Fresh dreams
wet tears
the palpable loneliness unbearable
reaching for comfort
he was not there.
Broken sentences
harsh words
spoken in an anger
not born for him
yet delivered unjustly in the murky madness.
Uneven breathing
heavy darkness
stifling anger so thick
its icy tendrils can be felt snaking down
wrapping around the soul.
Unspoken utterances
bitter thoughts
wanting to escape
threatening to break loose
shattering the artificial serenity.
Early morning
close bodies
sliding gently apart
so as not to awaken him
a tear slides silently down her face as she rises to greet the day.
(c. tac 1/19/95)
You ask me how I am.
I say
...look at my eyes, as I watch the sun rise over the mountains
...look at my cheeks, rosy from the midnight chill
...look at my smile, as I see rabbits scampering across the lawn.
You ask me if I am okay.
I turn
...to let you see the tears streaming from my eyes as I watch doves
fly
...to let you see the lines etched into my cheeks as I wake from another
bad dream
...to let you see the smile fade from my lips as I dance another dance
alone.
You ask me if I love you
I gaze
...beyond the gentle probing of your eyes
...beyond the soft touch of your hand upon my cheek
...beyond the entrancing warmth of your smile.
You ask me who I am.
I run.
(c. tac 1/96)
I dance for you under a different sun
another petal opened
another day begun.
No more to cry a restless tear in vane
no comfortless caresses
no quietly insane.
The winds of change blew strong and filled the sails
once more a reckless dream
once more so few details.
New patterns chiseled under open sky
too many silent promises
all lead to one good-bye.
(tac 1/96)
Too long in a cocoon
the colors almost too bright for new eyes
the winds almost too strong for wet wings
the highs almost too high for untamed spirits.
The song in my soul soars strongly
so many beauties from which to choose
too many gilded petals upon which to land my trembling feet
delighting in choosing which frolicsome dewdrop today to meet.
The sun beams warmly filling me with glee
my wings glowing with shimmering phosphorescence
I flit carelessly here and there and back to here again
reveling in the offerings of the world around me.
I am a warrior, chasing a bee
I am a princess, ruling from a tree
I am a leaf, see how still I stand
I am a butterfly, take me as I am.
(tac 1/96)
Placid moist greenness, dripping with anticipation
pungent tendrils of moss brushing the face of the innocent as he approaches.
The darkness so thick as to make breathing difficult
heightened by the mounting tension of impending emotions.
Three souls tortured by the world
converging independently upon the whirling vortex of destruction.
Wandering artist, suffering artist
Enchanted artist, tempted artist
One reaches through the flames
illusionary flesh melting, reforming, never ceasing.
A beckoning hand drawing out the soul of the immortal
squeezing firmly, the life juice running out in rivulets
creating acrid steam, dripping endlessly onto the fertile loam.
Screams of ecstasy escaping the lips of one
moans of grief, of passion, of despair
reveling in the decadent fantasies.
Another reaches for the writhing soul
nails slipping razor-like under the crimson flesh
caressing gently with words, kisses, and darkness.
Deluded artist, anguished artist
Paralyzed artist, fevered artist.
Gazing with passion, intent upon the struggle.
Lightening flashes as the two collide
drawing into the midst of forces unknown.
Ethereal hands clasped in violent passion
praying for victory for one, for both.
Deafening cries as they begin to merge
the flames mutating them into one.
Shining naked flesh pressed together
arms, legs dangling, countenances glistening.
Clouds gathering, forming into faces
as ages past prepare to witness the onslaught.
Terrified artist, mesmerized artist
Frenzied artist, frenzied artist.
Frantic gyrations of powerful wills
elemental evil of good creations.
Frantic gyrations of powerful wills
elemental goodness of evil creations.
The multi-hued circle of flames raging heavenward.
Rising above the vortex one body two bodies one body
watching the she-beasts ascend
Heading for the heavens in a flurry of flesh
the ultimate victory to be achieved.
A single tear falls and daylight explodes
the glistening prisms burning the eyes into blindness
Unscathed artist, creating artist
Wooing artist, growing artist.
Capturing colors on his palette
not meant to be seen by human eyes.
The boiling clouds enshrouding the entities
warm mist falling upon the upturned face of the skeptic
peering through bleary eyes for some salvation from his dementia.
Alone
He was
alone with his
ragged fears with his
unfettered emotional cascading unceasing tears
streaming unrestrained torrents from tormented eyes.
Solitary artist, lonely artist
Saddened artist, dying artist.
Labored breaths escaping from parched lips
cracked with grief, time, distance
Shaking hands unable to
hold steadily the
brushes.
Silence.
The silence
to him was
more grief than he
could bear, more anguish than
he had known previously, would know.
Grieving artist, transcendental artist
Shattered artist, scattered artist.
hands moving of their own volition
painting the eerie messages of
the goddesses sent only
to his mangled
soul.
It began with a subtle trembling of the leaves shaking gently their
stems
rattling against one another as dry bones rustled by a caressing wind
not
stopping. Working its way into his body, his mind, his being,
stirring his
dementia, feeding the frenzy, fueling the fire burning in his groin,
the air
pungent with pine, turpentine, resin, ozone. His eyes alight
with ether, sparks flying
from his brushstrokes as the quaking progresses to the tree trunks,
the stones.
