Max, or Not

brief
and unbeckoned

do eras go by

defined by a feeling

by nature
intrinsic

ne’er to be felt again

outside of slumber

the wonder of fate

juxtaposed against circumstance

peering behind

the paradoxical curtain

where certainty
surely succumbs
to swift ends

each era
a window

into the gestalt

overlooks a vast sea
of subjective experience

subtle
in ways

does transition transpire

though rarely surmised

through eyes shone expectant

too often greeted
with bold opposition

despite fortuity’s adamant cries

all of our best efforts
end
acquiescing

contemporaneity
renders us blind

burdened
from perches
of hindsight and hubris

poignancy
ever pondered in past

prone
to a passive existence

this plight

slowly slips through

these paltry and porous paradigms

impossible eras

give pause

for end’s nigh

today

a revolution
of revelations

a realm
that saw Pandora balk

when prudence beckoned

spoken loud
with furtive tongue

and lead
plunged into stomachs

antiquity of yore
be damned!

unleash the ire
of auric eras

proof no longer proves itself

as pugilists pave roads
to known ends

repugnance once reviled
arrived on time
fresh from the guileless turnstile

forevermore
to be revered

the fantasy
afforded
by a fear-borne conflagration

in exploitative excess

burning eyes
seek rhyme for reason

passion now dispelled
complacent

pleads heard passively

“pray, let us perish!”

atop impervious spires of privilege

blind men have no need
for windows

wastrels are not wont to wist

and ignorance
no longer blissful

wishes death
upon the stars

while staring back
from past perspectives

more afraid
though less afar

coil of toil
to ash from ember

leaf of laurel umbrage reign

unheard is the curved eclipse

it mutters

emptiness draws forth

somewhere it knows

arms at ends

untouched
inside a tinseled box

the heavy-laden hearth
awaiting inhalation

tall rubescent-blooming
luminous trails pluming

torrid, treacherous

rushed love
that longs
for languishing

if only then
to be extinguished

in the rift
betwixt these coaxing lips
of life uncivil

said to surely save me

on this cursed night
of naked arbor

leaves have all since
turned to umber

upped and left
and so, the sunset.

in the west
worlds waste away.

as i and i

could never quite recall
its name

lay separate

in this loft
of lonesome plunder

http://picosong.com/wR4jk/

impatiens grow thin
on walls of tenuous will

the borderline
of brilliance

and sinewy barbarism

hallowed heads
grow hollow hearts

dutifully defining
hyperbolic realities

as shameless as the wicked son

with eyes that peal
on trained horizons

assembled of defiance

a purpose
calls this life

and i make no preparation

“no look me, look self”

’twas a plea for the ages

Plato himself
would be proud
if not peevish

and what should i find
but that i was an eyelash

revving in place
unleashed by the bell’s ring

cruisin’ the valley
two Pink Ladies
laughing

finger on point
lest we lose
the way home

i recall
one drab Tuesday

Black Sabbath was wailing

your smile stole the day
saying “yes, that shit rocked”

i’m pretty sure dual headbanging ensued
in a peppered Ralphs parking lot
sputtering fumes

where Laurel Canyon & Roscoe B. met

sippin’ on big Cokes
somehow, mine was tiny

like, waaaaaaayyyy smaller than yours was

but i didn’t mind
despite all my theatrics

once we arrived

it was welcome as always

the consummate super-hunk
mister Greg Brady

a song serenading
“wise men never knew . . .”

you wouldn’t believe
how these old Santa Ana’s have shifted

since the hour
when shallow skies whisked you away

and time wandered past

a wilting page whispered
“December eleventh”

as tears welled

but foolish me
fought to refuse them

their pain
passing through me

with truth
from which no one can hide

i know peace has found you

your plight languished long
in the cold light surreal

and lo- “%&$#?@!”

. . . indeed
i just tripped and fell

over that table

tumbled, and hit my head

. . . a goosebump.
it HURTS!

as always
i had to do it
just for you

for i knew
how such antics
amused you

what is it
to say, i love you

but all that i can do

the ocean

poised to tear away
this sliver of our solitude

will it be
that we become
an isle of silence sheltered

or will this moor
be swallowed
by the violent shores
aweigh

in truth
a gentle peace persists

knowing that the stars preside
over our every incarnation

and with you
along my side