Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Rain Song

Posted: April 18, 1993 in Poetry
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I
I pray for rain nowadays when I see
Those dark clouds splayed above me, threatening.
I can’t always tell what rain will fall
Or what tears you’re crying to comfort me.
When the sunset’s burning and crowded for space
In the sky with your pain so apparent,
Your heart is tearing apart with these questions,
No answers; let it all fall as rain.

chorus
Go out and bathe and dance in those streetlights,
Let the nighttime come down as ink
With the rain, all your pain, it’s your tears, all your fears
And frustrations – they’ll leave you
Soaked and alone crying out for the joy of the rain.

II
Can you see the sky and how it mirrors your eyes
And your tears as they’re streaming down your face.
Do you think I can stay here and wait?
I’ve got to get up and play, get soaked and catch cold in your rain.

(chorus)

bridge
These heavens will fall like thunder but water
On you, so alone in your misery.
Drenched to the skin look within at your shine
Be an Angel and cry and it clears you inside
Just like the rain.

III
So when this storm has passed and
All the fury of lightning’s been spent,
Your strength may still ache but you’ll dry and be fine
Then maybe you’ll learn how to pray for the rain.

Dead Parking Lot

Posted: April 18, 1993 in Poetry
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drums, call the drums,
beat the drums in a circle,
summon sound from your skin,
bone and muscled rhythms.
spin the spinners, earth born,
hearts beating taut, within,
throwing warm loops of blood
in long arcs through your bodies,
racing and rebelling into movement.

By Yellow Moonlight

Posted: April 17, 1993 in Poetry
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I commissioned a cloak
black but lined with elf-eyes
to be able to stand still
in the graveyards I wished to wander.

The wind confers in my ears
then tugs like awkward bridesmaids at my hem
making parachute ripples in the fabric
while I ignore them, another statue
in this washed out moonlight
a faint yellow as watercolored flowers
licking the moss strands on the headstones of each buried poet.

Warm air flows, heat from the decaying memories
leaking from these toothy beds,
mixes the night air into molasses
thick and slow to breathe, supportive
of standing still in the mild curiosities
of the wind’s ivy tendrils.

Triangulation

Posted: April 17, 1993 in Poetry
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one tear that came from the corner of my eye
balanced on the dry skin of my cheek; I
picked it up with my thumb and forefinger,
a prism of sadness in which your picture lingers.
I drew my eye near carefully enough
wondering if the force of my gaze was too rough,
then placed this halo in the sky as a star
to mark my Bethlehem: to let you know where you are.

Imitation of the Goshin Traveller’s Spell

Posted: April 16, 1993 in Poetry
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“I invoke thee,
thou diamond fiery very majestic star”
from your bed of night-pillows
and molten stardust;
your gaze may guide my deerlike footsteps
through the overgrown gardens
of my lover’s distrust.

Where You Are in the World

Posted: April 13, 1993 in Poetry
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a star winked out in the nighttime sky
and did not return my love
as I cast into the heavens;
a sword standing still
riding my mind like the hip of a warrior.
one oboe quietly mediates the tree’s disputes
about who is shading who
as I am walking through.
there is no medium for art
like the dreams dreamed when all alone
and happy with where you are in the world.
writing to be poetic, prolific
I sometimes wind myself soporific
scratching at the paper making nothing terrific,
just words that rhyme
a line at a time or three
cavorting in silent melodies
like those oboes, sleepy in the trees.

$6.95

Posted: April 13, 1993 in Poetry
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In the back of my mind, you see,
I filed away that Gordon’s Vodka
was on sale – when the excuse came,
I bought it in a glorious name:
I signed my check Charles Bukowski.

the waves keep on singing
thrashing my shores with scourges of driftwood:
I pour the alcohol in nonstop
from a weatherbeaten clifftop.

a lizard glitters under a broad ivy leaf,
sapphires for eyes and mottled scales,
daughter of the dragons we murdered in Wales
with rationality as comfortable as grinding my teeth.

the waves sing because they are free
blissfully ignorant of the landlocked me.

Dazzled Dizzy

Posted: April 6, 1993 in Poetry
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I have no gilded card to send,
no quill to write beautiful
words that still say I’m so sorry.

sometimes the daybreak dazzles me dizzy
but it has never been as beautiful as you, Dawn.

and what have I done? crushed the wings
of an angel like brushing powder from a moth’s;
I only wanted to help you fly as you should.

the closest pair of cupped hands
can’t hold water unless you work magic,
and perhaps what I wove was wrong
but not a lie; never a lie.

these same hands that I hold empty now
of you I hope to fill nowhere else but here
with bouquets and baskets of joy for you;
summoning dolphins to dance with you;
tickling babies to laugh with you.

