The moment

2CELLOS-Viva La Vida

Before the singing
Ringing
Marking of the bells
To sit
For the moment
To Watch
In the moment
Her movement
So slight
Catching a glimpse
Of her
Unguarded
Simple elegance
Of her elegant simple
Amazed that
She
Would never know
How beautiful she is
Her curve
Her bend
So her
In the moment
Unguarded
Distracted her hand
Draws back
Revealing
A hint of her radiant simile
All the while
Focused eyes
Burn on her
Merely
Being her
So silent
You Watch
In the moment
For only a moment
More

Always

Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah

"In the end I will find the right words, and they will be simple." - Jack Kerouac

So it dies with silence
Words that once turned
You to me
Now disrupts
My precious two cups
Svelte sweet
Lain before your feet
Do not move you to dance

The heart that leaped
Lies lethargic
to hide
Lethargic lies
Used
To cover
Over
A second breath
That was little more
Than the trail
Of the first
Or
Second sight
That's all right
It was nothing
Except
It was everything

Despite all done
To increase the dark
I fought to create my own light
And it burned so bright
Perhaps
Too bright
For creatures
Given day sight
Retreated to the dark
Surrender to a world of perfect night
Light by a stillborn new moon

How long can you search
For someone who doesn't know they are lost
Till you realize
That you are the one
Only searching for yourself

So as I grow tired of hiding behind the swift glances that poetry provides... here is a little prose

I wonder if blind Samson glanced in Delilah'a direction one last time, with that look that only a lover can give another, The furious passions unspoken, woirds could never express.  Where texts are told with only the lift of an eyebrow.  Did they hold the communication before his hands pressed in rage and defiance against the columns?  ,

Epic.  Those were my words.  Tragic: those were hers.  I was the romantic reborn.  She, a calculated realist.

So it was.

It is so much easier to write a poem.  The comfort of inference, the universal.  But perhaps my words have become too staccato.  A little more than a return to the base, anything more might bring the pain.  Bottled messages tossed into the sea with nothing more than the hope that one might, just might, reach her shore.  In my clouded madman's logic I hoped that each would reach... eventually.

This would be the song.  The gentle cascade of glittering memories.  A refreshing spring rain in the middle of winter.  Just like the song, beautiful beginnings.  It was.  That much I know.  The gentle curve of your lips forming the simple smile.  The nervous, burning proximity.  So close.  So very close.  Questioning passion leaping like static from one to the other building to the brink of an uncontrolled dynamo.  The only allowable burning escape formed within the light in your eye.  Your simmering whiplash grin. Beckoned acceptance.  Crying invitation. How it filled my world; so dark, so cold, so afraid.  In our heated glances, life erupted  So glorious.  So shining.  So incredibly brilliant.  The world would bask in its warmth.  The stolen touch.  The passion that boiled to a fevered pitch.  We reveled in each other blissfully unaware of the Fates angrily gnashing their teeth.  Their rage as the simple action of my holding your a hand, a gentle stroke against your heated thigh, or even the softest brushing of lips forged our bond further.  A simple solidarity unknowingly against a system so suffocating, a world where the darkness would consume light, but we shone.  Burned brilliant in our defiance.  Perfection embodied in the glory of the innocent savages combining striving for union.

Desire smoldered.  Effortless.  Natural.  Sacred.  When we made love you used to cry.

It started good.  At least that much could be said.  It was something to be cherished.  Frozen images stay fresh, as long as they are frozen.

All are eventually cast out of Eden.

The whispers.  The cracks.  Subtle at first, so I could avoid.  Continue to play the game.  All was right.  All was well.  Come the rise of heaven or hell, we could last.  We would.  Maybe.  Then a night of union.  You probably didn't know, or maybe didn't care.  For some, distance drove a heart wild with passion, for others... it makes them miss the warmth.  Crisis doesn't develop character it reveals it.  But I noticed.  The lovers grip had become loose.  A tenuous and faltering grip.  My eyes closed as le petit mort enveloped me.  I tried to forget the blasphemy of the scarred sacred.

Desperately I tried to continue the serenade, but then your blue shutters closed.  Night moves that cemented our union became a charade of passion.  Not for me, or maybe it was.  Shall I tell about the drives   The more you drew back the more I drew close.  I still remember the sudden night drive.  As darkness enveloped my streak across a desolate landscape I had the excitement of the life of you, of your precious garden to press me on as mile followed mile.  And the journey ended when I found home in your arms.  In the collapse of one into the other souls danced and melded returning to a unified flow.

When we made love you used to cry

All that I have said, I have said before.  Shall I talk of the pain?  The piercing? No.  I've had too much happen to me for another cold and lonley Hallelujah.  In one of your darkest and loneliest nights you turned to me.  For a moment we were allowed to step into the periphery of Eden.  

Perhaps the sight was too good.  Too grand.  Even the hint of the glory reborn was too great.

The fates.  made angry would have their revenge.  Fear began to encompass you like a suffocating blanket that was always too short to offer any protection..  You used it to hide from me, while you would show others a glimpse.  They could touch, but they couldn't feel.  They could feel, but they couldn't taste, They could taste but they couldn't eat.  They could eat but they couldn't grow strong.

Save I grew strong.

So it goes.

These aren't the right words, so I guess its not the end.

So I wish you a Merry Christmas, and a broken Hallelujah.

Always

Single Spark

The Doors - L.A. Woman (Paul Oakenfold remix)

The meeting
Would be
His eyes traced
To find
Her pure sight
Filled with
The mad life force energy
Of the Sun
Its delicate burn
Soothing in
Its bask
Challenging to
The task
To join
The dance
Joined to
Her soft swaying swell
Beckoning
Challenging
Presenting
As they held
Back
The single spark
That shone
For him alone
That pierced
His defenses
When their eyes
Joined
Every eternal pause
Making
The meeting

Hannibal

2Cellos - "Mombasa"

Sorry I didn't write
Last night
My heart
And my head
Are in a fight

Like the savage
In a Brave New World
Longing
For the suffocation
To stop
The saturation
Of the insignificant
to cease
Of holding honor
In a vulgar world
Basing everything
on nothing
If they only looked
Or knew
That which is new
Is actually very old
Holding fast
To a house of cards
Waiting to tumble
At the slightest shake
Or tremor
Wondering if they can remember
The time they were able
To bask in the truth
Til the truth
Became too scary
For her
While her turning
Running
Served her so well
She only stumbled twice
or maybe more
As she was heading for the door

This
Was something he did not want to face
Her tripping gauze
He could not face
The shade entered
Dressed in lace
And the dancing shadows
Became nothing more
Than dancing shadows
The exile burned

But
Even the vaguest apparition
Regrew
The form of flesh
Hannibal knew how to win a battle
Reduced stone to rubble
Elephants crossed the Alps
Strikes swift savage
To the very heart
Hannibal knew how to win a battle

And now...

He would win the war

The song escaped him

Iron and Wine - Love Vigilantes

He was on the drive
back
When this song arrived

He listened
He knew
but could not place
Fractured memories
Although
as always
He was so close

A boy
A girl
A drive
back
Soft skirt dancing
Above her knee
Soft skin pliant
Dancing
Under the touch as
His hand
Confidently encroached
On the periphery
Intent eyes distracted
Laughing in
The flow
A conversation
A cassette played
Beckoning earnest
As his hands
In the joy filled trace
All along the periphery

Meanwhile
The journey pressed
Should he
Drive past
To see
If the lights were on
Or the getaway car
Of a mothers van
Parked at the side
Flouting to those who knew
While silent for those
Who wanted to pretend
When the world that does not exist
Is the most comfortable of all
To the one
Writing words
Believing
yet knowing
She would never see

All the while
The song
Escaped him

Pleasing affirmation

Pearl Jam - Better Man (acoustic)

Does she
When she
arrives home
Pause
To think of him
As the earnings come
Falling Golden hoops
Cascading pairs
Diminutive song
On n the dressers wood
Mirrors check clear
To insure
That the fleeting glimpse
Of the shadow
Is gone
At least for now
As she
Waits
In the pause
Thinks
Of the time
Of the touch
Searing savage
Like none else
Though there has been
So many touches since
Does she
When she
Slight pause
Reflect down
He was so young
But so was she
His touch progressing
Absorbing
Causing
Towards
Heat that summed so
Great a rising
From the surface
Of forbidden skin
Desperate
For the friction
Of her
Loves
Pleasing affirmation
Back when
Back then
In the day
In the rising cold
Does she miss
The welcoming warmth
The shelter
The acceptance
Of the one
Forced into exile
For committing
The most banal of all
In the modern day
The sin
Of speaking
Of being
Truth
Unabashed
The patter of feet
Dissolves away
The memory
That she
Would be
Frozen
For only a moment
That
Only returns
With each passing

Essential Truth - Winter Warmer (Old English Ale)

Mark Knopfler - Romeo and Juliet

Shall I embellish?
Or dress
The piercing Passion?
The crushing collapse?

