Poetry

Most of these pieces were written quite a while ago. Some aren't half bad.

Ode to Paul...
Paul is great
Paul is good

Cliches In Philosophy 101

If I hitchhike in a moving car will a pedestrian offer me a walk?
If I rub a cat the right way will it erase some wrongs?
Given the choice between a rock and a hard place can I choose the chewy center?
Do the swallows leave on schedule too or hang about like overbearing guests?
If eight bits make a dollar why can I never drill a hole with one?
If common sense isn't, what is?
You can't take it with you but can you have it sent ahead?
Since I'm already down must I go back up?

9/16/98

Three Card Monty

He was a neighborhood hero, the man from nowhere,
The air of mystery about him was thick as London fog.
He had five girlfriends, he juggled them like perfumed grenades,
The neighborhood gangsters were jealous beyond words.
Everyone wanted to know his secret to feminine success,
But the mystery man told no secrets and kept all his lies.

He got the cough in December and no one thought a thing,
By January the cough was wet and deep and the jealousy fell like snow.
In February the test results came back from the lab,
And our modern plague had kissed another.
He saw the spring buds open through the hospital window,
And they buried him on the 4th of July.

The death certificate listed that he was a woman,
And the last lie blossomed like fireworks in the sky.

9/19/98

Archer's Prayer

I am the target, waiting to receive my arrow;
I am the arrow, waiting to be released,
So that I may go home;
I am the bow, arched and ready,
Poised to set my charge free; I am the archer balanced on the moments edge,
Waiting to send my arrow home;
I am bone and muscle, bow and shaft,
Target, arrow, and archer;
I am all these things and I shall not fail.

7/04/98

A Ballad of Bergantal

One clear and shining day
a Shire became a Barony,
Fealty was sworn, banners raised
for all the world to see.
Pleased were the King and Queen
by oaths so gladly given
Bonds were thus formed that
could 'tween no wedge be driven.
Tall the Baron stood and promised
gifts he would bestow,
The news that then came caused
the Baron to lay low
For the gifts were not here!
The Guildsman quaked and quivered
The King said not to worry
the Guildsman's head could be delivered.
As the Guildsman turned, upon
the Headsman he did look.
Silent was the crowd but for the question:
"Should he be served by the cooks?"
Off the Guildsman was dragged and
the axe was heard to fall,
Justice served by the bloody
Baron of Bergantal.
Than as sauces were prepared
for the gruesome feast,
A voice proclaimed, "Bergantal
gives the best head in the East!"

Lord James Edmund of Aberedw
1991

This piece is not meant to offend those honorable members of this Barony.
It *is* meant to faithfully (well fairly) chronicle the rather humorous
events of the day. The King's gifts were late, the King did decree that
he be beheaded, the Baron did deliver a head on pike (fake head that is)
and the quote was yelled from the crowd. Everyone enjoyed the shtick,
especially the Crown, Baron and Baroness. I hope you enjoyed it.

My Favorite Box

I charge toward the box with peals of laughter,
Toddling on chubby legs, an avalanche of boundless enthusiasm.

I grab the lid with awkward fingers and Fling! it open,
And what joys my eyes behold!

Blocks and string and a plastic phone that really rings!
I fall on my bottom with a satisfied Thump! and begin to play.

9/19/98

Industrial Butterfly

The beating of it's chromium wings herald the coming of spring
In the world of the nuclear winter and acid rain

It flits from girder to girder among the skeletal towers
Seeking a source of heat, of warmth, of life

It searches till it finds a scavenger amidst the ruins
Small and twisted of limb, but a breathing, living thing

It lands with a snowflakes kiss upon the sleeping form
And with infinite care lays a single egg on the survivors flesh

The egg secretes a paralytic poison through the skin of the chosen
Locking muscles rigidly in place like rusted ancient bolts

The chromium wings unfurl and she soars into the night
Secure in the knowledge her offspring will feast on it's host

To begin the cycle of life once again
In the land of the brave, the free and the nuclear age

10/01/98

"A Poor Carpenter..."

