Acknowledgements.

I am concubine to the proper
No longer even entertaining the idea
Of expenditure into games that serve to destruct
And it is evangelical to perch and preach within
Growing sickly by the hour in my refuge towards- Virtue.
I don't have even the will to transcribe
All the eloquence of treasured energy
For it seems in days of old, such action proved little
By way of honoring the heart and not the hole.
I am aware now of so many faults
Why now do I wish to abandon my kindness?
I loved so much in weakened states,
Thinking that to tear down rough exteriors
I would earn their reverent favor...
But there was none to be found.
It did not exist, in laying waste to preservation
I gave away my own fortitude
In the now I flail like a pathetic waif
Begging back the strong arm that once suited me:
Muscles that once swore to protect
All that the child in me held dear.
When I was that young,
I learned too early about the slow ache of resistance
Ever wishing under constant duress,
For self-esteem to conquer sensitivity.
This Winter coat is thickening
Reinforcing bitter chill
Bowing back into the sinews,
That leak from darkened corners.
No sense in shying away from dark matter
For t'is irreverent abuse that's sure to follow
Ignorance has nevermore meant bliss
To swill from  that lurid barrel is the folly of the lost.
I am lost no longer in the contemplation of December
Fully aware and tilted forward, into my devastation
I am head-on into the traffic
Fucking off the tepid warnings that have remained quiet
Destined never to solve equations that stood by
Oblivious to the worry, the intention, the imbalance.
I've weakened in absorbing this repetitious, sucker-punched inertia
Might as well pull that last Ace
Put it to good use-
Tomorrow comes quickly
And I am now the wiser.

Twist

The words move forward but no sound
They gel in their silence, protected.
I am two parts transfixed in my attendance-
One pink-hued and slathered in love for such earned patience
The other- drained of the employ of hindsight
Desiring above all to crack the whip of disgust-
.5: unarmored and unafraid, .5: protected in reasoning
But fuck that protection, fear is the reason for its being
I want to fuck off all fear
Fuck it away into nothingness,
Into a forever that I shall never see again
As its motive never once moved beyond that of victimizing.
I want to strap on the boots of a stranger
Walk away from this life and into his foreign tongue
Translating nothing to comprehend naught.
What do I care of coalescing at this point?
Having earned the simple tools it takes to pry authenticity away from arrogance
I care less for being heard than I do to hear myself
I crave equity away from all this noise
...and the company of a faceless trust
A friend who never sought the need to prove his worth
For time would see to it, that his quiet sound be heard above all.
...and it is, today and all the days to follow.
Fuck the perfunctory notions of what time has taught
For that time has been swindled by the teaching of lambs.
I've been bathed in enough norms and mores of others
Tainted from before time had value, to an infant knowing nothing.
Tonight is before me, and the dark is my tableau
I am a hundred years older in these evenings
With even the wrinkles to soften wise smiles
 I am already aware of tomorrow and her lachrymose test
 As each day ages my mind adjusts, maturing in kindness
Forgiving the wasted minutes of the day
Feeling old but with less acuity in the ache of the aged
For the Sage is my Shepard and I shall not want...
Flesh dries like the desert and the more I am aware of the perspiring twist
The easier it becomes to relent upon the relentless
Bidding a hefty 'adieu' to the wasted wetness that never left my side.

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Boast.