Or shall I remember her words
Raw and eloquent
and simply say

I loved her
And sometimes

Sometimes

She

Loved me

Secret Cord

Leonard Cohen - Halleujah

Rising from autumns cold
He pushed toward
So did she
as he began to play
the secret cord
Forbidden
With movements
Hidden
Beneath her mutli-colored tapestry
Gentle movement
Soft slow
Rising
The gentle tease
Of flesh
Surrendering to flesh
Touches melting
Melding
In her
Burning surrender
Of passion fierce
Tracing touches
Playing with fire
Her head reclined
Lips frozen
In a silent cry
Of pleasure devastating
As
His fingers began
The gentle trace
Burning
Across her lips
Burning
Longing
Supple pout
To draw his touch
He longed to maintain
The balance
Between the savor
And deadly desires release
The sharp intake
Before one dives
Into passions flame
Feel the burn
Surrounding
Consuming
Knowing
To die
Is to live
When one begins to play
he secret cord

The power of a glance

Looper - Mondo '77

Though denigrated
And underestimated
Never doubt the power
Of a glance
Created by chance
She stood
When
I entered the bar
Despite the dark
She radiated
Fire from
Her eyes
Invited
Drew
The fire that radiated from my soul
That without being told
Knew that I wanted to know more
About the safe danger found
In her glowing warmth
Where life erupted
When
She heard my greeting
And
Her smile
Unabashed
Began the soft seduction
I wanted to know
More
But she
Beat me
Into the pressing close
Questions as her body
Moved
Pressing close
The soft firm
Press of lace
Danced across my arm
Eyes began to devour the other
As the wait
For the next sound to pass
Lips so full
Building desire
Maybe
She pressed into
Me
Or it could have been my move
Into her
So slight
So right
Simpatico
All borne
From the power of a glance
Created by chance

She is a panther

Keesha vs. Queen: Radio Tik Tok

She is a panther

It's as simple as that

Simmering fire smolder
In her eyes

Burning desire in the dark 

Only inflames desires heat

Dancing fingers
Static friction
Dancing
Between

Waiting
Wanting

Building

The
Longing
To pounce
To devour

Fine legs formed
Muscular tension tight

While the waist
Is pulled in
The pressing form
Melting
Into mine

She smiles
At the prey
Before her
Til the attack begins
Burning heat
From inflamed lips
Hungry
Pressing the memory
As her fingers
Trace across your soul
Putting to shame
Every love poem ever written
All the while
The fire in her eyes
Burned out of control

As the panther

Continues to circle 

We see beauty when we long to see it

The Chemical Brothers-Where do I begin?

A couple of days ago I found myself traveling to the land of memory.  It's not a comfortable ride.  That place where the past and present collide with a decimating force.  I don't like to go there.  Usually the closest I will go is a Half-Price books.  But I had to attend a film festival at the Angelika Theater.  It's over by the "M" streets.  It's like there is a shadow over my heart.  The kind that makes the doctors order another x-ray, but it appears the same in the later plates.  They tell me to watch it.  They don't really have an explanation.  That's okay.  I feel sorry for them.  But I guess I feel so sorry for realtors who have to show properties near there.  It seems as if it would be too easy for them to confuse a Morningside with a Matalee, or a Montel with a Mockingbird.  But I digress...

The film I was to see was called "The Last Laugh".  It was about how Judaism the survivors of the Holocost dealt with its harsh reality.  The answer was to laugh.  One has a choice you know, they can either laugh, cry, or go mad.  Or even perhaps to do all three.  Comedians like Mel Brooks, Sarah Silverman, Harry Shearer, Carl and Rob Reiner, and even the guy who directed "Borat" spoke of the challenge of dealing with the horror by telling a joke.  Not only does this remove the power that drove the people down, but it can also act as a defiant fist.  One survivor told of how, after being examined by Dr. Josef Mengele to see if she would live or die, he told her that she should have her tonsils checked out as they might be a problem later on.  Gallows humor, but that is merely a step we take in the darkness to keep moving forward.  But I digress...

Nothing about the entry made it easy.  The parking lot was full save one space almost hidden in the distance.  Simple enough task, I know, but it was a car that was the exact same model as the one she used to have.  Back in the land of memory.  In the present, it was a hollow reflection I suppose.  It was yellow.  Her's wasn't.  It was a convertible.  Her's wasn't.  But what memories came flooding back.  Well, I could tell you of the madcap times where we laughed each to each as we traveled.  I could tell you how my hand, which would always be at her knee, would find itself softly sliding up her thigh during the long drives.  I could tell you of stolen moments precious where the world collapsed to only her, I, and her extravagantly beautiful smile and warming laugh.  I could easily write about any of those things.

But I won't.

Perhaps the glory, the true beauty of us all, is when we are most human.  Perhaps love is at its fiercest, when it is at its most simple.  While touches of passion may burn fierce, perhaps even more poignant is the arm stuck out involuntary to protect someone from a sudden stop.  The silly, like using a book to try to translate a simple message into another language.  That no matter how hard you try to make it correct, I am sure to a native speaker it would sound something like... "I love you.  Have nice sunshine day."  Or merely the simple might life in saying the name of the other.  Soft, hard, cool, regardless, it makes little difference.  When one's name is in the mouth of the other-it is comfortable, it is safe.  Almost as if the other, in it's formation, has already caressed it with their soul.

What memories came flooding back?  When I saw it was a convertible, I immediately thought of how in a moment of the exaggerated exuberance of youth  I was doing something boneheaded (not like me at all :P),  I climbed up through the open sunroof, don't know why, and like  years before Kate Winslett's lean in "The Titanic" had even hit the box office I too leaned forward.  This caused me to break a new wind deflector that her father had put on the car.  I felt like an idiot, and I probably was, but she laughed and forgave me.  That was the first memory that hit my mind.  Sure we once played a practical joke on her dad when I lit a smoke bomb under the hood while she told him that something went wrong with her car... but that memory didn't come back till later.

I took a few steps forward to Mockingbird.  The traffic was heavy, but to my left I saw three Italian Flags flying.  It was Campisi's.  Here the memories become fragmented.  I would apologize, but time has passed and in between here an there I had a car accident and spent time in a coma.  What do I remember of our Campisi's night?  We had ordered pizza.  Don't ask me what it was.  Talk flew furious about the mafia connections and some kind of mysterious green room in the back where the Mafioso  did hidden business.  We laughed,  Jokes flew about the the mini jukeboxes that were on each table.  But her eyes,  Her life.  The warmth that exuded from her.  How it warmed me in comparison to the colder night air outside.  How it warmed.  The electricity that burned fierce  A charged static filled the air when we were together.  Like dynamos it would build until contact would finally be made.  The explosion of passion would be devastating in its consequences.  In our destruction, we would live eternally.  Moments like that also took place.  The after.  The pulse under all.  But those weren't the first to enter my mind.  Now that I think of it, was the outward just a reflection of the inward.  But I digress....

