Return me to the dream

Woke up breathless…my breath stolen with the realization that what I held in my dreams was more substantial more tangible, then the state reality forcibly returned me to with the dawn.

Oh Light, how false you prove…

Heathen dancing shamelessly and wild, Pan run amok

Blinded by possibilities and sun touched dreams;

Return me to Darkness, where the cloak protects all;

Enshrouded in loving denial and blissful ignorance.

Return me to the dream, where Morpheus or lucidity

orchestrate all, and the script and desire can be changed…

without reason or excuse.

First Snow

Awakened with a song in my heart

and a name on my lips

as Winter’s first kiss on the horizon marks a new season…

A sprite follows nature’s courses awaiting Spring’s song

With sad leave-takings behind

And hope before…

Advice #4: Put her name in song

Put her name in song

In prose

In a breath

Sing it with passion

With heat

With welcome

In peace

Into the air as Prayer

Magic in syllables and color

Fear and ego abandon themselves to the appeal,

while the Arrow with an Honest Goal

finds its Prey, True…

On Pain

Pain

Dark,

Regal bruised

Throbbing

Dull

Persistent

Silently Deafening

Congested

Thick like Molasses...

A Purgatory of Perpetual Annoyance

Distracted till Ruin by a knell's Itch

One holds their Breath

In hope of Release...

Worth the Knowing

Haunted by living specters
and the death knell of dreams deferred... indefinitely;
buoyed by the possible;
Grounded...
Prometheus' fires are humbled to ghostly embers...

Hope is held aloft by what?
desires propelled by
self deluding...self fulfilling false prophesies
Are we ill prepared would-be "masters" of destiny?
Is it fallacious to believe we are entitled to that which we
covet, deserve, desire?

How does one tell the difference between the learned and the innate?

Is it all...worth it?
In the end...
can one say.... the suffering was worth the knowing?

Courtship (2013 re-write)

Caught on an urban hook

A lovely day

An unexpected day

A breezy, bright, colorful, warm day

infused with newness and hope.

Mnemonic melodies shock and awe the senses

climbing High,

dipping soulful and low,

ebbing and flowing with playful kinetic whimsy

like Pan in a Garden high on honey-suckled ‘shrooms

or crackling grease on a worn ancient skillet.

Attuned to your vibe, your rhythm, your scent

My body and mind leaden loadstones

turn with question in mind... 

slowly gauging, tasting the air;

pulled by your sweet mojo -

North's new abode?

A Lovely Day

An unexpected day
A breezy, bright, colorful, warm day
infused with newness, and hope.
Melodies frolic in my mind
climbing high, 
dipping soulful and low,
ebbing and flowing with playful kinetic whimsy
like Pan in the Garden
or crackling grease in an ancient skillet...
 My ears become attuned to your vibe, your rhythm, your scent
my body and mind.. leaden loadstones
turn...
slowly gauging 
pulled by your sweet mojo...
North's new abode?

Contemplative: 1

Alone tired still calm but not serene

People are sick, people are dying, loved ones long neglected have died; 

dreams pursued, others relinquished...

And life goes on.

People are living, lives are lead, challenges overcome,others avoided;

and I am left wondering… wandering through slippery musings,

simply wanting an answer to the why of it all…

When will my life start… or is this it?

What am I waiting for… what thing, person or epiphany?

Waiting for inspiration...

A reason to go on...

for the hidden principles and ideals in the spaces between aught, should, would, could, need, deserve….Karma.

Thinking perhaps falsely, that knowing the Why, I could be contented …

Alone tired still calm and seeking acceptance.

Will the blossoms lose their bloom before their essence is savored?

Will they be allowed to whither… merely yet dutifully, homogeneously replenishing the earth… or will nature allow them to be kissed…
their descendants carried across the garden?

White Noise (2013 re-write)

What is “white noise”...

Why is it white...