The recipe is many, too few the reasons to remain still
There is what I know, what I've done, and where I've gone.
That mixture I crafted, is subcutaneous now.
Sheer joy to have thrown a smooth pebble into such an abyss
And here, now... feel the ripples vibrating through me.
I left my skin there, breaking the silence between the indifference and my need.
Those grounds knew, steps touched down with feeling,
Soft was that pledge that filtered down from my mind
Passing down through my chest, my core pumped a keen beat
And the smooth relax imbued my dense existence.
I billowed down further, taking in with my eyes, a land that said, 'Yes'
I chose carefully during that time, chords that would articulate
The wise flow of the wind, that Southwest hue is aged-
Perfect in every single way I could've imagined.
Perfect enough to demand a vibrant atelier, active at all times;
Alive, organic, implicitly serene, the mental pill that never expires.
There is perspiration now, dripped inward, moisture building inside
Within the delicate, confident trust that I have placed upon my senses.
To return. To that place. To that hour. To that moment when my mind became one...
No single soul to touch down in that ecstasy, where hands whisper secrets to be carried away
On winds that blow far, aromatic and mist-filled, returning every Summer
The detailed conscience takes leave, walking away from all I held in vain
The monsoon at noon promised me purpose, placing a native diary into my weary palm.
Where I wrote all I should, to be free of clutter, smog and black smoke.
Warm pavement, wet and barefoot. Russian sage. There was music in the clouds
That welcomed me further, begging of company that understood its wordless caress.
I am changed for the better, from a time when in a broken state- reasoning remained.
The intuition that lie dormant when my way had to be earned, pumped softly, quietly,
Just enough to entice my need for continued liberty to float near, as an incandescent muse.

The wind will boast if you rise to its challenge
Freedom is a perspective that will lock itself away
If autonomy is abused.

Time has leapt me forward, into a new day and away from those woods
Away from a time that taught me of inner being, catering to gentility and coveting quiet strength.
My path is new: different, sturdy. Built and with intention, motives: well-oiled and ready
I am direct and multitudinous in the management of my thoughts, duty pioneering the hour
Locked away safely is that time that craves rest, hibernating and recovering
Wisdom, the effective masseuse employed to endanger nothing about the light that has been widening

Age adds color, depth, character. White hair, longer evenings, deeper dreams
Life is precious and to remain provocative to this energy of thought
Challenge must be taunting and goading our nerve.
I study everything I ponder, I examine time-
In earnest pursuit of self-discovery
Through words, sound, and quiver
For a bow is gentle, strong
This one last arrow is owned-
To myself, to my life,
Without burden

Free.



 

Olde...

Truth, long dead, yet- still living
I was once Cautious but Carefree
I understood the rush and promise
That all I now touch will burn me.
I walked towards and direct,
Angling the vessel of my soul
In unmistakable aim- to Him,
That wild heart of blatant contentment
He, the man whose gloves fought hard
To teach and relax in love,
All along with, the intent of Forever.

We kissed and soon, made 'whole' became memory
Delighted in heat and speeds of no limit
Travelling infinitely outward-
Fearing never- that shadow of 'beware'.
Introspection relieves my sorrow tonight
A time locked away still lives
He in I and I in Him... Though immaterial to touch
His unequivocal essence imbues my reflection
Visiting again, the expansion of my lungs
To provide eager proof that yes- Yes!
We 'Were' once, and ever again shall 'Be'
Alive in the making of new.

In rain or warm shower, fountainhead poured
Onto, down and throughout
The fluidity of how we loved- perfected.
In the daring of yesterday, my future was written
Fertilization took hold and severed that tryst
But- being careful to mark the heart with its brand
He tore away softly, in his wildest, angst-filled mess
And here now, tonight... so many years passed
And a pause once more for reflection
That whole once lost and transformed
Into two and then three and now this newest interpretation,
This organism of- Forever...

Until that time when again, without even the use of flesh
Palm to palm will again reside in a mixture
Of energies that once met-
Could and never would,
Allow themselves the right to forget.
This Modern heart is of Olde
From a time not lived, yet familiar just the same
Tongue's traipse into each other,
Tasting more than breath, earning, more importantly:
The flavor of 'rare' and within ardent promise
To again find time, to walk ahead without denial
And into, once more- what may be...

Nurture...

I am distilled in the night air, removed from that place
Where once the stars were within plucking distance, and
My naked back, delighted in the tickle and familiarity of trust
I must get back to that plateau, where earthly delight was mute
And the cacophony of time evaporated, crippled in its meaning.