Beating a Drum in the Woods By Myself

Posted: April 4, 1993 in Poetry
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a Man of Many Talents,
none too outstanding, but outstanding in having
many talents; things to choose from
but the worry is happiness and
peace of mind – though he won’t admit it,
he wants the instruction book:
he wants help in figuring it out
what goes where and which thing does what,
why this thing moves and this one doesn’t,
and why things are the way they are.

thus the poetry.
a book of lessons learned and notes,
ideas on what was going on then to be
hints on what to do if it’s happening now.
affirmations of belief to view
when unsure and vaccilating
about what to do.

Yet Another Untitled Poem Serving as a Journal Entry

Posted: April 3, 1993 in Poetry
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the wind left my door open
and in came the rain,
in came the rain;
he blurred my pictures of you
by dulling my pain.
and like Spandau Ballet: it’s true
that the wind left and
left my door ajar
and I never thought I’d go as far
to forget instead of coping.

Untitled Poem #157

Posted: April 3, 1993 in Poetry
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a car travelling with my soul
in the passenger’s seat: this is time
and I watch fields of wheat breathe,
amber waves of grain…

an organ plays melancholy from a building
and people pass, they do not hear,
too busy looking down when I have stopped
to listen for the sound of the wind:
echoes and ghostlike spirits of memories.

I cannot explain the music I hear,
be it cacophony or pure, ringing clear,
perhaps the different drum I march to.

A Fight by my Apartment

Posted: March 30, 1993 in Poetry
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I
I jumped into a ring of people
with a big friend to save the girl
who was elbowed in the steeple
of her nose – on purpose
by some insensitive ape
(the kind that argues justifiable rape)
who was full of muscles.
hit in the eye, though I ducked,
my buddy got up and knocked him down
and then I wobbled my way home
– sort of glad the guy was fucked:
men just don’t hit girls.

II
a little ice in a washcloth,
six aspirin and a cigarette
helps take the edge off
the pain of a swollen eye,
but not the sad disgust and pity
that I feel for that guy.

III
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry.

A Poem for Me

Posted: March 28, 1993 in Poetry
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a leaf falls from a tree
so that it may grow stronger;
healthy without its burden
of dead weight this tree
will rise to higher heights.
and me,
without my dead leaves
will also soar as high.

m-i-k-e on the m-i-c

Posted: March 27, 1993 in Poetry
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c’mon I see you jump around and your skirts fly high
and you’re asking yourself if I’m that type of guy.
you’ll never really know until you give me a try
but I know I get funky, so why should I lie?
you see you know I’d love to love you if you’d let me in
and I know you ain’t just staring at the jeans I’m in.
[Hey Ladies!] …you know I respect you -beastie boys
I’ll ask you first before I jump up and sex you.
you give me the sweats and you give me the chills;
I’d love to come play on your Blueberry Hills –
I’d like to wine you and dine you and treat you just like a queen
I’ll go heat up the Cheeze Whiz™ if it’ll make you scream.
I go through the fridge to pull out all sorts of treats
I’ll treat you better than Mickey Roarke did in 9 and 1/2 weeks:
to rank a likkle Roger in the rub-a-dub style
I’ll bring Cormick to bus drive if it’ll tickle your smile.

Okay so here’s a likkle groove to make you move your pants
‘cause I love to watch all the girls [dance…dance] – MARRS
the only thing better than bumpin’ the beat is a kiss
so excuse me for a moment while I go [get up on this!] – M
all I really want to do is get to know you;
if you don’t understand what I mean, then I’ll show you,
and that doesn’t mean going home to jump in the sack
– especially if one or the other has drunk a six-pack.
put your feet in my lap and I’ll rub your calves;
you give me a chance and I’ll make you laugh.
I won’t hoard you like a prize or put you up on a pedestal.
I treat you like my friend and I’ll hope it’s reciprocal.
we’ll take a walk on the beach and I’ll pour you some wine.
I’ll do everything to make your experience fine.
If you approve of my mood then you can give me a kiss
and then by the fire with Marvin Gaye’s greatest hits
we can snuggle and cuddle, eat dinner and read.
if you want to spend the night just tug on my sleeve.
you can do what you want to do – nothing is wrong.
you can go to sleep in my arms [all night long] – Kool Moe Dee

I saw you give me a wink so I think I’ll say hi
and hope that you don’t turn away ‘cause you’re shy.
I might look imposing but I’m no superstar
and I’m interested in getting to know who you are
I like your smile and your eyes and the way that you move
and I like that fact that you bump to my groove;
you can stay there all night looking over your cup
or you can dance on over and I’ll fill you up.
my name is Mike, I’m known as DJ Lurk
and there’s nothing more annoying than a hesitant flirt.
time’s ticking away – I can here the clock
and I don’t just want to get up under your smock.
it’s up to you, girl; you got to believe
or else you can just have fun cold watching me leave.
if you don’t like what you see just park it and sit it,
‘cause if you want to get with me than come here and [hit it!] – Ricky D

Another Song for a Cure

Posted: March 26, 1993 in Poetry
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when the sun sets and the lights come out
in the beachfront homes I walk alone
to clear my head and cut the sting
of the thoughts the end of the day brings
they swim alongside my walk, my pace
a school of dolphins who splash my face;
I don’t always enjoy what they do to me,
making me think things over carefully –
it is they who really write my poetry.

