And so I write…
When the world sleeps
whether actually or in my mind
where only quiet exists so that I can finally hear the sound of the knock of the ones who deliver the words from worlds I only know when I am still.
And so I write…
To free the voices
that scream inside to be set free
to exist, to be heard, to be seen, to flow like rivers from my pen.
And so I write…
To create the sky
to feel the rain
to taste the ground as it drinks
to grow down into the earth, rooted
and branching beyond all…
from CRAVE 2: Forbidden Secrets
I remember your smell from before I knew you.
The taste of our first kiss was something I recalled, like a distant memory.
When you touch me it’s as if I’m awake for the first time
free to live all the dreams I have collected,
like finding a special stone by the river
or seeing the Sun escape from behind a cloud to illuminate your smile.
I know you now like I’ve known you before, so many times forevermore.
A different song, a different dance, but always you.
Each time I paint myself across the open expanse of your heart
and each time…
I haven’t slept for days…
My thoughts are soft swirls of purple haze.
In the middle, a minotaur, minding a maze.
Within a labyrinth of many ways,
I rage at the mirror that reflects my gaze.
Tired torpedoes fall silently still
As attacks become naps of necessity’s thrill.
Energy arrives late, completely unfrilled;
I’ve been here before, I’m perfectly skilled.
What can be mustered when bottles run dry?
Playing with catch-up, there’s some in my eye.
I relish the chance to once again fly,
Swooping and soaring through barbequed sky.
In slumber, I’m met with endless defeat
Even to silence, I…
Because Print is Better Than Digital
I’ve never been a bookworm. No one would have ever accused me of that. Prolific in other arenas, perhaps, but not in the realm of reading. I always preferred writing and I liked my own stories because they were immersive. I did read, of course, just not as voraciously, say, as my wife. One day when we were in the garage, I asked her — as I peered through a great many see-through, mega-sized, plastic storage containers — if we had any books from Shakespeare. …
Clutch the Moon in your hand,
until she bleeds red
Eyes cast upward
from the dark embrace
of trampled light
succumbing to the hunger
in her eyes
Pay her tribute
with your Voice!
Silver bonds lay
tongues upon your wounds
servant to lesser beliefs, yet:
Unknown power courses
through your true form;
electric with strength,
invincible with might,
renewed — whole,
and hungry, like the Moon.
Break free these false shackles!
Run deep into the Night!
Taste the air with new sight!
Drink your wine in the fullness of her…
“Quicken me to beknow of your purpose —
Into the dark bosom of the Red Queen
We march, uninterrupted — unpercussed.”
“Most of our men are more sickly with Green
Unlike any scene e’er sought to be seen —
Truly, this, this is much more than discussed.
Surely, you must know just what I must mean —
Unless, of course, you are with the Walrus!”
“Let us put an end t’all of this ‘for us
Give up and give in and have fisticuffs.
We’re the finest armament e’er has been
We strike twice come night, and then, once again!”
I recently created a mantra that I repeat to myself when my mind makes things seem bigger than they are, “Don’t create problems that don’t exist.” I needed to do this after spending a lifetime fighting imaginary dragons. I was exhausted and I always wondered why. I have a tendency to wonder about everything. I think about my life and the things I need to do or might be asked to do and my mind goes on an adventure. I have an extraordinary ability to be hyperbolic, not just in my expression, but also in my thinking — especially about…