"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.

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 
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