Waiting on a train

Letting go of 2013




At first I thought It was a streetlight
Bloated
Shapped
Like a pregnant woman laying on her side
Unaware of the precious light within
Loathing her beauty
Or the change
Of day to night
Only to find
It could have been the moon
That shape
Knowing
One cannot trust their eyes
If the imagination is out of focus


The lion continued to roar
I had yet to face loves greatest lesson


The stationary refuge of
Art deco depot
Housing a homeless man
Who shivered in short sleeves
Arms tucked in
Desperate for shelter
Words sought release
Communication barks in statter step pace
Hitting a halting syllabic sing song
THACK-THACK "Not me, Not me"
I look
Am passed by
As I try to forget

The lion continued to roar
Snarling pace before
Loves greatest lesson


One had left
Before Delilah danced
In soft pirouettes
Turning
Forever in circles cycling slow
To return to themselves
Eyes turn
To the crossing gates signal
Of the oncoming arrival


But
The train
In two transfers
Would take me close
To a home
I longed to turn to
But never could
Although I knew
I tried to not let show
Loves greatest lesson
and letting go

Perfect Symmetry

Gypsy Kings - Amor Mio

In perfect symmetry
Her eyes danced
Like her voice
When she saw me
Rising
Falling
Sending sifting winds
To stoke passions fire
Her gentle grin
Always would end
Every line
Stopping just before
Just before the line
Then
With a mischievous rise
Leading my eyes
Back towards her
Longing to dance
Longing to caress
Her supple form
Wearing coy clothes
Consistently caught
In the balance of the reveal
What to show
And what to hide
In perfect symmetry
Her mind was aflame
Her spirit so strong
Yet
So gentle
So gentle
Her eyes sent
The sifting winds of night
Whispering soft seduction
In perfect symmetry

Crossroads

Tracy Chapman - Talking bout a revolution

Memory
The biggest liar
Calling to
To a land that never was
In the face
Of what could be
But
At the crossroads pass
The moment
Silently lingers
Waiting for the choice
The decision
The trade out
Or up
From a plasticine freeze
To the warm summer’s breeze
If you could only listen
Only dare
For its gentle call
Regardless rises
Above the frozen reason
The din of deceit
The new world calls
Always
In the moments
Silent linger
Waits

We could be heroes... Thanks Bowie

Heroes - David Bowie Acoustic

To correct the child and not crush the spirit is a good thing.  But to inspire that child to fly, to soar, to become… that is a nobility personified.  That is David Bowie.

A tiny artist trembling before the weight of the world.  Perhaps they had seen too much.  All that had been perceived as precious had been cast down.  Why?  Why should they try?  As if a punishment by the Olympian gods, the weight of the world crushed the flower that dared to grow in the sidewalks crack.  Not once, not twice, but continually.  Young Prometheus forever punished for bringing fire to man.  Shackled to the forge, his sweat would never earn redemption.  Frustrated to pay penance for a crime never committed he longed to lay his hammer down.

Then they heard it:  the voice of an encourager.  One who felt.  One who understood.  One who dared to defy the gods.  He dared to exalt in the victory of the small.  Stepping forward, forever stepping forward: the victory of being alive.  The sweetness that could be found in the bitter.  The pride that could be found in just one moment.  Do not focus on the fact that you were crushed, but revel in the fact that you grew.  For a moment you stood high.  Though you may not have known it, the world basked in your glory: if only for a moment.  And if the world didn't know, it was still your show.  A moment may be all you have, but meet it unabashed.

In the shadow of a passing shooting star, the boy looked up and smiled.     

Black Magic Woman

Black Magic Woman - Carlos Santana (remix)


Her spell begins
With
Movements matching beat
The undulating progression
The sultry retreat
Of her eyes
She cannot hope to disguise
The smile
Of seduction
Mysterious lips
Secrets longing to tell
But will her body
Whisper
In timed reveal
The twist
The turn
Heated hips soft curve
Exciting Nerves
As she knows
The collapsing words
Lie at feet that
Keeps perfect time
Underlying beats
The mix of cultures complete
My bewitching black magic woman
Smiles as
Her web of seduction
Softly spins

The Wolverine

Gary Jules Mad World (Wolveriene’s version)

Lithium (Jean's Version)

 

It’s a mad world.  She took away their last form of communication.  Or I guess you could say it was him.  He was the one that went outside of the script.  How did he do this?  By telling the truth.  A small little truth… no more than a crack in a dam.  But by merely pointing it out the wall collapsed.  Don’t get me wrong the façade was beautiful.  But at the end of the day, it was nothing more than a façade that would erupt on its own anyway.  That’s right:  I’m talking about the Wolverine and Jean Grey.   

What started all this???  I watched a movie a few days back.  It helped to cement which one of the X-men I was.  Don’t worry.  He ran from his own clarification as well.

It was one of those X-men movies or I suppose a spin off.  Like the comics, it was filled with the good guys, the bad guys, and all those marvelous shades of gray.  For a little while I thought I could associate with Scott, or Cyclops.  He was smart, reserved, and was a man of controlled words… okay, so maybe I wasn’t Scott.  Well then maybe I was the professor.  That’s a possibility.  He was smart, urbane, a teacher.  Maybe it would fit.  But no… even he had to be saved.  He had to be saved by the Wolverine.

The movie I saw by the way was The Wolverine.  The Wolverine: a brute, a brawler, a tenacious bulldog who just would not quit.  Yeah, that’s all true.  But this latest movie really pointed out another odd fact.  Wolverine was a man haunted by a ghost.  The specter of Jean Grey.