I shake my pen and try to make the words come out
But there must be something wrong with my black ink papermate
Because the Flexgrip Ultra doesn't seem to be very special to me

Maybe its the paper I use, its too white or clean or something
It can't be me of course, my mind is as sharp as it was, how long ago?
I can't seem to recall, mustn't be important after all

If I just had better tools to work with things would be all right
A Mont Blanc perhaps and some nice aged parchment
Now with these I'm sure I could write an epic or two

But alas these poor tools fail this exemplary talent at every turn
Am I to remain forever lost to the annals of history, the great unknown?
Just because I couldn't get my Papermate Flexgrip Ultra black ink pen to
write a single word.

9/23/98

ELVEN DEATH CHANT

By Ash and Oak and night black Thorn
I chant this ancient death gate song,

I sing the names of those I slay
I bind their shades will fore'er stay,

I chant the names of those I kill
I bind their souls ne'er be still,

From heart and head and throat I cry
With hand and haft I make them die!

And if on this soul dark day I fail
I curse my shade to never pale,

Haunt these lands a thousand years
And scatter you dogs with bone deep fear!

December 18th, 1995

Electric Angel

I dream of my electric angel,
Out across the electron stream. I feel the feathered touch of your electric wings,
as they grace my flesh with their carress.

The brush of your lightening lips upon my fevered brow,
brings chills of heavenly visions and thrills of hidden joys.

I shiver at the thought of your angelic embrace,
your alabaster bosom against my trembling face.

I weep as your argent arms hold my quivering form,
as your crimson lips whisper words to sooth and excite.

I reach out with eager arms to return your electric touch,
and find my hands pass through your angelic visage like mist.

All that remains of your image are words engraved upon my soul,
words to thrill my mind and enflame my heart.

I dream of my electric angel, Out across the electron stream.

Yule 1997

Holy Embrace

Let all know the song of the wind.
It's kiss, it's caress, it's holy embrace
Feel it's shivering touch upon your flesh,
Hear it moan and sigh through the city streets
Know in your heart all it's whispered secrets,
The lies, the oaths and the tearful wails
That people tell only to the wind,
Come sing the song of the wind with me
Cry out your desires, your lusts, your love and hate,
Because in the end all that you have goes to the wind
In that last ragged breath.


Facets

From a thousand eyes your light shines
With every pair of lips you whisper your promises, pleas and pearls
In all the feminine faces with all the feminine graces

You are my mother, sister, lover, friend
You are my priestess, seductress, vixen, mate
All the women of the past, present and those yet to be

I can not hide my love and desire for them all
My face mirroring my heart at every turn

You are Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone
You are my Goddess and I will love you in all your incarnations
Each one a facet of your endless jewel

I worship your Divinity in all it's many guises
I pray to the idol of your eternal form

Let me kneel at your altar
And receive the benediction of Creation

9/22/98

Literal Feast

The specters and haunts slide into my life with quick little darting motions
A shadowed glimpse, hushed whisper or ethereal caress the only evidence of their presence

Never where I can see them in the full light of day
Or hear them in clear dulcet tones
Nor lay a vengeful hand on their pallid lifeless flesh

Always on the edge of my reality, ever dancing on the cusp between their world and mine
Never a stand up, knockdown fight, always a spiritual guerrilla war with my soul the
gleeful prize

The most I hope for is a scornful derisive glance from dull soulless eyes
Snide sibilant comments in thinly veiled verse
Or an artful frigid shoulder held at a perfect contemptuous angle

These are the specters and haunts that slide into my life with quick little darting motions
The petty, vindictive ghouls of humanity come to feast on my creative flesh

10/18/98

Would you hold please?

Holding for no one.
Seems like I'm doing it everyday.
Hanging on the phone, the street corner,
at home. Holding for no one.
Awaiting the arrival of the eternal tardy guest.
Never sure when they will arrive,
never sure when I can leave.
Holding for no one.
Just like today, just like yesterday,
just like all the days to come.
Tired of the pause, the delay,
the breathless anticipation.
Hold on for no one.
Rip out the phone, walk away from the corner, don't go home.
No more waiting, no more wondering.
The world can wait for me this time.
And don't be stunned if I'm late.

