Dreams – 10/26/2016

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So long
So long ago now
So long ago I hardly remember
I stood in the tall grass
For the first time
With disbelief
That the world was so large
So large that I could barely see my toes above the sharp blades
That housed the hopping
Chirping
Crawling
Flying
Life
So large that it could encompass my every dream
Dreams that altered space and time
Dreams that excited me
Thrilled me
Scared me
Now the world is small
Infinitesimal in comparison
And nearly meaningless
Except for those dreams
Of so long ago

 


 

Note: I think I will rewrite the end. I was probably not feeling terribly optimistic at that time. If written now it might end something like:

The world is smaller now

Almost infitesimal

Yet filled with meaning

The dreams of so long ago

Only began to reach

 

Or something like that 🙂

 

Even when I’m not

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If I was there
With you now
I would take you in my arms
Hold you close
Until the darkness gave way
To the light of life renewed
I would carry your burden
Take away the pain
That holds you down
I would lift you to the sky
Watch you soar where you belong
I would relieve you of your fears
Wash away your tears
With kindness and joy
I would kiss you gently
and in that kiss you would know
You are loved
If I could
Right now
I would hold you close
Whisper the story of our heart
Until you slept
Close your eyes, my Love
I am there
———
Image by Ahmed Ashaahdh

 

Sweet Alabama Peach

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I brush my lips against you
Your fine soft hairs tickle
Tempt
You smell of sweet musk
Sweat
A warm summer day
Spent in the orchards
Making love beneath the trees
Eyes bright with anticipation
I slip my tongue over your soft skin
Taste you
You taste like nights spent by the ocean
Humid days in bed
A fall dance
I take you into my mouth
Patiently
Extending our time together
Making the seconds last forever
Carefully
I press my teeth into you
Playfully
I bite
Softly
Longingly
Lovingly
Your sweet nectar
A melody of seduction
Slides down my chin
Slick
Sticky
Warm
You surrender to me
Your juice
Fills my mouth
With an explosion
I suckle your tender flesh
Feel you slide down my throat
I smile
What a peach!

 

 

I Like

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A kiss on the cheek
Soft and sweet
Or tongues deep
In secret communion
A hand to hold
While walking down the street
Or tightly between the sheets
Or gently
While watching movies
A shoulder to lean on
A shoulder to offer
For whatever reason
Or none at all
Light cool rain
On a warm summer day
The way you glitter and shine
Any weather that keeps me in
Next to you
Tracing the curve of your spine
That sexy “Ssss”
With fingers or tongue
To places made for pleasure
Those incredible exotic spots
That cover you in constellations
Like a leopard
Sweet Kitten
Your random mewl always makes me smile
And your purrrrr
Man I love your purr
There’s no question what you were
In a past life
Long nights in rockers
Chattering about rock stars
Rabbits
Poetry
Dogs with sirens on their heads
Things profound
Or silly
Or necessary
There is no limit to the chatter
No rules
No end
That
Is freedom
Planting flowers
Hanging lights
Making love all through the night
The scent it leaves on skin
Warmed by touch that never fades
Locked in eyes that never age
Held by love I freely offer
But my favorite thing of all
Is the place I keep
[With love]
For you


Image by Pille-Riin Priske

Storm


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There was I time I thought of myself as “Stormchaser”. It was a label I assigned to offset the difficult times that seemed to follow me as a way of reversing the odds.

I saw myself as not only actively engaging those hard times but as pursuing them in a “if life is suffering and suffering brings enlightenment then, for fucks sack, bring it on” mentality.

I was wrong.

Man, was I wrong.

The hard times pursued like a predator on blood scent and I, tough as the wind, really was bleeding, profusely.

I’ve said before how I’m only now rubbing the sleep from my eyes, but I look back with these blurry eyes and see that young man and rather than think “whaddadouche”, my favorite quote when it comes to ignorance, I can say “good start.”

It really was.

Since then I’ve learned that Life is more often concerned with giving lessons than with leading me to them and that the path of life is much more flexible than I thought.

She is the train
I am the rail
Or more like the spike
Or the ground it’s driven into
Or maybe just a house it passes by
Sleeping

That’s my attempt at Zen poetry, which I’m okay with, in a Zen sort of way.