I wanted to drive by her house.  I had to fight myself not to.  What would it have gained?  What would have been accomplished?  She made it clear.  She made it simple.  We kill what we love... so says Oscar Wilde.  Either that or it kills us.  I guess it would have been okay, if it hadn't been the soulless and heartless words of a simple text.  I deleted it.  At times it is the fiction that helps us go to the next day.  In pursuit of some crest to the mountain we are climbing.  It is preferable to the truth.  Like Roberto Benigni in" Life is Beautiful", we play like the whole prison experience is just a game.  All to keep the light alive for another.  But even this film was hotly debated in The Last Laugh.  We see beauty when we long to see it.  Otherwise, perhaps, life would be too crushing.

Funniest joke of all is that she doesn't even live around here.  Or so she says.  Makes you wonder... who really did have the last laugh.  But at least the documentary was good.

On a patio

The Future Sound of London: Papua New Guinea

On a patio
Where all the tables faced southeast
On the shifting creak of weathered wood
She sat while
Whispers of Fitzgerald
Slid across the night air
She was
Beauty cut
Chiseled fierce
Intense eyes longed
For the connection
A release
For the clutter traffic
trying to shout down
the perpetual
boiling desire
Within
Loning for escape
A break
From the unending
Second act
Knowing full well
The dip of her neckline
Soft slide
In the rise
Of the moon so full
So ripe
Waiting
Wanting
Longing
For the next
That would follow
A quick kiss stolen
Where he could pull her
Toward
The soft caress
Pressing
Hot, strong
And
In the song
The burning flame
simmered

Cloths Contact

Madonna vs Rihanna vs Calvin Harris - We Found Vogue

The shift showed

The  rise

Of cloths

Contact on the thigh

Smoldering heat begin
Before her 

Demure grin

Not lost
The glass is raised

Simmering soft
She speaks
Of F. Scott

As the windows 

Of her eyes
Of her soul

Of her pressing close
Open
In the slow rise

Slow reveal

While
Circling finger

Reflecting

Circled truss

Of hair
That gently falls
Waiting
Calling
For 

Whatever 

Comes
Next

Whatever
Whenever

As long
As its now

They say

2Cellos - Shape of my heart

They say
Che
Read Lorca
Bound for Bolivia
With
Illiuminated twilight
In the orange yellow glow
Dancing shadows
Shifting hidden
And reveal
Of a lantern
Or candle
Whatever might be
For this revolutionary
On the run
Forever
Chasing
The sun
's shine on
Elusive victory
Just out of reach
Light
In a world of shadow
The real
Secluding itself
Behind the degrading
Comforting
Ensnaring
Facade of fiction
Or maybe
It was the maddening memorized press
Of her dress
Orange yellow
And her
Two steps back
In the lantern's dying light
One wonders
Would he watch
As dawn turned to day
Or close his eyes
So
For a moment
He could live again

Pause of thought

Lady Gaga ft. Rihanna: Poker Vouge

She softly smoldered
As she
Meditated on the decision
             so many
As she knew
Nobody could fill
The void save
He for the moment
And pause of thought

        And in the pause
             She longed to remain forever

The flamenco

Gipsy Kings - Sin Ella

The flamenco
Begins with
The warmth
Of her hand
Escaping
Slowly
Softly
Pulling away
Yet
It lingered
Longing
To return
To the seduction
The fleeting friction
Cascading desire
Born
Of press
The soft
Slow
Move
All part of a dance
Born from
Th0e burning touch
Forever denying
Her hand
Twisting
Lightly movi
Out of touch
Waiting
Longing his pursuit
Though
She would deny
Possibly
Knowing
He would see
The shifting
Beckoning
Move of her hips
Hide
Behind the caressing cotton clinging
To a dipping line
Waiting to seduce
For his pursuit
Stamping heels
Clapping of hands
To call
As she
Pulled
Hesitating
From my hand
Did she think I
didn't see
The weight
The crushing
Sadness of her eyes
Did she think I didn't see
As she turned
Her heels slow cobblestone click
My hand
Was only waiting
For the pause
For her return
Back to the warmth
Of the killing embrace
That pulled her
To me
So
I
Press around her hip
Waiting
For her next silken slide

The slow twist

Bob Marley - Lady Gaga: Could you be Loved - Love game

The slow twist
began

Her tanned skin
Light cinnamon
Kissed
Mingled
Captured rays
And the heat
of a dying sun

Her mane
Cascaded
Down
To frame
Half opened mirrors
Reflecting
Her heat
Without shame

Her foot slowly twisted
Back
And forth
Round
And round
Knowing
Waiting

All the while
A
Sly smile
Knowing
Longing
Waiting
For my approach
For the fire
To erupt
As she smiled
Beckoning

Finger brought
Between
Pursed lips
So red
So full
Wanting only
To capitulate
To the burning touch
Of his Kiss
Just as smoldering
Lacking only
The breath of life
To be consumed

All as
The slow twist continued

Like a bird

Like a bird
Longing
Forever for the sky
Yet afraid to
Leave
The nest
I hope that she
Chooses
To bloom
Before the sun
Passes her by
Tired of waiting

She lost herself

A flock of Seagulls - Extemded Remix

She lost
Herself
Thoughtless
Eyes closed
As she surrendered
To
Her desire building
For so long
Longing
For release
As she flet
His kiss
Rise
Soft
Stong
Along
Her desires
Passion

She lost
Herself
In movements
Longing
Bucking
Pressing
Up
Down
As his kiss
Became
Devouring
As

She lost
Herself
Drunk with desire
The fire building
His touch
Exploration
Across
The supple
The tight
So
Firm
So
Right
In the
Smooth
Inviting
Longing
Shot electric
Through
His fingertips
His kiss
As the two
Consumed
One
To the other
Secluded in the safety
Of the other
And in the fusion
She lost herself
In the other
And in so
Found herself
In
The other

Muzak

Blink 182: Miss you

Perhaps
It was
A couple of days ago
A song
From my past
Had been converted to Muzak
Symphonic nothingness
Replacing
The real
With an anorexic
Hollow

You know
Maybe

Or

Perhaps

The scratching at my window
I knew was her
But I dare not look
For
So many times
In the past
I looked
To find
Nothing
Save a fleeting glimpse
That
She would deny
Despite
Either
I wouldn't look
Yet
I had to

I was her nothing

or I was her everything

Which
Is why
I was
her nothing

Two voices
Stuck
The permanent binary
The ying
The yang
Forever opposed
Forever in balance

The most penitent of pilgrims
Might catch only
A glimpse
Of paradise
Or
Be driven mad
By a return trip

Or perhaps lfie
Was being replaced
By a Muzak
Soul

Thunder rumbled

Spain: It's so true

In the distance
The thunder rumbled
Like so many times
Yet
Her
Dark eyes
Filled with light
Looked
Into his
Knowing
The deluge would begin
In the world
Of the two
She had waited so long
for the touch
Of the rain
To pour
To caress
Wash
Away
To pull
Toward
At the moment
His hands
Wrapped
Around her waist
To pull her tight
Laden drops fell
Bittersweet strikes
That could not stop
The rising fire
From
Heated lips
Intense foucs on the other
Drew close
The circiling touch
Proves
Sometimes
Lighting
Strikes more than once
At
Or at least a circling around
The same point

In the deluge

Madonna-She's Not me (Offer Nissiam remix)

In the darkness they stood
So close
Yet
Separated
By the smallest distance
Which of course
Made it the largest
Static shot
Flaming tongues between
In the sparse moments
Where the space
Was an injustice
To all that had been made
For him
For her
So ready
So ripe
Desire
Driving
To the madness
That came with the touch
Consuming
The dam had to be broken
The cracks could barely hold
That which was whole
The wall interrupting the flow
That nature had fought to make right
To return
To the space
Where the he
And the she
Were made whole
In the heat
Of the deluge
Longing to pour
And the two
Might become lost
In the deluge

Simmering ash

David Gilmour-The Girl in the yellow dress

So in the end 

Maybe 

I was her everything
Or nothing

 All remaining
In the refuse
Simmering ash
That she fears to disturb

Not wanting to let it die
Or live
Just linger
Burn
Soft
But in its red glare
The memory can linger
If only a moment longer
For moments
Frozen
Are all she has left

