The Fight

Part of me thought she
The fighter, cusser-outer
Would fight for us
Just a little bit
Show that scrappiness
That she so often flaunted
Defending this Love of ours
Instead, acquiescence
To a perceived defeat
A perceived denial
She didn't
And now I play the foil
Feel the jabs over the distance
Put on the front for my friends
But in my heart
I'd rather be still living
In your Love's light
Than here alone
Again

Bid

Bid

Childhood memories of men and women

Loud like my ancestors who talk to my soul

Deep like the pain that lingers in the silence

Laughter leaves behind.

After full meals of shameful indulgence

Reward for weeks of starving employment,

With friends and family, these are sounds that warm me.

The sound of feet, chairs and tables dragging across the floor

Isolating the square where the laughter is amplified a spiritfold.

The shtttttthp, tap, tap of the shuffling cards of this ancient game.

The clink clink of ice in glasses

Ceremonially freed from their isolation on the top shelf.

The magical appearance of the amber bottle of regal appearance.

Silence as each glass is poured, a quiet prayer of thanks to the Gods of survival.

Then, when first glass touches the lips and the first card hits the table,

I know I can walk away, because the laughter begins

And I can hear it throughout the house.

Throughout my life.

Sunshine

Sunshine
Passion glows in your radiant smile
A smile for me and only me
That the whole world can see.
Walking hand in hand
Even our silence folks understand
How amazing it is
To be Loving you-
And that you’re Loving me too.

Every time I’m close to you,
The magic of what we share
Intertwines and rises to the heavens
Becoming twinkling stars we sit under
Like our very first night
When I realized that I could see
Forever in your brown eyes
Live forever with a kiss from you lips
And Love forever in the ecstasy of your embrace.

Our life together, not being a fairy tale,
Has its travails and tests our mettle.
With Love’s reinforcement like steel,
We’ll survive any hardship with a simple touch
To reaffirm our co-existence
That is celebrated with every breathe that we breathe
And every day that passes.

Peek-a-Boo

Damn

Damn.

Multimedia message

Go Bears!

Multimedia message

Go Sox!

Resuscitated

Resuscitated

I was unaware I was lifeless

Non-resistant

As I floated in the deep currents

Unmoving

No response to the rhythms around me

Unblinking, no flinching

As lightening strikes and thunder rolls

Sitting in acquiescence

As the trains leave the station

Non-judgmental of sinners

Desireless in carnal surroundings

Stationary like a rock on a gin mill

Unapologetic as stale drool on old sheets

Dust bunny

Isolated and huddled in a dark corner

Unconscious as a boxer's eyes

Before his body even hits the canvas

I was still

Quiet and Cold

Then a stranger came along

Gathered me together

Pressed their lips gently to mine

I was resuscitated

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind

Do I ever cross your mind?

I think of you when
The sun shines of course
But also when old acquaintances ask
With a glimmer in their eyes
Am I single?
And I laugh and say,
Yes, but not on purpose.
I don’t hide the pain well
So they leave it at that.
I think of you when I drive around town.
Places we went together.
Places we should go together.
Spaces we shared.
Songs on the radio,
And how you used to always sing
With your voice and hands
And your laughter when you got the lyrics wrong.
Or was that me?
Dancing together, way back when.
The CD I played when I massaged
Your back by candlelight.
The one I sang

(“I’m not trying to be, just any kind of man,
I’m just trying to be somebody
You can love trust and understand.
I know, I know, I know, that I can be
A part of you that no one else can see,
But I’ve got to hear you say,
I’ve got to hear you say
its alright...”)

You called me a seducer,
But I was just showing my love.
I think of you when I don’t eat meat.
And when I exercise,
How you used to tease my little paunch,
And how I worked out all summer
While you were away, and it stayed.
And speaking of summers, I remember the one
When I tried to be there for you
Even though my feelings were hurt
By your condition.
Spending late nights nude
Sweating, hardly penetrating
But conversating.
I think of you at libraries
The night when I first knew
That you had a feeling for me.
And our first kiss, the surprise
At how erotic such a kiss could be.
And on clear nights,
With star filled skies,
We were there sitting in the field
Chilled by the night air
Warmed by each other
Pondering the possibilities
Beyond that moment.
And rainy days, when I sat
Lazy-Boyed and sunroomed
Jim Bean and ice
Gentle sounds of Coltrane, Miles, or Maxwell
Getz, Monk, Sade, or Mingus.
Trying to soothe away the pain
Of even having to ask
Do I ever cross your mind?