8/16/99

Last Lover

Let me make love to your heart with my voice
Woo your spirit free of it's confining mortal coil
Separate your purity from the corruption of the material world.

Let me serenade your soul to it's ultimate salvation
Frigid tones that wrack your essence with tremors of anticipation
As you wrap astral lips around my words and we drift away together forever.

11-20-98

Longing

Sometimes pain is a living thing;
It breathes and moves of it's own volition, crawling into the crevases of our sanctuaries;
A pain can be patient and clever or brutish, bludering and quick;
It follows a rhyme and reason unsuited to our minds but sentient in it's own painbound way;
A logic in all it's actions, a plan to all it's assualts;
A brutal, simple consciousness, unhindered by the shackles of compassion or restraint;
It's arsenal of weapons limited only by the imagination of it's victim;
No rules of conduct, all out war at any cost;
The only defense, it's exceptence and inclusion into the fabric of our lives;
One thread among many, inseperatably entwined;
It's only declaration of surrender it's absents, a gap in the weave;
And like all things living the longing when it leaves.


My Morning Mistress

I flick on the light and you greet me
I shuffle across the cold morning floor in bare feet
Into your welcoming embrace
I bask in it's liquid warmth
It's all encompassing heat
Let it wash me clean of fatigue and tension
Freeing me from the mornings chill
But all too soon I must slip from your grasp
To face the cold world anew
As soon as I am gone the cat slinks into the room
To slide beneath your skirt and lick at your dewed moisture
I stare in envy and ask myself
"Why does that cat love the shower stall so much?"

9/19/98

Sorry I missed the party...

The decision was easy.
You have to understand,
I mean, we just weren't ready for that kind of thing.

The trip to the clinic was quiet.
You didn't want us to dwell on it, did you?
I mean, who does that now a days?

The procedure was swift and simple.
I'm sure you never felt a thing.
I mean, if it doesn't hurt, what harm is there?

What I never counted on was,
The spiritual cost of a clinical decision.

What I never read was,
The fine print on the moral waiver.

What I needed to know was,
That I could never take it back.

I will never see your first smile.

I will never know your first sorrow.

I will never attend your first birthday party.

8/13/98

Remember Thy Words

While dallying among the evergreens I came upon a fawn
Entangled within the brambles as if fettered there by hand,
Freeing it costs me naught and brought a smile to my lips
To see it bound away was worths it's feeble nips,
As I traveled on I happened upon a glade
Circled by brightly colored mushrooms growing in it's shade,
Standing among these spore born plants ablaze beneath the sun
Was a vision to take the breath from breast and near out shine the sun,
For there I did see a lady of the Sidhe
With flaxen hair, creamy skin and eyes like the sea,
'Pardon Lady' I did say 'be this where you dwell?'
'Aye my Lord' she replied 'as the pearl within the shell.'
'Then doom befalls me, sweet lass for I fear you've stolen my heart
And as mere mortal man need shelter and hearth.'
'You mean to say good Lord but for that you wish to stay?'
She said this most serious of voice and eyes most grave,
'Yes my Lady' I did plead 'but for shelter I would stay with thee.'
'Then good Lord' she smiled at this 'I shall live by your hearth, so let it be.'
'Then doom be gone from my thoughts and in their place glee.'
'But know my Lord, my time with you be a score of years, no more, so let it be.'
'A minute with you sweet lass be worth a thousand years.'
'Remember thy words good Lord and then shed no tears.'
So she took my hand and walked with me among the evergreens
A happier couple in all the lands the world has never seen,
A score of years we did have of endless wedded bliss
Two strong sons and three bright girls of our blood came of this,
Their blood half of man and half of Fey did course through their hearts
Close they were, more then men, nothing could bring them apart,
As the score of years did close I prayed it not arrive
For the loss of my beloved lass my heart could not survive,
But come that day as I knew it would as sure as the sun does shine
Heart like lead I faced the dawn though the day was most fine,
She came that dreaded morn aglow with life, it's rays cast upon my face
'Tis time my Lord to leave these parts and turn to my sacred place',
'Please my lass' I cried 'don't leave me now in the twilight of my years!'
'Remember your words good Lord and shed no tears.'
Then towards the evergreens she walked our daughters in step
'Don't take my girls sweet lass they are all I have left!
Our sons have died among the wars of men!'
'Our daughters' dear Lord ' must leave with me so they to may find their men.'
Before my eyes they did change to become a noble hart and three noble fawns
With grace found only among the Fey they leapt to the trees at dawn.
I dally no more among the evergreens, the visions I do fear
And remember my words I do each day but still I shed my tears.


