Thursday, May 31, 2018
At rest, awaiting just your living touch,
To feed the roaring heart of flaming beast --
Your hunger eager to consume so much.
You peer at me with dark and empty eyes;
You cast your life light flickering around.
Yet, you must hear the hissing snapping cries,
As food and victims make their dying sounds.
I hear you breathing, needful rush of air
So balanced, with your blistering exhale.
I've felt you grow unchecked with dark despair;
I've seen you tamed, reduced in speed and scale.
And as I warmly ponder what you see,
I watch you live, and watch you watching me...
As I was reminded tonight, we all can be mesmerized by watching a fire, whether on a beach, in a fireplace, or in a simple stove.
Posted by Mick at 11:25 PM
Monday, May 28, 2018
Carefully sidestepping those near the brink.
Should I fall I’d set my spirit adrift,
For just long enough to panic and sink.
Most sleepers come here to ponder their fears,
Work out their problems, and probable fates.
Some smile while napping -- no agonized tears,
Others run screaming through various gates.
Many watch movies on small TV screens,
Movies that feature themselves as the star;
Yet others read their own fan magazines.
A few get lost when they wander too far.
Someday when you dream, and come here to roam,
If you see me wandering, bring me home…
You mean you haven’t seen me in your dreams -- while I’m in my dreams? Well, after all, Slumberland is a big place…
Posted by Mick at 12:21 AM
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Were warm from midday sun.
The lake, a smooth and glassy sheet,
Reflected rays with sudden heat,
And cooked me until done.
I wandered aimlessly along,
Near dreaming as I walked,
And hummed a tuneless, wordless song,
As light as air, for nothing wrong
Was said, and no one talked...
Twas then I heard a rush of air,
A shadow passed me o're.
When first I looked, saw nothing there,
I shivered from that urgent scare,
Alone upon that shore.
A shadow deepened over me.
A voice began to sing
A cry of joyous ecstasy.
I turned at once, but I could see
Just one enormous wing.
A feeling of solemnity,
Washed through my heart and soul.
Though I felt no hostility,
The giant bird's propinquity,
Arrested my patrol.
A message formed within my mind:
"Request, with great respect,
Please never let another find
This egg, If you'll please be so kind,
My treasure to protect?"
The Roc stepped back, her dark blue eye,
So ancient and so wise,
Looked deep inside to verify,
That I agreed and would comply.
And launched for distant skies.
She told me where the egg was laid,
And how I was to watch,
And how she would come to my aid,
Should I grow worried and afraid,
That it might never hatch.
For sixty years, I walked this beach,
I'd stop and I would pray.
Until one night I sensed a breach:
With gratitude, and one long screech,
A young bird flew away.
When after many happy years,
My life came to its end,
I left behind my loves and peers;
I shed my pains, and tears, and fears;
And flew with my old friend...
I never met a Roc. At least I don't thinks so. I would like to, though.
Posted by Mick at 9:57 PM
Thursday, May 24, 2018
And days of drama pass to lonely sleep;
Performers sharing all that they could give,
Are taking with them pieces that they keep.
They shed the stolen lives they occupied,
And served the audience the residue.
While deep in character, the part they hide
Lives on, a spark, a flame they can’t eschew.
Each thespian’s a cast, in amber saved:
A soaring company, a silent choir.
Each author’s children timelessly enslaved,
Mute retinue an artist must acquire
To aid an actor’s depth when in a play.
And deep inside a ghost light shows the way…
A piece of every character I have ever played remains inside me, endlessly waiting on a cue to emerge and live vicariously once again.
Posted by Mick at 10:27 PM
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Are your nights mere cloven death?
Does your soul e're draw a breath,
Devoid of greasy residues of greed?
Is there anything you need,
Aside the golden screed...where you lay?
Do you dream?
Donald, do you feel?
Is it pain that drives your mouth,
Ghoulish tirades -- your sabaoth?
Is it fear that prompts your braying?
Is your spindly spine decaying?
Is anything you're saying...touched by love?
Do you feel?
Donald, do you care?
Does Earth revolve about you?
Do you fear that others doubt you?
Is it ownership you crave?
Bricks to build your tawdry grave?
Is it pleasant to enslave...all you see?
Do you care?
Donald, do you cry?
Aught but pain bring tear to eye?
Can the agony of others touch your soul?
Is empathy unknown to you?
Can you see it must be true,
That others besides you...might feel pain?
Do you cry?
Donald...do you dream?
Every night I pray / That on the next day / A mask will fall away / And a President will emerge. / I wait so patiently, / But I look up and see / Porky Pig grinning at me, / Who says: “That’s all folks…”
Posted by Mick at 12:47 PM
Monday, May 14, 2018
I once said, with a cautious grin.
“I want my words to all sink in,
Prompt the hesitant to begin,
Win the silent Olympiad!”
“My mind is full of untold tales.
I’ve poems full of rhyming verse.
I’ve pithy comments, wry and terse...
My stories fill a universe,
Where good guys win and love prevails”
“Although a brush won’t fit my hand,
A pen and paper will suffice:
To paint with light, with fire, with ice --
To sculpt the wind in Paradise,
And find true love in shifting sand.”
“My words will dance to please the eye;
My phrases wake a shut-up heart,
And take a wall of hate apart.
I’ll shoot aloft a verbal dart,
And write a life upon the sky!”
His eyes opened and looked my way.
I waited on his comment wise.
I waited as he blinked his eyes,
Cleared his throat to speak and advise.
He coughed and said, “What did you say?”
Sometimes, you first have to get their attention…
Posted by Mick at 9:46 PM
Monday, May 07, 2018
Brewing concoctions we best leave apart;
Lest that which destroys us be set free,
To warp our blithe spirit and break the heart.
Welcoming ghosts with the specter of hate,
Standing in shadows amidst the bleak fog,
Tempts the forlorn with vast hungers to sate,
Banishing sunlight to walk the black dog.
Revenant bright of our spirit long freed,
Miracle mirage of libertied past,
Kindle a fire in our moment of need;
Illuminate monsters before us massed.
Grant to our sovereign freedoms new birth,
As monsters and miracles walk the Earth.
I still believe that America is a miracle. A renaissance of age-old human monsters necessitates a watch-fire to illuminate the threat.
Posted by Mick at 1:57 PM