"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment." - John F. Kennedy

Thanks for finding me. This is a fairly random sampling of my poetic rumblings beginning in the mid-70s to present day. Not definitive or complete, just things that struck me again for one reason or another on revisiting. There are a couple of previously published collections here which might be good places to start if you are diving in blind from the precipice.

Try the collections MEET THE BEATS or GLIMMERING RAY DUET (both archived in June 2008 in the menu below right) for starters if you are so inclined...

As of 2016, I will be publishing my song lyrics on a seperate page from the more poetic scribblings here. Pieces that first appeared here and then later were arranged for music will remain here in their original form but may appear edited on the lyric page. Check out the links section for the original song blog.
Showing posts with label passing time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label passing time. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

THE DECEPTION OF PASSING TIME


Six months is nothing
Flies by
Weightless
Unless you’re in jail
Or 12-years-old and anxious for the summer to end
All weekdays at the beach
Kicking sand on your brother
Enjoying new bodies
Worn by new girls
You’ve never laid eyes on before.

But at this ripe old age
Careening slowly towards extinction
6 months
All we had
Sped by in a dream of reckless love
Compliant kisses
Teenaged tumescence rekindled
By the surprise writ with a capital “Us.”

Our eyes first met
Yesterday
or was it 186 days ago
And poof! Now it’s over.
No reasons explain the depth of this loss
The magnitude of this kinetic, chemical kismet.
The impossibility of language
To concretize any cohesive meaning
From the importance of that first moment
Luck-of-the-draw
One-in-a-million
Lightning strike chance meeting
Nor the severities of its posthumous dissolve.

In this lathered town of fickle nothingness
The vision of the two of you
Going through the motions
The ritualistic touches
Forced smiles
Emotionless, practiced appearances
Driven by memory of how it is “supposed to be”
Is it the living of a long lie?
Or the distorted funhouse mirror rationality
The ease of familiarity’s dulling draw
The Siren’s willowy call
Trading a possible life song of adventure, passion, risk
For a interminable sound bite of feeling unseen
Disrespected, taken for granted
Free of everything but the emptiness of what’s missing.
And oddly, time finds me
Under the sheet
Fucked
Ignored and under whelmed.

Desperate not for love
For we have found that without trying
Instead 
Believing and attempting to hold this delicate premise dear
Amidst the rancorous confusion
Wanting only to leave the hurt behind
Before the lie that love does not exist
Bludgeons us all into a life of true submission.
You claim prowess at departures
Being “good at disconnecting”
So forgive me if I have a hard time processing that.
I was busy listening to your racing heart against my chest
My hand on the small of your back
Your neck still wet from my kisses
Your eyes inches from me telling the truth
Like yesterday
Six months ago.


- For Beautiful Baby, Big Bear City, 9/16/15 

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

MORE EARLY PUBLISHED POEMS

SPIGOT (early version)

I.

stranger
nemesis to himself
foisting drill-press limitation
hard-edged
guilt by disassociation
fire line discombobulation
on one's own psyche.

not particularly healthy
non-controllable, weird osmotic
chemical reaction to heart's conundrums
not conducive to positive growth potential.
fuck the diagnosis
race for the cure.

II.

deserted.
non-malicious bailing out
those who've had enough
or search a different window.

there has not been a day
without tears
(waterfall;
glacial trickle > ocean roar
record setting, soaking pearls
of rejected anger, mists of acceptance
beauty's reflected appreciation
longing's widening, leaking fissure)
raining for 49 humid days
dark, ebony nights .
after 15 years of drought,
thirsting for tear's acknowledgment
of some dab of emotion left floating inside,
the parched earth
rock solid
impenetrable
like my stupidity
my rigorous, inflexible blinders
the spidery flawed face of the self-loathing mirror
turned shamefully to the wall.
Barely a smidgen of moisture crept through.
But what did seeped into the cracked weaknesses
of my hardened self-hatred
created rivulets of hope
positive flow


(beneath the surface
waterways tinged of reminiscence
just navigable
in the eerie inner darkness
the memory of passionate language of thought
floating
downstream
toward that light)

III.

my face
flushes briefly with the warmth...
stopping breath
time
memory
flow
only to slip further away
always, inexplicably out of her grasp
always mysteriously in reach
waiting
always for that warm glimmer
upon my saddened brow.

always
the light
she silently calls out
whispering my given name
singing the word "beautiful"
softly on my every breath.

always
a darker reality
than the soul can bear.

IV.

time cradles light like a fragile child
sneering menacingly at the baby's face
calling it's hand.
full of love, sustenance and compassion
the light's radiant smile
briefly tickles time's chin
only to dim
in it's powerful stare.


-- 6/23/96 as it appeared in print. This version appeared in the poetry zine
A Hindu, A Buddhist & A Lion Tamer, #2, Folcroft, PA. 1996
Credited to “Victor Bradley”. A later edited version appeared in GLIMMERING RAY DUET collection (see blog posted here on June 30, 2008)

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

WHAT DO I SAY

What do I say to someone like you?
I keep to the silly, the sexy, the blue
Everything’s easy, so real and so true
What do I say to someone like you?

How do I keep my emotions in check?
When your touch and your kisses just make me a wreck
All the laughter and glances flow, those legs and that neck
How do I keep my emotions in check?

Where did the years go, how’d they fly by?
You dropped into my lap like some dream from on high
With our past a small river that just never ran dry
Where did the years go, how’d they fly by?

What is this song that I find on my lips?
There’s your name and your heart and your love and your hips
So our melody swings and the harmony drips
What is this song that I find on my lips?

