Month: October 2019

Unsaid

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I almost said,

Promise me, if something

takes me away, Promise me

you won’t blame yourself, you

will understand — Promise me

if the dark clouds outrun the light

and I have to go away — you will

understand and forgive me for

leaving, I almost said, Promise me

you will not carry that hurt in your heart,

Promise me you will understand

it wasn’t your job to save me, I almost said, Promise

me —

(Ahhh the love glinting in your eyes that day…)

I knew it was a Promise you

would never be able to keep,

a Promise I could not ask you to make

because

love can’t make

a Promise like that.

 

Favor

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I need a favor

from a friend, my friend.

Take my hand-hold me

while I turn inside-out

carve my soul from my body

with a spoon. Don’t let go

when it gets messy. Surgery

is always bloody. I need a favor

from a friend, my friend.

Just keep my fingers

held tight in yours.

I need a favor from a friend,

my friend. Hold my heart —

hold it safe while I crawl

deep down the esophagus

into the red-heat-valley

or as I crawl

up into the veins

of temple, brain, grey matter

with pitchforks and plows

to furrow rows and seek — I need

a favor from a friend, my friend.

Don’t let go when it gets messy.

Surgery takes time, bleeds the infection

clean over time. I need

a favor from a friend, my friend. Just

stand my sweet Angel. I need a warrior —

I need a favor

from a friend,

my friend. Battle-worthy, unafraid

hold my soul — hold it safe.

Don’t let go when it gets messy.

The grave is a a deep-trench journey

marching through demons,

memories, devils, monsters —

but I will return. Hold my soul —

Hold it safe. Don’t let go.

I need a favor

from a friend

my friend

Love me through the dark

hours, deep days,

as I bleed away the night.

Don’t let go —

when it gets messy —

Don’t let go —

 

 

 

Watcher in me

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I write poems — Re-read them

Internalize the Realization

That I speak of me as Dead.

 

I worked a long hard life to build Me

Into some Barbie Doll Mother Theresa

mixed canvass image of what I thought

was the right thing to grow up to Be.

 

The doll murdered

with malicious cruel stabs of a knife

this utter evisceration and defacement bleeding

into this horror that only belongs to the Heart

of an angry hurt Child in Raging Tantrum.

 

Built her — an elegant Malibu House

Tomb

with the perfect beautiful Ken Doll

to wield the blade, light the flame.

 

And the Watcher in me took in the show

from a plush velvet chair high up in the balcony —

clapping, coercing, applauding, tsk-tsk-tsking

as the Show played to a packed house

and garnered bittersweet reviews from the Critics.

 

 

Want Explained

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freya-wave-laurie-behnen.jpg

Want Explained     ~for Rob

 

I do not want to be on a pedestal

to fall from

my feet slipping

into stepping on your heart.

 

I do not want to be a muse

adored and believed

to hold magic answers to questions

my answers

can never satisfy.

 

I do not want to be a fever

of passion that burns in you

the flame dying down, flickering out

as time — age passes

leaving only embers of a dying fire.

 

I do not want to be a need

only to fill you for a time

the stomach, once full,

unable to hold more

is satisfied and the plate pushed away.

 

I want to be a river

you fish in, wade in, wash in, travel down —

I would be water that carries you with it,

moving forward

toward a never-ending sea.

 

 

One Step

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lightening1

One Step    ~ for Rob

 

One Step

Away

from playing it

Safe —–

Never my game.

 

Enough deep-soul losses

Tempt Us to comfort-rest in

Strange Fantasies of no more

Wasted Efforts. Stop and allow

Someone Else to carry the

Weight of us for a time.

 

One Step

Away

from playing it

Safe —–

Never my game.

 

I Turn —-

run to Free-fall, Deep-breath, Jump

into the Danger of Air,

No Ground, The Abyss —-

Leap Into the Blue-eyed

Beauty of You —-

Fiat Lux! 

 

Message

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The death knell bell is a chime of blessing,

A call to sanctuary and salvation.

 

If you hear with open ears the sound falling;

Whisper: Follow-Enter-Welcome-Home calling.

 

The oil of anointing poured out healing

From orifice and shaft and center sealing.

 

Bodies the mortal

Messengers.

Childlike Play

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~ for Rob, October 2019

 

I will give you pull and push —-

And flesh and bone and home.

I will give you feather kisses

On the brow of furrowed stresses.

I will give you long and short

And deep caresses, then abort

To stand beside the bed

Just to look at you instead.

I will give you childlike play

As we dance the day away,

Cooking food upon a stove.

Making love deep in a bed

I will give you all I am —-

Wheat for dough and making bread

Verse for dinner and for lunch

Because I have a simple hunch

That you are more than shadow-light

Lost in moments of frailty-fright.

I will give you arms that hold,

Heart that opens in delight.

I will give you all that and more

Sweet brilliant Poet I do adore.