A blindingly “pitch” bright silence;

static so deafening as to be visible…nearly, just beyond the veil of the comprehension?

What is the subliminal Hummmmmmmmmmm beneath it all;

beyond the din and urban uproar

beneath the mechanics of technology and flesh

past the self inflicted noise of the disposable and temporary?

Our sub-consciousness, for however briefly touches

the Source

the vibration

the sound of the spin and burn of it All…

Proof of a Great Device…

Knowledge grasped for a second…doubted for eternity.

What is “white noise”

Why is it white?

A pitch, blindingly bright silence;

static so deafening as to be visible…nearly, just beyond the veil of the senses?

The subliminal Hummmmmmmmmmm beneath it all;

beyond the din and urban uproar

beneath the mechanics of technology and flesh…

past the self inflicted noise of the disposable and temporary.

touching, for however briefly

the Source

the vibration

the sound of the spin and burn of it All…

Proof of the Great Device…

Knowledge grasped for a second…doubted for eternity.

Being Understood: 101

We all think we want people to understand who we are… what makes us tick.  But fallacy lays hidden, like bruised fruit, in the very expectation - for with it, we presume to subliminally announce we know who we are ourselves.  So what exactly is it about “our selves” are we hoping will be understood?  Are we hoping others will do the work for us and say:

 “Ah ha!  I understand you! You are [fill in sexy role found only in legend or film], you’re meant to [fill in some meaningful trade here, worthy of life's sufferings to date] and be [fill in adventurous and heroic prophecy here]– go forth in the world and be fruitful and merry!’??

and then, so discovered, we say:

“Eureka! .. yes, the search is over, we have found our identity and purpose at last!”…(insert angel's choir and fan fair soundtrack here).

(Notes falling flat...)

What exactly is it we’re supposed to do then? 

The search is what molds us, develops and enlightens us.  Keep looking…keep searching… keep understanding.  We can learn from the mirrors we offer one another… but ultimately… we are our own guides and consciences… and the most challenging mirror you face… will always be your own. 

Study thyself to know thyself

all else will follow... as needs be. 

 

Pain

Is your pain hot or cold?

Does it fester like a wound or simmer, fueled with hate?

Do you pray for the world’s oblivion or your own?

Born of love or neglect, regret or sorrow;

will it still be here tomorrow, comfortable and welcome

with its parasitic familiarity?

I write like my mother
think like my father
and am my grandmother's story...

Am (hopefully just temporarily) locked out if my blog.... Hope to resume posting soon :( Wish me luck! (sent as text from my phone)

Friends

Cherished treasures,

embraced and safely ensconced in our spiritual wombs

we nurture, protect and defend them,

accepting all their grace and faults

forgiving easily wounds inflicted by callousness, ego or greed.

Those that recognize the gift 

cherish it in kind reaping karmic benefits.

Those that do not...

their temporary purpose served, to nurture a new life lesson, 

are expelled like so much afterbirth

  

Advice #3 Depression

Breath Babe... try to remember…and accept that deep inside your “Self”, despite it all, is a granule of Hope...and the Knowledge that at some point soon, things will improve.
 
To deny this, is to willfully surrender and nourish the Bleakness; and with moments spent in self flagellation, neglect and mental hyperventilating, rob yourself of Time better spent in joyful and/or productive pursuits.
 
This is part of the condition… to make a lover of fallaciously endless, stoic yet self perpetuating depression…almost indulgently, luxuriantly… while simultaneously knowing and denying that in some future moment you’ll enjoy laughter and a lightening of the soul once again.
It is all part of the journey – embrace this as you should all things…learn from it what you are meant to learn - acknowledge, resolve and release  – the wiser for it.
 
Breath ... do something you haven't taken the time to do in years.  Do something creative, relaxing, energizing or daring.

…the Spark will ignite as you remember those simplest of things ever within your reach, worthy of Joy.

