Hardly prophetic..

Inclined toward subconscious parasitic and conditional intentions, 
it hardly seems prophetic, to declare the effort doomed from the start.

Chance Encounters... (2013 re-write of When We Meet People)

When we meet people, we meet possibilities.  

When we lose someone, we relinquish with them all the dreams their influence gave birth to. 

Left with the after burn of inspiration their influence provided, we abort the dreams and suffer like addicts without the chemistry…

Unless we fight… 

When we meet people...
When we meet people, we meet possibilities… and when we lose someone, we relinquish with them all the dreams their influence gave birth to. We abort the dreams and suffer like addicts without the chemistry…

Revenge is My Bitch (1997)

As I stumble

My breath rising

Hope…a dark Hope blossoms…

Enlivening, possessing, sustaining

The kind of nutrient brought on only by the

Vigilant, unwavering, Gibraltar, steely, galactic, ever watchful, patient conviction that

Revenge is MY Bitch!

I sit back and listen to My Bitch

She knows how to do it too!

At time takin’ soft, seductive

whisperin’ plans of ruthless bloodletting

at others

coming down hard, man-handling and bitch-slappin me into Her reality.

Panther like stealth

My Bitch is invisible

Like smoke, silky…insidious

Yeah, she’s Good!

Feels rich n’ smooth goin’ down.

Through her desire my hope is reborn, replenished and revitalized.

She’s got My back and she’s greedy

So BACK OFF!

There ain’t enough for you!

Missing that Thang (2013 re-write)

I miss that Thang

That Spark, that Chemistry

That VIBE

which made it all seem so real, so plausible, so possible;

That “Zip, Bang, Pow!, Snap, Crackle & Pop!”

that made it all seem so right;

That welcoming warm and fuzzy“mellow yellow”

final “Ahhhh”, perfectly-mated union “Click”!

And most of all,

I miss that

“roll over in the middle of the night

reach out and spoon you” pacifier

that made me dream of more.

Missing that Thang... (2/10/1997)
I miss that Thang

That Spark, that Chemistry

That VIBE

Which made it all seem

so real, so plausible, so possible;

That “Zip, Bang, Pow!, Snap, Crackle & Pop!”

that made it all seem so right;

That welcoming “mellow yellow”,

that warm and fuzzy purple aura that enshrouded us in some kind of spiritually acknowledge baptism

That final “Ahhhh”, perfectly mated union Click!

And most of all,

I miss that

roll over in the middle of the night

reach out and spoon you

pacifier

that made me dream of more.

"Wordsmith".....(2013 re-write)

Words once eluded me…So I collected them in a well, and held them captive in a pen - drawing from its depths only when intuition so directed.

Now, words, like so many spells, I cherish in a fashion likened to Death’s grip for fear of unfathomable prophecies & unintended consequences.

The Word and Will thus unwed

I put myself nightly abed 

and pray my dreams too, cause no harm.

 (original 8/31/1993)
Once words attempted to elude me…I collected them in a well, held them captive in my pen - drawing from its depths only when intuition so directed. 

Now, words, like so many spells, I cherish in a fashion likened to Death’s grip for fear of unfathomable prophecies.

... where your mouth is... (9/30/1988)

What’s left unsaid is left to be done,

things to be gained, those to be won.

If Anyone's True... it's You

Once…I felt the weight of arms around me...


and basked brilliantly with the knowledge
... they were my own.

Insomniac's Prayer (2013 re-write)

Pen in hand, my thoughts run with a 

silent command to action.

Ideas, numbing, muse-less flakes, fall from a muted yet turbulent source, my only tools - this pen, an insomniac’s memory and a leaden hand.

I lay sideways, fetal…stoic, awaiting the weightlessness that accompanies slumber into a sweet oblivious state of naked vulnerability, innocence and peace ... for a blessed moment of nonexistence - removed, unaware, guiltless, without conflict, shame and flagellating judgments...

With a long sigh… I pray…

“Release me from myself. Tonight, accept my surrender, allow me to stop…cease…rest, and tomorrow may I awaken wiser, stronger and more at peace - Amen.”

Pen in hand, my thoughts run with a silent command to action.

Ideas, numbing, muse-less flakes, fall from a muted yet turbulent pallet, my only tools - this pen, an insomniac’s memory and a daft hand.

I lay sideways…stoic, awaiting the weightlessness that accompanies slumber into a sweet oblivious state of naked vulnerability, innocence and peace ... for a blessed moment of nonexistence - removed, unaware, guiltless, without conflict, shame and flagellating judgments...

With a long sigh… I pray…

“Release me from myself. Tonight, accept my surrender, allow me to stop…cease…rest, and tomorrow may I awaken wiser, stronger and more at peace - Amen.”

Ignore me.......(7/7/1992)

7/7/1992

Do not listen to me

for my Words are Corrupt

with the Need for Love…

Before I die... (1/13/2002)

You have only to

touch me...

look upon me,

kiss me Quick!

Before my heart beats its

Last,

and I will

Awaken

Invigorated, Enlivened…

Reborn.

And… yet,

If that last breath should come still

Bidden by unyielding Fate…

I will master time and

Will it to linger but a moment longer

As a whisper in the breeze

A spell cast…

For Reunion in the next life

and a Prayer for you in this one…

I am I

Who Am I or

….is it I, Who Am?

…friend, mother, father, brother sister…distant cousin, the culmination of all programmed  political and religious beliefs, my “race”, “ethnicity”, gender, “class” or some other equally limiting pronoun?

…the letters and phonetic “S..oun….d…s” that make my designation,

sounds that hold “meaning” in one language or another, promising to bestow the prowess of the untamed or the peace and tranquility of an ancient forest…?

Am I …

… a part the collective “We”,  supporting and perpetuating a pre-packaged, saran wrapped, vacuum sealed, "ribbed for my pleasure”, disposable and  “free with purchase of” pop or sub-Culture?

Am I… who “they” say I am?

… my being restricted caged by the limited perceptions of those around me…a mere creation of other’s projected perceptions, deceptions and faulty filters?

Am I…

… some disembodied mind, imprisoned in the flesh, awaiting blissful release back into an all-knowing and forgiving oblivion?

Where… can “I” find the “I”, what makes “Me”…?

How do I distinguish my…”Self” from the layers of opinions, beliefs, positions, labels assigned at birth?

The Answer is complex in its simplicity

I am I…

and ….

I…am