LI
The peaceful warmth that tingles in my heart
As soft I curl my limbs around a page,
As I hold near the captivating part
Wherein I joy, breathing of Life and sage;
The gentle light suffusing every bone
With quiet Still, where frantic Rush did dwell,
Calming mine eye in Focus and in Tone
Where late the press of Now and Fast did swell;
Exhale relief into this warm embrace,
Infusing Care with Set Aside and Dream,
Falling to peace of Artistry and Grace,
Allowing tension’s exodus to stream;
Come to my arms and linger here a pace,
My Will is yours, so long as yours wills chase.
* * * * *
LII: Numb Tongue
My tongue is numb. It cannot feel a thing.
The dentist zapped it with his Novocain
Whilst poking deep to probe my injured fang
And rid my senses of his drill tip’s pain;
I do not think he meant to numb so far
Into my cheek, and up into mine ear,
Or by my eye, though half my chin for par
Can be excused, considering ‘twas near;
I must admit to being quite impressed
At the extent of territory claimed,
And by the length of discomforts repressed,
(Though I would argue excess can be blamed);
To numb my nose is, by itself, a feat,
But numbing Taste buds! How am I to eat?
* * * * *
LIII
Walk with me upon the Wings of Time
And be the Voice I hear within the Wind,
Within the Seals of Countenance and Chime,
Within the shades that linger Courtship’s end;
Walk with my Heart and whisper here a pace
With Voiceless words that make their meanings clear,
And wrap my Spirit with a warm embrace
By ghostly arms that draw the living near;
Walk with my Soul and be my Bosom’s Ward,
Protecting me with tantalizing Grace,
By filling fast the vacant, dis’nant chord
Of ‘Never Been’, nor never needing chase;
Walk with me here, forever, now and then,
And hold me close ‘til I see you again.
* * * * *
LIV: A Petulant Moan
Oh, what’s the point of picking up a pen
When All the World is wont to turn it eyes,
When naught but sparrows speak unto its ken
And cagéd trees review its Peerless rise?
What is the point of having skill to Say
When urge to Speak is mired in Boredom’s name,
When all the pleasures of a Brilliant Day
Are dimm’d and staled by solitary shame?
What is the purpose of a Genius gift
When no bright signposts rise above the Clouds,
When All the World proclaims a Vision’s lift
Whilst bowing down and out, content to Crowds?
I have a Gift, and massive Will to sway,
But I’m alone, and no one wants to play.
* * * * *
LV
Give me the tools that I need to succeed,
And I will build your Fairy Castle Dreams;
Keep me in darkness, clipping every wing,
And I will mourn with captivating keen;
My warbling cries will rise to fill the Earth,
And shake the ground beneath your Iron walls;
My pleading sighs will ‘scape your portal’d bars,
Coaxing the wind to aide my grieving cause;
The very stones you stacked to hem me in
Will tumble down, crushing your Gates beneath,
And every link you wove to Chain me down
Will fall away, entangling your own feet;
Enslaving me for what I’d give for free
Will Spell your Doom, for you do not know me.
* * * * *
LVI
Why must my pen be poised to hold a laugh
When All the World is wont to ink its Tears?
When everything feels grounded in a gaff,
Consumed with naught but useless, idle Meres?
And yet these Meres control my ‘Day to Day,’
Enslaving Time to avarice and greed,
When I’d prefer to throw them all away
And bend my Will to Joy and playful deed;
Yet every Joy I wrench from Miser’s grasp
Becomes a Woe, leashing my neck to Gold,
And every Woe my Heart rails to enclasp
Becomes a Joy, when from my pen it’s told;
This push and pull pervades mine every breath:
My greatest Joy someday Will be my death.
* * * * *
LVII: Spectre of Abuse
Should I get up and whisp about the house,
Moving thru the World as thru a ghost?
Or should I sleep, my tepid thoughts to douse
With Morpheus, subsuming fogs to host?