Stolen away, that warm whisper of midnight,
When the drumming of all exoteric murmur died down
The brunt of day holds noise, noise too true to insignificance that-
Night be employed to provide the perfect respite for all ache at high noon.
The relentless pursuit of the profligation of individualism, banished

The unhrehearsed composition that floats in weightless freedom
Daunts the mic of materialism, foreshadowing monotony and all things that bore
Unrestrained and wild, concurrent with the pollination of feeling and idea
I find greatest pleasure in pure thought, stripped of influence and flowing
Into, around and throughout, all cells and fiber of being.

There is method to every madness, no matter how silent or small
I am acutely aware; the nutrition of my reality buried no longer,
Unearthed and unruffled, goose down thrown out and away
Falling softly at random, to the tune of delicate sonnets
That amble from lips, long-kissed.

Contiguous...

Quibbling with the wind,

My invisible Muse gives no reason for why I should halt here,

Halt and take refuge from the onslaught of time.

He is warm above my skin,

Though touch is yet to be made a memory.

Thrown deep into the cavern of my existence,

The sound of him rests, for he lives within me now-

Echoing in brooding companionship.
 

We are One, on levels that know no finite depth

Escalating ever upward toward that interplanetary ride...

Coalescing on this path, roaming has predicated purpose

Even throughout all transitional breathing, we continue to climb

Aching for the candor in our contiguous union,

For therein lies, all fruit from past labor

A future melded, multitudinous-

Sublime.

Prick

I'm tipped in, pouring
This slow emptying is gratified
Obligatory by choice
Given- in angst, purity, all.
Heated needle of finite rule
Poked and praying-
For this, to never end.

Running...

...and through the window, I moved
Reflected too, was the shadow you cast.
I slid that clear blue stone, slowly over
This vacant finger
Wondering to myself-
How much longer before the reflecting animates another...
The vacuum is ever-widening, within which
Voices cease whisper, too fast they pass through the night
Lunging into more dark
'Catch me...'

Blind in the diffusion of light
Slabs of barren surface
Beating like a human heart.
What system can save
The economy of love...
Such rhetoric conceives only boredom
Then too, a shot of adrenaline
Familiarity sliced through from behind.
An old friend comes to steal my confusion,
Tis a good thing- to bask in that heavy octave.

Refrain begets reprieve
I chew gum to silence idle chatter
That star that looms, some 19 years running,
Awaits the day for the vortex to hit:
Upward, aspiring into forever
No textile of man to accompany this bliss
The windy feel of long hair
Blowing in dark mist
That time to come- never ages
So too, as skin fades and eyes twinkle brightly
Wisdom gives birth.

For one last time-
Light enters energy,
...and through that thick pillow of achievement
A locking 'click' resounds.
Smoke issues freely, in reverence
Grey plumes float weightless
This one last quest, completed
As opposing forces co-join
Set free by what they've come to know
As Whole.


 

Jessica Tehan: He’d give us fictitious names that came from out of nowhere and it would be up to my three siblings and I to design whatever we thought this ‘thing’ might look like

Jessica Tehan: He’d give us fictitious names that came from out of nowhere and it would be up to my three siblings and I to design whatever we thought this ‘thing’ might look like

-Returned

As the deep and moody night fell into me
All memory was hushed to a catacomb
Made new once more, through the darkened hour
Nouveau interest came over me and for the first time,
Art became song; slow, natural, methodical. I listen & long for more
Listened to the quiet wind that followed a soft path over my shoulders
Resting slightly for a seconds pause near that place where a heart still murmured.
Soon, a sweet serenade came into focus and with eyes closed
My fingers once more, found their way into the night; to a new medium, a new cause.

Into the room my fingerprints float and
Through minuscule motion, grand movement is heard
Tickling that curiosity of how without sight so much color is seen
Through sound and scent alone, my body hears foreign tongue's
Complexities that somehow, now, gain confidence through comprehension
Aligned with perfect interpretation, I feel further into this indigo moment;
Seeking nothing, laid open to the night as a pupil without conditioning.
Soon, the pride of physical prowess is revealed; silent characters come alive

Muscles toiling daily whose purpose is to remain buried
Waltz forward in delicate haste, to be granted impulsive audience is divine
As though to smoke from their heated release, tendons too lack pretense
There is time here for all to grasp everything needed, reinvention is at hand
Balance and Alignment will now be the new plots on this map of One;
Foremost and forthwith, the saturation of all senses will be granted
Living in this moment has been a virtuous journey, earned through difficulty
Achievement has been studied and made note of, with the direct intention of 'Now'.

