POEMS

LATEST POEM AT BOTTOM OF PAGE - July 18

Pour Toi

I'll try to write a poem in verse
And hope it does not turn out worse
Than cliche-ridden songs you read
Which formed from black thoughts in my head
I'll write the bulk in couplet form
But on occasion stray from norm
And use a line without a rhyme and even out of meter.

Still even now I'll write no sonnet
Or ballad with love sprinkled on it
This is no plea for your affection
This is no compliment collection
I will not praise your hair, your eyes
Or ask you to quit other guys
And take a chance with someone who would celebrate you.

I won't here speak of my affliction
Or some doctor's hug prescription
I shant here cry "mutual attraction!"
Or claim that all-but-you's distraction
Alone, alone! A lonely fool.
Aye, fool I am but someone who'll
Gladly try to catch La Lune if asked.

Amour, amour! Does it translate?
In truth no man can demonstrate
His true desires and deep devotion
No words can sum up strong emotion
In text or sound there will be losses
Languages are cruel bosses
They barely let us communicate at all.

Does this sound much like Doctor Seuss
Or take you back to Mother Goose?
I would not, could not have that be
Thus I conclude now, c'est fini.

Thank You

What can I say when you've poured the last words of your poem
into me, and onto me, and unto me? Naturally, silence must follow
as we both digest, but what then? I scramble for words to
describe the emotion but "wow" does not suffice. No words, no words.
The silence is deep, but what then?

Silence. I yearn to swim its depths with you. To sit in speechless bliss
and watch your eyes watch mine. I think of you. Do you think of me?

You shared Ginzberg with me and I was there. You shared yourself with me
and I was alive. How many men have known your body? How many men
have shared your bed? It matters little. Past is passed. But how many
men have known you? Truly known you? How many men have basked in
your stanzas and rolled in your verse? Who has caressed your words? You
shared your head with me and I know intimacy. What fool would compare
sex to that? Sex is mechanical, bounded, limited. Music is much more
connecting.

You taught me. You taught me appreciation for a broader band of sounds.
You taught me to see THROUGH smoke and PAST sex. You taught me
the value of poems. So tell ME what the poets are doing.

We live in the silence, the warm soundless glow. After the Big Bang,
God viewed his work in silence, and it was good. And sometimes (silence),
sometimes we stare right back (in silence). It was good for us too.

The Dance

A room. 
"This song is great," she said. 
"But it's missing one thing," he said. 
"Guitar," she said. 
"A dance," he said. 
       Laughter. 
               "Why do I say such things?" he said 
                       "It's cute," she said. 
       "Dance with me," he said. 
               "No," she said. 
                       "Dance with me," he said. 
       "No," she said. 
               "Dance with me?" he siad. 
                       "No!" she said. 
                               "Dance with me please," he said. 
               "Dance with yourself," she said. 
       "I am.  But dance with me," he said. 
                               "No," she said. 
               "Dance with me," he said. 
"No," she said. 
                       "Dance with me," he said. 
       "No," she said. 
               "Dance with me," he said. 
"No," she said. 
       "Dance with me," he said. 
                       "No," she said. 
                               "Please," he said. 
       "No," she said. 
                       "One dance," he said. 
                               "No," she said. 
"Dance with me asexually," he said. 
       Laughter.  A hand.  A dance.  Exit. 

A rose, choked of life
Still smells so sweet .

Caution

"Look at what I've created," he said.
"Look at what I've wrought."

"It is nothing," she said,
And, with a thought, destroyed him.

What If I Told You?

What if I told you that...
Ummmm...
God spoke to me in...
In the supermarket, yeah, and he said...he said...
See he spoke in a language I could barely understand, an ancient language, see?
Well he told me that I should...he told me...I should...
God spoke to me...he was upset about something, yeah, and he told me I should...
I should say hi...well maybe I misunderstood.
The frozen fish wouldn't shut up.

Looking For a Poem

I'm looking
I'm looking for a poem
I'm looking for a poem that describes us
The you and me
Well

