Christmas, Thanksgiving and Me

So I haven't actually been able to post in some time.  This is truely and completely my fault and also the fault of the season.  There have been several things that have been weighing on my mind and that has caused me to have endless writers block.  I swear, I haven't forgotten so soon, I will post something old new or blue in the very near future. :)

The Greatest Monster

It creeps it churns,

In the pit it burns,

With gurgle and splurch it rises

To stalk my waking nightmares

With tentacles of spiders legs and worms

Its teeth made of jagged lava

Its body a mish mash of digested rubbish

Its skin, continually glistening

With a syrupy sheen

Its eyes a thousand caramel globes

Following my every move

I stand frozen,

Looking into the mirror

I, who have stalked monsters

Looked into the Leviathans jaws,

Seen the taint of the werewolf,

Followed the wayward vampire,

Leashed the nimble fairy

And yet this monster,

In it’s glorious moment

Causes me to think in revulsion

How could I,

The bravest of my siblings

The one destined to walk

In the darkest of places

Be bested by this basest of monsters?

As I look into the cool basin

Wishing that I were somewhere

Anywhere but here,

Had my desires driven me to this

A hallowed eve gone frightfully wrong

It hits me again,

Punching through my reserves

My stomach rolling with it’s taint

My willpower gone

To this monster of the night

And I realize at last

My mistake was in holding back

As I finally bend and

Gasping cry out

The monster reaches for victory

But in the end I have defeated it.

After a moment of tears I stand

And once again vow,

That fiend known as Halloween candy

Will never, ever, plague me again…

Clockwork Eternal

I sit in the chair,

My head down, hands still,

My eyes unseeing, waiting, watching,

Feeling neglected by your touch,

As you play with others and in these moments

As the dust settles

I feel…trapped and alone

My arms strung too loosely to move

My legs unwound and lax,

Only the faint beat of my heart

Show signs that I am aware,

Waiting to come alive in your hands

Dully I watch you as if in a dream

Longing for the moment

As you caress the toy in your hands

That you would love me

In the same fashion

Then your eyes become distant

As if waking from a dream

And you look around

Searching for something lost to you

Then your eyes settle

On me.

Dully I watch as you enter

A cloth and a brush

Oil and parts,

You lovingly caress me

As if finding a prize possession thought

In your mind to be lost

Gently you fix me,

My arms and legs no longer useless

My skin shining with new paint

My hair gently curling down my back

And from a chest you pull

Shiny and new

a clockwork heart

It’s gears and cogs quietly ticking

Its springs moving in simple harmony

To your own beat.

As you place this into my chest

I realize that you had never

Forgotten me,

You were fixing my heart

And making it your own,

Upon winding the springs

To move my emotion

I come alive in your hands,

You smile at me a look of satisfaction

Gently caressing my face

Showing me that you would treat

None the way you treat me,

You will always be there, fixing me

Even when I don’t see the process,

I will never wait forever,

For my clockwork heart

Beats in time with yours

And our beat

Is eternal…

For You

For You My Love

I would drive across the ocean

my mind a clarity of thought

as I whisper sweet everything’s to you.

Over distances of millennia I have walked,

I have waited for you,

I am still waiting.

Yet you are still there, my heart

splayed at your feet for you to trample

yet you do not.

You sit back in your moment of omnipotence,

take my heart into your hand

and brush the dust from it, as if

to brush the dust from a weary traveler.

The softest touch from your hand seems to

bruise me and heal me in one breath.

The fire within me a supernova of lights, images, sounds,

you have found me my love.

A piece of me forever yours,

given willingly without reservation

For You

NOTE: This piece was dedicated to my good friends.  One of which waxed poetic one day about the lengths that he would go through for his lady love.  Needless to say, I went a bit ... farther, but you get the point.  :)  Hope you enjoy.

Interpretaion: Poetry is Scary

In speaking to my mate last night I came upon a realization. Poetry is scary. I don't mean serial killer jumping out of the bushes with a baked bean can on his head painted like former president Bush scary. What I mean is that you read poetry and your eyes start crossing and you don't want to say anything because you don't want to hurt the creators feelings and you just don't know how you are supposed to interpret this piece that you're muddling through.

