Ghost II

Warmly, we maneuver

You the guide

Testing connectivity

Between what is mine,

And what is held.

Fragile nostalgia

Examined with care

Reconciling notions

Too acute to ignore

The key is here, somewhere

Says the ghost of You.

As patterns change

The venue conforms

Fading, yet familiar

Thoughts read, as eyes see

A panorama of bloodlines

Distracted by intimacies

...and layered meaning

Screen fades in earnest

Words form on silent tongues

The Dreamer takes control.

Says the ghost of You

Nightmind, coddles 

Pursuant to clues given

Privacy enjoys a blind stage

Secondary characters, roam

Their labels, benign

Confusion. Trust. Intrigue.

Errant dreamers take flight

Blurred edging blots boundary

Launched into riddles, lost

Anchor down now, to your guide

Says the Ghost in You.

Ghost

Ghost

You,

The Ghost in my dream

Taking up space

In mental, liminal halls

Whispering,

Sharing, encouraging consideration.

You,

The Ghost and your closeness

Distracting the intention of your point

To point out similarities

While hovering by…

Intentional, close, subliminal.

You,

The Ghost in the room

Parked at my shoulder and warmly,

Associating existence with history

While sweeter notions lie

Felt, known, needed.

Ghost,

The vapor of You in a memory, brings

A deluge of melancholy

To seek among antiques

A token of time

Symbolic, sweet, serene.

Ghost,

The song of You need be sung

In a mind at rest, in a bed at best

To closely tune into the vibration of You.

A hum in the darkness

To the tune of two.

Savagery

Rumble of bullshit

Electrocuting nerves, 

This is,

A call,

To action. 

Approached by ill intent

The wave of bluffing does its best

To ensnare me. Fucking gall.

The hornets' nest within me

Is damn near at capacity

To cite and summon ferociousness

To back my best intentions. 

I am as ready as I will ever be

To take on the blasphemy I face. 

Tested again

For worth, for salt, 

For savagery. 

I crouch and store muscle

For all that lies ahead. 

Any Kind

Crawl, scoot, saunter by any means

Get there. Getting there. 

To get, to arrive, to be

In the presence of

Action. 

The work, the power, the gush of effort 

Tipping into the ideas 

That have skimmed and touched down

All too often, 

Without mark of any kind. 

The work, waits. 

The action adheres 

The evidence salutes the Master 

For the time spent, 

Unwinding. 

Creating, carving, caring

Allowing independence

To breathe life into inklings 

Of any kind. 

SPIT

 "Light me up again..."

Powered. Pressed. Heavy. 

Nocturnal contrast

Of night, and white sheets. 

Pushed, 

Internally, your words

Traveling throughout. 

Wreaking havoc between my

Tendons and skin

Looking to be pushed out

By way of You. 

Hoisted to a spit

And set to burn at a slow roast

For coveting the idea, 

Of You. 

Blood boiled,

Night boom 

Switched to perform

Solo.

Balmy day, no recompense 

From the unslept night.

The grind of restraint wears down layers

Chewing away epidermis.

These tools enacted 

Stand in defense of the unspoken spoil 

Drifting without deadlines

To an X on the map of Never Reached. 

Soot

I Am 

Hunting to improve

Methodology. 

Digging into philosophy

Studying what it is that I trade

For my time, 

And how I feel and assign

Meaning. 

Ghosted. 

Words tacked down yesterday

Blown. 

This, a known pattern. 

He. 

Touched down, and

For a moment, pumped me enough

To strangle inactivity

And wake sleeping lions from their

Comatose dens.

How many more years will pass

Until the imagined inhalation

Turns to empty soot?

At 60, the action, I imagine, reaches delirium. 

The brakes won't matter, 

There'll be nothing to pump. 

Delirium without recourse 

Is a maggot ridden steak

Rippled with the rotting promise

Of loss. 

Boise

Pen up

Dropped.

Pen held, 

 ...down. 

Words lost 

Months on months on end

Then You. 

Pen up, mind drawn. 