My point is this:

I have felt the storm.
I feel it now inside me.
I’m not sure it ever goes away.
I’m okay with that.

That, by the way, has nothing at all to do with either Zen philosophy or poetry, it’s who I am.

So right about now you’re probably asking yourself what the hell this post is about so I’ll sum it up in six words …

 

We find what we are looking for.

 

… okay, seven words.

 


 

Audio: “Stormchaser” by J M Greff

 

Something Lost

Something Lost

With one foot
Mostly
In front of the other
He shuffles
Back and forth
Left to right
Trying to follow
A boulevard
That keeps moving
Disappearing
One
Retracted
Step
At a time
His eyes
His mind
Blinded
By whatever poison
He has chosen
To end his life
I watch him a while
As he stumbles
Up the stairs
Of a nearby school
To empty his bladder
Then into traffic
Horns wailing
Cautioning
Cursing
He is seeking
Something
Something he has lost
I think
You won’t find it there
You won’t find it there
But I hope you do

—————————-

Image: “Anywhere you lay your head” by Bill S. 99

Captured

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Arms out touching phantom limbs and ephemeral vine.
Closed eyes focused on aery chimera that plays like
faded film, enshrouding me in palpable memory like a mist.
August oaks and resurrection fern and aged buildings
replaced by towering cypress, snow wreath,
rhododendron tall as the homes lining these neglected streets
broken by root allowing the very least of natures
determination to reclaim, one minuscule stem, one straggling stalk,
one unnoticed flower at a time, its verdant refuge,
once sanctuary to boundless existence long since
consumed by distressed homes, distressed economies,
distressed people.

Not now. Not in this moment. In this moment I am alone in
ancient woods making my way along a secret trail
winding through prehistoric marsh fed by countless miles of
free flowing rivers giving life to this lush alluvium filled with
musky smells of decayed wood and stale water and something
sweetly familiar I can’t put a name to.

If you saw me there, on that canted sidewalk, you might think
I was mad or lost or wandering under the influence of
something other than my imagination. If you looked
closer you would see a smile. If you noticed me at all.

More likely you would pass by without second glance
accelerating to whatever urgent appointment or function or task you
scurry to. “Nevermind the crazy man”, mother says to
daughter, ears stopped with buds to obstruct the uninvited,
eyes adjusted to the screen of the tiny world she holds in her
hands while thumbs impulsively tap out affirmations or declarations or
insinuations with inherent indifference to a faceless complicant
selected as benefant, marginally amused at mother’s dumb
mouth, assigning words consistent with expectations in place
of those overridden by disapproved music. “Are you listening to me?”

Mother chatters voicelessly. A silent movie. A mime.
Daughter sneers. Fires a message of discontent into the void.
Co-conspirators.

You have missed far too much.
Where are you going
that you have no time to look?
To see.
What horizon are you fixed upon
that blinds you to miracles?
To live.
How can you occupy the same space
without sharing it?
To love.

I see you drive by as in a dream, intruder, trespasser to my vision.
Out of place and time. The vision is disrupted.
The winding path is replaced by
fractured concrete.
Smells of sacred land replaced by
exhaust fumes and humanity.
Rhododendron to azalea.
Snow wreath to palm.
Cypress to oak.
Marsh to asphalt.
The veil lifts.

The image remains.

Captured.


Image: “Misty Veil” by JMGreff

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A kiss

With a promise
Of ecstasy
You press softly
Against my cheek
Your dewy nectar
Enchanted potion
Sweet and musky
Fills my senses
Drives me on
To higher pleasure
Fingers touch and probe
To unfold the petals of the flower
Revealed before me
A delicate treasure
Open and inviting
Whispering delight
In carnal sighs
Escaping parted lips
Honeyed tears flow
Urging me on
Demanding “More!”
Burning with desire
Our lips touch
Tiny sparks of living passion
Arc between us
To light the secret space
That only we can travel
This night is ours
You pull me tight
Then
With a shudder
You let go
The promise
But one of many
Fulfilled
The rest will follow


Picture taken at Bellingrath Gardens.