"Lights And Shadows..."

We live -
in our lights;
exist within our dark.
We remember
what others didn't forget -
those things they never knew,
clueless...
They lived
lost in THEIR lights
existing in THEIR dark.

Some MOMENTS have MEANING -
PERSONAL meaning -
beyond just fad, choice...
hype - spin...
and indelibly mark our senses -
pause our existences
somehow
when they occur.

People didn't stand on street corners
awaiting me to pass by
screaming and shouting "Your Mother died!"
"Your Father s'gone..."
yet I do remember where I was
when I KNEW she did.
When I learned he had.

I remember the where I was -
and when - my best friend joined the 'missed',
all three actually...
joined the 'mist'.

And its strange somehow
that for me - 'missed' didn't always mean
dead... just somehow 'passed'
beyond touch or reach
ever again... strange.

Moments mark us and make us
EMPOWER and SHAKE us.
They give us hope
and take it away.
They inspire us to STAND -
to give a damn...
to cry and fade away.

Moments aren't always people
but moments ALWAYS -
involve
affect
and TOUCH within
people.

I KNOW where I was
when Kennedy died - John not Robert.
I know where I was
when the March at Selma began.
I remember where I was
when a helicopter forgot how to ever fly.
I remember saying byes
that I didn't know were -
and remember wishing I had.

Some moments are just - ours...
some are the world's.
Some continue being manufactured
by people that could care less -
but hell,
eatings a BIATCH of a habit
to have to break
and snow sucks as a pillow.
Ya know what I mean?

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

7 comments View Entry

"Where Does The Poem Begin?..."

I CAN - could
sing -
surprising?
...and NOT talking
of a shower's performance
of empty echoes
or self-indulgent
legend-in-my-own-mind
vagaries of self-rhythmic rhyme.
High Tenor
then mid -
then... Tenor.

My voice carries - carried
has - had
a PRESENCE
an integral strength
that pauses the listener
and draws
and weaves
and floats
and holds...
perfect pitch
and with instant harmony -
I've been told - often -
and all my life.

Music is conversation too -
tones mellow with heat
and softness
and somehow fragile
yet a strength within
that dares to be held
and taken for granted
yet
oft times is.

I've been on the Lyric's stage
grouped and shared
with the Symphonic's best
and even an "Ave Maria..."
or three
in my time
unique and solo -
and heard the pins dropping.

I don't look away
nor look through...
when I speak
its directed
personal
up-close
with sheer intent
and you KNOW -
KNOW
its for you.

The Poem doesn't begin
nor end
with the man
nor the man
with the poem...
we are one
and THAT
is the way
its been.

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

6 comments View Entry

If U were an animal, what would U be?

To this question I spoke out briefly...
succinctly,
purposefully,
reasoned-ably.

Human...
  Remember...

Oft forgotten
just what we are -
I am...

Human...
  Remember...

There is a darkness shared inside
that leaks and leers the crooked smile
and sneers all the while
at any that think they touch or know
the depths that we as beings go
to reach the recesses abscessing within
that festers and grows - our other skin.

Human...
  Remember...

Shattered and smashed
     slashed and splashed
hooked and torn asunder -
     to maniacal dreams
of empowering schemes
that kill
           anything
and take
          everything

Human...
  Remember...

"Childe Of Night..."

Call the wolf
...wait...
call again.

Watch -
soft pads pace
circle
pace.

Draw it CLOSE,
hard breathing
eyes matched -
kinship stare shared.

Acceptance...
nuzzle, pinch, nip.

Growl - throat bared...
teeth
jaws close
TIGHT.

R-I-P.

Warm-wetness flowing -
spraying...
peace

at last -
peace.

Taste...
drink deep
sleep.

Yes... sleep,
til the morrow climbs
  high above
    all.

Sleep...
  remember...

Human...

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

25 comments View Entry

An old "Cafe Series..." refugee to ponder on a quiet day...
..................................

“What is it about “Sanity…” you don’t understand Dave?” I asked as I set my mug down.

I sat still – listening.  “Well, you have a point.”  “But, man… that IS the same point I’m trying to MAKE!”  “Ok…ok, I get your drift… clarity… it IS how we ‘see’ things I guess.”  “So what IS ‘reality’ Dave?”

I listened, thought, and waited a bit.  “But the concept?” or perhaps, “It’s finality?” – a quizzical look.

Nothing still… I leaned toward him, “Well, I felt it was ‘relevant’, I mean damn, Dave… it always depends on perceptions doesn’t it???”

I reached for my mug… damn – barely any dregs… “Mary?”  I looked around – she was over by an empty table, wiping it down.  “Mary, we need some more coffee please.”

She looked up, paused and then said,  “Just be a sec hon” – softly.

She came up… filled my cup. I motioned toward Dave’s.

She looked a sec, reached and took his, set it on her tray, and placed a fresh mug on the table.  Then she smiled, turned and walked away.  I lifted mine…ahhh great coffee here.

”Excuse me, sir?”  I looked up.  “Do you mind if I take that empty chair?”  “We need another chair for our table.”  I looked him in the eyes, “Nah, it’s cool… its ok – go ahead…” and he did… and Dave faded back into my memories.