I never knew how much I cared
for anything – not until I finally dared
to lose it all by telling the truth
seeing what came out when I opened my mouth.
I’m still waiting for the water to clear,
for the echoes to fade so that I can hear
what I’m doing and what I’ve done so far;
with what monsters I must continue to spar,
the attention I give to particulars…

Song for a Bedsheet

Posted: March 24, 1993 in Poetry
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I am really wondering if I’m lying to myself – you see
I’m good at what I do and that’s lying to myself.
Oh I hurt and I’m torn and don’t know what to I can do
I need to talk-to-a-certain-someone and that one is myself

when does it end? all the questions and waiting
for the time to come when it has worked itself out;
I can’t stand the surprises, both the good and the bad.
I think I crave some stability – this now I can do without

…and my heart strains and pulls
– my mind says we’ll be alright
but I find I can’t hold on to it all now, tonight.
am I losing control? do I want to? I might,
my senses shrieking away – my hands clenched too tight.

I think I’m falling and falling –
I haven’t moved; I’m right here.
I remember when I went crazy,
I laugh at when I was clear.

I know I’ll continue at slugging away through the days
staying broke, lost and hopeless, just counting the ways
and the time that I spend, I record it and write
until I can’t stand my pen and I turn off the light.

say MUSHROOM

Posted: March 23, 1993 in Poetry
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floating cold down a river
full of rocks and branches
on a little ring of rubber tubing –
it’s supposed 2 B lots of fun
but that’s where I got this bruise.
it still hurts;
I still limp.
gimp.
chimp.
pimp.
stimpy.

Fa the Baby

Posted: March 23, 1993 in Poetry
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I want to keep you forever, Fa –
you are a reminder of
my wonderful history with her
and you have never changed.
you, covered in lasting kisses,
big blue eyes made of waves
and ocean breadths –
you know where my spoon ring went.

Nyarlathotep 1925

Posted: March 23, 1993 in Poetry
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thy Bloody Tongue caresses
the forehead of the Chosen
for Hotep, Dark Lord.
the Crawling Chaos erupts
from blood for us:
those willing to see his vistas,
landscapes draped in flesh,
drenched in blood,
shattered like mirrors
so close like dreams
one bright tentacle to worship
one hypnotism
one belief of truth;
as you wish it!

An Ever Renewing Canvas

Posted: March 22, 1993 in Poetry
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a bottle of wine and a sunset,
a beach a place to sit;
this is what I’d like to do
with you to believe.
I believe you can summon dolphins
and that you’re a spirit, an angel.
I know of our fears of demons
and of blue bathroom windows,
ouiji boards and my piano playing.
I live to see you cry and argue
and almost break: then
there are my arms for comfort,
my tongue for talking and my ears
for listening and understanding.
I’ll catch you from harm
by falling against you at the same time;
we’ll teeter but we won’t topple.
all of the sunsets are painted on a canvas
big enough to share: the sky
– and I’d like to share it with you.

Living in Myopia

Posted: March 22, 1993 in Poetry
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If I went blind from loving you
I could see all my pictures more clearly;
My mind would make up for my lack of sight
And although my eyes would be black as night
I would love you all that more dearly.

Untitled Poem #156

Posted: March 22, 1993 in Poetry
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each time I turn a page
I wonder if it is already written –
not like as in I’ve done this before
or it’s something I’ve forgotten

– but rather if Fate or Destiny has called
and their webs are woven invisibly;
the strokes of this pen color in
what they’ve decreed delicately.

Lying in Wait for a Reaction

Posted: March 22, 1993 in Poetry
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a little girl lies in
her room at night
and she thinks of me.
who can it be?

I know who but
I’m not telling;
I have the secrets but
I’m not selling.

it is whispered into
animals ears – they hear
and clap their hands
because they understand.

Journal Chills

Posted: March 20, 1993 in Poetry
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and I never thought that I was one
to spend all of my time writing dumb
things about being in love with girls
and how they mean more than the world
to me and even then some…

Untitled Poem #155

Posted: March 20, 1993 in Poetry
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I
now I know I love you
when I heard you sad because of me;
I realize things too late
and make due with writing poetry
to read or think on when
I cannot call or hold you with me;
my thoughts may wander briefly
but I will always love you truly.

II
when did my heart become so armored
that I couldn’t feel a thing?
like what I do or say to make you hurt
and never feel it sting me like it should.
did I disremember to knock on wood
when I found that I was enamored with you?
all I know is how you were curt
and I knew that I had made you cry;
I felt stupid not knowing why.

III
in the darkness
of being insensitive
perhaps I will light
my way with my task
of understanding
what I always
do
wrong.

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