Bathing in cool night air has cleansed my rusted articulation, pure privacy; Trust.
For who is there to doubt that these needs exist or hold meaning?
Thoughts of the like are barren and for good cause; extinction finds its way to uselessness.
Thrown long over the shoulder of never looking back, I disengage those possibilities
The energy of who I am was born alone and into that concept I'll need no further coercion
Swelling towards that climactic outcome is a glory all my own to bask in
Given due is, after all, the softest wish of any suppressed pleasure that obeys restrict ordinance.
And I do, O how I do obey.

The lost moments of every day are catalogued and into that strongly bound manifest, they wait.
There are days for the taking when reluctance even dies down...
To be heard is the involuntary wish of that cosmos that lie within
Snuffed, hushed & beaten away is the desperate bitch of a housewife, to my own rampant dedication
Too loyal will some day, gratify the diamond forming in every rough.
Blackest coal strips away itself to reveal what has been earned under duress and pristine loyalty.
Karmic laws indeed have their own machinations to uphold, that omnipotence is untouchable
And when that time comes for lone wolves to roam free, the howl will come from within.

The only duty from that point on, will be to run on soft paws made sturdy
Through earned respect and trust.

Again, eyes closed, this foreplay of thought bristles under the cool new morning
For night has fallen away once more but not without gifting its essence;
Through lucid tutoring, the active mind made to wander of its own accord, grows anxious
Dreaming throughout the waking day has opened the consequence of how best to approach intention
I take the seed of toil & time and today begins a new internship; to follow through in dual purpose.
There will come a time when that howl is heard, the wild in me awakened once more
Distant lands with distinct purpose will become the ground I tread upon
Seeking nothing but the day ahead and the feeding of all five senses with my sensitivity- returned.

Annihilate

We are estranged; Myself and I
Demagnetized compass with little effort for anything
My ears have been hushed
Eyes, blinded
Mouth, strapped shut
Collectively, my senses march-
In revolt of You.
And yet, you've done nothing;
Which is worse?
Nothing to prevent?
Nothing to stop?
Well, know when to say when
The 'You' in each case-
Is Me
The 'I' I loathe to connect with;
To assert and nod in favor (or out)
Of anything.
There is nonsense one either side of the lines,
Fuck what's in between.
Dissecting language holds no answers
Only creative ways to stamp the envelope
That I continually mail out, with intent to
Return.
It is, as always and after all-
Addressed to me.
Pretending the destination is unknown;
The intent holds a clause
Asterisk beware
For here within my mind frame,
You hold indefinite employment.
Read, read away
But at your own risk.
This disease is a divisive one
I mock and call my own-
Out of hiding and once remittance gains value,
A foot to the face;
My 'literal limberness' has no shame
An adjective I caress
As when it's time for paining my faults,
I am good, oh so good.
Plagiarism knows nothing on these essay's
They are akin to all my own
Granting pristine description as an ode in 'attempt'
Yes, yes, I attempt to define
Through grotesque measure
How I want to grab and annihilate
All that cripples me.
For you see,
Only within acknowledgement will I truly grasp the concept
Of how to understand and then negate
All that ails me.

3.14

Angled elsewhere
Flighty discrepancies dance
Thinner and thinner
A tear is now inevitable.
The underbelly of all I've protected is
Compromised.
Touched, so much touched; paper fingers...
Leading nowhere.
Spinal cords writhing in panic
Hoping to bend in time to make contact
With the 'nothing' that lies gently just out of reach.
Smooth red sinew, unbroken lines;
Trust.