Perhaps a laugh

Perhaps a sigh

One sip of the grey goose
To keep perfect the lie
Of a time
As her hand
With the fan
Softly sways

Lest her moves
Even reconcile
Disturb through movements unseen

Even an ash

Consuming

Gorillaz vs. Donna Summer - Stylo vs. I feel good (Djs from Mars bootleg remix)

Hair cascades
To the side
Her grin
When she saw
Him enter
There was no lie
In the fire
From her eye
As she
Looked at the one
Who made her laugh
The lean
The reveal
Slight
It would be alright
If he saw
Just a little
Of the bounty
That longed for his touch
The small diffusion
As her bangs slid over
To cover
For a moment
But she could look
Hidden
Into his stare
And see
That he
Had seen
What she wanted him to see
A laugh
Head tossed back
The finger starting slow circles
As she though
Of the exploration
Of her hidden treasure
That burned so bright
In her mind
But
The coquette
Would play
Until
He would approach
His touch
Would begin
Soft
Gentle
Apprehensive
Until the animal
Primal
Burst forth
Her fire
Had spread
Serving to focus
His desire
Unto hers
Consuming passion
Sweeled
As his tendril touches
Began the soft ballet
Of movements
Drawing her desire
Building her heat
Pressing the soft
Surrounding
Into him
The tought
The caress
The feel
Of him

Consuming

The touch

Consuming

The moment

Consuming

As she lost herself into desire

Consuming

The fog and the mist

U2 and Mary J. Blige - One

The fog I can stand
Childhood memories
Of flying
Through a cloud on earth
The joy
Celebration
Pressing the boundaries
The elation
Of the unknown
Barely seen
Unlike the mist

That covers
hides
With a dissapating
Disguise
Evades
Blurring only
Charlatans excuse thin
All
They were covered by
The mist where all
Touches
Contact
The building heat
Can be laughed off
The accidental pass

But in the fog
Comes confident clarity
Piercing
Shadows dancing
On the wall of the cave
Are merely shadows
Til
The fog thins
Into
The mist

The unending dance cries
For the return
Of the fog

Lingering moments

Spain: Our love is gonna live forever

In the dying remains of the day
I passed a cemetery
Monuments set
For the living
A final cry of the passed
To mark that they had lived
A finger in the face
Of the death which had claimed them
That is when I saw him

The golden hue
The suns dying proclamation
Before its collapse
Did little to color the ashen pale of his skin
He was sitting in a white chair
Red Lincoln parked to the side
Back door open
He didn't care
For he was there
For someone else

His white shirt
That had once pressed so tight
Now large
Irregular creases
Marked his shrinking frame
But
Black tie
Straight
Fedora tight
His folding chair so White
Grey pants pressed
Shoes spotless
He was there for the lady
That would always be his

The glaucoma glasses
Could not hide
That his eyes
Were staring
Off
Into a land of memory
Where they were forever
He didn't even bother to stare
At the splash of color
In the flowers he laid on her grave
He didn't care
For he was there
For the someone else
Who now
Lived only in his memory

The memory
The cause
For his lone pilgrimage
That kept him going
Until the next day
For the one day
They would be together

Your smile so tender

Marvin Gaye Van Morrison: Lets get into the mystic mashup

Your smile so tender
The gentle twist of your hair
So tight
Dangled strands cannot hide
The light
That shines so fierce
So right
From your eyes
Inviting
The gentle dance
Back and forth
Craving
My rose hidden in the desert
Daring
To brave the thorns
For whatever sharp pain
Would quickly meld
Melt
The euphoric bliss
Seared soft burn
In the heat of your kiss
drawing the passion
Smoldered so long
From your lips
To feel your lean
Your burn
The press
Of your longing soft
Enveloping me
In the engulfing embrace
Surrounding in the fierce soft
The ravenous desire
Melting
Each into each
Both knowing
The shortest distance between two points
Is unbearable
And the desire is always born anew
As I look into your eyes
And
Your smile so tender

Sunglasses

Elvis Costello: Beyond Belief (early version)

In the crowd
She wore sunglasses
That day
Perhaps
To hide
Maybe
For
At times
Times cross
You count the wins
you count the
Lost
You cannot trust your eyes
So you turn
And catch the crow's feet
In the space
Overlooked by her plastic surgeon
Diminutive spot between the thumb
and pointer
Yet you don't want to speak
Of the subtle
Encroaching
Rush of time
To someone desperate
To return to a past
That may have never been
For her
An illusion, regardless of how real
Is still no more
Than an illusion
Perhaps that's why
She wore sunglasses
That day

Saftey

U2: Desire (Hollywood remix)

The safety
In the pauses

Where I looked
Into her
Simmering eyes
I would find myself lost
In the
Burning
Specks of light
Radiating from her laughter
Fueling desire
To feel the heated
Passion
Of her lips
Knowingly
She would giggle
Knowing that all she felt
Was safe
In our pauses
That longed for action
So
She
Would
Cross her legs
All the while
Allowing her skirt
To ride high
A feigned distraction
She knew
Flaring our passion
As she pulled close
So close
The diminutive game
Of cat
And mouse
In the trace
Along her blouse
To feel her
Longing press
Drawing close
Pulling my want
Into her soft caress
Along
To pull
Her into
The safety
Of the light
held
To try to light the way
Where the heart was safely held
In the other

The safety

The somersault

2Cellos: Il Libro Dell' Amore

Never be afraid

To risk
A somersault

Or to jump
In the muddy waters
Of the puddle simple in
Simply sitting 

By the side

A lone remnant
In the repose
After your dance
Laughing in
The cascading rain
You are never too old
Too be young
To live
To feel
The blood rush
To your fingers
To rise in
Your cheeks
To be to
Unabashed

They may call you
Fool
Hold your freedom
In disdain

Do not hear

Laugh
Back

They are captured
And when they want
To be free

Perhaps
They will
But as
For you

NEVER fear

The risk

Of a simple
A somersault

She laughed

Dont cha push my humps mashup

Was it the red
In her shirt
That hid under
The white
Over

Or the lips
That drew
In a permanent smile
Laden
With a dew
Longing
To be tasted
Consumed
Drawn from
With only
A brush
A touch
From the building
Desire
Of my lips

She leaned
She laughed
She pierced
How much
She
Could never know
How her eyes pierced
Though
My mask
Longing
Waiting
only for connection
Never knowing
how I longed
To taste
The heated friction
Separated
By the vast chasm
Of the most minute degree

Waiting
Burning
Smoldering
For completion
To a fire
That had smoldered
For so long

So long

Waiting
To erupt
Into
An inferno
primal

The rising
Touch
Matching
The perfect balance
Of a balet
Unbroken
For the moment
Where souls
Fuse
Into one
For a moment
However fleeting

The moment would remain
And the moment
Would last
An eternnity

The world was here first

Counting crows: The Ghost in you

We are taught how to hold on
But never how to let go

I heard the report
That Oil prices were leveling out
And I thought of her
The girl
Who mourned more
At the collapse
of Goldman Sachs
That she ever would
For what was happening
To her brother
Her neighbor
All to escape
The hollow known only
As herself

Yet
The love
Regardless
How broken
Is a hollow renminder
Of the mystery
Of neverland
To this Peter pan

She still comes
Wendy
Unexpected
Unannounced
In a staggered walk
Hulking
Lumbering
Wandering
Wanting
To envelop you
Nothing but a ghost
A ghost
You long to feel
Her touch
While running from her face
For you know the view
Would be crushing
Too much would be destroyed
Too much could never be
Too many worlds
Destroyed
She never really
Felt
The way
That you felt
But you can't be mad
For you know
That you fell for
Nothing more
Than a reflection
Of your deepest desires
That she
Slid
Into
So comfortably
Just like
She
had
To
So
Many
Others

