care less
about getting in your pants,
although I wouldn’t say no
given the chance.
But again, I’m content
with just sitting near you.
Us, just staring up at
the midnight moon
as she whispers
sweet nothings
to make you swoon
until the morning light
has come too soon.

I want to remember
the map of your face,
to feel how it fits
where my hand is placed.
I want to remember
the placement of every tattoo
as if I was the artist that
had drawn it on you.
I want to remember
the feeling of
the parts in your lips
where rings once docked
like navy ships.
I want to take you dancing
to feel your hips,
and make your morning coffee
to hear you sip.

This may be nothing more
than a simple crush
but it may be love, too,
not to make things rush.
But I’m bad with words when
they’re flying from my mouth
like confused grey geese
heading north instead of south.
So this is me starting the dialogue
without feeling wary of getting it wrong
because if I am then I’ll move on,
I won't mourn the day that
I wake and you're gone.

Your moldable heart
So many times over
Lit up and torn apart
Like a mined diamond
Dug up and brushed off
So quit your whinin'
You're just lucky
Someone like me came along

I'm way ahead of you
Mentally, emotionally and physically
You're a pretty sad excuse
For a person in such a situation
And there's nothing you can do
But listen and soak up information
Keep playing the sponge
And someday you might get the correct formation

I hold the strings
Don't you see or are you that blind?
There are so many things
To be done, to be had
But you just hold on and take to the clings
And I can't say I'm appreciative
Of the fact that you can't seem
To be anything but argumentative

I'm a ******' gift
Something shiny in the fog
That comes to give you a lift
You're nothing but the bump on that log
Who goes and makes a shift
When she hears a little something questionable
Through your heart I will sift
And by the end your arteries will be bendable

Your heart of clay
Lays lazy and easily excitable
When I docked in your bay
It looked like saving you was viable
But I refuse to stay
I regret to inform of the incoming storm
But I must decline your invitation to play

My shaft-craft docked I with hers
As in orbit the space shuttle Atlantis,
Before it was by NASA rested:
So up she swallowed of for three
Inexpressible minutes, my darling dilly, --
Just like a shark swallowed up stiff Jonah
For three days in her belly, --in Havana,
Where I was locked in tween her hot thighs,
Heaving out we both extraterrestrial sighs
Upon the green with amours encrusted.

Ive become haunted by a Demon
Who’s making me question my mind
At first I thought he was an Angel
Cuz at first he seemed so kind

He helped me to unwind
And offered me support
When I was able to breathe him in
I felt like I was finally docked at port

I found his presence intoxicating
I always wanted him around
The insight he brought to my life
Was really quite profound

But those good feelings didn’t last forever
And I decided to take some time away
But he refused to leave my side
And I began to feel like prey

I can’t ever seem to escape from him
Hes mastered manipulation and seduction
My inability to walk away
Will be the cause of my destruction

I look into the mirror each day
And am frightened by what I see
Dark circles and red eyes
Is that the demon or is that me?

Every time I think I’ve escaped
He pulls me right back in
“You can’t survive without me
You just have to let me in.”

His voice echos through my head
His thoughts replace my own
….I love  him...I need him...I crave him  
And I’m afraid to be alone

I fear that I am not strong enough
And I want to let the demon win
Let go of loneliness-- embrace corruption.
I submit to my addiction again

You sit now
                        stranded,
moored to nothing,
          going nowhere,
your bilges dry,
your engines shut
down
and
         up
inside the salt-rusted
skin, pocked with rot,
where once you
sliced across
the water's top,
a vessel full
of
life,
bow and stern,
prop and anchor,
never
           ever
in your mindless
dreams believing
you would stop,
and
        no one
would even care-
no sailors,
no cargo,
no sunrises,
sunsets,
waves and beasts of the
                                               deep
to sound their fare-thee-wells,
no more those chimed
                 8 bells,
you,
now stopped,
docked
and
        alas,
forgot.
_
Derelict:
http://beautyineverything.com/5096209757

You are like a sailor
who wants to forget the sea.

   And I am not the shore
   you cling to
   or the lighthouse
   that guided you home;

   I am the boat,
   left docked and
forgotten,
   and the waves
   that call you back
   to the life
   you were born

   to live.

