Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

March 30, 2015

The Absensualist

I could finally confide

that lately I’d  lost

that long drive that’d taken me

off all my maps.

.

She would certainly intercede,

She brought fresh buds through frost,

I’ve a return drive  she’d taken me

Back onto new paths.

.

.

.

I can close my eyes  and see

Her heart  near and warm

But open  I can not see

Her hand upon my arm.

.

.

.

.

(from july 2010)

March 26, 2015

OFF/ON

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 12:00 pm

I have staved off lost passions

I’ve held on cold cliff holds

I stayed and endured elements,

Harsh and all part of a hard whole

Where lost passions

Sounding far, in the fog,

Meaning more in a quiet man

Than a kind word,

Can work

To urge his stoic stand

On

.
(from 2009)
“This time tomorrow I’ll know what to do”
-David Bowie, from “Stay”

March 24, 2015

L O S S T (What Then Goes, When That goes)

I’m  m.mustly…/

I am stammering/ I must/ Fail to believe  it/

.

Clamoring chime bells/ Of  mercy/

A Rhyming of rain & relief/

When paired/

W/ death’s despair/

It’s cleanly/ So messy/

Supremely/ good grief.

March 23, 2015

FILLS

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 4:02 am

the night fills book shelves

of newselves

and ghosts ancient that go silent

after you dare to glare it down.

the night fills full boxes

of hoaxes

all honest, bold-faced hazy facades

and full frontal epiphanies

March 17, 2015

Try Another Dawn, Against Green Leather, On

I take my ten tablets.

Wash  ’em w/ Irish.

It’s my time

for medicine,

& no time for nonsense.

I’m ready I’ll try to pull hard

for a merciful god.

Finally I’ll try my hand

To move a pen

To move my words

To move me.

.

.

.

.                                  (from 2009, Slainte.)

“Beannacht” … that is, blessing: From Irish poet John O’Donohue in honor of St. Patrick’s Day …

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 3:32 am

to you & yrs, then

THE POET BY DAY

The Irish poet and writer, John O’Donohue (1956-2008) was as moved by the landscape of the soul as he was by the landscape of his country with its Celtic spirituality. An ordained Catholic priest, he eventually left the priesthood, but he never abandoned the mystical roots of his Christianity. He was a Hegelian philosopher, did doctoral work on Meister Eckhart, was fluent in Irish and German, was an environmental activist, and wrote several best-selling books (both nonfiction and poetry). His most notable work was Anam Cara:A Book of Celtic Wisdom. (Anam Cara meaning soul friend.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY

normal_saint_patricks_day_Shamrock_Pipes

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March 12, 2015

STILL, THERE WAS THAT LIGHT

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:41 am

She won’t remember when

Without a word we wandered

Dark  collegetown  neighborhoods.

Where were the dogs & cops?  I wondered.

We were thrilled for the night  still.

Still,  there were all the satellites.

And very still, there was that light

In a candlelit  picture  window.

It  gave  a silhouette, a shadow   readying  a bed.

Buffing up a sheet,  she showed us,

Me and my sister Janny,

Her  heartstopping   Beauty;

A silent ballet shadow show  that

We acknowledged

Her  walkstopping   ethereal naked lines,

Then  continued on, still wordless

Then  getting stiller yet.

.

.

.

.                              (happy birthday, janice)

March 9, 2015

“Bridge’s out”

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 4:40 am

“Bridge’s out”

A boy in a blue scarf shouted.

But a girl with high boots and a cape

only whispered  “Icy  isn’t  safe”.

Both their lines seemed to lift steamlike,  upwords,

opposing  most all  downfall  white

(On his hair,  in her eye lashes).

White  lit it all,  it meant to mask the night.

.

Ethereal, yet so real, their faces were so pale.

They are, I thought, not far from fainting.

I strained to scout beyond them,  they stood out

Stark against wood and trail.

It confused me, admittedly, I might see a  painting.

.

“Watch yourself”,  their voices, close,

It sounded some  like me  who

confoundedly joined their chorus.

Starting down to the river,

I shake off a shiver under my clothes.

I take a deep icy breath, then take a step nearer chaos.

.

.

.

.                              (nightmare from five years ago)

March 6, 2015

F O G

There’s fog.
Then, there’s people landing planes at all hours.
There’s dogs chasing birds
on runways. And one way those people in those towers
can plan to, and see to, land planes is
the guts to go with the guages.
They heartfelt dealt with data,
Trusted all they’d seen
on their farforeign &; onlyman made monitor screen.
As dogs flushed their fog,
hands hover over lights
and cover their old bets,
their usual action.

,

,                                                                            from 2009

March 5, 2015

Mostly Too Costly

When the task  at hand…

When I’m asked to pay & pay

More  attention,

I  say,

It’s mostly  too costly and

It’s evident  one’s needs warrant

Intervention.

.

It’s  ridiculous,  

I’m  impossible,

I’m impervious  to all I’m capable.