Layers, ripped 

Decay, chipped

You

Blasting me

Blaring me

Loading my barrel. 

You. 

Potency, regaled to all senses

A decade deep

Our Love, entrepreneurial 

Ever young, ever fervent, ever engaged

It is the absence of our skins 

That stay put the sins

Preserving the mint

Of when first, We were 'coined'.

Suffice

 We renovate what we can

If we're able. Often, it's the case, that we learn

Later, what we've done to who we are

And then a sturdy reprimand is in order.

I've sifted through boxes of stored history

Seeking ways to thin inventory

Finding old pieces of paper that tell sad tales 

That sound so similar

To my

Today. 

I want to burn those words... and

Eradicate the proof

That in ten years time

The caged heart has remained

Brutally, the same. 

It's time for growth

Outward. Inward. All around. 

To suffuse my needs into the effort needed

That will yield something warmer

Than my own two hands. 

Grace

 You died 

And the traumatic attachment

Of your death, 

Tore me in two. 

You, and what you must've been through

I still wish to grant you reprieve

From every wrongdoing dealt. 

Life does not allow for what is not

Meant to be. 

And you were meant to be

In the exact design of all you were

And all you serve in memory. 

Whatever you liked,

Deserved your amiable affections 

Your keen assertions 

Accepted. 

There exists a line

Between the action, and

The motive 

Of you.

For all your unspoken reasoning 

Brutal wisdoms flowed. 

I took your word, 

Your look, 

Your unwavering language

Took them all to heart, 

And ate their meaning

In the hope that I would better understand

And deserve your trust. 

The inhalation of my sensitivity

Cooked your nerves

My comprehension levels took a while

To catch up with deeper understandings. 

And in your ever-after

There is no flower I would  not pick

Or pilgrimage after

To lay in honor

At the altar of all you were

And Are. 

Privileged to have come

From 

You.

This Day

 Twisted streams of consciousness

Pecking at me now

The low tapping begun a decade ago

Marks its permanence

With a pronouncement of this day. 

And what of the next, forgetful distracting 

Doing enough to sustain this blunt erosion

Routing frustrations into elsewhere, 

Wherever elsewhere may be. 

Cold walls emphasize their berated presence

They go nowhere, without instruction

And instruction has instructed them to stay, 

Despite the chilly fucked metaphors they bring. 

Whatever these means employ

However they do to see fit these needs

To bang with impunity the need to starve on

The end and processed result is

Putrid.

Bleak outlines, revisit themselves

To look into grayed lavender

That once stood tall in warmth

Accepting and openly deserving

The right to touch and be touched. 

Estranged am I, to who my body became

A dilapidated vessel of comfort, 

Unused, unkempt, and

Denied. 

Shared

 " ... how they seem. "

Fog of night, descending

The drawl of slumber, creeping nearby

Emotional wreckage, repaired quietly

Succinctly, explained in keen format. 

Top, taken for a ride

Into the atmosphere of gargantuan claims

That playwrights write woefully 

Of the brilliance burned into stars. 

Deep tales of intrinsic wonder

Woven into song sung openly

Of lives lived in ode,

To the avenues of their calling. 

Oh ballad beware

Your sturdy tortures do float 

And land ever so softly 

Amid shoulders worth bearing. 

Give to Get

In removing useless adjectives

We obtain truer truths

Inching closer to bones the require

Baring. 

Fangs are for show

Puncturing never, 

The purpose in sharing. 

Cryptic sideshow, overlapping intent

To blur the audience into distraction

Results may surface. 

Who we are and how we speak

We are closer to the monument of

All we might 'suppose'.

The quiet between us

Is daring me into

Prepatory behavior;

These musings, 

Sublime. 

Old Envelopes

Legitimacy

Details

Dates on forms. 

Inconsistencies in ink. 

History

Works its way 

Into the dashboard

Of today. 

Saved. 

Sacrifices performed

To open borders

Beckoning a life

Treasured. 

Love

Moving 

Mountains

Modicum of Truth

In dreams

Patterns suffice 

A mother, her boy

A mother, a boy. 

Fatherless sons 

Roam. 

