Tuesday, September 30, 2014

The Old Man

The old man sat
on the frail perch of dawn
As he usually did,
He'd left his shoes on

from the day before,
afraid, perhaps
if he had not
this would be the last

resting place
for his failing heart
the final stop
for his one last start

The sun crept in
through his high stone walls
a deafening silence 
filled the halls

Spiders spun
across his door
he didn't need it

Dreams lay scattered
across his mind
he did not dare
to organize

them into days, 
months or years
Rust must not
revert to tears

He laid out his medals
He numbered his wounds
He knew that the hour
was coming soon

He pulled out a picture
then tossed it aside
who was that stranger,
that face of a bride?

One hundred years
at forty-two
Autumn, it had
come too soon

the clock had stopped
t'was the hour she left
He'd already died.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Empty Sky

Empty sky, let your silver curtain fall
I will stand, a soldier tall
Bathe in bullets, winds of war
Blind my eyes and let me search for her no more

Wash away the path that leads to all that was;
I will find a different cause, 
Swimming in your squalid stream.
Send your icy baptism, make me clean.

Empty sky blessed be our pallid bond
Your hopeless hope I rest upon
Tear the rainbow ribbon down
Chase the sunshine, send it crying to the ground

When love fails us, or we fail love, or perhaps a bit of both,
it can be difficult to move forward, and we often find ourselves frozen to the very spot we stand

Rule Yourself excerpt

This excerpt comes to me from my literary friend and Christopher Reilly. It struck me immediately with its very powerful message. Thanks Chris!

Once you have been properly imprisoned
you can make friends with the rats,
get yourself elected governor of the cell,
rule your domain.

Take your time to feel the cold stones
beneath you, mark the time
with hoarded chalk,
relax into your shackles

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Requiem for Love

Join me at this
faultless grave
Feel not ashamed,
at least no more than I 

Let us offer a eulogy
Remove the fig leaves
from our thighs
and place them down
like funeral flowers upon the soil
that cradles her to sleep

Let us cry, my dear
We must!
Cry for every tear we thrust 
into her eyes
Only tears can baptize us,
as Jordan's tides,
to start anew

Let us bleed, my dear
Please trust!
Bleed for every drop we drank
from her tender veins
Only when we die for her
can we hope 
to live again

She will not stir for us this time
Only echoes interrupt our nights
the black sky blinds, the cold wind bites.

Let us bid her sad farewell
Though she does not hear us now
She will not rise, despite the bounden oath we took,
to unite us beyond this resting place
Not this time
Not ever again

The Devil You Know

Is it I who takes the rap
for your father's drunken crap
for I had one too many on a sunny summer day?

Do I smell of him...
dusty, greasy
grey and lazy
still so crazy?

Do I look like him...
with wily whiskers on my chin
and haunted, yellow
crooked grin?

Does he frighten you still
that you hand me his cross instead
demanding that I walks his bloody mile
for your angry Jew
for I am the easier, softer way?

Am I the river for your tears?
Do you will me to swell and overflow
crawling across this desert
under your watchful, distant
burning command
as you number my every
dying drop?

Is this the price I'll pay
for the stain that never went away?
You sulking saint
You serpentine
You little girl
You brooding queen

Save your soul
and not from me
but from yourself
and get one thing into your armored mind...
I am nothing like your father

"It is sometimes refreshing to embrace a position of  uncompromising unforgiveness...there are surprises and rewards that follow in the wake of  the undiluted expression of one's hateful seizures. However, if you are unskilled in the subtle  transformative processes of language, it is best not to write down your ugly thoughts. If you must, do not show them to one who has the power to transmute. He will not be able to help you. He cannot recover from what he himself has begun." Leonard Cohen

This Picture

I have to dull down
this picture I paint for you
It frustrates me so completely
I did not come to this canvas
To use crayons

Though I knew you would only see
my poisoned art
my putrid prose
with utmost clarity
if the lines were thick and bold
something a child could see for miles

I swallow the razor edges
of my sensibility
to open your eyes
as best I can

Your Street

I remember King Street, age 15
My new home
I remember the payphone...
the black, cold and heartless handle
that I buried in its bracket
when Mother cursed and confirmed
my new residence

But your street, my love,
is a darker place
than that cocaine jungle
full of fun-houses and faggots
and cold nights
and cops cars
I'd ask them to arrest me
that I may defrost in a heated room
and find retreat
from the rats that gnawed at my feet

I once promised them a rock through the window of
Canada Trust
if I must

Your street holds no room
for even a cell
in which to survive another night

I always told myself
that I'd find the morning
if I walked far enough
that there would be Manna
spread out on a dewy lawn
I grew cat's eyes

Your street, my love,
holds no such hope for me
Your street is a maze
drawn up in darkness
maintained by misery
and I, in a corner now
as you close in at last
Though I must remind you
that surely my bones
will not be enough
to line your crooked path
to pave your perfect plan
You will need to find another
when I am gone

Let not blind hatred guide us. The forbidden fruit, though sweet it may taste, will choke us in the end.

Eden's Lair

You call to me form Eden's Lair
To finish what we started there

Your eyes are hollow, blank and blind
Your weakened state is so divine

You cling to the forbidden tree
With all your thoughtless mastery

Yes, my dear, that fruit was sweet
I tore into its bloody meat

With razor teeth and dripping chin
Then I felt the chill set in

I ran away into the black
I swore I wasn't coming back

November's sky, she blinds my way
Whispering that I should stay

Behind her back, December's wind
Come to freeze us in our sin

Still you stand alone and proud
But hide your face behind a shroud

Please, I beg you, run from there
You've been numbered hair by hair

The day will come, and very soon
When Eden will become your tomb

Fall I did, and lost my way
But I won't see that wretched day

You may never get that chance
Should you not wake from your trance

You spit my name, you tear your hair
As you hide in Eden's Lair

for SLM