Where the Rocks Kiss the Sea and Calm Waves Embrace All
Standing on rocky midnight shore, the sound of the Sound beckoned his return to where he began decades ago; his wish, to bookend his life where ancient kinship first drew breath.
He intended to breathe saltwater and snuff-out all that rotten progress.
He’d just wade into the frigid current until the chill melted into warmth, freeing him of the dread of empathy among the specter of cosmic apathy.
Inhaling brine should sever the unending sinewave bouncing between two extremes.
Knee-deep within numbing, moonlit, black-reflected muck, the cold needles through, forcing his breath shallow. Waist-deep, and the current beckons him forward to rejoin infinity and nothingness.
He begins surrendering to uncompromising fate he’s chosen when far away an interrupted cry of a drowning woman breaks him from indulgence. He summons reserve to drag her back to the rocks.
“You’re welcome,” smiled the mermaid he “saved”.
***
telling our kids
the kid-friendly parts
of our tale from the
puppet-show all the way
to their smiles, living
a lifetime of smiles
that would certainly had been
had my childish grip
on my fragile vulnerability
matched your Black Girl
Magical openness
within the moment
of you opening to me
in front of God,
blue sky, glaring sun,
and leering bystanders.
But we both know that
rehearsal and reality
live two separate lives.
That’s not how it went down.
Oh, I did scoff though.
It’s what I did best when
looking for coiled demons
and ghouls hunting for
a pound of free flesh.
In every corner
of every heart,
I found shadows
of cynical weather
whether under blue sky
or not.
Pinning down demons
I thought I saw,
I scoffed and told you
it depended on if
you could tell me
what kind of fool you thought I was,
turning on my heel
to the sound of whoops and ahhs,
content at ripping out your heart
in front of our peers
before you had access to mine.
But as I peeked over my shoulder,
expecting your smirking derision,
instead, there was only the specter
of sincere aftermath, and tears
willing themselves not to fall.
That was ages ago,
but even now,
when I think of you,
I wish I hadn’t blocked
the gift you’d given us.
I wish I said the lines
and kissed you
like I so desperately
wanted.
I wish our last moments
together
were so much more than that;
more than just one of many
terrible rehearsals.
***
You’re a pain in my ass; sassy so-and-so.
Atypical opening as odes go, I know.
But your fiery spirit serves you well thus far,
and as far as you’ve come,
who the hell knows where you’ll go?
I’m going to level with you here, dearest one;
this wasn’t supposed to have rhyme or meter.
In fact, I almost wrote another clichéd line
– about catching the stars, as if!
I mean, I know, right? – but
you’ve been earthbound
for a quarter-century now,
so no more fairy tales.
You’re as tough as I raised you, tougher
than I envisioned, and I’m relieved for it.
You’re tempered for a cruel world, and yet
you refuse to let it make you unkind.
And while I’d love to take all the credit,
like I knew the masterpiece of you
was hidden in the marble all along,
you are the artist of your destiny;
I’m just pleased to see who you are
and who you will become.
I say again, as it is a good catchphrase;
you’re a pain in my ass; sassy so-and-so,
and I’m lucky to have you around, I know,
wherever you go, I’ll be with you always.
Oh, and please rinse your dishes.
I’m your dad; I’m not your maid.
***
It was just a dream; I grasp at the vapors.
Lying between them, I hug their legs close.
Unworthy of wholeness, I hug their legs close.
I can’t see their faces, yet I see their beauty.
I feel where they ache; yes, I feel their beauty.
It wells up within me knowing I am unworthy.
Their pain becomes mine and I’m so unworthy.
We lie there, and I talk of light we won’t see.
The night shines above; starlight we can’t see.
They take in my words in a naked silence.
We strip away lust, leaving naked silence.
Revealing softness, we bare our raw fears.
In dark, quiet space, we share our raw fears.
In dawn’s softened light, I relax my grip.
They scatter, taking flight when I relax my grip.
Released from a dream, still grasping at vapors.
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 26 prompt: “write a poem that uses repetition”.
Recently, I’ve done more than a few repetition poems using various forms, but I haven’t dabbled in free verse repetition. I thought I’d give it a go while writing about a semi-lucid dream I had recently.
Granted, I (poorly) aped Jerico Brown’s brilliant style, so technically it’s not a free verse, but I don’t know what else to call it besides “style-jacking” so, here we are.
Oh, and I’m all caught up now, so it’s bourbon time!
I was stuck in a country music bar on base
due to a gas leak; don’t ask, I didn’t get it
either, but our instructor bought us a round
of Jack ‘n cola to pass the time, and damn, bruh,
that shit tasted like tasty-ass smoke, ya knamean?
I was hooked on brandy at the time, but that changed
‘cause that Jack Daniels tasted like brandy with balls,
but when I told my classmate, he was like, nah, son
you should try this, and he fitted me with bourbon,
and damn man, it was like all my shit locked in place,
the air felt right, the gal behind the bar flirted,
the lady next to me almost got me dancing
and if we’d all died in an explosion that night,
I’d have been pretty chill with how chill things turned out.
But we didn’t die, the gas leak was cleaned-up good,
and my homey who showed me that dope-ass new drink
dropped me at the airport to meet wifey in-time,
and yeah, he probably shouldn’t’ve been driving,
it was fucked-up, but we got away with it, and
that’s not really the point I’m trying to get at;
I mean, when I was trying new drinks and flirting
with women I never would’ve met otherwise,
up to that point in my young life, I never felt
so… you know… alive… like I was finally here,
and all that woke shit came to a dead-ass ending
as soon as wifey flew back in from Chicago,
like, the vibe was gone, the warning signs were right there,
but I just said fuck it and moved on, making sure
I added bourbon to next month’s shopping budget.
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 20 prompt: write a poem that “talks”; that is based in normal, contemporary spoken language.
I typically try to use cuss words moderately in my poetry and within context; never for “cheap heat” or shock value, but when it comes to my normal every-day dialogue, I cuss like a… well… you should know by now.
Note: I know I skipped yesterday. I was drained, so I gave myself permission to take a break. I plan on making-up yesterday’s prompt, though.
on the surface
of an unremarkable rock
hurtling through vast emptiness
in countless relative terms,
one of which –
along with seven rocky
and gassy siblings –
circumnavigates
an unremarkable sphere
of super-heated plasma
– one of countless
sibling-stars clustered
within one of countless galaxies
within numerous
super-clusters of galaxies
within the observable universe.
You lack significance
to even register as dull
as far as the cosmos is concerned,
but you are the cosmos
and you are my cosmos
smelling of lavenders
found only in our corner
of the cosmos
and you taste of honey
made by bees
who defend their queen
nearly as well
as my will
to protect you
and make you laugh,
and upon hearing your laughter,
there probably won’t be
a butterfly effect
that destroys Tokyo,
but as vibrations
of your laugh
met the membrane
of my eardrum,
my heart skipped several beats,
so you shortened my life
by fractions of fractions
of fractions of seconds,
which is far too insignificant
a measurement to fret about.
***
Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 12 prompt: “write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. Alternatively, what would it mean to you to give away or destroy a significant object?”
Okay, so I cheated a little bit and shifted the scale ever so slightly, and I didn’t write about a thing I own. Thirty days of poetry is a lot, you know?
I’m already scared enough of boring folks.
I worry about my own words being too dull for me to write about actual dull things. I’m beginning to get sick of my own poetic voice and writing about my favorite pair of holey underwear just wasn’t going to cut it today.
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