Why did it have to be
So many others

Fair?
The world was here first

Lightning

Jimmi Hendrix: Love or confusion

Thoughts that rain
In my mind waiting
For an explosion
To release
And cover
Yet too many
Too much
The pouring falls
Into
A cascade
Longing for release
Yet
Held back
In the land
Of too little
Too much
The skies
Long to rest
Wait to pour
Upon the thirsty ground
Waiting only
For the first strike
Of lightning

Cresendo

Madonna vs. Ofra Haza - Isaac (Offer Nissim 2006 Remix)

In a halting crescendo
The darkness called
Her delicate fingers trace
A moments hesitation
Before the contact

The world outside
slowly sought
To heal
To repair
Damage damming
That artifice caused
During the day

Removed from
The mask
Curious eyes
Furious grace
Peering shone
Renaissance
From the touch
Of his finger
Began the simmering slow

In the darkness
She allowed
Him to trace
Along hidden paths
Towards
Her garden
She had considered simple
In its glory
He knew

The tread
Soft
As a kiss
Along her periphery
Guarded
Yet longing
For entry
Beckoning
Calling
Desperate
To feel
Again
And
Again
The delicate advance
The gentle retreat
Drawing
To walk along
Along her gardens path
Tracing petals
Soft striking caress

And in the calling of the darkness
The crest of the building
Crescendo

Desert Rose

Balian & Sibylla- Flames

In the midst of games
Without gains
Hushed voices
Whisper
The secret

Somewhere in the desert
Hides a rose
Soft
Sweet
Vibrant red
Full petals laden
So moist
In dew
Longing
For the touch
To grace its silken skin
Waiting
Longing
To share
Its glory
As if its description
Might make it disappear

Men gone mad
In search
For the rose
Eelusive
Unsure
Pilgrims frought to find
The precious petals
Or if it was merely
A mirage
The trick
Of the eye
Crushing
To catch a glimpse
Only

For the flower
So soft
Glorious
In the light
But forever
Partly
Hidden
In the shade
Unseen
The stem
So long
Straight
But dotted
With thorns
To protect
But longing
To be felt
So it hides
In secret
Somewhere
In the desert

In her soft smile

Velvet Underground: Venus in furs remix

"Your dangerous" she said
As exhausted breath
Left the tip of her tongue
Captured
Enraptured
In her soft smile
A moment
Before the turn
Revealing
The soft supple
Desire beckoning

"Your dangerous" she said
As she slowly moved
Back into him in
A
Crushing symmetry
The pressing
The yielding
Of bodies
Each to each
In her soft smile

"Your dangerous" she said
Feeling his hard
Press
Against
Her glorious soft
The touch
The trace
The heat
Of kisses fell
Traveling along her nook
Her tender neck
Open to receive
While the body supine
Fell open to give
Seducing
Just by presenting
All
In her soft smile

"Your dangerous" she said
As his hands
Began
The full soft caress
Her fullness filling
Yet he teased
The side
Circling in
To meet
The frontier of skin
and lace
All the while resting on her face
Was pleasure present
In her soft smile

"Your dangerous" she said
As her body longed
To feel his touch
Moving down
One hand pressing
Diving under
Dividing lines
Passion marked its protest
In circles slow turn
Pressing towards a center
She longed for him
To reach
While the other hand
Felt
Her stomach
In lines North and South
The glance
The blow
All the while
The kisses
Remained burning
Her presses began a movement of their own
Her longing
Desire dripping
Present
In her soft smile

"Your dangerous" she said
Turning longing
Crushing
Body to body
Her heat building
Longing to consume
And he
Longed to be consumed
In her fevered look
In her desire
But always
Before the inferno
Of heated lips contact
He would be devoured
In her soft smile

"Your dangerous" she said

Hammer hit the cap

Plastic Bertrand - Ca Plan pour moi (btw if this seems like an conflicting source of song... its supposed to be.  Madness for madness and all that)

All is well
All is good
Everything is as it should
Be
But its not

I woke to find
My world bathed in blood
Never nice

I wonder how long
They waited
Before the finger tense
Finally decided to press
Le petit revolution
In the protest for peace
In the moment
Before the hammer hit the cap
Did they smile?
Did they frown?
What was the visage de guerre?
As if it mattered
In the moment
Before empty shell casings fell
In the counting of coup

It seems CNN
Had done its job
Reporting
Before
Messy facts had reared their heads
In the finest journalistic style of the  1890s
If all you can report is the sweat and fog of chaos
In the seething cauldron
Laissez les bon temps roulette
Sex sells
And
If it bleeds
It leads

My town
My home
My backyard
Head hung  in
Shame, sorrow, 
Frustation... confusion
It changes little

All is well
All is good
Everything is as it should
Be
But its not

Slow Song

Joe Jackson Slow Song

The light faded
To the dimming twilight
The rest
For reality
To wait
To abate
And in abidance
Bring the magic

Allowing her
To
Spread her grace
So gentle
So alive
In her face
As
She turned
Almond eyes
Spoke
More eloquent simple
Pure
Than all the works ever compiled

She was beautiful
And she knew it
That was her charm
Though she liked to be told
In
Silent soft slow
Into her ear
In
A moment
Of drawing near
Of refuge
Of rest
For 
The two
To be
Uncaring
What the concrete world
Brought
Thought
Before them

His soft draw
Along her verdant cheek ripe
Her soft dip
Loose strands of hair fell across her face
To begin
The play
The hidden reveal
So slight
While her laugh
Asked a question
He wanted to spend the rest of his life
Answering

To look
To laugh
To be
Simply
For the other
So the two separated
Could be
For only a moment
A moment
Of eternity
As he drew
Close
For the heated lips press
That would live forever
Somewhere
In some
Eternal
Slow song

Plaza del Torro

Beth Orton: Moon

Beyond the sounds
Of the fiesta rising
Coldness enters
The soft spring air

Defiant hoof routs
Disturbing
Sand soaked
Representation in red
Of how
The bulls of Spain rise in me
Chased around the arena
Decorated in
Dimmed colors
Once vibrant
On cracked adobe facade
Contain
A game played
A glory fade… d
Refusing to believe
The fix was in
Not for him
Or me
Not today

Defiant hoof routs
The slights
The spears
Pretenders picking
Sapping
Serving to anguish
To remind of death or
To recall life

Defiant hoof routs
El Senior
Matadord
Dances to distract
On legs
Razor thin
The bull knows
It has come this far
And it did not come to dance

Sharp horns lower
As defiant hoof routs
Before the charge

Rising from the rest

Afro Celt Sound Sysytem - Éireann

Her head lie softly on the pillow.
Rising from the rest her
Eyes like the dawn
Opened gently on the vale
Spreading light
Spreading life
Her lips pursed
One held in a subtle tuck
Laden
Burning desire
Held right
Tight
On the crest
Burning eyes beckoned
His approach
Wordless
Silent
Moved
His hand
With the touch electric
Passed through
Her hair
Brushing back

Beautiful crown
So he could trace along
The thin line strong
Of her jaw
She arched
He leaned
The insufferable small
Distance disappeared
To be replaced
By an inferno that consumed all
In its glorious heat
As tongues and lips
Spoke the unspeakable
Each to each
His hands continued to explore
The glorious periphery
That was she
Tender neck trace
Down
He moved close
As she pressed forward
To conform to his hand
The beauty of
Her rising hills
His soft circling press
From the top
To the bottom
Searching for the center rise
That longed for his touch
His tease
His kiss
The trace began
Teasing soft play
As his kisses traveled
Down
To begin circles
Of their own
Her hands traced across his head
As
Her head lie softly on the pillow
Rising from her rest

Fleeting

Rihanna- Please don 't stop the music remix

Fleeting
Images
Burn
Long after

Her
Almond eyes
Shone fierce
Captivating curiously
Slight movement
The shift
The turn
The blending
Of beauty boiling
To a brain savage
So was
She

Fleeting
Images
Burn
Long After

The smile
The curve of the cheek
Or the arch of her back
Svelte hands meet
Drawing her hair back
A luscious short created
For a moment
The returning mane upon release
Pressing forth the cry of the firm
Supple press
Longing for caress
As if her thoughts
Her smile
Her laughter
Wasn't seductive enough

