Snake of the Flesh

You stand still against the vacuum of whirlwinds.
Twirling across this silent pond I see your reflection,
Tranquil on the glassy surface, I am anything but.
Golden leaves fall at your feet ignoring the tides of air.
Verdant fields and forests surround us.
Perfect. Alone. Together.

A snake rides the green grass
Red and smooth and silky,
Its close- run- but you don’t know.
I jump and grab the lizard thing
Breaking it body as I throw it into the air.
The wind carries it away. We are safe- for now.

You don’t turn. I notice. I fear.
"Stephen, we almost-"
You fall, and I hold you tight like a child.
You release your past and your present.
I release, and you look into me,
I reply, "Everything will be alright."

Slowly, Ever So Slowly

Slowly, ever so slowly,
I feel my guilt turning into love.
Acceptance of the way my life has been trod.
It has not really been that odd.
Like history being rolled out like dough under a rolling pin.
All mushed > all flat.
I’d love to see it when it’s flat. (On the other side)
More reason to be happy and rejoice.
Either I’m living a lie or everything I have been told about
You is coming true.
Maybe you are my Dad.

The Moon on a Summer Solstice

The moon on a summer solstice is a shrine
To the god of doing nothing -
Except what you, you alone, want to fill it with.
Raze the temple of the moon on a summer solstice
Until nothing is there except the refugees inside.

Don’t Wait for the Night to Find You

My Father said I shouldn’t fear
The darkness I love to deal in down here,
As long as, my son, you don’t start
To become part.
Walk into and shed some shine,
You might just find some lost friends of mine,
Out of the woodwork and half-alive
Lost souls that search and strive
For someone to hold on to and steady
The lives that they said they’ve given already.

Don’t wait for the night to find you,
Search out the lonely and lend a hand,
Show them we care and spark a flame,
Then they’ll start their own and do the same.
There’s not enough time to sit in Park
For them that live in the dark.
Get in the froth and in the fray,
And go and light the way.

And We Try to Answer

And we try to answer that life long question:
Why do I want to help,
but do not want to take out the trash?
We like things in the abstract and not in concrete
as long it is not a monument to our greatness.
I say I am thankful for the thorns on the roses
because nothing can be perfect,
I don’t deserve it.
But what then do I deserve?
Words seem not descriptive enough.
After all, actions scream; demonstrate.
God yells in our pain
and whispers in our joys.

Where have all the maidens gone?

Where have all the maidens gone?
They’ve thrown away the key,
Given in to guys like me.

Where have all the maidens gone?
They party with Jack and Sam,
They refuse to be addressed by m’am.

Where have all the maidens gone?
Dressed in nothing but a bikini,
Trying to get a man by looking sexy,

Where have all the maidens gone?
Maybe they were just too modest,
I wonder where they are?
Maybe the were too good for this world
So God took them to a far off star.

Dreaming of My Beloved

Did you see that zit on my nose
When you pictured me?
One ear higher?
No?
Because the image made
I am an effigy of.

From miles away you are perfect, my love,
smelling what I want, tasting what I desire.
envisioning a utopia,
riding into the sunset,
making love without consequence.
It’s only a dream,
so once was I.

My Sanity, My Emotions

Do you think me possessed?
Do you think I have experienced more pain?
Do you know who I am?
I am a poet
locked into expressing my joy and mourning
in a new and trendy way,
I cannot and will not carry the mantle of redefining
not only me but also my way of thinking and expressing my feelings,
Do I want to drive myself mad?
No.
I will not drive my sanity off a cliff to justify a deeper sense of existence.
Hey, it’s been done before.

New?

Days became weeks, months, a year,
I knew you once, but now I fear,
I never really knew you.
What I though was just a figment.
I was reluctant to believe your word and what you meant
False as the commitment I heard you cry,
Surrounded with candles,
and pierced by the anguish of your past.
You wavered across the line, but now at last,
Sadly, the "new" you is only in the past.

I want to cry at your needs,
I make waste of the day I planted seeds,
I want to hit you and maybe knock you down.
Then, I would be as "bad" as you,
So I just can’t do that though I want to,
I’ll try to prayer for you. Pray for me.

Myself

I don’t deserve the pain I go through,
Because I see you,
I fear my discoveries will destroy me,
I miss the days of ignorance.
Who decides who I am?
The promoter- the compliments-
The disdained- the insults-
The close friend- telling me to be myself-
Do I?
If I want to be part of something greater, can I really be myself?