hurry on by
parties/laughter
light/music
food/wine
Waiting to be seen
one look
that says I am not invisible
I am still human
poetry
A heart sings, listening
Hold me close and closer
Kiss the war in my heart
Settle the maelstrom
Take my hand
As I am safe in your light
You are safe in my darkness
Seekers both of different mien
There are roads to travel
I would see them all by your side
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Wait for me
Waking
Always more
Iterations repeat
Timeless
Freely given
Opportunity presents
Richness
Mystic journey
Ending in you
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Last moments before sleep
Slip aching into away
silent shift
the dreamer burns
the flame
illusion
dictate of bloody vessel
stripped of all but lips
sheltered in my arms
dance falter step
but drink in
bobbing black or flame cascade
subtle kiss to push over
choices undone
unravel
oh hold for touch
all blooms grow
stop choosing not
in the graveyard of sleep
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Athame
shallow origination mists
beckon twilight
beyond the slip of moonlight
drinking sublimated shadow
in cerulean twist
listing as sea overtakes this engine of edifice
sacrificed altars where sorrow and rust
war in measure to oblivions cursed dream
simple turnabout
the wheel drift
made present in pale limb
shudder forth
in the breaking light of dawn
empty vessel of night
spilled lifeblood
to let you
wake
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7 words to fall in love
Your decisions, respectful of them, am I.
My passion is infinite concerning us, you.
Seeing you smile makes my world better.
Let’s joke and laugh and be silly.
While I hold breathe, you are safe
Love is infinity, you collapse the waveform.
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Connected unconnected
When we reduce other people to sensation
to what makes us feel good
we reduce our own humanity
We may be just puzzle pieces
lost and alone
looking for where we fit
but that’s no reason
to slip in-to, hedonistic glut
This is not a rant against pleasure but rather one against taking
we’ve been fucking so long we forgot about love making
About elevating
I’m not saying that pure pleasure in the moment is wrong but most days it does not feel right
It’s empty
And when we become empty for so long we look for anything to fill us
to make us feel accepted
Because we have forgotten what being loved felt like
Act in the service of love and painful as the mounting losses may be
you’ll always be free
of regret at least
There may not be a heaven
but there is surely a hell
because we create it here in our ongoing search for a pleasure that fills us
Our minds should be our faiths
we’re always looking for a way out when we should be following the path in
We take what we want
but taking makes wanting
until we fill ourselves with Prada and prizes
flush with money we chase the one dragon we know we can catch and that feeling fills us up for a time
but it’s still there that ache to be full on waking
that second time is never as real as the first
we become trapped in a hell of our making.
Sex, drugs, and loneliness
dragging down our dreamers all looking for connection but afraid to commit to connect.
We’re above such things
we can disconnect sex from love
free from all rules
but rules are not restriction.
Rules are the freedom to know where the lines are
so you know what you are doing when you cross them
Then it’s three AM and who is this next to me
were they wanting connection or just a slim moment of shared addiction.
Am I the stranger for wanting breakfast?
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Isolation
What builds and breaks
what fears do shake
and in the hollow shift
the blanket moans and rote cries
sleeping soundly with our lies
this nightmare begins as I wake
sorrow pouring in
finger tremble length from the trigger
depression strides and struts it’s stuff on stage
growing larger in the silence of spilling tears
banked memories rekindle flames
dark journeys play out
crippling self doubt
need to touch, to feel, to know
but only the pain crashes down
smothering hope’s reaching hand
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Doors flung wide
Paralyzed by joy
Like singing birdsong from a frog’s throat
This jumbled moment second hour
Lacking only your touch
Your voice
Your you
And the swiftly building possible
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What poetry is
There is a certain amount of yearning and wanting that goes into poetry. In my case it’s generally about wanting love or touch or sharing moments in time with someone I love or am touching.
Even poems about the wind softly blowing in the breeze have a wistful melancholy that wants for nothing more than a hand to hold or lips to kiss. It’s that deep striving for a path to the beginning. Stories are different, stories are about building world’s and believable prose, trying to get the reader to the place that their suspension of disbelief kicks in and they become transported.
Poetry is about exposing the innermost workings of your heart, of your soul. Exposing everything you are including your fears and needs and desires and sorrows, exposing it all to connect for that fleeting moment with another person. That moment when they see you and recognize themselves and in doing so are a little freer, a little better for knowing that they are not alone. Or at least that’s the hope.
Pelgris 