Advice #2 - Disappointment

Life’s lessons present themselves in labyrinths leaving themselves to be discovered.  You can’t always get what you want…nor who you want it from…. Learn from the disappointment and embrace the promise of new adventures. 

Impromptu Picnic in Central Park (2013 re-write)

Impromptu picnic in central park; 

from cotton candy in baby blues to royal speckled twilight, 

multi-hued clouds flickered subliminal messages of myths and futures untold. 

Wet Green air 

carried 

perfumed contemplation 

birthing 

colorful imaginings and wishful thinking, 

while ritual contact through mishap and invitation, 

desire and innovation 

broke 

the silence of things left unsaid. 

Minstrel’s lullabies set the primal hearts’ pace 

as quickened bodies 

moved with the uncertain grace of those submerged in instinct’s murky resistance;

attraction’s musty fragrant shroud 

quelled by common sense and truer aims, 

mixed 

with the tangy odor of fear, expectation and longing

making opposition futile. 

Wrapped in wool, perched on wet earth

adventure evolved into comfort 

while staring at the stars silently toasting imagination, 

they saluted the evening and prayed against familiarity, 

in favor of maintaining the intimate’s mystery a little longer.

Impromptu picnic in central park; from cotton candy in baby blue cerements to royal speckled twilight, multi-hued clouds flickered subliminal messages of myths and futures untold.  

Wet green air carried perfumed contemplation birthing colorful imaginings and wishful thinking, while ritual contact through mishap and invitation, desire and innovation broke the silence of things left unsaid. 

Minstrel’s lullabies set the primal hearts’ pace as bodies moved with the uncertain grace of one submerged in instinct’s murky resistance…attraction’s musty fragrant shroud quelled by common sense and truer aims, mixed with the tangy order of fear, quickened the magic…making opposition futile. 

Wrapped in wool, perched on wet earth, adventure evolved into comfort and staring at the stars and toasting imagination we saluted the evening and prayed against familiarity in favor of maintaining the intimate’s mystery a little longer.

Think...

Someone once said,

“Even the Devil believes in God!”…

With this “knowledge”, must come the understanding that “belief” alone offers no protection from temptation dressed as instant salves for jaded and uninspired souls. 

We are captives of the flesh.

Primal versus Reason, 

Reason versus Redemption, 

Flesh versus Spirit, 

Now versus Rapture Eternal. 

Requisites for Evolution and Enlightenment leave us duty bound to do all possible to master it.

Pheromone Highs (2013 re-write)

Eyes filled, glamour’d by decisions 

clouded by random choice and chance.

Lips and mouth await ravaging 

while the temple awaits the worshiper. 

A quickened pulse pounds with fear, expectation and promise.

Breathless with wonder, 

anticipating willful submission, 

waxing and waning tidal thoughts 

overwhelm and overcome reason; 

the mind whimpers 

wordless supplications for joyful metamorphosis, 

as the body cries to be consumed 

and the soul quivers in fear of oblivion

Eyes filled, glamored by decisions clouded by random choice and chance.  Lips and mouth await ravaging while the temple awaits the worshiper. A quickened pulse pounds with anticipation, fear, expectation and promise.

Breathless with wonder, anticipating willful submission, waxing and waning tidal thoughts overwhelm and overcome reason; the soul whimpers wordless supplications for joyful metamorphosis, as the body cries to be consumed. 

An Alpha's Respite (2013 re-write)

Feel me, Heal me

Touch me, Hear me

See me, Understand me

Know me, Trust me

Envelope me, Free me

Pursue and Haunt me,

Master and Conquer me,

Overcome and Awe me into submission and 

through masterful direction and tender administrations 

show me Love, 

move me to Surrender,

Inspire me to Trust…

Comfort me unto Release.

Stalk me, haunt and hunt me; master and conquer me, overcome and awe me into submission and through masterful direction and tender administrations show me love, move me to surrender, inspire me to trust…comfort me unto release.

