Category: Sentimental

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Listen, For I Have Kept A Fanatic Heart -by Ray Smith (Poetry Magazine Feb 1944)

Some poems seem to reflect the very essence of our being on an intimate level.  This is the poem that I most relate to.  The poet, Ray Smith, also happens to be the grandfather of my primary source of inspiration in my personal life.  My wife, Mira Meunier.  Ray was a poet who enlisted in WWII to serve as a combat medic.  He fought in several of the most noted battles, one of which was the battle of the bulge.  It’s interesting to see the marked change that took place in his poetry from the period before his deployment to the period after which he had experienced the horrors of warfare.  This transformation can be observed in the poems published by Poetry Magazine during those years found here https://www.poetryfoundation.org/search?q=ray+smith&refinement=poetry_magazine&page=2 for anyone who might be interested in reading them.  He would become a decorated soldier, having risked his life on numerous occasions to save his comrades. Speaking of comrades, in a vulgar display of cruel irony, he was blacklisted for being a communist after having served his country.  He spent the remainder of his years serving as the library director at several universities and served twice as poet laureate for the state of Minnesota.

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Ember

love looms
amid the earthen shrine
in contrast with truth
pressing onto parchment
muted musings left lingering
for glancing eyes
that gaze in contempt
aghast at the ongoing display
of decadent debauchery
never have they known
such indiscretion
yet none can speak
for what is known

the radiance
disarming
its cadence grows stronger
echoing into the abyss of anguish
from one
to other
bearing no consequence
of relevant toll
rolling like a snow-bound stone
enjoyed by the sun

all of these ancestral affectations
airs of artifice
agonizing over every breath
spilled out onto the landscape
like leaves leading to disarray
in lost portrayal

sweet strands of vermilion
lick like flames
framing such fragile alabaster allure
alone and aloft
soft tones of humility
exuding from hearth
set upon this heart
rekindled by kindred coalescence
windswept into one regret
and set to the serenity
of solitude’s song

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for Venus

her words give birth
to songbirds
arranged in strange striations

and when they call
all the heavens
start to fall as wintry feathers

into the mercy
of an erstwhile whisper

from pursed lips
pricked with petaline pigments

immersed
in otherworldly waves
she bathes the light
triumphant

without her semblance
all is but for naught

to doubt her tenor
fate should heed to falter not

for it is she alone
who shall usher in the dawn
auspicious

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A Friend’s Goodbye

my dear old friend
what end has come
by no means just
to live this dream
from which your eyes cannot awaken
who dares to rob this vacant hell
from one so true
we knew so well

who’s laugh was always our’s to share
by which i mean “our” family
you had scrapped your way
inside hearts sworn rigid without erring

a friend of genuine regard
protector of my sisters’ honor
our mister Jesse “Lame” Stamper
my brother time forgot to spare

such vital energy once coursing
through the veins as though my own
but yours was rife with staunch resolve
and none have since dared
prove such courage
surging taller than what heights
a man could bear to fall

cowardice lurks veiled inside
all stations of men ever known
no dignity near consequent
that could outshine your valor
all that mattered shone inside
the love for those you held

years have sunken silten seabed
whence we cried out “punk is dead!”
to myself, i have lied
just to say those words
and tears not shed

on that day, when first i learned
of darkness, that could not be heard
it struck me like a sun combusting
fulgurant in its static pulse

6 years ever as my senior
trapped in surpassing each one
tripped up in a past illusion
somehow ripped right from the stars

Jesse, you are with us always
like the ink that left its mark
love etched into the flesh forever
lives on within our minds and hearts

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Where Lovers Once Lived

time resigns
to dust
in blustery skies

for gone, is all reason
and life bleeds heavenly

with laughter
no longer

looms lingering night

where lovers
once lived
‘neath the shadow’s reprise

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A Thank You

amid the autumn embrace
of this fated fantasy
i stumbled to awaken
in the outskirts of a dream
with every lucid moment
pigments rich from painted past
voices, faces, feelings
more familiar than the last

my every thought, mistaken
by the vacant world i’d known
shone forged in the foundation
of this humble hearth i roamed
the kindness deemed as weakness
preyed upon in days of yore
now flourished as the impetus
to spur the heart’s implore

the essence of my exile
was found precious deep within
the radiance that beamed from smiles
and hearts of honest friends
the endless hours of anguish
seemed to vanish in the void
of resonant romanticism
emanating joy

though not remiss to disregard
the suffering imbued
upon the weary countenance
of every life accrued
such love was seen ensconcing
from the onset of the eve
that ever shall remain inside
again ’til i am freed

so if i may display in earnest
gratitude sincere
the difference each of you has made
in ways beyond compare
for all my years i was bereft
of those who shared my world
now every time a tear is shed
it greets the earth impearled

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Ode to Pills

Them: “Stop complaining! All you need to do is to pick yourself up by your bootstraps! It’s all in your head!”

