In Dream

In Dream he comes to me,
Beckoning, seducing, pleading:
"Come love with me and be my life."
He awakens my body into being.

Loving caresses and gentle words stir
My soul to join him there.
Elysian Fields he doth me offer...
He should not tempt so. 'Tis not fair.

The home he shows me will never do.
My mother, Goddess, forbids it. Harvest she
Would cancel, growth of crops she'd bar.


I awake again and still reside above you.
Your Reign below torments both of us, fore
I will shall always remain a Dream away.

Emotions flood my brain;
Ideas crash into my core.
The brain knows what the
heart should feel but that
stubborn organ doesn't obey.

Love crashes onto the shores of
my dreams but life is occurring
in the desert, where fantasies are
cactii, prickly and green.

If my soul is ever inflicted with
that emotion poets rave on,
will it be true or a bribery of
reason with a message that
it is tired. Of being alone.
No man's an island.

Maybe I'm mistaken.
Maybe that mutinous muscle does feel something,
but still I hear whispers...
No, you're wrong.
Always wrong...

1/29/98

Near to the Heart of God

Inspired by hymn 163 from the Sacred Selections hymnal

I walked alone, traveling companion to none.
The journey did not begin so:
Friends aplenty set out with me
But where they got to, I do not know.

The road was straight and flat
And our walk was easy and light.
Suddenly the trail began to curve
And so the first friend took flight.

More loyal pals others did not have-
Courage, Riches, Strength and Beauty
I counted among my clan.
They were part of me, had pledged fealty.

Difficult to travel the road had become
But not all had fled, just some.
Those that stayed were not quiet though,
Crying loudly, "I want to go home."

She was a journey that I had to make.
It had been commanded of me.
A higher power once hopefully spoke
Of those that were blind being made to see.

I sent the others away. It was what they wanted.
That I ended alone I found not odd.
I completed the journey and found my place,
Forever, Near to the Heart of God.

War of the Words

Before you can be rebellious
and break all the rules,
you should understand the forms.
To not understand against what you are
uprising is to not know your enemy.

Fatal Mistake.

For poetry is a lot like war:
with its stratagems and codes
of chivalry and honor that must
be adhered to. If heraldry is
blatantly bucked, you are not the victor.

The Red-Coats are Coming.

Originality is not truly original. It grows
out of ancient practices and customs
that the wise can adapt to new situations.
You can't create something without knowing
and being proficient at the old ways of the art.

Know the Rules:
Then Break Them.

The death of an ideal will be grieved
Whether if be Freedom, Love, Pity or Hate.
When it's gone we all feel a bit bereaved.
Something is dead. There can be no worse fate.

Freedom's voice rings clear through all lands:
No one is immune to its siren's call.
Freedom's death is dealt with all too evil hands,
Bringing desolation and fear to all.

The death of Love is especially sad,
We feel is so much more than all the rest.
Love is what keeps mankind from going mad:
Gone--we feel its loss deep within our breast.

Of what importance is pity, you ask?
Why, it is of great importance indeed.
It allows us to rip off our cold masks
And help others who are so much in need.

Hate's death is really no surprise at all.
'Twas bound to happen sooner or later.
When Hate cracked his door, 'twas death come to call:
"Leave I must," Hate said, "but my conscience is clear."

Epitaph

Here lies Freedom, next to him Pity.
They tried to succeed but were unable;
Both fought hard and their deaths came valiantly.
Without them we are not quite as stable.

Here lies the ideals of Love and of Hate.
Together in death as they weren't in life.
Who would have thought: two such unlikely mates
Hand in hand, marching onward, toward the light.

4/28/99

The whisper of a hymn on a Spring breeze,
an overture inspired by the season's
virgin batch of bright crocus, was the mel-
ody my heart heard when you sang my name.

The caress of a leaf as if floats by.
Thunderstorms that drench all of creation
into newness: such freshness I knew not
until your cool hands brushed soft my hot skin.

An eagle panning the vast Horizon.
The brightest body in the endless night
navigating the path to Paradise-
I finally saw when your eyes found mine.

Now I taste the briny sea with every
memory. Thoughts of you come with the smell
of danger. I couldn't guess that you would leave
me open to the wolfish howls of grief.

3/22/99

Total Cliches of the Heart

On a day as cold as Hell I trudged

to class, feeling like shit and looking
it too.

Saw penny, picked it up,

And all day I had good luck.

Lunch time rolled around and I was as hungry
as a horse and could eat a cow.

I go to my room to study; I'm tired, so tired
I'm not tired. I'm wired. I think my brain is
going to explode.

Walk outside for a breath of fresh air. The
wind hits me like a tidal wave. Did you see
that? Did you see that wind blowing?
Another joins me outside. He's as ugly as sin.
He's a slob, a pig. He tries to hit on me. He'll
Succeed when pigs fly and cows dance.

Then I see him. He's so hot, he's strong as an
ox. He can run like being shot from a gun, like a bullet.
This is it, he's the one. WRONG. Out she walks, the
stallion. Two-faced back-stabbing witch. The words
he says cut me like a knife, taking a little piece
of my heart.

Nothing is sweeter than a
kiss from Derek Jeter.

I go back to the room. It looks like a tornado
hit it. I can hear a pin drop.

She's as pretty as a picture. She walks with her head
in the clouds, yet with her feet planted firmly on the
ground. We used to be like two peas in a pod. She's a cow.
Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. Day has ended.
I look out my window.

Red in the dawning, sailors take warning;
Red at night, sailors delight.

Now I lay me down to sleep, and pray the Lord my
soul to keep. I'm much too young to feel this damn old.

Star light, Star bright,
The first star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have this wish I wish tonight.

10/14/96

Musing on an Early Spring Day

Muse on high, hear my prayer.
On this day designed by the Olympians
to reassure we mortals that they
care, let me not fail them
in my praise.

Mighty Zeus held his
thunderous bolts in check.
The fresh breeze purges the stale
air from the hearth, Hera's realm.
Phoebus Apollo has set his chariot high
in the heavens. It has been hidden lately.
The wise man soaks in the day as
Pallas Athene would wish.
Lovers are again in love thanks to
Aphrodite and her impish offspring, Eros.

Muse, please inspire me to accurately
portray this most blessed day. A
Spring afternoon such as this returns
meaning to the frozen hearts of the
cold season. The picturesque clouds in
a glassy blue sky: such a blue
was mixed specially by the high ones
to be used on such a day as this
and the buoyant clouds received
a breath of life from Aeolus to
transport them through the perfect sky.

A child of Zeus that ignores such a day
ignores the Gods. They that appreciate
such a gift receive the Gods' blessing
and participate in a most meaningful
worship.