The churling clouds unnoticed by the puppet artist, tossed about at
will by
the goddesses playing their goddess games, using him as their pawn,
their poppet,
their hidden key to unlocking the wild torrents of passion swirling
within them.
Oblivious to the world around him he paints as one possessed trying
to
douse the flames, the love, the horrors, the scars raising on his flesh
as his world shakes to pieces, bit by bit, tumbling molten around him.
The two watch from above, surveying their handiwork, their death, their
only creation.
Silence.
They observed
concentrated in silence
more intense than life
darker than death could ever
be, more stifling than total extinction.
Whirling artist, dancing artist.
Rebounding artist, resounding artist.
A solitary tear slides down the
cheek of each pure goddess
mingling into one drop
falling upon their
chosen.
Alone.
A single
teardrop, a single
drop of artist’s paint
renewing the world a petal
at a time, the colors blending.
Vibrant artist, sated artist.
Careful artist, prayerful artist.
Beseeching his goddesses, his lovers, his
mates in the dance of
destruction of recreation of
living life in
isolation.
Visions of tomorrow danced in the combined mind, images of
a world so free from restraint, so pure, so devoid of the bonds which
tied them
together in their struggle for understanding.
To be understood, the greatest dream of them together.
The greatest scheme of love, of the dance, of their very souls.
Souls aching to belong, to be a part of the whole, to be one.
Mystified artist, knowledgeable artist.
Bold-souled artist, old-souled artist.
To be loved by others unlike themselves.
Souls not lost in the mass of genius
untouchable by those not caring enough
not daring enough to reach for something
different, something beyond the mundane.
The rain started gently at first
Sliding in glassy waterfalls along their naked bodies
Pooling at the feet of those who so insisted on uniqueness
So demanded completeness
So expected perfection as to consider each drop a personal rejection
Of all that had been learned, had been experienced.
Forlorn artist, freeform artist.
Dashing artist, clashing artist.
Heavier the rains fell, pushing beyond comprehension
the mutual experience of the vortex. The mixture of love and
hate replaced
by a subtle simmering of rage, boiling, brewing.
A hate too deep to be untrue.
A love too deep to be real.
Seeing the destruction in their wake, he looked away
Beyond the trees, beyond the glade, beyond the years.
Time and place too devious to be comprehended
Too gentle to be thus offended, too surreal to be retained.
He willed them away, these goddesses of his torment
Prayed that they would not see tomorrow, would not sacrifice him again
to their sorrow.
Strengthened artist, independent artist.
Cajoling artist, consoling artist
Carefully choosing the softest brush
One whose bristles had never known his harsh frenzies
One whose handle had not yet been warped by his fevered grip
He painted upon the serene cold marble faces, in a color so rich as
to be only worn by the gods, smiles.
His own private joke on the heavens.
Oh artist of a thousand dreams
Of demons unseen
Of mutated schemes
The souls of your goddesses you carry with you
In casks of images yet unpainted
In graves of pastels yet to be sated.
Gifted artist, precious artist.
Beloved artist, most loved artist.
Treat them with the kindness they deserve
Their cruelty never forgotten, their vileness never soften.
In their own way, you know, each loves you and means you no harm.
Never looking back as he leaves the murky glade, he throws back his
head,
and laughs.
(tac 3/95)
I would walk on water for you
if I could
you know I would
when you look at me like that.
Is it love or is it fear
wondering what am I doing here
I should have stayed away and let you keep the past.
I would make you forget the pain
if I could
you know I would
when you say it was my choice to go.
You say I am always welcome here
wondering how was I to know
it had to be my choice to go.
I would give you all the thoughts in my head
if I could
you know I would
when I hide the tears by turning away.
There is no way to hide the sobs you hear
wondering why you should care
just let me go, please let me run, I say.
I would remember you like this forever
if I could
you know I would
when you say it is just ghosts in my head.
You are forcing me to go
wondering what sins you think I have
nothing between us, too many things left unsaid.
(tac 4/96)
A whisper, A sigh, an I need you.
A smile soon fading from weary lips
A song leaving traces of melancholy upon an aching soul.
Feathery memories of a blissful encounter
of two friends meeting
bound together eternally
by unspoken solitude in busy brains
trapped into an unremitting loop of greeting.
Phantom faces peering through darkened memories
terror upon waking, sweating, shaking,
from fighting faceless strangers in a bizarre world
out of reach to many
too accessible to few.
Demons so dark, so deep, so morbid
you claim I do not understand
I do.
(11/95)
I laughed so hard I fell out of bed
literally.
There I sat, on the floor
tears streaming down my face
shaking so violently that I couldn’t see straight.
You looked at me with disgust.
“Get back up here, and go to sleep”
I somehow knew then that the relationship wouldn’t work.
I laughed
I did
It wasn’t at anything in particular
but you failed to see the humor in the situation.
You jumped when the plane flew overhead
I laughed harder
still on the floor
you rolled over and turned out the light.