White mausoleums

Ascending

As errant dreamers 

Subside. 

Invisible scars

Connecting. 

Infantile

Infantile subjugation 

When all along we are aware

Of the secondary conversation. 

Prime points taken

And that is, after all, THE 

Prime point. 

Injection of idea

Into layers of habit

That ultimately, potentially

Lay the foundation

For 'better' to begin. 

I need not gratification

Beyond that of simple truths

That passive needs gather courage

And swim, in possible futures 

Where groundwork once laid

May prove fruitful

Before the final sunset

. 

Mesh

"Mesh view" she says

Gutting me wholly. 

This confessional is tight

Contained

Disingenuous. 

Walk here, to uncover more

Of You. 

Manipulated content

Divulge nothing,

If what you're selling 

Is fabricated;

Tailored to imply

Lesser versions

Of truth. 

Reviewed by curiosity

Brain picking tediousness

A collection of musings 

Resembling regret. 

The road walked carefully

Can indeed be cherry-picked

As needed. 

What do I learn

In this vestige of honesty

Where intimacy explains candidly

The bulk of "why"?

Truth tied to intuition

Triggers an inertia

Worthy of note. 

Exigency

Living to satisfy

The order of the day. 

The dreamer communicates 

Freely, to the Soul. 

Swagger

Scattered ideals

Meager moves

Tinkering with weekend

Potentials. 

Gesso speaks fluidly

Eagerly aware

That 48 hours have arrived...

Time to ruminate and delegate

Elbow swagger

Into the direction

Of

Paint. 

S

Synagogue of celibacy

Swiped of swivels

Hip-lock, pop

The swirl of sweetness 

Sweltering. 

Submissives

Securely swept

Into the lux of salvation 

Swindled 

...to the nuts

The Madness of Restraint 

Glimmers little

When reflected upon itself.

Critical dialogue

Begin. 

Monstrous monolith, passed

Glaringly evident

Upon shoulders, aware 

Eager reminders 

Enraged. 

How much longer will

The prolonging of investigation

Continue?

Fucked to the nuts

It seems. 

Deming

Late arrival

Southwestern lovesong

Revived. 

California again

For how many more months

Until Texas reclaims my interest. 

Deeply moved

The target, shifts

As time races

Dreams speed on. 

She

 Another day, gifted

To stumble upon charmed remnants

Of days so long ago lived. 

Shiny, glittery, loveliness 

Packed away another year

Loved ones, working in tandem

To restore these rooms to order. 

Mother, so loved

Our connectedness binds us 

To you, the matriarchal poetry

That draped these halls and walls. 

Here we gather, to soften the crush

Of your untimely passing, to ease by all means

Your trusted lifelong mate. 

Essence of a past life

Soaked up through palms and eyes

Of worlds you knew, long before there ever was

An ' I '

Contribution to this Today and Tomorrowland 

Boldly cleaves its way, in, out, and around

The progeny of your making. 

48

Before words collapse the silence

Do gaze upon sunlit paths, where

Tropical greens sway down southern roads

As Sunday wanders in. 

The journey moves on without queue

The linear silence of 48 years,

Continuing. 

A typographical map could illustrate

Where love met memory

And moseyed hand in hand. 

Lighter the steps, deeper the sighs 

And sweeter the song

Of each day to follow. 

New Ring

Degrees inching up

Warmly lit 

Southern wind 

Blown. 

Gold and glint 

Owned. 

Reset

Sound sucked from skin

Leverage, expiring. 

The new growth exceeds old ways

Fixated on

What may follow. 

Grandiose imaginings

Blurred close to the surface. 

Palpitations swarm 

As they recognize, 

New Life. 

Captured awareness

Keeps, without spoil 

The leniency afforded, 

To still slowly, these reserves

Savoring notice. 

Decadent the gleam 

Of honeyed understanding

Knowing what waits without guarantee

Sturdy imaginings

Fluctuating. 

As Day resets 

Life expands, lifting wings up

Tilted chins, warmly lit

Basking in the continuity of

Widened understanding.