This Poet's Dream

These are the fluid lines that spill forth…

Month: June, 2012

Haiku #17

Standing upright now
My skies are clearing today
The truth pays forward

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After Effect

Sea-tumbled locks frame my face
My body is filled beyond satisfaction
The next truss has been navigated
Alluding to the joys of times ahead
Causing forces to rise
Electric fingers bound outward
Expanding the vision
Enhancing the dream
Morning has gifted a contented smile
Passing frames of white hot passion
While the reel spins again

Haiku #16

Moving forward now
The clouds part exposing light
Taken with summer

Haiku #15

Mind’s eye speaks riddles
Yet the path ahead is clear
Sunset draws me in

Haiku #14

Mountain waters flow
She traipses over the rocks
Building a tower

Warmth

True hearts find meaning
Within the woven ends
Of threads unseen
Tucked away beneath the layers
Of faces shining under moon’s glow.
In the space between eyes open
And eyes locked shut
A Lover’s embrace waits
Patient yet desirous
Daring us to strike the tinderbox.

Heartsong

The minutes pass like hours
Grains of breathing
Blinking
Slipping through the cracks
In my outstretched palm
I feel your presence in mine
I find my mind
Wander toward you
So very often
Daring only for a moment
To send out a beacon
Bristling
I sense my ways
And mend my palms with tears

*for CRH

Life On Mars: A Eulogy

Dirt.

Stinking sweat, piss, and spilled beer,

all made foul by the heat.

Fruit flies make the experience just a bit more…

Putrid.

27 years.

A rockstar death.

Death to the

intercourse of wanton desires.

Death to the

endless stream of drugs and druggies,

and irregular neighborhood hijinx.

The amount of hours spent festering,

rotting with the wood around the bar,

make most of the faces blur together as the light fades.

Plunging into the depths of so many dark corridors,

twisting forth through the late hours…

A place of refuge,

a place of refuse,

Collecting in the cracks of the carvings

and sagging separating boards.

Generous shots were always on hand,

(Although we all knew your secret, Hank)

And…

Damn.

Ray-belle, where will you go now?

(Still wandering around the old neighborhood, I suppose)

The last leg of the buffalo has been given to the fire.

The last contact with a past that,

although recalled in a smoky haze,

will continue to disintigrate.

Goodbye Mars.

Lost among the sea of prefab brick and glass,

towering over history that crumbles in the shadows.

A family has been dispersed,

as if struck with mortar.

Stone and dust flood the lungs.

It rivals a punch to the stomach.

As days and weeks and months pass,

This building will indeed fall,

like so many others,

smeared out from physical existence,

as though the value of real estate is more important

than the crushing of iconic locales.

We will find new places to go.

New scenery to wile away the nights and afternoons,

but none will truly suffice to represent the generations

of rowdy, spiky, loud and crazy motherfuckers.

A veritable parade of freak shows,

animals, and lost souls of the universe.

Eras ebb and flow.

We pick up the pieces.

We live.

We die.

We move on down the road.

We exhale,

and the winds shift our sails again. 

The Mars Bar was located at 25 East 1st St. in Manhattan, and served as a trading post, of sorts. I spent many of the last days on edge, with all the others, waiting for the ax to fall. It was a dysfunctional Cheers, with the best jukebox ever. Many lives were changed through the intersections of paths there. For 27 years, it served a dark purpose. Death occurred at the end of a particularly hot summer week during July of 2011. I wrote this immediately upon discovering the candlelight vigil that was taking place outside the day the doors were locked for good. This is my way of saying good-bye. RIP Marz. 

Alumni Tribe

Traveling the streets of my past
10 year reunion
At the edge of my mind
We met over words
We met over poetry and prose
We met over performance
A strength was harnessed
Through all of our rough patches
Creation
Instead of destruction
Synergy is the framework
As words materialize
Channeled through threads
Unseen by the human eye
We will remain forever changed
Blooms from the garden
Nurtured
Encouraged
Pushed forward
Drawn back
Espousing our hearts
The same way today
As in years past
The luminous glow of a creative drive
Is the essential key for humanity
Standing in lines
Waiting at gates
Stretching too thin
Simply no longer serve
We have been gifted
The opportunity to channel
Just what will come to pass
When the sun rises again
Burgeoning the horizon
With the fervor of joy
Steadfast in our growing desire
Drafting new blueprints for a framework
Yet to be imagined

*This poem is inspired by the retirement of Carole Herzog Johnston, my SCAPA Creative Writing Teacher/Muse, who allowed me enough space to unfurl my wings. She will always be cherished as a bright and positive influence in many lives.

Haiku #13

Facing western skies
A slip slide tide washes me
Renders me quaking