I started making shadow puppets on the wall with my toes
just being silly
just being me
enjoying the freedom.
You made some comment about the stupid weather
slipped your pajamas back on
and soon were snoring softly.
And then
the munchies hit
so I slipped out of the hotel room
and ate things that I can't describe
bad pre-dawn food from a place nearby.
Head buried in my arms
I finally cried.
(c. tac 5/95)
I look for you in the darkness, but you are not there.
The words you have written onto my heart must carry me through
another night of ghosts,
of friends crying from afar,
of those who will not go,
of those who will not stay,
of dreams carried on the wings of the wind
trying to reach out and caress someone so far, yet so near.
Smiles felt but not seen passed between
those who do not know what tomorrow will bring
leave a song on the soul
causing anticipation of the awakening.
Yesterday I did not know you.
Today I still will not.
Tomorrow, only time will tell
but shall not serve to break the spell which sings
forever love you.
(tac 7/95)
Leave it to you to make me smile.
Leave it to you to tease me for awhile.
Leave it to you to help me remember
that after August always comes September.
You make my heart light in that special way.
You make me remember tomorrow is just another day.
You help me to see the light at the tunnel’s end.
You write on my heart, “I am your special friend”.
I would not like tomorrow if I thought that you weren’t near.
I could not face the sunrise, I could not conquer my fear.
I should not let a day go by that these words you do not hear.
Into my life you’ve crept, my friend, and I will always hold you dear.
(tac 1/95)
Warm fingers of sunlight
reach through the sleepy fog
stretching from behind the icy mountain
gently tickling awake the vivid spring colors
enshrouded deep in slumber.
A smile appears on the face of the earth
as fledgling birds start to swoop
frisky dives for the tidbits of the morning
chasing away those who would thieve their glory
all players in the great game
ablaze in glory, a sparkling of rebirth.
The subtle breezes caress fluttering lashes
memories urged from a drowsy brain
peaceful expressions revealing little as thoughts meander
wandering without cause or purpose
dancing for me in the morning
the dream of nature at its purest.
(tac 5/95)
I've never faced a spring quite like this one
no rain
no purple lilacs blooming full to the brim with dew drops
no misty wet shoe mornings
no pink camellia petals stomped on the welcome mat to make play coins.
I've never faced a spring quite like this one
but I think I might like it.
I've never faced a spring quite like this one
warm winds
hello world sunrises making me want to sing
crystal star nights
cactus blooming in places that only a bird could love.
I've never faced a spring quite like this one
but I think I can deal with it.
I've never faced a spring quite like this one
no rain ruined dresses
no fingers freezing as I scrape the ice from the windows
no heavy cloud downpours
no wondering if I will ever see the sun again.
I've never faced a spring quite like this one
but it makes me wonder...
How am I going to face the summer?
(tac 3/96)
I light one candle in the room.
One flame against the pressing gloom
too weak to fight
the demons lurking there
too bright
to be extinguished for no one dare
disturb so many souls
gathering to progress
onto places unknown
places of rest
places of peace
places too sure to be imagined.
A breeze plays gently across the sill of the open window
and suddenly
all souls
are stilled.
(tac 6/95)
Speak to me of springtime
of colors fresh and fair
sing to me of summertime
of memories lingering there
talk to me of fall
the fading of life's blessings
but bury me in the winter
when all good things are resting.
(tac 5/95)
Think of me when next you see
leaves of amber falling
gently to the ground in endless circles
not knowing where to begin
not knowing where to end
a melee of emotions
a serenade to life
softly landing
forgotten
among so many others
another lost soul to tread underfoot
another season's passing
marked by
cycle's end.
(tac 10/95)
I think perhaps
that I shall never find
one as calm and sweet and so like me
as to be
frightening.
I think perhaps
that I shall always be
just one step away
from being there
when you need
me.
I think perhaps
that someone somewhere
is watching out for us both
and making sure that we know
we are
one.
I think perhaps
that someday our souls
will do great things
and change the world
at least a little.
I think "perhaps",
because with you
as with me
one can never tell
for we are
soulfree.
(tac 2/95)
'Tis twilight again
the misty evening muting the troubles of the day
the newborn stars dwarfing sunlight concerns
thoughts of cared for ones reveal
stolen kisses
dreams unleashed
tears unshed
until at last reality itself
is dead.
The problems of the day placed on a shelf
out of reach of shared illusions
left there to face another sunrise
kept safe and free from the evening's harm.
Gone are the fears of love escaped
replaced by mumbled apologies
imagined cuddles
new understandings
unspoken rules.
And so as the day rounds another bend
another letter written
sweet words to yet another friend.
Always remember
when ways part
as no doubt they will
that even when the harshest words are at play
evening comes at the end of every day
and love is but a gentle twilight away.
(tac 6/95)
Where are you?
Playing in your mind again, I see.
I saw you heading there.
Your subtle withdrawal
Your slide into darkness
All signs that the darkness is winning.
I am watching you struggle to get free.
How wrong can you be?
The shadows do not have to win.
I know, for I have fought those
Were I you, and you me
You do not believe that I know where you are.
How wrong can you be?
Those shadows that you fight are me.
(tac 1/96)