Weathered boats with empty holds
Docked along the frozen bay
Old men  laughing at the cold
Drink to tales of colder days

Snow and sleet come down in sheets
Aged sea widows cast their lots
Children play on icy streets
She-Crab soup in cast iron pots

Rare the snow on Sneads Ferry
Rarer yet the snow that stays
Only in January
Are villagers apt to play

r ~ 28Jan14

The Voyage

The big seagull sat on the bow of my rowing boat
                                   on my way to Argentina and Rosita,
which I never met she had married guitar player-
had unfriendly eyes ready to peck my eyes out.                  
                                   I regretted my heroism.
I wanted to go to Argentina because of its pampas
Beautiful horses and also to be famous for the voyage
                                  I was picked up by a merchant ship
it was actually going the wrong way docked in Antwerp
                                  Free beer for the, would be the hero.
I got a job on an old steamer bound for Argentina.
                                
                                 Buenos Aires,
A City with so many beautiful women it took a long
before I got my stead looking for the tree of wisdom.
                                 I found it burning in the night
the Gauchos were feeling cold and set fire to the tree.
                                 What matters is the journey which is a fine sentence to cover for absolute failure.

Wine and cigarettes all i have in vain
But nothing comes close to ease my pain
Winter has frozen my pale fingers
As i walk and linger
My father's last words flew through my heart
As he touched my face and i cried to never part
The wood floor creaked as i walked
The walls shattered as i talked
He said the old house is alive
I knew it when it was so quiet at night
Whenever i said my flat prayers to Christ

I did not come back for melancholy of my boyhood friends
As memories have always been in the right places to suspend
Like cold brief kisses shared before goodbyes
Struggling for never ending happines to come by

Autumn came when i was still deep in slumber
Tucked up innocent in his warm chamber
Whenever i opened my eyes again he was there
Watching out the window, looking so fair

There were nights when the ferry docked
And those distinct shapes in the mist outside i could not make out
There he went away
Ferried over so far away
As i did to him likewise now

A little bird found a boat
A little knot held it docked

A little bird found out that
the boat was soon heading out

The sea is calm and the sun
looks so far from the shore

“Where are you headed?” asked the bird

“Straight towards the sun,” the boat replied
“You’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”

The little bird’s eyes lit up.
“Yes,” she said.
“I’ve been waiting to sail
toward that light for my entire life.”

Anchor’s up, they headed out that night.

The beginning was calm
The sea was peaceful
The moon was a kind and encouraging satellite
They left all of the world’s crossed wires behind

The sun was bright
and the fresh salt water
made them both feel alive.

A couple months went by
The boat noticed that every once in a while
the little bird would fly off for some time

I guess the little bird is just like myself,
the boat thought.
The little bird knew that the boat
was heading to the same destination,
however she wanted to fly there herself.

Determined to find…
Determined to find…

Someone, somewhere that could give her wings a break.

The boat looked up at its mast
and wondered why the bird flies so many miles
when the wind is willing to take us both in real time?

I wonder why the bird works so hard to let go
when there was never anything to hold

The boat started to worry that the bird
would leave home when she started to feel alone

I wonder where that poor little bird keeps going?

The boat kept sailing.
The sun kept shining
The wind kept blowing
The water kept flowing…

The little bird was off a few nautical miles on her own
Wings working tirelessly
The bird doesn’t like the salt, the heat,
and the fact that she doesn’t know where she is going

“I’m going to find that light,” the bird cried.
And she kept flying in circles
She could barely see the boat

Exhausted she mumbles,

“Where is that **** boat?
I need to go home.
I’m so tired.
I’m so hot.
I’m so lost.
For the last few months I’ve just wanted to be home.”

About to lose the energy to fly
About to lose the energy to see the light
About to lose all hope

The bird started back in the direction
of where she thought she’d last seen the boat

“I want to go home!”
“I need to go home!”

Anxious but brave she tuned into herself, her heart, her intuition…
Will it be enough to get her within reach of the boat…

I’m not sure
if we’ll ever know
the ending
to the story
of

The Bird & the Boat.

But we can have hope.

Or just please God
let me know
if I need
to give up hope.

Not on myself, just on us.

Once again, I let go.

Joseph S. Fusaro