Me: “?!? No. You don’t seem to understand. Some people don’t have bootstraps, some don’t have boots, some don’t have feet, some don’t have legs…”

~little pills are my pals
when my life begins to fail
and i fall off the trail
as the entropy prevails
give me doses composed
in the golden ratio
sans acetaminophen
chock full of hydrocodone
on second thought, i’ll forgo
opiates not fit for rogues
oxycontin i want now
80mg green and round
chewy bits of heaven sent
to render me relevant
granting me everything
such as basic functioning
so that i may exist
as more than a listless void
in the languid abyss
so complicitly adroit
what was one small step for a man
is one giant leap from the pits
stepping into the life
that e’er eluded invalids
for you see, pills are power
pixellated fire flowers
or a box labled POW
so that you become the now
like a Cylon equipped
with regeneration ship
like Picard on respite
in a scant Risa tunic
Larry David when imbued
as a Gentile not a Jew
it’s the feeling of the Bern
when all hope has since been spurned
for you see, it’s never just
dust one simply needs to brush
it’s depression so deep
impressing upon our sleep
where we find no escape
ever looming is our fate
wracked with pain, guilt, and fear
falling only on deaf ears
once again, i assert
though eternal is this hurt
it is such that i will
trade my kingdom for some pills~

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Perspective Meme Observations: Women* (& other oddities)

There are times in which all of the entirety of language fails to suffice our desired conveyance.  This is why we have memes. *please take note, this is only a meme, thus, all representations may be prone to parodic exaggeration meant to achieve a humorous effect.  Except for that last frame… Why am I disclaiming?  Because of my effusive affinity for magniloquent masochism which happens to have sadistic functioning as well.  Okay, now i just feel super awkward… argh!

As much as find that I’m mildly afflicted by the abundance of alliterative day-of-the-week internet posting trends (such as ~sassy saturday~ or ~tonsilectomy tuesday~), I  have nonetheless decided that I will add to this blog[?] a weekly tradition i shall dub ~Fotoshop Friday~.  Or perhaps even, Photoshop Phriday […Fauxteaux Xiaoppe–… ok, i’ll stop. {but i’ll never stahp}…(((halp!))).  Upon which I shall post a new Photoshop amalgamative abomination from the ardor of my artifice.  Which may manifest in such ways such as to display the essence of my soul as seen below:14570679_1753020501582059_8636225138182371449_o

or perhaps when “shipping” went 8-bit:

scrollbossgfxgen_2015-09-29-002017

and who could forget when ~Friend∞Zone~ dropped their debut album?

friendzone-copy

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and the toilsome nights that ensued…

2016-04-2-22-50-46

PSA’s for troubled youth:

jacuzzi

the time i “borrowed” Scutty’s hawt bod…

scu

and the proper tense for intimate grammatic expressions…

mj

but I digress.

kitty-fuq-th2is

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Silphiums

ruing the remnants dissemblant
were silphium seeds etched in silver
cast into pockets of penance
from lovers in wretched remorse
confined to colluded delusion
where atrium gardens once grew
as swift as a handful of arils
denied every season its bloom
a lulling lament left them hardened
as reason complied with dissent
and gloom granted fools divine ardor
where stars perch upon moons crescent

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Roseate Lips

having read
the words
i had written

i lay somber
in solitude

soft strands
of sorrow
trace
this weary face

unable to understand
the nature
of perception
painting
my known reality

in scenes
of dormant verve
where torment falls
into tedium’s abyss

this resignation
squanders
the heart’s of men
quashing freed spirits

these tears are more
than salted dew

they whisper
thoughts
of hopeless wander

knowing
their fate

to be forsaken

swaddled in
this brimming cauldron
of cacophonous echoes

refused
their final
resting place
that lay within
your heart

what sorrow
this truth
weighs upon me

for i have come
to comprehend
its toll

as winter
now descends
brisk and bright
with snow-blanched walls

i fall

to find the fears
from which i have
forever fled
surround me
in my umbral journey

i have nothing
present
to pacify
the passing
hours

and prudence,

ever the afterthought

yet
here i lay

drenched
in tears
that draw
but one
conclusion

the illusion
of now
is the illustration
that streaks across
my mind’s eye

like light
that lived
so long ago

now soaring
above silent shadows
to show the truth
of temporal permanence

this
you have awakened
within me

i can only watch
as perfumed petals
waft

from roseate lips

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