At least she had a dog

Dave Grohl - Times Like these

At least she had a dog.

Remember that.  Well... that... and that none can ever take away the dance you danced.  They will forever be full of passion.  Though frozen, it's there.  Every tragedy turns into a comedy given enough time.  And that and all fairy tales will... do... and must I suppose... finally come to an end.

He knew that.  The whole part about her having a dog.  If he knew anything, he knew that.  From the tiny scratches of the nails dissipating down a hidden hallway it had gone to notify, to proclaim of the arrival of one hidden behind a door.

The meeting, he thought.  It didn't have to be... but it did.  He had been prepared.  He picked a card, then another, then... the final one he knew it would be.  It was a pretty card.  It was simple.  But what to write?  This was the question he had to face.

His words would be short.  Inspired by Kerouac he knew "In the end I will find the right words, and they will be simple."  They would be short.  They would be simple.  They would be pure.  Reduce what he knew to what he knew.  A return to nothing more than the essence.  "Continue to chase the horizon in your new year" he wrote.  Then came the kicker... "Thank you for your friendship.  Always," and then he signed his name.  He looked at .  Examined this writing.  Though he had been so careful, forever afraid that his chicken scratch might reflect badly.  It was neat.  It would suffice.  So it would be.

The dog had disappeared.  He did not have much time.  He placed the card in the mailbox.  Should he stay?

He paused.

The door opened.  She was smiling.  Her voice caught in the sing-song of contentment.  Although oil was low, stock prices were high... so her smile made sense.  His Daisy was dressed in the Haute Culture of a Robe and pajamas.  As it was almost 11 o'clock, this I suppose was perfectly normal attire... at least in her world.  Her face, perhaps was punctuated by cold cream.  Her eyes were either covered with a kind of safety glass or perhaps due to a hidden betrayer carried in her genes, she could be wearing glasses now.  Her hair was natural, and she was smiling.

At least she was until she recognized it was him.

Filled with fury, she screeched out.  Her final words were classic.  While before, her silence had left questions it was now the now.  Her words, her actions, revealed her heart.  The careful counting of his words were lost as she ripped the tiny token in half.  Though the romantic in him would love to cling to the prior moments of pause, the spaces in between, he knew that all along he had been nothing,  At least to her.  To grab hold of the future, you have to let go of the past.  So it goes.

In the cold dark he hoped she would remember that she had won.  To that victory she should cling.  If she even bothered to recall.  Bless you Daisy.

But none can ever take away the dance they had danced.

That... and at least she had a dog.    

A sacred second

It was a few days ago.  I was back at that intersection.  I had to go downtown, cover a story.  My mind was on that.  Or at least it was supposed to be.  The nearby street was too busy so I thought I will travel down another street and take that.  True, I would be going close to where I should not, but I would not think of that.  No I had a purpose to distract me.  Well maybe that is what I could tell myself.  That is until I came to the intersection.

Getting ready to take a right, traffic held me up.  I looked into the oncoming traffic, and there she was.  My first reaction was shock.  She didn't notice me.  A second stare, and I saw that... well... maybe it wasn't her.  Regardless, it made me think of her.  Of her friendship.  Fast and furious.  Lives lived in laughter.  Memories of playing the joke of telling her I could make her hand smell like strawberry.  Mad chases.  Her taking me to dance... HONK!  The cars behind me brought me back.  The right lane was clear.  I had to go.  But in that flash of the sacred second of memory, I smiled.


   

A second sacred

New Order - Confusion (Pump panel remix)

The passion had danced.  In building waves they crashed onto the shore.  Energy crescendo, followed by a moment of retreat, only to return more intense the frenzied hunger of the last hour had carried.  The walls served as silent witness to the play. In the aftermath, the tussled compliance of the bed displayed even its exhausted willingness.

But now, she stood to the side.  Her skin shone despite distraction.  It radiated the latent longing to remain though she would have to leave.  Her mind tormented as she had to go all the while her heart pressed for pause.  In looking at her, he too, was desperate for her to stay.  She was more beautiful than she would ever know.  Even if she was looking away.  Caught in the crisis of a looming deadline.  He knew.  He didn't like it, but he knew.  

In the battle of brain over body, his primal cry was defining.  He decided to form his own protest.  If she couldn't stay he would absorb all that was her.  If she had to rush, he was determined to savor every moment... every movement... every... second.  But had the waves ceased or were they only building to a epic Tsunami?  A question for each passing, each building, second.

She was in the middle of a reluctant recession.  She had already donned the stylish black shirt.  She was preoccupied.  Her mind caught in the contrast.  She longed to stay, but she had to go... she had to.  The little death took a small silent portion of her mind.  She had to focus.  She had to get ready.

But he, he could see.  He observed in silent wonder.  The fabric clung and caressed her supple and delicate form.  The textured fabric stood in stark contrast to the smoothness of her neck.  Her perfectly formed almost arrogant breasts jutted proudly forth  She pulling up the matching black shorts.  The air thickened by the presence of passions building between the two.  Her desperate longing to stay was the whispering call of the siren in her mind.  His desire stalked like a puma waiting for the moment.  The second.  The time to strike.  His eyes focused.  The time would arrive soon, he knew.