Enough of questions that seek answers
There is no rhythmic union to be found
Only more assumptions of what may come,
Of yesterday, tomorrow and three Summers from my 40th.
What purpose can be felt in such dealings?
The heart pumps for today
Blood flows through each articulated moment
Indifferent to this mind
Could these patterns be seen more properly
In inappropriate light?
Would then the meaning of these days, suffice?

This is madness, to question the questions.
Or is it? How many levels must be travelled
In the revelation of who we may be?
I am touching what my mind feels
Drawing what hands wish to mold.
Calculation of felt emotions turn to amatorial bliss
Like math, equations become algebraic.
Is there relevance in the circumference of my needs,
Divided by Pi?

Broke(n)

Away, I shift away and outwards
Away from my crutch
I untie all tethers, lunging upwards
Looking clearly into this unfocused focal
Damaging forever,
The will to travel back.

This is not one night off,
This is the now and never
The irrevocable divergence of 'enough'
Landing nowhere but here
In a column of trust that I built
Forever ago-
When the world was yet young.

A stumbled path of misshapen steps
Leading forward, towards my earned history
Debacle's and the deliquescing of humid concerns
I melt along with those well worn shoes
Heels of which are grated bare-
Raw enough,
...to my liking.

Bitten in a memory,
Twine tied vociferously, layers of memory protrude
This is a gastric bypass of yesteryear's ingestion
Looking to blow without neglected periphery's being effected.
I loathe the acknowledgements
Cathartic though they be,
Progression in aggression is blatantly effective.

The boxing gloves are a part of me now
I've been wearing them since birth.
In the clearing I wish to see a new fighter
Carrying only one reminder;
These scars were earned and loved
For had there been an absence of action-
I'd of earned nothing but complacency,
A fate too poor for even the pauper.

...lining.

Slipped in through a weakened spot in the lining
The slow queue of all that gathers, grows timid in its impatience.

Trek-in, Trek-out.

Simplicity is a fuckin' field mine
Who says perception is deluded?
Mind frame has long been spoilt
That ragin' brat of indecision wails on
Burrowing into the night
Slobber-driven and weak.
Obliterate, penetrate, ameliorate
I must short-circuit the thousand ears I have grown
Apply deafness to the squeaky wheels of ignorance
They seek to delay and derail even the minuscule
My crippled progress means nothing now,
Too hog-tied in my own coagulated waste.

..and I crave normal...
Though the definition of which lies dormant to my sense
A knowledge I'd die painfully to gain
Restricted still by my own indifference.
I am... nonsense.
I am a stagnating fuck-up of consequences
Drivelling in the perfection of all that I fucked-off.

Until the mood swings-
Where I am yet again, no longer the victim to be tied,
But the benevolent purveyor of secrets
That long to be whispered and learned...

Courage.

Faith-

I'm on my way.

...that I'm not.

I am vinegar and water.
Distilled.
An exotic windowpane with domestic reflection.
They raised me this way, to think without color
The color of my own skin.
Brilliant.
Forced prejudice meant nothing
I learned all I needed
In everything they didn't say.
The hue of the morning is light
My primary utterance- laughter
A gift comes along without warning
The reception of which, guarantee's value.
I smile in my new born day
Thankful for all I don't see
And yes, even for what I have not yet felt-
Touched, or taken.
Where there is mystery, there is love
Those secrets yet revealed hold a 'yes'
To every misunderstood notion that I am
Someone that I'm not.
Confusion thrusts those particles up
From the floor, my countenance hastens
Anchored in by my responsibilities
That ripcord of safety- secure.
For the 'second guessing' comes in handy,
You see.

I am a dual-action pistol,
Firing twice to get the job done
Failing now would blister my landing, and if
I am to fall, I will fall softly
Onto a plateau of care built through trust.
Trust that while walking through this life
I chose wisely when it came to the banter of my brain
That within these virtual hugs
There grows respect and reverence
For all we have yet to discover.

This is no Dress Rehearsal.

Nervous thoughts, nervous fingers
There is caffeine in my mind.
I am weary from self-consolation
Apparently, it's working less
Soon, inadequacies will swallow me whole.
Swallow me hole. Hole. Holed.
Beaten.
Who is hearing this soliloquy
This pantomime of failure is a joke
I wear no make-up while performing,
But clearly the costume is transparent
I am the only theme that moans.
Thematic despondency-disgusting.

