Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Stroking soft the lovely skin
Vaulted Goddess in the night
The ache within my heart a din
Kissed cheeks doth make it right

But whence the pain within the heart
Sings a distant teary song
A single voice a tender part
Wanting desire becoming strong

To hold her head again my grasp
Reach'd out through dreamy eyes
Her hair through fingers deftly pass'd
I weepingly missed surprise

And as she lie upon the bed
In glowing morning light
I kneel before and bow my head
To this Queen of Starry Night

Oh Slumber take from me this ache
And give to me thine kiss
To keep mine heart from trembling quake
For the dreaming love I miss

Once alone, never again
Whence we touch my heart will mend

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

May I?

I would like to talk about my Muse.

She is gracious and beautiful.  She is elegant and kind.
She is singularly mine.


I have come a long way in a short time.  I have been through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, emotionally.  I have been in and out of love, and I have seen the stars in the eyes of others.  Even my own eyes have held those same stars.  But here I sit, trying to coax some love from a being who reaches into my heart and my head, whispers a few loving words into my ear, and guides my hand with deliberate movements.  She shows me how to make love to the page, she traces my face with a fingertip dripping with the nectar of creativity, and she kisses my cheek when I am unable to find love within myself for the written word.  She is all the power I need to create.

And she is in me.

I have creative friends, artists if you will.  Some trained, most not, but talented all.  Musicians, painters, writers, sketch artists, and  poets.  I know actors and directors.  And I know lovers.  Yes, Lovers.  What? Love is an art?  Of course, my friends.  Love. Is. An. Art.  Without questions.

When displayed for the general public, Love might seem superficial, trivial, or shallow.  But when grouped together at a gallery, one can compare and contrast the subtle permutations that differentiate one Lover from another.  The small kindnesses that this one offers versus the grand and symphonic love of that one.   And as much as art can be summed up with the statement by Gelette Burgess " I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like", Love falls into the same category.  We might not know anything at all about what it means, but when it's right, it speaks to us so deeply that we often become changed by it forever.  Loving is an art form that can sometimes be learned by observing others, but this  makes you bland and unoriginal, a sad state to be in if you are trying to convince the person you have feelings for that you do, in fact, think the world of them.  If you look deeply into yourself, would you see a loving person there?  Would you see a person who makes your interest feel good about themselves? Would you want to be loved the way that you love others?

I  know that I would.

I have said this often enough, but it's as true a statement as I can give.  Love with all the caution of a Great White Shark.  It's not enough to love just a little bit, but rather give yourself wholly over to the waves crashing upon the shore of your heart.  See the light above, and the darkness below, and chase the scent of your beloved as though your very life depended on it.  Feel the hammering heartbeat in your chest as daylight turns to night, and taste that metallic tinge of passion as you lie down to sleep.  Feel. Experience.  Love.  Give.  Care.  Dream.  Listen. Hope. And most of all LOVE LOVE LOVE!
Kiss the sky, hold the moon, dance in the wild green places, the rocky shores, the barren wastelands that are parking lots. Just take it all in.

If I could tell you how blessed I am to be loved the way I do, I would.

Seems I just did.

Now you are going to ask yourself " What the hell does this have to do with a Muse?"
And my answer will be "Exactly."

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Inkless Pen

The gate remains unfinished.  I can feel the rust beginning to take hold, to crawl like an irrational fear upon the bare metal.  I can taste the metallic doom clinging to the moist air as I sit, idly by, and wait for the next clap of thunder to rain liquid death upon the lonely bars.

I sit here, waiting for my Muse to stroke gently and whisper in my ear.  I hope that by lubricating her with good beer and a fine cigar, she will grace me with brilliance.  But she does not yet.  So I will reach into the pit of my being, prod the monsters there, and wait for one to surface.  If I am lucky, it will be fierce and deadly, one to be reckoned with.  Perhaps covered in spines and bleeding venomous ocher onto the floor as it writhes into my peripheral vision. 

Crawling black on iron bars
I see the shadows fall
There beyond the Raven's Gate
I hear the darkness call

For in time lost and ne'er found
I wish for more than this
Whilst all the horrors breathe my name
From monstrous lips, a kiss

Twas fine in prose and lost to sea
A great ship on the tide
I feel the pull from moonswashed shores
Where Cthulhu does reside

In chilled breeze and garish light
I hold by breath for dawn
If death come for me while I wait
My dears, my sadness mourn

So now with bated breath I lie
And shiver for my part
I see you wait around for more
Words written with my heart

Come to me my Starry Muse
And my Dryad cloaked in Wood
My words wait for your stroke so fair
To flow the way they should

Or Madness green and loathsome grip
Upon my wand'ring mind
While childhood fears all lie in wait
Polyphemus has gone blind

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Toast. Without the Burnt Edges.