Fleeting
Images
Burn
Long After

The glaces begin to burn
Comforted stares linger
Passion grows
Red lips ripe
With desire

And as she walks away
With the seductive dips
Of her full hips
He knew
She knew

Fleeting
Images
Burn
Long After

Light

Sting: Desert Rose remix

Her soft sultry smile
Simmers
Howling in the madness
Of life
One hand clutching her creations
While the other
Beckons
Forward
Guiding to the light
That sits
Simmering
From her soft sultry smile

Long fingers mark
Circles slow
Around the rim
The simmering fire
In her eyes rises
As laughter trips
Over her lips
Longing
Simmering
From her soft sultry smile

The beats converge
As
The beats diverge
As hearts turn
Unsure
But safe
All the while
Simmering
From her soft sultry smile

Single Cylinder

David Bowie: Dead man walking

It was at an intersection
A street
Named after a bird
That lays eggs covert
Into another's nest
Impostor children
Rise to a station
Unknown
While the mother can fly
Away
So high
So high
So be it

The vibrations of the single cylinder
Iron heart
Burred between my legs
As I sat
On English steel

The turn capturing
The sight
Of the one
Unexpected

Harsh shadows made quick work
Turning what
Had been
Into a Kraken
Tentacle legs ravenous
Pulling towards
Sharp beak
Forever gnawing
Gnawing forever

One hand was on the wheel
One on the phone
That she says
She doesn't use
Meanwhile
The single cylinder
Beats
Continual
Though it all

Light turns green
I follow
She turns
On a street foreign
I follow
Meanwhile the single cylinder beats
Continue
Through it all

The turn
Into another birds nest
She parks
As
I pass
I turn
Inside
I die
Meanwhile the single cylinder beats
Continue
Through it all

The Flamenco

Bond-Gipsy Rhapsody

Perhaps too quick
Rhythm seeks
To match the beats
Of hearts
When eyes fall upon the other
Begins the fall
Though steps try to betray
The motion

But the flamenco
knows
The passion
Simmering
Is just a part
The art
Of the heart
Of the one
Silhouetted
In dance
The advance
The retreat
All too soon
The lips will meet
So it must go
So it must be
Steps light advance
While she
Pirouettes
Around the he
Slamming heels
Slap
Yet each step
Draws
Her closer
As if he couldn't see
It is the dance
It has to be
Yet the advance
Leaves little chance
The turning awaqy is always followed
By a turning towards
Thier steps are always
In syncopation
Even if they do not know
They do

His push
Her pull
All part of the dance
And grinning
The Flamenco knows

No lie in her fire

Coldplay: Lips like sugar

There is no lie in her fire
Boiling black diamond’s erupt

Simmering fierce
Basking me
With a primal heat
Driven
Longing to consume
Desperate to know
The heat
Radiating from my return

A ringlet of her hair softly falls
But the tender truss is merely a trap
Drawing my hand
The innocent brush of her cheek
Draws my eyes to her lips
So full
So ripe
So brazen with desire
The lean
The contact caught
In the inferno’s devastation
Of liberation
The language of the body
Unspoken
Affirms all
Consumes all
Eternity caught
In a frozen moment
The pulling
Of one to the other
The push
Of one against the other
And as
Burning caresses
Devour
I know
There is no lie in her fire

Bed 43.

Modonna: Ray of Light (Sasha Ultra Violet Remix)

What do most people get to remember on their Birthdays?  I'm not sure.  But for me one thing always comes to mind: Bed 43.

Bed 43?  What is that? Bed 43 is a shadow of death that lies at the periphery of my celebration of life.  Don't worry, it's not a scary thing, indeed it is exhilarating in a way. A reminder of who, and what I am.  What then is Bed 43 you might ask?  

Bed 43 was my bed number when I was brought into Parkland Hospital.  It was the night of my 21st birthday.  I was Dead On Arrival.  Car accident.  I was the only vehicle involved.  Road turned, I didn't.  Someone died on the night of my accident, but it wasn't me.  

I am not sure if Heaven or Hell didn't want me, at least not just yet or the fact that I am a pugnacious bulldog.  Or perhaps I met the Lord of Death and said "Not today."  Someone died on the night of my accident, but it wasn't me.

Now it hasn't been easy.  I was resuscitated.  Out of the 42 other beds in the ICU ward, I was the only one who made it though the dark night.  I spent 14 days in a coma.  The reports marked severe damage to both the left and right sides of my brain.  I should not be.  I should not be.  I... should... not... be.  But I am.

I am Bed 43.

Someone died on the night of my accident, but it wasn't me.

Though delayed I set my course.  Perhaps Bukowski is accurate when he said: 

“those who escape hell
however
never talk about
it
and nothing much
bothers them
after

that.”  

Of course the Buk also said "Find out what you love and let it kill you."  Someone died on the night o my accident, but it wasn't me.

What kept me going on?  Maybe it was nothing more than a memory of light.  Whatever was thrown at me, I could take the hit.  Taste the blood in my mouth, grin regardess, with my fists ready, smile, and say "Is that all you got?"  I could tell stories, maybe that's why I am a good story teller. As a History Professor and a Documentarian.  I can go to the edge.  I can dance on the periphery.  I had a memory of light, A light that may have been nothing more than a memory, or ashen embers waiting for a breath.  Who knows?  Someone died on the night of my accident... but it wasn't me.  

We create our own demons; we create our own angels.  Life can be bitter, life can be sweet.  Look to the light my friends.  You create it yourself.  Sometimes bridges have to be burnt, if only to allow one to go forward.  It might be rebuilt later, that is not your worry.  You are your light.  Shine bright.  In an age of shaman politicians and crisis driven agenda sycophants seeking to manipulate... look to the light.  Get out!  Live!

Take it from Bed 43:

"Live!"

  

          

Excited eyes burn

Madonna-She's Not Me (Offer Nissim mix)

Excited eyes burn
Searching for the words
To say
What she wants
When he
Is what she wants
With words
So close
He
Can see
the immeasurable distance
So slight
Generating the heated friction
Wating to ignite
The fire
ferments
On lips
So tight
Her trace
Her leaning gait
Why must they wait
Her proud jutt
Bursting forward
Invitation
The tilted hair
Forces
Her hair to flow
Covering
Her desire for seduction
The longing to dance
To capture
The laughter
Waiting
As excited eyes burn

The twist of hair

Elton John: Goodbye Norma Jean

“A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left.” 
― Marilyn Monroe

The twist of hair
Daring only to step into the light
Until makeup smears
Obliterated all
That was her

Keeping all that was precious
Hidden safe
Beguiling with a bat of the lash
While
Trembling in the shadow
None could know
Frozen memory
Foster family shuffle
Reaching for a lost fathers hand
But
In the floodlight
His silence couldn't touch you
If only the light remained on

If that was all you could
Believe
Though you knew the
Opposite
The studio's made more than 200 billion from you
Or from the image
But
What did you make?

What did you loose?

In the explosion of pleasure
Before the bottle of pills fell from your hand
Did you find it?