The perfect time arrived when she had her hands occupied.  They were busy placing the sharp silver accent of the earring into her ear.  This is when his stalk began the slow advance.  In a movement slow but strong he began to stoke along her inner thigh.  He could see the desire build in her eyes.  Her movements to attach the pin to the earring slowed.  His hand steady, intent, rose.  Her eyelids grew heavy with desire.  His hand passed the cuff of her shorts.  Higher and higher.  Her eyes closed.  Her hands froze while his hands rose, higher and higher.

Standing slowly he moved behind her.  One hand continued its rise.  His other hand moved towards her stomach.  While her hands remained frozen, her eyes remained closed focusing on the desire building in her soul.  Her only movement was to press her body back and lean into his advance.  His hand traced along the periphery.  Back and forth, The slow advance followed by the retreat.  The Tsunami was building.  His other hand circled around her trembling stomach feeling her craven yearning wanting, waiting, desperate for release.

Yet he continued the trace.  The build. Until...

In a turning lean, she revealed her consuming desire.  Passions primal erupted, with a silken slide the Rubicon was crossed.  Passion fell in an engulfing deluge as the crest of primal waves of passion fell over the two.  In a response to the primitive the two forgot all save the other.  Eden would be reclaimed, if only for a moment.  In this moment were time was supposed to be all, the two would hold off time, if only to spare another second in the sacred.

Dark side shelter

Spain- So far away

The dark side
Passed as a shelter
For the advance of guarded touches
Despite the lights
In the distance
The hour
might prevent
The passerby
From
The try
To look
At the divided
Figures
Cautious trace
Looking for a sign
Calculating all
Way beyond
What was needed
But both
Desperate to become
One
Uneasy grins
Thoughts furious flow
Through the mind
As each step closer offers
Opportunity
Or
Desperately Decimated
If they only could cease to see
With their eyes
And surrender
Desperately tiptoeing the tripwire
Of building desire
Desperately waiting
For the ignition of the smoldering
Then
The lean
As the lips of he
Pressed
Towards the full ripe longing lips
Of the she
Her eyes
filled with desire
Closed as she
Desire driven rushed
To meet his advancing embrace
Pulling him
Into her
Fire
Where
There was no lie

Funny

Foo Fighters - Everlong

     It happened earlier last week.  It was an old poem: Funny word.  A poem I had written specifically for her.  It was over the name of the color of her dress.  I remembered the photo... so did she.  I used a memory drawn from the obscure colors of the 64 count crayola box.  I was wrong.  She knew.  She knew immediately.

     Who was it?  It was her.  The most beautiful girl in town.  Most people wouldn't know.  They might have only looked on the outside.  Which was incredible, don't get me wrong.  The subtle dancing of her hips when she walked.  Her seemingly unknowing ability to kill with her smile.  The fire that smoldered in her eyes.  She was fatal in beauty but I loved here for the savageness of spirit that she kept so well hidden.  Her observant eyes, her tender spirit.  A touch that could give life as easily as it took it away.  And as you can imagine, if you were allowed entry into her heart, that only exponentially increased all she did.  The gilded gauze that made her shine.  While love is blind... I was her friend.  This means I kept one eye open.  I choose to remember though I can recall all.
   
    Could she have been looking at it?  Maybe.  I felt that excited joy inside.  The same false hope that arises each time someone wants to befriend me on Facebook.  All I see is the request.  Excitement erupts, although I know full well it won't be from her.  It never will be,  But that doesn't kill the leap of hope.  That is until I strangle it back.  

   So what of the poem.  It was written of an experience.  The photo.  A dance.  Which and where isn't important to his story.  It didn't matter.  You see, I was with her.  That was all that mattered.

     Music provided the excuse for us to press, one against the other.  For our souls to melt bleeding in the union that made our hearts beat as one.  Syncopated in beats and pauses.  We were caught in the precipice of l'amour fous, the burning love.  Desire, why it was allowed to boil.  Rolling and violent our passions were held until the pot was about to burst.  But you couldn't let it show.  Save in your eyes, which as always serve as a glorious window to the soul.  Striving to keep at bay the devouring passions was okay.  I could hold it back.  Like I said, I was with her... and that was all that mattered.

     Somewhere, someone, they  had a camera.  It was time for poses.  The capture of reality in a frozen moment... but what did the freeze display  I held her in a dip.  In my look at her you saw a man in exultation.  But that is inconsequential.  It was her.  In her look at the camera she exuded joy.  Her beaming smile defying any darkness that the world might bring against us.  I looked so fulfilled.  So did she.  At least to me.  At the end of the day, it was her and I, and that was all that mattered.

     So what happened to the picture?  All are cast out of Eden I suppose.  The fates must laugh.  I had clung to mine.  Forced to give it up, though it had already burned itself into my memory.  What of her?  I would discover that she had turned it in to some group in order to be a little sister to an organization.  Very precious.  No doubt they helped to teach her that a blow was the same as a kiss.  It wasn't really cheating.  Not really.  That crazy funny word fuchsia.  Though I had recalled  magenta.  Kind of funny isn't it?

 

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