My mate says he's jealous of my poetry. Not the mean nasty jealous, but the I wish I could do that jealous. When I pointed out that he never even talks about what I write, he said that if he talked about it then he would probably misinterpret it or the discussion would color my poetry in the future.

This got me to thinking and in that twisted way I have I realized that probably for many people, poetry is just scary. No one wants to be the bad guy, or wrong, or anything. Some just want to quietly enjoy or contemplate what was written because it's safest to read and keep quite.

I say in my own way, that that is so much BS. I write my poetry because I have a million things to say to a million different people and I don't want to sit writing a novel about it in order to get my point across. Sometimes I have an object on my mind, sometimes it's a specific phrase. What I enjoy best is when people read my poetry and comment, send feedback, and generally open their mouths to taste the fresh air with full realization that the Bush baked bean man will not be shoving a shoe in their mouth at any moment.

So I say to you people, if you don't like the piece, say so, in my mind it didn't speak to you, oh well we'll try again. Tell me how YOU interpret it, what do you see when you read what I've written. I am always astounded by how other people interpret my works and quite frankly it tickles me pink to hear/read the comments.

Side Note: I will continue to post my older pieces in an attempt to generate new avenues for new pieces. Some of you have seen these, some of you have not. I will always let you know if it's an older piece. If it's recently written then you will just find the poem. :) Happy interpretations, and remember... you are never wrong with poetry.

Walk

Walk through the darkness in the stillness at night,
when all are asleep except those like me,
Those who wake truly in the hours of sunset,
Walk down the dark paths and observe the darkness,
If by chance, perhaps,
You find me cloaked in shadows,
looking back at you.
Show me not fear, I have no use for it,
save amusement,
Show me not distrust, for you are distrusted
simply by being on my paths,
Show me not anger, for you have nothing
that I can not counter,
Walk the dark paths in quiet observance,
See what I have seen,
Know me for who I am, cloaked in shadow,
Know, that as you walk in my darkness
I do not fear you
My armor forged of your fears,
My weapons forged of a thousand wars,
If you insist on being on my paths,
Seek simply, to walk.

NOTE: This is another of my older works... as I attempt to reconnect with the things I've written in the past and plan to write in the future. Hope you enjoy.

Your Eyes

I sit across from you,
Studying your wrinkled brow
As you concentrate on your task
Your hands, a blur of motion
Your eyes clear and concentrated,
Even the flash of your ring
As your hands continue their task
Do not sway me from my trance.
You look up from your toil,
Meeting my eyes,
an eerie light shining in yours,
As you hand me destiny.
Will you see through my mask?
This guise I wear for humanities benefit?
Will you see through the illusions that I spin,
To my core, to who I really am?
You hold my eyes with your own,
Though I am not able to look away
I feel drawn in as your hands
Move once more.
Finally, I am able to break the gaze,
Focus elsewhere, anywhere,
On the crystal pendulum
Gently rocking in the still room.
On the loom,
Its cords and heddle strung with the fates
That are our lives.
On the bowl, shiny and bright,
Filled with water waiting
For your gaze.
On the cards within your hands,
Waiting to talk to those
Who would listen.
But finally my gaze
Rests again in your eyes.
It is then that I am calm,
You know me, you see me,
You know me the way no other would,
If they didn’t have your eyes.
I know from your expression
As you place the cards,
That you see through my mask,
Your eyes betraying you
And at the same time
Your eye showing you the truth.
You show me no fear,
As you set your hand upon the cards,
Hierophant, Judgment, Death, Wheel
These are my cards,
Calmly you sit,
Telling me of my past,
As if reminiscing on what was
With an old friend.
Then as you hold my gaze,
The world having long faded away,
You tell me what may be,
And through the masks, and cloaks and shields
I see the truth of it
In your eyes
It is then that I start my journey,
It is then that I draw strength
So that finally my masks
Will dissolve and I will no longer
Hide from the world,
For I will have found my purpose
In an instant, through your eyes…