I am fatigued by last night’s Traumathon,
Facing down spectres of a painful past,
Nary a scratch to prove the distant wrong,
Yet steel’d for War, my Mind and Will stood fast;
I won’t be shaken from a place I love,
Nor made to feel as if my worth were less;
I will protect, though strengthless as a dove,
This space I’ve found, and those who’ll heed confess;
To those who’d Prey on those yet to learn fear:
Do not assume you’ll find my Welcome here.
* * * * *
LVIII
I gaze beyond the Sea from top a wave
Whilst diving deep to cross the empty shoals,
Mine arms stretch wide, Insanity to stave
Within the void of silent, starlit tolls;
I have no course, save what I feel is right,
A shining Star that beckons my Heart true;
I have no plan, save dancing in its light
Whilst on my way, mine own light to renew;
And though I feel the need to sate mine eyes
Upon the visage of my distant goal,
A plethora of nearer sightings vies
For my regard, soothing my striving Soul;
Yet these bright sea-lights ne’er will keep my view,
Though they entice, I’ll always Pine for you.
* * * * *
LIX
When I become the air that moves my feet
And laugh the smile that teardrops in mine eye;
When I become the Heart that skips its beat
And lifts its gaze to welcome fast the sky;
When I behold the Joy that is thy Face
And pull thee close to whisper in thine ear;
When I can touch the Prize I fell to chase
And say with Pride thou cam’st to be mine heir;
When I can hold thy hand in tearful gaze
And dance a jig that twires the whirling Stars;
When I can breathe a path from out thy maze
And keep thee close with neither key nor bars;
When I can say thy Heart did heed my call:
Then can I rise, reaching to break thy Fall.
* * * * *
LX: Lizard
I am a lizard, lying in the Sun,
Witness my scales and forkéd, snakey tongue;
I am a lizard, lazy in the grass,
‘Ware where you tread, lest I forbid you pass;
Behold my legs and crooked, lucent claws,
Clutching at twigs in tune with Nature’s laws;
Behold my crest and pointy lizard teeth,
Reaching for bugs that flutter near the heath;
Stroke soft the ridge that lines my spiky back,
Linger your touch, bestowing warmth I lack;
Trace light the skin that papers at your touch,
Massage it close, for I have seen too much;
I am a lizard, lazy in the Sun,
Lie with me now, and our breaths will be one.
* * * * *
LXI
I don’t know why I cry to fill my pen,
To bleed my Heart in lines upon a page,
When All the World seems distant from my Ken,
And All my Time seems twined within a cage;
I stretch my Mind to learn new ways to grow
And stretch my limbs to tune my body’s Fife,
Whilst All the While I scavenge like a Crow,
Scraping thru scraps to prove my claim on Life,
When All I Want is simply to exist,
To live within the beat that fuels an Age,
To bring to light the Shadows in the mist,
Obscured by Time, yet dancing true with sage;
I must believe that worth is plain to see,
That somewhere someone has a use for me.
* * * * *
LXII
Fall at my Will into my Muse’s breast,
The Nether world of fantasy and Dream,
Where jeweled Truths are treasured by the chest,
Bestowing lights that thru my fingers beam,
Cradle them soft unto my beating Heart
And shine them thru the prism of my Mind,
Bedewing sighs to gleam in pristine part
Upon the clouds that shelter by the Bind;
Hark to their call and capture its bright sight
Within the Wind that guides my waking Will,
Become the Voice that breathes their stories’ might
Unto the ink, which overflows my Quill;
Become the Page that holds the World I see,
And Never Blink, for All that World is me.
* * * * *
LXIII
Humanity surrounds us like a Sea,
And yet our Minds are doomed to walk alone,
Forever guessing what our Brethren see,
Forever struggling our Insight to hone;
For deep within our Minds we’re prison’d fast,
Using our senses to perceive the World,
No way of knowing if those Musings last,
Or if they’re gone, mere moments that unfurled;
The permanence around us might be real,
Or it might be a fleeting, fading Dream,
So too the Kin, who claim our kinship’s feel
Despite not knowing us beyond our ‘Seem’:
For when the cards are placed to call the bet,
Though they be shown, each Heart Sees different debt.