Whatever you hid
In the end, even you began to trip across the truth
And the boy believed that he saw you
If only for a moment

But he was just a boy

Come and Dance

Ciara Feat Justin Timberlake - Love Sex Magic (Djs From Mars Remix)

Come and dance

Simple request
Did she know
As she sat
Her eyes shone
Like her clothes
Tracing walk along the border
Of the hidden and the seen
Forever beckoning
Form fine perfect
Drawn
Tight
Flowing
Energy exuded from her
Boiling passion
Waiting
Longing
For a signal
For release
The teasing turn
I can feel the burn
Of her
Long legged glory
The arrogance
of her knowing smile
As she turns
There is no lie in her fire
That burns so savage
All the while the build
The laugh
The turning away
The waiting
For the flirt
To be fulfilled

Come and dance

Simple request
To lips bursting
With heat
Waiting
For the touch
The trace
The moment
Burning
Simmering
The cauldrons call
For the fall
Of one into the other

Come and Dance

Except the truth

Adele vs. Tim Berg (Avicii) - Hello Bromance (Djs From Mars Bootleg)

One day I will find the right words and they will be simple.
Backhand words muttered by a man made mad
By a world
Which would accept anything
Except the truth
Perhaps

He made a miastake, he drove by her house
Simple enough
If it is
Even still
But the light in front
Shone bright
Testament to
A woman whose darkness His light was unable to pierce
Ramshackle eruption of chaos
Was her land
From where
He had been cast
His voice became nothing more than an echo
In the din
Made mad
Though he had committed no sin
Except the truth
Perhaps

For a moment his foot glanced the brake
He could stop
Sudden appearance could contain
An earthquake where everything askew
Would be thrust back
Back
Back into place

Then he laughed
She was a Black Widow
From which he had escaped
The husks of too many men made mad
But in the ripping free
He longed to be
Trapped
But he could not
Return
To the truth
Of her
And him
That made him mad
Fumbling with fiction
To reach the truth

The wolves at war - Ugly Pug II

David Bowie Jump They Say remix

The wolves are at war
as I write this
Love and hate
Locked in life's battle
In my heart.
Who will win?
Who do I feed?
Who?

In my mind
The beat pierced the darkness
The one thing that could be sure
Was the truth
Of the beat
Cutting through wisps of smoke set
Clouded vision
Or created them
So figures
Pushing though the darkness
Only to know
Contacts
Slight stolen
Heated eruption
Fictions slight felt
Based on the tendrils of truth
As only the best are
The pressing beat
Pummeled anyway


Glimpses of
Shadow slight smile
Her eyes
So honest
So open
So simmering
Til
She wore sunglasses

Be it walking with the other
Or somersaults on the beach
At least she had the decency
To cover her eyes
Even if
The slight smile
Remained

The wolves are at war

Seeking shelter

Peter Gabriel Natalie Merchant REM - Red Rain

Seeking shelter
It's raining outside
A storm

Holding the promise of life
If one can endure

He thought of her

How she felt
In the water's pelt

ing down

Cleansing as it engulfs
Blurring  vision
Or refracted light

Subtle soft bend

Through
Windows pass
Gentle din
Making words unnecessary
As the two
Drew
Towards the other

Cloud created
The false twilight
A moment of fiction
Allowing truths
Reality obscures
To rise
If only for a moment
He and her could be
And see
The truth might be revealed
The electricity
The primal
The truth
Of the simpilest
Touch
Gentle sweet trace
Alsong her cheek
Searching for souls
In the eyes of the other
Seeking shelter
Til the storm passes

Burning abide

Gorillaz vs. Donna Summer - Stylo vs. Feel Good vs. I feel love (Djs from Mars)

Egyptian eyes laugh
Piercing his
Spanish soul
The twist
The turn
The hand of horous
Dangles before us
Beckoning for the touch
But knowing
She shifts into
Soft movements to hide
Her slow burn
As she turn
s
Softly pressing forward
toward
Desire
Subtle shift
back
All the while
Her smile coy
The fingers softly trace
Along the back
Holding their slide
In the burning abide
Waiting
Wanting
For his advance
Measured
Longing for the touch
To the heat
Burning

The pause

Rihanna Vs. Coldplay - We Found Love Vs Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall

So it was
At the beginning
Or maybe the end

The pause

However long
However silent
Ending only with
A broken grin
A welling tear
Weighed heavy
In a corner she thought forgotten
Wiped quickly by the back of her finger
Before I could see
Though
I did

But the grin would
remain broken in
The dissipating light
A moment away from laughter

Or was it sorrow

In the dark

Of a middle
That never was

Che at play

Most people I know are lucky.  They have an Elf on the shelf.  A tiny miscreant who is always up to sort of mischief.  All is good.  All is fun.  No one gets hurt.  Maybe.

Well that's not my case.  I guess an elf on the shelf just isn't for me.  Nope... I have a 'Che at play.'

How did this change come about.  How did I come to have this South American revolutionary who is always ready to 'light the fire of revoluiton?'

Now for those of you that know me know that I refuse to loose a Zippo.  I have only had about five during my life.  The one I have from my grandfather, a.k.a. Pa, I don't let leave the house.  The others, along the journey of life, have managed to grow a pair of legs.  All, save one, have been lost at a party.  But even the one that was was caused by the same distraction... a girl.

So I made some rules.  I bought an orange one.  It was bright.  A color that no one else could easily claim as there own at a party.  If it was a girl that needed a light, I would light it myself.  If it was for a guy... well I would let him light it, but I would watch him the whole time.  So far, it has worked.  Like I said, I still have the Orange one.  But then, something happened.  Our meeting took place in a small Texas town of 840 people called Nevada (pronounced Nee-vay-da), Texas.  That is where I made his acquaintance.

It was at a convenience store.  Like most small town convenience stores, it always was more comfortable giving directions like "go down two blocks and you will pass the McClure farm on hte right.  You know the one with the white barn.  Well after you get past the red plow he keeps by the chickens take a left until you come across Haver's tree by the Seed and Feed...."  It was the kind of place where Bait was as likely to be found as Butane.

But on this trip I needed water.  I was on a project and it was my way to thank the students that showed up for the Service Learning Project of helping out the storm victims of a Tornado that touched down over winter break.  I found the bottled water that had been drawn from the finest springs of New Jersey.  I hefted it to the front counter.  In the resonance of the dull thud of placing the water down, that is where I found him.  From high on a zippo rack that contained a collection ranging from camaflouge, confederate, to pithy sayings like "Get 'er done", his fierce eyes shone.  As he and I were born on the same day... I took him home.

As I am a disciplined Zippo owner if I cannot find him, I am not worried.  I tell myself that he has merely gone on a revolutionary foray.  He will be found.  So far, he has every time.  He might be recovered from a nook.  Perhaps he took refuge in a cranny.  But he is always found.  So whenever I cannot place him, I am not worried.  I know that it is merely "Che at play".  

Shelter

Bob Dylan: Shelter from the storm live

Rose skies turned ashen as
The dipping sun valiantly held on
If only a for moment longer
Please
So that I could see
Her face shine
If only for a moment longer
But
in twilight's advance
Upon our garden
Her eyes burned fierce
If only for a moment
longer

Keeping Tempo

Madonna Mashup 2011

Jazz began to play
Feet moved
Tapping pockmarked asphalt
Keeping tempo
Always keeping tempo as

Slender legs carried
The brave's
Rhythmic surrender 
The circling dance
Moving past those standing
Staring simple hipsters
Focused on not loosing the beat
That filled the air
Keeping tempo when

She was one
Who
Broke from the crowd
Sunglass smile
beckoning me
Join
The sway
For
That was her way
Keeping tempo clutching

My hand
As we ran
Into the mass
Laughing
Talking
Celebrating
The joy
The jazz
Keeping tempo

Without knowing
Shadows grew long
Hiding
Leashed goblins laughter
The time was broken
But never the spell
Dancing lips voracious
Spoke in languages indiscernible
Save for the two
Always
Keeping tempo

The strand

The Cult: She sells Sanctuary (Long Version)

She could be
A mirage
Behind
The strand
Of hair that softly fell
Over her eye
But it
Never hid
The spark of life
contagious
When she saw me

Brushing back
Pushing forward
Desperate to talk
To laugh
To share
All the while
Her hair
Longed to fall forward

Yet afraid
To be so open
In a world
That kills
Those of quick
Thought
Of savage
Beauty
Of stunning
Wit
Would make anyone want to quit
trying

Yet
How many times
Had that strand
Saved her
A
Diminutive mask
To hide
Behind
In a world desperate
For promises only

Perhaps he
Might have been to zealous
In his chasing the dawn
Not wanting to look back
Or linger on
That which lay behind
Fearing that is the way he would go

She meanwhile
Forever tried to change her past
So that she could control her future