Advice #1 - Take Care of You

Desire yourself at your best, court yourself and tender your well being with habitual care as you would a new lover.

A Call to Action

Face your fears, risk failure, take your time and do it right the first time, stop giving in to the primal, go beyond the temptation to cry out and demand instant gratification, nothing instant is worth having, just do it…do it all, do what it takes, do what is required, then do more; ignore and or postpone distraction.  Daydream things doing…and save fantasy for sleeper’s reward.

An Author's Apology...

Empathy to the reader, the burden of having to read and in so doing the opportunity to repeat the endeavor endlessly, lends itself to obsession and instability…the reader is required and unkindly directed to assign temper and tone to choice of words with purposeful ambiguity…cursed to forever wonder at the author’s meaning and blanching at the inequities of the narrator. 

The author has but two hurdles to overcome before the deed is done…first, to muster the courage to commit intent to paper and secondly, to call upon stores of perseverance to have the audacity to publish and promote said letters.  Once committed the precise words fade from memory, the writer’s mind thus purged and assuaged, is clear and all that remains are vague impressions of intent, forgotten reason and rebirth. 

Avoidance

Let’s run away from the noise and constant drum of maddened masses made common by the secular and brute by volume… away from all that is gray and lost…. To embraces that keep the world at bay and kisses which lend bearers hope for prayers fervently answered.

Jumping in... (2013 re-write)

Tie a string around it and 

throw caution to the wind. 

I will be our anchor and you the sail,  

rising above obstacles cumulus and brume;

And with whispered prayer 

let God’s hands in fate 

guide us to journey’s end.

Tie a string around it and throw caution to the wind.  I will be our anchor and you the sail,  rising above obstacles cumulus and brume and with whispered prayer let God’s hands in fate guide us to journey’s end.

Ancient Witness

Still as a glacier…  awaiting a breeze’s news of 

Spring’s fever, Winter’s madness, Summer’s love and Fall’s gladness. 

Faith (2013 Re-write)

Neither push, plead, 

implore nor bargain, 

but stay the course as a quiet supplicant, 

subdued and still, 

stealth in mind and spirit, 

a vigilant, and sanguine petitioner 

humble before Fate. 

And as with Odysseus’ return, 

allow the Earth-Shaker’s currents to draw that 

which you covet, nearer … 

while making an anathema of all ports that call to it 

save your own.

Neither push, plead, implore nor bargain, but stay the course as a quiet supplicant, subdued and still, stealth in mind and spirit, a vigilant, and sanguine petitioner humble before Fate.  And as with Odysseus’ return, allow Poseidon’s currents to draw that which you covet nearer … while silently cursing all ports that call to it to save your own...

Exile… Night's Companion (2013 re-write)

Held in their sticky cerement embrace- loneliness, disappointment and dubiety, companions constant and true – reluctant but practiced supplicants, lay warmed and comforted in their familiarity, while silently despairing over corporeal promises and hollow intents.

Forgotten by gods, dismissed by fate, ignored by muses, bastardized by man; living outside the laws of nature, what more have they a right to expect?

Abandoned to “Mortality”, earthbound and blind…

their future, unformed questions in their mind; 

choked with dread of the unknown and anticipation of hopeful and rewarding lives ... 

they wander around the trough.

Drowning amidst the din of man, taunting notes 

on haunted internal winds 

carry vaguely familiar glimpses of truths once known… 

long since forgotten. 

Closing their eyes when the world stops for a breath, 

They permit the melody to carry them home 

to a place they knew beyond the veil…

before the oracles left us…

Exiled

Abandoned to Mortality, earthbound and blind…our future, questions in our mind choked with dread of the unknown and anticipation of hopeful and rewarding lives...we wander.  

Taunting notes on a haunted wind carry vaguely familiar glimpses of truths witnessed… long since forgotten. Closing our eyes when the world stops for a breath, we permit the melody to carry us home to a place we knew beyond the veil…before the oracles left us…

Next life...