”Sanity…”

We have our moments
our perceptions
of our realities…
minute by minute.

At times, mine may intersect
with yours -

or yours with mine

... and sometimes they don't.

Chris
 

Tags: Poetry Writing

22 comments View Entry

Twas another place and time...

Another Galaxy far, far away
...and long, long ago...

I paused at a young poet's effort
new, pretty shaky really...
glaring flaws and yet an innocence.

... and I found myself returning
again and again
to look, pause, reflect
and each time - inject
more of my OWN view
- my thoughts -
and how with such little effort
here and there and
perhaps-just-here
and-a-little-bit here
and on-and-on

...til I paused
with the sudden resolution
that
THIS wasn't mine
but the THOUGHTS it invoked WERE
mine...

I understood more about me
that day and that each
has worth as they stand

Her work was signed...

"Brit..."

I've read many poems today...
I came back to you... yours.
its not what you said,
nor how you wrote
that drew and draws
me back...
its the sense
of what you're asking for
that plays within
my inner eyes -
again and again.

Here the background music
swells with soft grace
and flow and spirits flying
with the freedom
that you're crying for.
An awesome counterpoint
to the quiet desperation
I 'hear' within your thoughts.

So many cry
each and every day
looking - ever looking -
to another side.
Looking to 'greener' ways
of other days and memories
they think they have...
of better, happier, gentler
moments now past.

Little one, I wish - wish -
upon a falling star
that you find whom
and what you are...
that you hold your dreams
and can touch
all the 'unicorns' of this world.

Don't stop reaching
or give up trying.
There is soft and warm sunlight
awaiting your presence...
and the glow of the smile
still hidden within -
yearning to touch your lips
again.

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

9 comments View Entry

C'est Moi..."

Decorate in early milk crate,
windows: framing running waves -
endless tides flowing here then away,
timeless flowers to never change,
captured light - silvers, grays, tones,
slivers of the mind's eyes -
tomorrow's yesterdays of the future passed...
shivers, each and everyone - everything - every
thing a moment held, a tear - mine alone.
...c`est moi.

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

16 comments View Entry

I'm humming - well actually silently singing -
a duet - inside,
with Judy Collins...
doing "Both Sides Now..."

- you KNOW that one?

"... Life's Allusions I Recall..."

Philosophy 102: Life From The Curb...

Sometimes I think most just expect more than
there IS -
even DEMAND IT!!
somehow...
like its their personal right
that all existence must bow to
THEIR needs, desires, whim
and fancy...

- life -

with the EVER-taste of
Always,
Perfection and Truth,
and
Forevers and Fairness?

- and the Caps WERE intended.

I know - I get so
damnably angry
at some little things that
shouldn't make me angry at all -
not after all the paths I've traveled,
existences I've touched
but they do anyway...
and ALL the ASSUMPTIONS -
sigh. 

Other times I laugh -
cause if I didn't,
peeps would see me crying
and NOT have a clue
or an understanding of my 'why'.
 
Least if I chuckle
most don't ask a "Why?"
They just accept that
I saw something THEIR way
or that - "...that ass has a sad sense of
humour" and the eyes flow away
... and the non-threatening is ALWAYS
dismissed.

I could play on that
Diss-and-missed -
dissed for anything anyone assumes
and missed(?) only when a target of opportunity
  is needed or 'assumed'.
But now isn't the time or place -
talking Philosopy 304 there.

We DO get moments though -
moments when its ALL bright and warm
and the fuzzies are out in full force. 
I HOLD on to those moments - tight. 
They make the 'others' bearable...
'cept at night.

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

12 comments View Entry

I can FEEL myself just wanting to be a 'smart-ass' today... and its really HARD to consciously ensure that how I respond to what I see is not like that. 

"Philosophy 101 - life from the curb..."

I guess we need reminding
of our silliness,
foibles, frailities,
insensitivities,
less-than-really-thought-out-or-smart
  actions and re-actions,
planned and unplanned stupidities...
often.

"But DAMN!" people...
sigh.

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

13 comments View Entry

"Grey..."

I don't need 'beautiful' right now...

Perfect flowers gathered, arranged,
  and held out to me just soooo;
20-somethings drop-dead-gorgeous
  with air-brush painted smiles;
Dancing Santas; Wintry Crystal visions;
Neons all aglow; Cascading visions
over-and-over-and-over
filling everywhere I look
clouding mist filled eyes...

...breathe damnit breathe...

I don't want - things, sounds strange -
I did once til they kept poofing
- always poofing,
we protect ourselves early on
and learn the lesson well
about 'wanting'.
We learn to lie so well to ourselves
that our 'truthes' live with us
  all our lives -
'til something takes them away too.

What do you 'give' when you haven't 'things'?

I'ld give them if I could
    but I haven't - things,
    just me... so I give
    lil pieces one-by-one
that very few really want in the end
and I KNOW that
and its just kidding myself -
lying to myself yet again
but
its really all I have thats mine...
really mine.

Forgive me - its just
a tad grey behind-my-eyes

and I'm feeling
    a lil 'sparse'...

Chris

Tags: Poetry Writing

10 comments View Entry