* * * * *
LXIV: Cry of Soul and Sea
When in the course of Time and Common space
I fall within the bleedings of my Heart,
And watch the World commit renewed Deface
Upon the crowds that intermand mine Art;
When I become the Sea that drinks up Tears,
And let the World within my shattered Might,
Drowning my hope with waves of desperate fears,
Holding my Soul with Tides of Common spite;
When in my breast the howl of ‘Wrong’ doth lie
And All my Sight commands mine eyes to weep,
When in my Heart the Tempest shrieks Decry!
And howling gales restrain my Mind from sleep;
When I become the Will of Others’ Woe,
My Will must Wake, lest Seas of Silence grow.
* * * * *
LXV
I have no reason not to take my rest,
When like a noose my loneliness is chord,
For though I strive to hone and do my best,
Yet still I stand, mired neck deep in a ford;
For leaden weights impede my struggling hands,
And shoes of stone prevent my feet from step,
The dragging suck of fear consumes the lands
Whereon I’d walk, were Fortune less of rep;
I cannot change what I can never touch,
Nor build a bridge from foils of empty air;
Had I a rope, I’d cling to it too much,
Yet in its absence, drowning forbids Dare;
If I but had my Time to call mine own,
Then could I Search, and not be so alone.
* * * * *
LXVI
When my one hope is not to fall thru pain,
When my one wish is not to wish in vain,
When my one fear is that I fear my Heart,
When my one joy is not to lose my part;
When I can turn my back upon the Sea
And know the land holds nothing chaining me;
When I can fall and drift upon a wave
And watch the clouds above me race and rave;
When I can hold a candle on my chest
And feel the wax melt down to scorch my breast;
When I can feel the Voice within me speak,
Though others wane and frame their Speaking weak;
When I can walk and swim and lift my wings:
Then can I Live, for then my Spirit Sings.
* * * * *
LXVII
Hold in my Heart the Weir of Yesterday,
That in my Sight my Lyre may still be kept,
Lest in the Night my ransomed Loves betray
My wayward Fife, where puissant Idlers wept;
Hold in my Heart the Promise of Today,
That in my Mind my Legend lingers still,
Preventing thus the creep of doubting’s sway,
That I may stand with firm, unyielding Will;
Hold in my Heart the Call of Future’s Eye,
That I may See the path my Spirit walks,
And know the Ocean shrinks not to belie
The Toiling trials that link Ambition’s locks;
Hold in my State the state of Now and Here,
That I may See and Learn with Listening ear.
* * * * *
LXVIII
Where have you gone, my wayward, dancing Heart,
That for so long your face hides from my Sight,
That I must peer and weep o’er my poor Art,
Wistful and sore, missing my Love’s Delight?
Why should the veils of Time and Cruel space
Strain so the threads that tie our erstwhile Fates?
Why should the crawl of Mortal flesh stall pace,
Confounding Reach and Will with spiteful waits?
Why have you gone, so far beyond my touch
That though I stretch and gaze, you hide from me,
Cloaking your hew with Silence, speaking such
As though to say, “Goodbye, ‘twas ne’er to be?”
Or have you gone so far to tempt my feet?
My means are small; Yet I strive ye to meet.
* * * * *
LXIX
As we “Grow up” we’re taught to veil our eyes
From all those games that gave us playful joy,
And on our Peers we’re taught to layer Despise
‘Til they relinquish their belovéd toy.
We place no value on our childhood games
For such endeavors fail to stockpile worth,
And so the stigma of our youthful shames
Gnaws at our guts, delving a hollow dearth;
For such endeavors fail to cease their Joys,
Despite the walls we build around their caves,
And though we turn our eyes from their employs,
Their silent wails echo to reach our graves.
