The Mother Tongue

My Mother's voice, the
scribbling of a ballpoint
correction was the key
to my becoming a lover
of words of lovers.

A love-hate relation to
exponential extent. Where
pinpoint details often drive away,
my mother taught me better,
taught me more.

And the attention to detail, the
exacting scrutinies of a poet's
pen, is not unlike the loving
glance of my mother's
ear. All for the better.


Appalachia

Tennessee is unforgiving.
Enraptured genitalia know not
the length or rigidity of places
such as this. Mounds of time
cover memories of nights
better than these, cleaned
by the tides of woes and wrecks.
They flow from the loins of
places such as this, where
brothers reckoned days forgone.
Each a slave to the other's
pastime of remembering.
Tennessee is unforgiving.


solo

lonliness is my four letter word
for the ill-present ears,
or rather an unspoken curse I
have conjured in silence.

type

typical of stereo,
you hear it from all
directions.
truth and fiction
surrounds us with the sounds.

not knowing the source,
but knowing the outcome,
one knows only shadows
of puppets dancing in doubt
and cannot know beyond them.


humANiTy'S pitfall

from above
ants
from below
giants
from here
collegiants
right here
confidants
over there
ants

hell-licked bound

fall up, tell them, hell-licked bound,
forum, catch 'em, failed in all,
hopeless mania, capped for men,
lest i know them, call.

carnage, beauty, jupiter's rings,
cartwheels and caterpillars,
unseen militaristic tendencies.
3-in-1 is half the fun.

telecommune sick nation.
garfield, funk-filled mall,
hera, mother, hermes, passion.
me, my others, we knew.

Tears of Comfort

He left without clanging symbols.
They exchanged long embraces.
She had been crying.
He couldn't.
He left.

She waved between sobs.
I caught her on the third step.
She had collapsed.
He couldn't.
He left.

His lover and his friend.
She and I.
We cried for him.
He couldn't.
He left.

We found comfort in a bottle.
Comfort in each other's heart.
We drank everything away.
He couldn't.
He left.

We immortalized him with drink.
We talked about the tear.
He didn't know we saw.
He couldn't.
He left.

Baptism

After an hour,
the warmth is fading.
And the peace remains.

Purified to humble beginnings
we all thrive here.
And the peace remains.

Life is short,
but I've heard worse.
And the peace remains.

After an hour,
the warmth is fading.
And we bid it adieu.

For parting is such sweet
Abandon.


Thorn and Rose

Former: Product of the latter.
From whence to us, it doesn't matter.
And here it is, in present state.
Come and act. Don't make it wait.

What need have we for any reason?
Fruit will only pick in season,
lest it has a bitter taste.
Come, let's harvest good in haste.

In love, together, two hearts chime.
In lust, the taste is caught in brine.
The Question is "of love or lust?"
Only time can answer us.

Perspective #1

Surrounded by Seclusion,
Absorbed in Apathy,
Huddled over Hatred,
and Looking around Lustfully,
He is.

The Makings of Mankind.

Surrounded by Serenity,
Absorbed in Absolving,
Huddled over Harmony,
and Looking around Lovingly,
She is.

The Hope of Humanity.


Perspective #2

Ending with "Right"
is Correct,
by finishing
without a fight.

But, starting with Ending
is better by far,
for Ending with "Wrong"
is not "Right."


Perspective #3

How is it:

A blank canvas has
no morality, and yet
it's vulnerability is
pure?

A chimney's soot has
no sin, and yet
it's filth is
ungodly?

A brownie's stench has
no will, and yet
it's nature is
both
sinful and
heavenly?


227 Days

there's unforgiving steel
in this forgiving smile.
my fingers smell of smoke, the
remnant's still glowing on my porch.
yesterday's beer cans lie crumpled.
aluminum musketeers in the bin.

there's unfamiliar family
surrounding this kid in
insecure surroundings.
now safe from the security
of my blind elders and unsure
of my income or outcome

but how-come i feel so safe?

Inconceivable Void (in the eyes of a simpleton)

From my porch I see two stars
caught, in boughs of
Birch and Pine.

and staring into heaven,
that abyss of old,
none can fathom
the sheer
lack:

of Air,
of Space,
of Love,

or any feeling for that matter.

From my porch i see city lights,
bringing no hope.
No hope,
save for two stars
in boughs of
Oak and Pine.


In Love, In Denial

We are
Incredulous lovers,
disregarding truth as
fantasy. It's possible,
but ignored as improbable.
Not nonsensical, but
new and untamed.
I'll never know the new
as she knew the new'd
stay the way it was,

in incredulous disregard.


These were the words

These were the words:

With which we won
what was woefully wisked
away when we winked.

Wondering why we were
where we were
when we weren't watching.


Proposal

If I have never mentioned this,
I wanted you to know,
and keeping quiet isn't fair,
It isn't quid pro-quo.

You've always meant the world to me,
In times of dire need.
You've listened well and calmed my fears
with tranquil ease and speed.

I wish there was a way that I
could somehow pay you back,
for all the things you've done for me
and everything I lack.

A simple thanks, a hug and kiss
are all I have for you.
Unless your answer to my plea
is found to be "I Do."