When does one know pride?

Not pride in oneself, rather in others.  Specifically a loved one. Someone like my Sister, say? A person who gave up short-term goals and sacrificed what could have been the best years of her life to grace the planet with beautiful children, an abundance of kindness, and lessons for those around her.   She could be looked upon as foolishly young for the choice at the time.  Many did just that.  But she persevered, raising those children with her husband (of many, many years now), helping to build a home from what was once just a house, and spreading that same, unfaltering kindness upon the world around her. 

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, my big sister grew up. The woman I see today is not far from the big sister I saw all those years ago.  A few more years, a few more miles, and a whole lot of smiles under the bridge, but she's still in there, grinning at me with that "I'm going to break your legs later" look.  She has that same enthusiastic beam, that brightness that she passes on to others even when I can see the shadow of gloom hanging in her eyes.  She makes MY enthusiasm look weak, if you can believe that.  She is an inspiration to all of us to reach beyond what others think you are capable of. 

She is a Marvel.

A Wonder.

And she is my sister.

She shared with me some news yesterday that made me SO happy for her.  I will not divulge the specifics, but just know that she has been given a chance to be what she was built to be...what she has worked so many years to be.   And that, in itself, is perfect.  She carries her doubts deep under the surface, and shares them only sparingly, so when I recognize them, I often wonder how it is that she could REALLY believe that.  But doubts plague us all, and reaffirms what I believe to be one of the few truths in life: We are ALL the same inside.  It's what we do with those feelings that sets us apart.  To have such enormous doubt crawling around under the surface and yet move SO boldly into life points out the scale of the bravery, of the character within that soul.  Of HER Character.

Sister of mine, I raise you a glass - here in the open.  I ask all others to stand with me and smile as we cheer your name.  It's not too much to ask, is it friends?  She deserves it, and trust me on this... it was a LONG time coming.

To my sister, May she be the Captain of her Ship.  May her sails be full and her seas calm.  May her endeavors continue to bring her to the ports she wishes to see.  To you, My Sister.


I am so proud of you. 

Sunday, May 8, 2011

For Those Who Have Mothers

Did you ever look at your mother? I mean REALLY look at her? You're in there, you know. Some part of you, anyway. There are times when we all have said (yes, guys as well) that there is NO way that we are like our mothers. But you are, ... You have to be (to a point) because it is your mother teaching you how to love, how to nurture, how to care for others, and how to be the softer parts of life. I know, some of you will deny that YOUR mother is soft enough for that, or kind enough. I know there will be some who will say "I haven't seen her in ages and I don't regret it". But many will look away, smile, and nod a little.

A beautiful woman recently confessed to me that she missed her mother, the things that she was, that woman who raised her and cared for her. She missed her to tears. But with a little reflection, she realized that the woman her mother brought into this world kept those things alive. My friend remembered and did many of the things she missed about her mother, and this was cause for pause and reflection. He mother was not gone, rather she was alive and well in her daughter.

So on this Mother's Day, I offer that you take your traditions, hold them aloft in the sun, and reflect on how much they have been handed down and made your own. Somewhere in there is a piece of the woman who calls you child.

And her heart is beautiful.

Happy Mother's Day.
I am humbled to know so many amazing ones, and I am proud to call them many of them friend. Or Sister. And of course, my own Mother.

She gave you wings. What you did with them was up to you.

♥ ♥

In May's Sun

Mine heart aloft in the clear blue sky
Reflecting in the deep ocean below
A black flag flying from a salt-covered mast
And a fair waving hand from the Crow's Nest
A sing-song of work in rhythm as one
All the sounds of the laboring ship
The Good Lady Gossamer makes speed at last
The crew at your command

No matter how far from your orders ring
Forty men toil and labor and sing
Sweat in the sun and laugh and all cheer
And a crow in the sky on the wing.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

A Look Back on a Short Break

"dark spirit rising
i swallow hard against it
i swore not again

1/11/11 12:20am"

For completeness of the record, this goes back up.  I had taken it down and discarded it, but figured that even the dark stuff needs to be recorded.  It was a tough time, and one I'd prefer to not relive... however, it does need to be remembered.  In the end, I did not let the dark spirit rise much further than the edges of the pit.  It felt like it would just come bursting out, but it didn't. 

In the same vein, I was going to take down Roku and Unexpected Win, but figured that they are as much a part of my Emotional Record as anything else I might own - They Stay. 

My life is complicated and traverses a long, winding road.  Your friendship, your companionship makes up for SO much.  And I treasure it. 

And you... Thanks for keeping this part of me safe.  If it weren't for you, it would have been lost forever.

But no more.