What do I see when I look in your eyes?
I see love, understanding and a stunning surprise
That we both share a passion that just soars as it flies
That’s what I see when I look in your eyes.

~ for Sandy, possible lyric to unwritten melody, Feb. 14, 2007

Friday, October 10, 2008

WHAT'S UP WITH LIFE'S METRONOME?

Tick tock
timing is everything
so we dwell upon the things
that aren't exactly as we wish
and we miss what is really there.

And I don't want to miss you
waltzing through my life's
contentment
writing you off
no
more like
writing me off
and leaving you up there
precariously
dangling
all false possibilility
above my graying cerebral cage
and I count days
and I count words
and I count
moments
tick
tock
never
enough.
slippery
devil
that time.

~ for Janine, October 9, 2008

Friday, June 27, 2008

THE WAKING DREAM

I.
Alone
I live a waking dream
each moment
touched
a truth unseen.
But there she is before me still
as real as evening’s coming thrill

Alone
awake where vision strong
each moment
graced
by sleep’s sweet song
and all I feel surrounding me
as real as dreamed lucidity

Alone
I sleep and she is there
beside me fingers in her hair
pressed warm and close against me, tight
as dawn to day, dream to night

Alone
I live a waking dream
each moment
touched
a truth unseen
and here she is, here safe from harm
a waking dream safe in my arms

II.
What’s that sound of breaking glass?
or shattered hearts
or time that passed
too fast
too soon
too good to last?
What is that sound?

III.
Am I a fool for falling in
your pool of eyes that capture men
to steal their hearts and make them spin.
Am I a fool for falling in?

Was I a fool to just not see
that you could never fall for me
or just a man with hopes and dreams
just wanting love and softer things?
Was I a fool to just not see?

And as a fool, I wait in line
for short, sweet moments that I find
each time your eyes look into mine
so still this fool, he waits in line.

Of course, I just can’t help myself
hope you could want me on your shelf
in spite of all my inner doubts
to sing your praises, shout them out
and so this fool can’t help himself.

I’ll be this fool until I die
for beauty will just catch my eye
and make me hope and dream and cry.
I’ll be this fool until I die.

And as a fool I stand my ground
won’t trade a moment I have found
so while I can, I’ll hang around…
to catch a glimpse, to see you smile
to hear you laugh, to spend a while
to touch your hand, to dream and pray
that maybe once, perhaps someday
I’ll hold you close and feel your skin
against my own and someday when
I’ll taste your lips, so soft and sweet
thank destiny, led us to meet.

IV.
In the aftermath
of your confession
I can
literally
think
of nothing
except the excruciating fact
that we may
never
experience
our
first
kiss
together. This
simple
fact alone
completely
ruins
my day.

V.
“What would you like?” she said to me with her usual rushed but sweetly genuine smile.
Super white tuna, sliced jalapenos, salmon, wasabi tobiko,
wrapped around
cruncy spicy tuna and more jalapenos.

I realize that I just asked you for “A Kiss of Fire.”
You laugh. “Later”
and giggling
walk on to the next waiting table.
My eyes well up
and burn
long
before
the meal
arrives.

VI.
And when I leave town
can I get a picture
too?
Smile pretty
with you
on my arm?
A souvenir
of a heart
that fell
too
fast.

VII.
Soon, I’ll be gone. Distant.
Surrounded by loving family.
Seductive waves of lustful adventure
two glorious women on either side of me
caressing my excitement
my neglected years
realized dreams and fantasies.
But amidst these joyous days
not one will go by unscathed
without yearning
for your passing touch
upon my waiting arm
laid across this sticky table
counting the minutes
until you pass again
always saying, “I’ll be right back”
always a soft touch of your fingertips
or if I’m lucky
a sharp, friendly slap on my bicep
when I say some smart or funny remark.
How I love, miss
and long for those sharp, little slaps
wishing for one
right now
right here
right anywhere
wherever I am.

VIII.
This moment
a realization
that no matter how patient
how slowly we take it
how careful and considered my every move
at this very moment
as you go home to his arms
to your books
your studious nights
that my dreaming is just that,
the void within me cannot be filled
as it has been thus far
with your smiles
glancing touches
quick hello and goodnight hugs
and splattered
half-finished sentences.

In a world of hope
that which seemed enough
Is now just shattered dreams
become real.

But still
with each moment
each look into your eyes,
even if it’s some one-sided connection
I’ve fabricated in my hopeful imagination,
can so change
the definition of beauty and life
as we know it.

And to say I’ve seen something in those eyes
smiling back at me
a blessing
I’ll not soon forget.

IX.
When you told me you were spoken for
a boyfriend there behind your door
oh, how my heart crashed to the floor
surprising me
surprising me.

I wondered how I’d spend my time
instead of looking forward to
our fleeting moments so sublime
I wanted you
so wanted you.

Though lovers, two
I hold so close
with tenderness
and lust and love,
it seems my arms desire the most
embracing, open sharing of
impassioned hearts and minds and souls
of those who can observe me whole,
in all my splendid dignity
to hurt no one, creatively.
In you and them
found those who can
embrace this loving
“Renaissance man.”

Not something that I’d call myself
more like “A Dreaming Realist”
expect that where I am, I’ll be,
for bliss and pain, both sides we see.
The zin, the yang; the good, the bad
And so it goes, the happy, sad
In life, in love, in ecstasy
is also sorrow, hurt and we
accept both sides and become free.

So love, at times comes easily
or grabs us when we least expect.
We pray don’t treat love carelessly
enjoy the thrill with deep respect.
It wavers, drifts, ebbs and flows
so we must grab it when it shines.
However long its fire glows
ignoring so much fleeting time.


~ lyrics and poetics inspired by LS