Jean had focused the savage beast.  He would not hesitate to stand against anyone for her.  Always for her.  And she, gave all for him.  This caused her death the first time, but the second time she emerged confused.  More powerful than one could believe, he tried to help her but h only ended up killing her.  What???  Well he did it for her.  (Comic logic, see the movie if you have to.)  But like the sting of a bee, Jean never really left.  She continued to haunt his dreams.

 In his dream she would tease, she taunting promises.  He knew she was a dream, she knew she was a dream.  But  I suppose for him, a dream was all they had.  If he could not enjoy the pleasure of her, then I guess Wolverine felt he could at least enjoy the pain… it was all he had.  Would you live a life of hell for five minutes of heaven?  For Wolverine apparently the answer was yes.  He had tried to walk away.  Maybe it worked for a moment or two.  The thin skin that covered the wound however was very weak, ready to rupture at a moment’s notice.  But on the other hand, maybe it was this ghost that kept the Wolverine alive.  He had faced so much more than it seemed fair for any comic book character to take and loose.  Maybe it was only that memory of a fractured past that kept his present, no matter how askew in order: poor Wolverine.  But don’t worry, every morning, he would wake however and carry on.  Poor Wolverine.

 The thing that was hard for me to figure out, was when he knew it was a dream, why did he keep on doing it.  To tell you honestly I don’t know.  Maybe she had to stay in the fractured stasis.  He knew all the fractures… he said as much.  He longed from a howl from the other side that met his own hand reaching out in the darkness.  Maybe that’s asking too much from a movie.  Maybe if truth was brought in they would face the denial and collapse into the other, or maybe it would reveal that all of it was nothing more than a shifting game built upon a cracked foundation.  Revealed it would just cause them to collapse.  Ahh well, good thing Wolverine is indestructible.

The gift

"Excuse me."

So it was my second time in line.  I had been in line once before to buy an item, now I was going to build up some store credit with some books I had sold back to the store.  You see I was at Recycled books  It's a used bookstore up here in Denton.  The setting of this story however, may not be as important as what day it was... it was Christmas Eve.

My Christmas Eve caught up with me being in the domestic.  Doing the wash, deciding on the potential of two docs to create this upcoming semester, and the fun of making sure that my classes are able to make.  Too much distraction... I mean fun, yeah... that's what we will call it, and of course cleaning about the house.  In cleaning my house I had come across some books I wanted to trade in to a used bookstore:  Recycled Books.

Well in the torrent of things to do I went to Recycled.  As it was Christmas Eve, the store was pretty busy.  As a common  trait among many established used book stores, the store perfectly reflected the tomes it sold; a little well worn, signs of age are present, but the store, and its customers reflected only nurturing comfort.  At the purchasing area a short haired brunette brazened with the bandana of a Rosie the Riveter greeted me.  Through her black thick rimmed glasses one expects in a college town, she confidently began the shuffle.  "What is your first name again?", followed by the "Okay... it will be a little while."  All of this I was used to.  I knew I would go and loose myself in the trove.

"Excuse me."

The trick is the same at most retail.  You give the customers time to spend money at the store while they wait for the service. I had made my usual rounds.  I spent my time looking at books, then at people, all the while carrying out conversations in my head.  I found an item, waited in line, and sat to read while I waited for my credit to be ready.  When they called my name I went to go get it and got right back into line again.  This time, a new employee had stepped forward to the two operating registers.  I hadn't seen her in a long time.  As our conversations were always good, I hoped that I would get to be her customer.  I looked at the line, figured out that the odds seemed to be in my favor and smiled.  The line moved forward at a steady pace...

"Excuse me."

That is when I saw her.  Well actually heard her.  Looking down there she was.  A girl somewhere between the age of 9 and 10 holding out a flower that seemd so large in her tiny hand.  She held a bunch of similar flowers in her other hand and it obvious that she had picked them from the bush outside.  Yet her smile was so earnest.  So unblemished by any motive save to say: "Excuse me, but I wanted to give you a flower and tell you I hope you have a Merry Christmas tomorrow."  Her smile turned into an open grin as I reached down to take her gift from her.  "For me?Well thank you young lady.  Looking up, I saw her mother standing about 8 feet away holding a larger bouquet.  But looking back at the girl I saw her begin to laugh.  "Well you have a lot of flowers", I stated. "Yes, I am going to give one to every person in the store.  I want to make sure they have a Merry Christmas."  "Well that's a good idea," I replied.  "And I hope you have a Merry Christmas!" 

Her response to my announcement, merely displayed the unbridled joy of Christmas.  She laughed.  That unfettered laugh that comes so easily as a child, but sadly grows more difficult as we get older.  "It's not Christmas today!", she bellowed.  "It's not?", I replied," Well I want you to have a Merry Christmas both today and tomorrow."  This little bit of minor madness caused both her and her mother her to giggle.  "Thank you so much for your gift."  I told her.  "Now you better get going and deliver more."  It was now my turn at the front counter.  The sales attendant I hadn 't spoken to in a while was behind the register. 

"Excuse me." could be heard in the distance.  Out of my peripheral vision she was spreading joy to the world the best way she knew how, by giving all a simple, hand picked yellow flower.  Never forget, the power of one good act in a weary world.

"Excuse me."

Never hesitate to practice random acts of kindness.

"Excuse me."

I am only telling the readers to.... what?  Okay.  I will tell them.

Merry Christmas.