Still... looking for your soul

in the faces of those I might learn to love

…waiting for the Guph to tip

The Narcissistic Obsessive (2013 re-write of "Raw")

Let me climb you like a tree, 

Wrap myself around your mind and

impregnate your thoughts 

until they give birth to 

the only solution to the maddening rush, 

thrill and demand of your need... 

Me. 

Raw

Let me climb you like a tree, wrap myself around your mind and impregnate your thoughts until they give birth to...Me…. the only solution to the maddening rush, thrill and demand of Need.

H'Auntie Eddie...(2/1997)

As she stroked her cat with the stroke of midnight , Auntie Edwina, a quiet and peaceful woman…the kind of old lady that had happy wrinkles, always had candy on Hallow’s Eve, and never forgot your name or favorite cookie… convulsed backward, in a way very atypical of her usual grace, and had a stroke.

Word spread fast around the disquieted neighborhood children, who all knew and loved her dearly…

“Auntie Edwina is Dying!”

“Nah, she’s dead n’ six feet under by now!”

None of the children had been allowed to see her in the hospital - ‘cept Charlie, the local tomboy, who returned, out of breath, to the tree house, shrouded with the crimson and orange hues of fall…

Rumors took on eerie nightmarish qualities…

...known to parents as a bad influence, because of her uncanny ability to captivate any audience of well-groomed, button-nosed kids, lure them with spectacular tales of the unknown and into adventures that would often leave them coming home with torn Sunday vests, scrapped knees, forgotten chores and on occasion, a bloody nose…

…to the children, especially the girls, she was a star, had all the answers, and could always keep the boys in their place. The few boys that hung with their crowd, were torn between early feelings of budding testosterone leaden inadequacy and the first tinges of puppy love…

Charlie -  began to describe  the unsettling scene of “Ms. Eddie”, as she was called among her peers…The children rapt and horrified…

 “They’re turning her into a Zombie!  Yeah, she died, and they turned her back on…only now she not right! I heard one of the doc’s saying she’s “para-somethin” on her side. She won’t be able to use her right side for nothin!  That’s how you can tell if she’s one of ‘em!”

Of course all children know that Zombies slouched, dragging an arm and leg.. until they simply rotted away (unless they took every opportunity to feast on human brains of course!). 

They all envisioned Auntie Eddie ...

walking toward them ...along the porch

dragging a leg up the steps behind her...

Thump thump...

Thump thump...

Her foot hitting each step...

an arm ...reaching for them.., trying to usher them in… 

And ...as if in mass hallucination, the children gasped at the thought of her putrid , gangrene, maggot eaten, brain hungry flesh trying to feed them cookies!

.

.

.

When Auntie Edwina returned home after her stay at Our Lady of Perpetual Purgatory Memorial, she smiled gaily…

looking forward to seeing the children….

Cavity 2/16/1997

I close my eyes to block out the sight of you, plug my ears, so I can’t hear you, but I am filled with you nonetheless…my core etched, vibrates with the knowledge of you like the dull throb of a sugar filled cavity

Taught to Covet

I suffered from some indecision about the finality of things... 

Why do we always want passionately those things beyond our reach - when in fact, if segregated from the imagined possibilities or instituted barriers we learn, we no longer know if we want these things intrinsically, in and of themselves?

Once removed… independent of any action on my part, I find these misgivings vanquished and certainty is encapsulated in the loss.

(Coveting Destiny,2/15/1997)

Epiphany

Either accompanied and alone, or just 

Alone.

Better the latter, than burdened by disappointment

in those you hoped would fill the void.

Truth Be Told

“I just called to say I love you”

“You mean everything to me!”

“Honestly”

“I’ll write”
“I promise”

“Trust me”

“I guess I’m just old fashioned”

“I can quit any time I want to”

“I’ve never been a one-night stand”

“I’m afraid to die”

“I die in your arms tonight”

                     I’ve got a headache…

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.”