And he
Only thought of her

If he was thinking at all

And she
Hesitates to cry out his name
For fear

Of what she lost
So long ago

Meanwhile
The strand slipped back over her eye

The amber moon hung heavy

Kylie/Adele/Dada - Firebomb

The amber moon hung heavy
As
I entered the space
Where in the mist
we could meet

You knew I would come
You longed for my arrival
Knowing my desire
Only made
Your
Breathing grew heavy
Eyes blinded by desire
Greater as each
Step grew closer
Laden eyes burned
With a smoldering simmer
Passions heat rise
As
My fingers gentle trace
Across the petal's full dew dripped
in the mist
Of your secret garden ripe

A teasing rise
Along the smooth heated
Thighs
Pressing to me
In a primal harmony
Longing

As the moon rose
basking the two
As if it knew
The loging to draw
To kiss
To consume
And
Savor the desire that dripped
From your full lips
That only enflamed my desire
The contradiction
Of your rounded soft firm
Should dispel any fiction
Behind the friction
That erupts the flame
With every touch
With every fugitive glance
As the glory of one is revealed to the other
Passion dance burns
The firm
The soft
Speak in determined language undefinable
Which
Does not end
Until
The return of
The amber moon hung heavy

Entry towards

Jennifer Lopez vs. Alex Gaudino- Calabria On The Dancefloor mashup

Entry towards
Life unbridled
Stepping starts slow
Primal
Beat revealing
The friction of the fiction
Too long
Chafing desire
Bursting forth
Slow smoldering
Longing to live
Life unbridled
Each bump on the floor
The curve of something more
Corresponding pleasure
The brief
The glance
Promise of a chance
While the smolder increases
Full lips ripe longing
For the press
Against the flesh
Burning of the other
Sympatico sway
Eyes dip heavy
Skin slides
Across her dress
As bodies press
Her firm flex
Under the tracing touch
While
Steps
Moves
Dreams
Desire
Unify
To the burning pulse
Life unbridled

To be lost in

Sleepsong

To be lost in
The world of the two
Heaven's fleeting moment
Born again
Without need for atonement
Soft shutting of eyes
Encased in visions
Where he could hear
Laughing drops
Fall like rain
She could be
And he
Could be
And together rest
In the warmth
Of the other
And escape
The lumbering lone
Half dark greeting
That arrived with the dawn
But they were only sleeping
And rise
Leaving the longing
To be lost in
The world of the two

Poor Ladis?

Donna Summer vs Gnaris Barkley: Crazy vs. I feel love

"My problem is not my passions, but my lack of control of them."  Ladis didn't say that, Jack Kerouac did.  But Ladis could understand.  He understood all too well.  He could tell you of her; the simmering one.  He could tell you of the heat that rose merely by her presence.  The energy contained in her laughter.  The heat simmering in her eyes.  The beckoning call, the undertow, the seething desire that seemed to rise from her very pores.  He could tell you of the soft heat emanating from her eyes.  The tender longing that dripped from her lips.  The fierceness of her wit.  He could tell you all.  The moments where worlds ceased to exist, and the one we lived on even stood still, to allow the creation of the world of just the two.  He could tell you of passions gravity that drew the two.  The stolen moments, where love burned so fierce that they were labeled fugitives from a world that despised their glory.  When lips joined in passion, they closed their eyes.  The reason for this was two-fold.  First, and formost, was to savor every sensation of the gift of the other.  The second reason was to blind themselves from the sheer beauty of the moment shared.  They knew their arrogance to walk amongst the gods would someday cause them to be cast from heaven.  But they didn't care.  The same ones that allowed them such elegance would stand in judgment.  Though they stood blameless.  He could tell you.  But eventually the gods caught up with them.  In destruction however, the Phoenix rose from his ashes.  Poor Ladis?  Maybe.  But he was more glorious than ever.

In their pride to bring him low, bloodied and on his knees, Ladis laughed.  "Is that all you got?", he challenged the gods as they did not destroy him.  Defeated, maybe, but destroyed, no.  Perhaps to chide, they continue their cycle of destruction.  It seems as if everyday his is brought low, only to rise again bearing a grin.  Poor Laids?  "Scars are there to remind us that we lived", he would tell you. 

Of her? They had cast them both from the Garden of Eden.  Fear would be a constant companion.  Its quiet whisper would be heard in the dark of night.  Laids?  He yelled at the darkness, and it yelled back.  But exposure to that which we fear most only makes it appear what it really is... a feeble old man behind a curtain.  Nothing more, nothing more.  Poor Ladis?  Life is too short he would tell you.  Poor Ladis?  If he is to die, which we all do, he will make sure to live before he does so.  He at least, would not die with his song still in his throat.   

The song in her smile

Sarah McLachlan - Solsbury Hill

On a forgotten morning
Sweet Sarah smiled
A forgotten memory
From the mother of laughter
In her precious grin
Lived that she had not Fallen
Into the mess she was in

But escaped
A moment
When

She stood
In front of the mirror
Checking her face
A moment to her self
A sanctum of space
Where the storm of thoughts
could slow
In the gentle brush
Of mascara lash
A song
Absent minded
Chirped through subconscious lips

It was the song given
Had now returned
If indeed it had ever left
Waiting for distraction
Provided by
A moment of peace
And unknowing elegance
If only for a moment
The mindless slip
She recaptured the beauty
The world sought to steal
In her Mona Lisa smile
Reminded
The song lives still

Ulysses

U2 Even better than the real thing

Eyes locked
In the moment
Searing
Despite the
lying of the past
Or Past lies
Truth
Could not be broken
Could not be hidden
Enfeebling fear
Cold
Callous
Drained of life
Would retreat to its mausoleum
Cold
For the undertow
Beckoned
The call to life
The consuming unquenchable fire
Shall forever burn

As waves smashed
Causing creaks in the bow
Ulysses grinned

Demure grin

Sting: A thousand years

Some moments are never lost
Not really

"I don't like Bukowski"
She said
Sly smile growing
Her finger softly circled
While her laughing eyes
Hid a beckoning question
I wanted to spend my life answering

The gentle laugh
Sounding more like a hiccup
As
In simple movements
Her hand reached over to caress my arm
While her eyes
Looked into my soul
As she
Let me look into hers
For a moment
Elusive
But knowing
In the brief eternity
That our souls were accepted
They danced
Slowly
As they
Longed to meld
To feel
As her hand
Longed to meld
To feel
Traced my forearm
Before
Reaching for her coffee
The momentary bow
The cup was raised
A pause
A quick smiling stare before the sip
"I still don't like Bukowski"
Finishing with a demure grin

Atlas shrugged

Bond: Diablo

"Atlas shrugged
And the world shook"
Perhaps
That's all it took

The quickening crush
Pulsing though
The holding abeyance
Building

Abrupt
Challenge
To change
Despite
The pain

One must die
To be born

In the dying light
Before she turned
Away
The color drained from her eyes

The interplay

Kylie/Adele/Dada - Firebomb

The tension in the air
Unseen friction
For those
Who live in the boundary
The neutral zone
Containing the interplay
Between
Two halves
Longing to be made whole

The sky
Moon longs to turn to the next phase
Desperate to capture
The sun
For
The shadow
Has lingered too long
Her beauty desperate to rise
Unabashed

Below
The ground
Spring doggedly drives
To the surface
Ready to coat
The surface with its warmth
That no winter could cover
Burning
Pressing
Ready for release
Eruption
In
A call life

So its children
Can return
Eyes calling light
Deep into the night
And dance
In the interplay
between
The two

Touch

Sweedish House Mafia v Wil I Am v Cazzette - Beam the love behind




Touch is tricky
At times her softest
Trace
Might leave the deepest scar
As electricity sparks
Between the diminutive distance
Where even the molecules long
To caress
Or
Merely
To support


While
At others
Hidden
In the cloister
Of the two
Where
The most primal
Spoke the desperate
The animal
That was born of the heat
To savage
To pull so close
So tight
That souls could dance
And dance so free


Different times
Different touches
But don't ask me
Touch is tricky