Unspoiled.

Imbued, candlelit text
Sharpening fervor, the darker the night
I comb away the tangle of the day
Smooth potential now revealed.
My pen is weightless, fueled by a flow
That ages each day as I do.
Within the sonnet there is a song and
Two words carry the meaning of many
Multitudinous insinuation as the eyes roam East.

Unblemished scroll unfolding neath malleable script
Naked eyelashes flutter as vision is revered;
That lense holds understanding that need not speak
And wouldn't, if not the ear demand its own due.
There is perfection in uncorrected dictation
I want to ease into the meaning of thoughts that
Must be read and ingested by virtue of true arrival
Authenticity has one opportunity to present itself

I will be docent to this time; truthful in context
Meaning will metamorphosize with mood,
May it remain protected by the unwavering ideal
That, 'To edit is to spoil'...

Craving.

Undertone is more a whisper than a scent
Warm into the quiet night, ears...cuddling
Sound vibrating softly, delivery need no immunity
Here in the cushion of Privacy, this world bears no threat.
Impugnity from all noise, this quiet is my craving
My solitude giving birth to new light.

...without leverage...

There is mystery that lives within memories, they teach us to develop keener senses
To explore soft meanderings down pathways that branched off and away from all we never knew
What more in life can we say has pleasured us beyond the marriage of body & soul?
It is within ourselves that the finest match be made; to take what we have known into refinement.

I clambor in thought, freed from yesterday
In time I fell away from such deeply-rooted attachment
To linger in the arms of memory must be done in slight moderation
I grow weak with the faint reminders of aged caress.

There was a time when 'wild' made the most sense
When the fusion of who we were demanded we become Generals to the army of our bodies
A new machine in my youth, strong in my motion,
Yet lacking in wisdom; of course, that is the very Nature of the Beast.

Think not to assume that in wandering away from such reality, you'd be remiss
For understanding who we were within the birth of 'responsibility' we are akin to many things
I see my shadowed actions from that time and long to console my own haste
Lift free from that past, all the dreaded hope I followed, kissing still- the hope for others.

In twenty years time I have developed keen sense to memory and the well-oiled muscle of wisdom
On the brink of 40, I find rapture in everything that eludes me
For I have come to understand a new beast, the nature of which is ever-so-slight and yet-
Yields power unlike any other...

Tomorrow is a vague mystery, I rest the night prior in the event I may earn its subtle awareness.
I am aging in a way that I find love among my own humanity and rest within that freedom
Contained are the many voices of want & need, aching to be relieved within their confinement-
They stand tall without tilt; virile and 'conditioned'.

I am kept at bay for many damn good reasons, responsibility at the forefront.
I played hard in my beginning, well aware that actions invoke many-layered consequences.
I'd give nothing to trade my time already spent, for the visceral memories that yet excite & ejaculate
Reverberating for years on end; in infamy, love and quiet consolation.

It is that very yesterday, filled with buxom love and unrelenting forces
That granted me the tools to inhale and discover every elusive answer to be milked
From tissue that bowed and stretched and even, ever-balked without tearing.
I have conformed to all range of emotion and fell back in line with the need to continue, unbroken.

Uncertainty; archaic and unwanted. I take the hand of all I am yet to encounter
Firm, with a grip that I am willing to toil to great length to gain control of, for I have had my fun
Youth was meant to be squandered, exhausted, enraptured and even abused...
Under the moon of immaturity, we gained our hindsight; the very 'trial & error' we now wield.

I march forward with undetectable footsteps, elusive as the honeybee's wish to go uninterrupted
The pollination of my own dreams shall reveal themselves when articulation seeks a presence; Known.
The Cosmos may demand in its own voluminous understanding, that all 'quality' coasts
Relaxed in its own omniscience.