Saturday Morning In November

I

Saw three crows on the sidewalk pick at things I didn't want to see
Saw no seagulls in a city that was once filled with their white wings

Watched a woman walk half way across the street and turn around
Watched her walk and her confusion and both made me grin

Saw a man smoke a cigar, bounce a superball and smile at everyone
Saw a gnome on foot secure in a bike helmet come share my bustop with me

Watched a care worn woman clutch a plastic bag like a sacred shroud
Watched a silver chain bounce in rhythm to a jogger and his dog

Saw three couples stroll by, two of happy men and happy women
Saw the third, a man and his burger and each seemed equally pleased

Watched the world all around as I secretly composed a poem for myself
Watched a compact cruise by, was gawked at like I was a sideshow freak

II

Not seen as a ball-bouncer, helmet-wearer, bag-clutcher or secret poet
But a fixture on the street like a movie set, a prop for a passenger's viewing

Not even a main character, just a bit extra in a five second, wide angle shot
Just blending into the background, as though we were wearing urban camouflage

We bustop dwellers and pedestrians melt from the rider's sight and mind
Unimportant parts of some one else's starring cinematic experience

We watch the passenger's in turn, as they glide by our stationary sets
Waiting for our ride's to come by, to take us to work and home and points west

So we too can be cast in leading roles in our very own film's debut
To step out of the set and into the spotlight with full musical score

To move onto the next scene, the next reel and our new roles
To play ours better then they played theirs and create no new bit characters.

11/08/98

SOMEDAYS

There are somedays I don't like to see,
Days which don't seem to matter much,
Don't seem to really be.
Cats know days like that,
They just sleep them away.
Days I wish I could rewrite,
Edit a little tighter,
Streamline a bit of the world.
But lately there are fewer,
The not liked days farther apart,
Now the exception rather than the rule.
Alone in my thoughts,
With ample room to see,
The not liked days just seem to receed.
After considerable rumination,
I think I begin to know why.
To know the wheres and what-fors,
To view the matter a bit more clearly,
Uncluttered by garish musings.
I think the not liked days,
Have retreated in the face of superior feelings,
Overwhelming numbers of contented thoughts.
Thoughts of bashful smiles,
And coy vieled looks.
Thoughts of my beloved,
Thoughts of you.
Give those days hell my love.


Eastern Musings

Staring at the same scene isn't helping my enlightenment lately,
I wonder what Buddha's secret was?
The simple always takes longest to spiritually consume,
My tastes have been running to the complex recently.
The ten thousand things are so marvelously distracting,
So much more satisfying than gnawing on the simple.
Maybe I can market portioned simplicity?
Easily digested pieces of golden wisdom.
Some satori for a main dish with some zazen as a side and a bit of good
karma to go? Or maybe not.
Because I'd just end up staring at piles of money,
And that isn't going to help my enlightenment any either.
Better to just swallow my ego and find a palate for the simple.
If nothing else I might lose some weight,
Of course Buddha never did....

8/10/99

Yule Gift

Wandering thru an art show (looking for Yule gifts),
I saw a nymph in a green army jacket,
Stunned I stopped and stared with face slack.
For the face of Faerie did walk among we fleshy mortals,
A cascade of bronze locks fell to her hips, Eyes as green as Spring
looked past brows of the most delicate grace,
Skin like the first blessing snow,
A hidden smile on her thin pale lips...
Then she was gone, lost in the crowd.
But forever in my heart,
The Fey need not use magic to steal your soul.