Well I can't find one
Nor can I write one
With my dozing mind
Dozing away

So instead
I write this
In the moment
Meant for you

As Much As I Can Remember

it was cloudy when I set out I was worried
it was cloudy when I arrived we were worried
but the clouds soon broke to bright friendly sunshine
you were outside returning a fridge
re-fri-ger-a-tor
that was weird but off we went
stopped in the village for film and cash
almost got crushed by something dangling from a crane
but we were spared and off we went
got lost downtown "Which way to Stanley Park?"
complex directions from a friendly fisherman
at least I think he was a fisherman
by the time we found the park it was sunny
the birds flew low but didn't get us
no flow at the waterpark
some pollution thingy and some salmon thingy being set up
friendly artists with drawrings and such
posing belugas and silly seals
kid with ice cream smell of popcorn
"Which way to Totem Poles?"
shirt left on tree kids running and laughing fat topless guy by the pool police tape around field
Seawall with scuba statue with bra smelly horses placid peacocks
cute fuzzies in the shop
I had fish, you had sandwich fries with mayo yum sexual cheesecake mmm
us rolling down the hill me rolling up the hill?
piggyback fun laughter and daisies proclaiming Ginzberg from the stage
monuments for Whats It Now and Whos His Face
Robbie Burns
we were lovers at Lovers' Bench you on me and me on it
hollow me topless tree
finally Totem Poles woman in way nasty vandals
found the car and off we went stopped at Totem called my dad to the beach!
long way down such scenery such sand such bums
Mike's not-really-hard lemonade me topless again you not
pants kept on for your safety
you cartwheels me lie in sand
back massage pheromones bliss no stomach
late we go back longer way up but can't stop now
breathe
brief words and a hug cheeky kisses goodbye and That's
As Much As I Can Remember

Or, Tuesday, If You Prefer

If you're free then.
If you're free then I'm buying.
If you're free then celebrate. Visit a local prison or McDonalds and flaunt it.
If you're free then do something creative.
If you're free then YOU think of the next line.
If you're free then don't complain.
If you're free then fornicate.
If you're free then masturbate.
If you're free then who dumped you?
If you're free then don't waste your time. Do something useful. Get a job. A real one.
If you're free then HELP ME OUT.
If you're free then answer the damned phone, will you? I tried calling you sevend-hundred twelve times in the last four-point-six seconds.
If you're free then let's do something.
If you're free then make yourself useful. Grab a shovel and a bucket and dig up some dirt. Fill in for someone. Spread the money and the shit.
If you're free then why?
If you're free then why aren't I?
If you're free then who freed you?
If you're free then you're alone.
If you're free then you're dreaming.
If you're free then what are you still doing here?
If you're free then don't listen to me.

In Case You Had Forgot

so here I sit one August eve
and tempt myself to write
and all the while I worry that
this poem is going to bite

I shan't try hard to make things rhyme
or work to write with wit
for people trying at that art
most often end with shit

true some folks get quite good at that
but I have sadly seen
that most become but slaves to meter
and to rhyming scheme

still worse are those who utilize
obscure words and obtuse
to try and hide the fact that there's
no meat no pie no juice

then there's the type who'll write a poem
so long to span the sea
and end up saying nothing more
than you and I are we

well here I am six stanzas in
and haven't answered aught
so happy birthday I love you
(in case you had forgot)

Coincidence and Ian

or "One Year In, with love from me (being Gilan) to you (being Andrea)"

It's hard to write something for you.
Nothing I write seems good enough
To merit being a song or poem
Describing all you give to me
And yet I must, I must!

It took me twenty years to find you
In truth, I probably only searched for five
Or so. Regardless, that's a long time.
I searched for you without knowing you.
It seemed I searched in vain.
The more I looked, the more I found
Only pain and loneliness without you.

Funny how I only found love once I resolved
To be happy without it. Funny how it took
Coincidence and Ian to get us together.
Fate? I don't trust that word,
Still less the concept of it all.
But somehow...

We seem to fit together; doomed to love each other
So much it brings pain sometimes.
If I can't bring you happiness I fail.
I bring you all I have. Love, friendship,
Companionship, understanding, fears and joys,
Trust of mind and soul and body. All these are
Yours. And words.

Ah, words. All too powerful and foolish of use
They can be dangerous daggers when spoken lightly
And yet I speak again without censor. This is more
River of thought than poem and certainly no song.
But it is my gift to you, my Love for you.

One year in, your voice, your touch, your face,
Your hair, your sweetest thoughts surrounding me,
Your picture on my wall, and all you give me
Bring me immeasurable waves of bliss
Which, lapping on my shores, leave me grinning
Dumbly, waiting only
For more.

4AM Scribblings

Smile, There's a Lot More

With my broken faith and
Your sad smile,
There's a lot more
That's killing us these days

Our Boundaries

Defined only by our boundaries
In skins of awe and lust and fear
Out tangled arms and legs
In breasts pressed and beating
Fore and against

Minds melded and melted away
By fires elsewhere unknown
And even here described
Only in failed metaphor

Caution borders on agony
Careful on betrayal
Desire to please
And desires teased
Flesh unsated though sensation abounds

Half my empire
All my heart
My mind and liver
Breath and body
All is yours but

This device I hesitate to trust
And as I can not take a life
I can not risk to give
And love is left
Defied too by our boundaries

We'll Surely Dare

to laugh and cry and reminisce
of loves now lost or gone amiss
to find in fondly 'membered arms
a comfort from those deepened harms
to temper sorrow with good cheer
a friendly face, a friendly beer
till given time to heal our hearts
from sadly cliched poison darts
I know it, though I know not when
we'll surely dare to love again