I am but a laborer of my own understanding, to be thrown askew of that concept-
Detrimental. I write to reiterate to myself, all that I understand and on a daily basis- metamorphosis
Rolling with the punches has never been made more easy than to give slack where it is due.
Understanding is transient in its meaning, conforming to that alone? The very point in life.

Falling victim to the beguilement of our own arrogance and ego is a foolish face-plant
We are older now and though the lustre of years has conditioned us to 'know better'
'Best ye have it within ye, to remain childlike in the affliction of love'
For to love when love burns brightest is to also roam free from the fear of all that ends.

Love without risk is pointless... A dam without leverage seeks nothing
And so it remains futile... weightless... dead.
I wish to come alive in my own understanding; and so I shall
Set free from all boundary that once held meaning and now- holds nothing.

Gentle is the wind that floats about naked shoulders, aware of its unclothed state and still smiling
Free from the tyranny of society and the break from all that that implies...

I

There is a spilling of ink in every thought, unnoticed.
If I don't give myself due, what is the use of understanding?

Neglect is a tissue made for tears;
One that floats dry, devoid of purpose

Moisture was meant to milk itself-
...and so, I allow it.

Lessons Learned.

There is a smooth inscription living alongside hindsight
Within the trance of foolishness, will it often go unnoticed
The backlog of so many moments before, is weighed down significantly
By superficial dilemma; all of which lie dormant, to be risen only if-
The psyche shall see it fit to remind us of past folly.

In a Time...

What is the motivation behind meaning...?
What can be said of thoughts that go unheard?
The naked eye is unabashed in its own free reigning field
Left to nothing but the scent of it's own desires,
Floribunda- unknown to man.

Rapture is a formidable noun when one defines without boundary,
The length of their own needs.
Not in tune with what may be out there, in the great wide open of-
The Human Race.
But instead, what we are made of; as defined by what it is we think we need.

Strip the carcass of feeling and we are left dead
Devoid of the purest form of magic known to man- Touch.
The warmed hand of care can turn a hardwood surface into cooled lava
Melting slowly, 'neath limbs that lack the foresight to wait until proper 'means' arrive
The admiration of 'impulse' grows in value, along with every grey hair that I call my own.

To explore my thoughts without relief, I challenge years of self-made taste
Refined in the ache of escalating energy that seeks exit, contained further by the absence of action.
I choose to challenge those decades past; where my musing granted respite from the body's voice
When I was comfortable to wallow in lust without defining which flavors triggered what
Causing habit-forming inclinations that once the vibrating muscles relaxed, woe befell me.

There is yet a lifetime to be lived now that age has defined with conviction, what truly consoles
I seek 'myself' to satisfy a heart that beats in moderation now, years after calming storms of love
A tempest I once knew has left his mark; indelible. To which I pay continual homage
I took a trade from his wrath, gaining valuable ground with every step I walked, away from his heat.
No matter how far or away from this life he has flown, he yet lives within me, and I in him.

I need no more than the prudent wish to remain open to life; to live with organs that prosper
In health I travel, veins flowing with equal force to places where mature feeling lie in wait
There is no guarantee of tomorrow, held in yesterdays earned behaviour,
There is only 'now', a place where I can coast in comfort, safe within my own resolve.
...and yet, for all my contemplation... I am aware.

Aware that 'round every bend there lives tomorrow; a window protected by insight
To see what lies before me and feel capable to lift and push, up-up and away
Into the day that wants 'life' with each moment, up further into a night-
That loathes the lonely but prevails in spite of its own distance
The stars create friction with my heart and again- I am alive within my own purpose.

I am set free in my own maturity, a lifestyle earned through many years of trial and error
Vindicated by the ever-constant indulgence of exactly when to know what mood is appropriate
In a time like- Now.

...

Organic accumulation builds between us.
The spontaneity of our rapport gives birth to legions of
Unspoken sentences, perfervid and pure.

Popsicle

Slowly fallen away, encased still to thicker degrees
Warmed by latest events, sense of self is refining
I need the gentle tapping on my hide-
It sets free those jailed assumptions that lurk
Seeking to fuck me.