Stevie Wonder

In light of a near future visit of Steveland Morris, I dedicate a Top Five List:

Top Five Stevie Wonder Songs

Overjoyed
Another Star
I Was Made to Love Her
You and I
As If You Read My Mind

(Honorable Mention: As, Higher Ground, Superwoman, Too High, Love Having You Around, Don't You Worry About a Thing, All I Do, Higher Ground, Rocket Love, Lately- I'm sure there are plenty more.)

Reverence

I'm not a religious person by any means. Spiritual, yes, but religious, not really. Still, I find the images moving. I was in a church this weekend for a wedding and was struck by the stained glass in this hundred year old church. The stained glass is newer, but it fit. On a rainy afternoon, the glass still captured the light. It was more of a glow, barely illuminating the church, but making the glass stand out like television screens. It was a solemn experience that demanded a few shutter clicks...

Dreaming of Travel

A few years back I had the luck to take a jaunt to Switzerland. Furthest I have ever travelled. Part of me was happy to come home. Part of me never wanted to stop wandering... So much to see. Gotta get away...

Memorial Day Weekend 2008

My Memorial Day Weekend in a nutshell(a link)

Ode to My throbbing Head

Ow! Sleepy time...

Meat

I am truly a carnivore, even though I don't eat a ton of pork. Hardly any besides bacon, really. And the occasional sausage. Still, given a chance to cook this meat, pork shoulder, I was delighted. It smelled heavenly, looked like a picture. So I took it. And the taste? Can't you read, I don't eat a ton of pork and this was a ton...
Hopefully someone enjoyed the effort.

Around Midnight

Maybe this is haunting hour
But it always seems
Around midnight
When I wonder
How come you won’t love me.
How come I can’t love you.
Maybe the jazz riffs bring pleasure to mind
Maybe because I’m alone one more time
But you come creeping
Close like a shadow
Slow like my buzz
Mystical like a bass solo,
But here you are
Ever so oblique like a Coltrane tune
And now that you’re here,
What?
Unlike jazz,
Where there is appreciation in chaos,
I cannot appreciate pain.

Barren Tree

As the trees bloom and the political flowers begin to show beautiful colors, I feel like taking one more casual look up to this barren sky. Nothing permanent about the lack of leaves. Sap is rising. Spring is in the air. Life in all of its beautiful variety and forms continues...

Books

How about a routine. They seem to work well for me. A monthly Top Five.

First up, Books:

TOP FIVE BOOKS

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paulo Coehlo

White Boy Shuffle by Paul Beatty

Women by Charles Bukowski

Books are always a challenge. Any list really. It's a constantly evolving list. Had I tried to ponder this yesterday, I would have come up with something completely different. Ask me in few days and these may migrate. Maybe. This list has been pretty consistent for a spell, the Bukowski being the newest since I just read all I could of his stories, novel and poems this past year. Not recommended in large doses...

Recession

I feel especially effected by the current recession...

Una Poema

I figure since I am sharing I can put a few things into the ether. I used to write poetry prodigiously. Now, quite randomly. Today, I had a creative moment. Not a poem, but a short story. Still felt good to create. Been a while since I felt that fulfilled. A little positive affirmation from my peers didn't hurt either. So here we go...

Alone on the Red Line

Someone catch the child
As he stumbles and falters
In the body of the train that
Rocks and bucks with no regard
To a child’s survival.
The train that stops at unknown places;
Places of knowledge, places of corruption
Is there someone there who can point out the window
In view of that child’s curiosity
Saying, “Child, this is not T.V.,
But the beauty and demise that is reality?”
Someone who can nudge a child
Gently sleeping in a peaceful slumber
That only innocence of childhood allows
And whisper, “Dear Child, This is our stop.
We are home.”

Welcome

I find myself sharing elsewhere and anywhere that will have my opinion, so I figured I would give this thing a try. So Hello and enjoy the ride...