When we deny the games we use to Teach,
Our very Souls are placed beyond our reach.
* * * * *
LXX
A quiet voice whispers my Pen to write
In silent tunes that dance to Lovers’ night;
A quiet voice whispers my Heart to Hear
A call to arms, though neither far nor near;
A silent tongue bowing its head to speech,
Weaving a maze to captivate my reach;
A silent tongue lifting its eyes to cry,
Calling my Soul to loose its welcome sigh;
An unseen touch that tingles in my Heart,
Holding me close to wake my dozing Art;
An unseen touch tempting my Quill to speak,
Defying lies that claim’d my message weak;
A silent Voice urging my Muse to prove
The brilliant strength and virtue of its Love.
* * * * *
LXXI
Talk with your Thought and hold your Heart in hand,
Lest those who barb their tongues would tend it harm,
Yet when you sense the Will to understand,
Let it shine forth to lend your speech its charm;
Thenticity of Authorship and days
Cannot be won with sugar-tinted spleen,
But when the Call of Passion lends its haze
Veracity will toll to grace a scene;
Our Minds are primed to See an Other’s lies,
For so we know the ones who’d pick our bones,
But when Sincerity is felt to rise,
So we too know the ones we’d lift to throne;
Divinity of Truth and Love’s bright grace
Will grace your words with all the words you chase.
* * * * *
LXXII
What is the Meat that my existence shows,
That All the World will linger in its taste?
That in my thought thy turning eye may know
How my regard was worth a bachelor’s waste?
How will the toil I thrust within this line
Become my name when Names of ages past
Befit their times with glory’s polished shine,
While mine is burnished with an Ancient’s cast?
Where will my work alight to find its home
When I’m adrift upon Death’s dateless Sea,
And all the strings I wove to help me roam
Have been cut down by Time’s eternal fee?
Where will my Mind preserve its Precious Heart
When all its children are an unthrift’s art?
* * * * *
LXXIII
I reach thru Space to touch the Ends of Time,
For there my Heart reflects in Lovers’ eyes,
And All the World beholds its Joyous chime
As falling Tears herald my Spirit’s rise;
I have no Gold to gild the walls of Men,
But I have Will to slip between the cracks,
And though my Stars lay dormant, drown’d in Fen,
They now ignite to mend my Numbers’ lacks;
There is a Lock on whom I’ve set my Sights,
Unto its tumblers I bestow my Pick,
And should it choose to yield its treasured Lights,
I will become the tendings of its Wick;
Until such Time as Time becomes my Name,
I’ll never tire of plying this new Game.
* * * * *
LXXIV
I have the Line to ink my Spirit’s fire,
And I’ve a Muse to make mine Ocean speak;
The one is soft, hardbound to my desire,
The other firm, tasking my Heart to Seek;
Though neither Line is want to touch my hand,
Nor Muse to grace me with a Lover’s touch,
Yet still they shade the Groves wherein I stand,
Painting my Heart with hues of vibrant crutch;
And I will take this aide my Line doth Pen,
Framing the air where my Muse deigns to sleep,
And for the Joy this brings my wayward Ken,
I will embrace each Tear mine eyes do weep:
For in each coil of Line and brilliant fire
I am reborn within my Muse’s Lyre.
* * * * *
LXXV
If I could hear the rhythm of your Heart
And rest my cheek against its fragile drum,
I would bestow the strength of all mine Art
Upon your lips to stroke its gentle thrum;
If I could taste the Music of your breath
And feel its moisture dew upon my hand,
I would bestow the Joys of Little Death
Upon your Soul to hitch its quav’ring band;
If I could Voice the glory of your smile
And wrap mine arms around its beaming home,
I would bestow the Queen of Love’s beguile
Upon your Heart, forbidding it to Roam:
If I could have you here within my Sway,
You’d never leave once I had had my Way.