Shoulders that strain beneath stoic indifference
I know the substrates that fall in line-
Layer after layer of invisible intrusion
The gossip of my fear-bound willingness is
Loud & overbearing...

I want to kill hesitation
I want to suffocate reservation
I wish to drown limitation
and divorce in solemn commitment-
The woe of the 'judged'.

Knotted veins continually choke
There is purpose in all that past offense
The balancing out of yesteryear will penetrate my tendons
My thickened skin- elasticized
Ready for ALL, 'wear & tear'.

I am yesterday: once wept and forgiven
Though the memory I hold now vibrates in freed relief
I am today too, standing tall in sporadic confidence
High on the prospects of the wish to 'move on'
Broken: behind me, repaired in understanding.

I am tomorrow, filled with promise; North & ever searching
I have sterilized all hidden paths that long to ensnare my progress
For after all, the 'sense of self' can be that rusty blade, craving to poison
My weakness is a part of me, understood and given due
Learned in detail, four decades worth of study

I am alive in the Now, knee-deep in my psyche
Examining the simple details of the beauty in life
The smile of my child, a curly ponytail, and
The profound happiness of a Popsicle in the Summertime
Soft & easy, warm, continual...

'Drawn Bow...'

I am whirling amidst the rumble of mainstream trivialties
Cooing for a lateral break.
Momentum building in every bended elbow,
Each tendon that reaches for stretch, clinging to 'further'.
A cumulus mass of finite boundaries, seeking to split fissures that lie hidden
Amidst the break of circumstance, there awaits exotic tangibles.

Canines become fangs within that blessed assumption of 'What if...'
Eyebrows that arch back like a drawn bow, furthermost tension taken
Looking to redeem all stagnating, muscular ache.
I long to be taken back to the birth of my carnal awakening
Peeled to the bone, when marrow became one with my senses
...and 'trusting myself' was alone- my greatest ally.

My needs are compact, stored away, at bay... contained.
I coddle their existence and contemplate greatness
The idea that collaborating with another may free me from the oblivion of my loneliness-
Is horse-shit.
What I need to do is snip my own reticent cables
That leave me bound to insignificant ideals.

Set sail on this ocean of self; a new quest revealed
Tickling fancies that flow freely, without the concept of 'undeserved'.
I am well deserved of all I tow within my wake these days,
Having paid the dues of thousand painful yesterdays, my heart remains true-
Resilient, intensified, grown stronger in length and breadth

...and...

Evermore stout in its will to love.

Mania

For this is mania; damn near all of it
The dreaded 'inundated'
Flooded my all with everything.
I need to breathe.
Relax.
Saunter a bit, perhaps in nakedness
Though doing so guarantee's a halt- by default
I go no further than un-chemically able;
I've not signed up for any pills
The bare body will remain shaded
From all forms of perception and yet-
Benefit still finds me.

In a threadless state I wander
Muscles mosey in freedom
They are programmed to recognize
The wind dancing over pores
The farthest reaches of body that lie coveted
They too feel the fresh air
As blood there turns to wax, melted
Moving slowly...in the heat of the day.
Sun warmed skin basking-
On a plateau filled with alone time.
This is my daydream, my
Perfection.

In thought I relinquish all agony
The destitution of the senses,
That which leaves my body feeling curt-
Pissed, neglected.
I am on a bullet train
A bastard of a coal-burning ego trip.
Mute am I, to the sensitivities from so long ago.
I slap reminiscence- face first
Replacing all melancholia with remorse
If I wish to bask in that daydream,
I must first lay waste to all needs
For within my own wants
They are secular and lack reward.

When I have sufficed my last resource
Burgeoning every last promise with delivery-
I will slink away from this chasm of the curtailed
Re-moistening every last crumb that held flavor
And break free of horse-blinding focus.
I will yet again play, when the dues have been paid
For in my procreation I find the greatest joy;
To release my goals by the dozen,
To be made stronger and more acute in aim
To this, I pay homage with the only currency
Worth a damn;
Time.
Time is, after all- of the essence...
...and so I move on.