Creatures of the Night

Fierce creatures wait in the night
Wait for us to join them
To break the light and seize the darkness
Our birthright
Held with eager sweaty hands
In a box hidden deep
Within the psyche
Lies our own divinity

Stark white hands
And neon flowers
With scents like the pealing of bells
Tolling for death
And ringing in rebirth
Mortal hands
Filled with creation and destruction
Able to raise a shiver of passion
Or invent a god

The infinite voice
Sleeps within
As the creatures call us to speak
To pierce the unclaimed night
With our own
Forgotten wildness

For dVerse Open Link Night #99.

Freak

Geek
Nerd
Misfit
Freak
Yes
I am
Always have been
Always will be
Proudly
Defiantly different
Unapologetically unique
Oddly open minded
In a world of followers
Conformity
The boringly normal
I revel
In the freedom of freakdom
The freedom to be
Who I want to be
The person I love being
Boringly abnormal
Me

For dVerse Open Link Night #89

Buddy

I never got to know you

As well as I would have liked

Most of my memories of you

Are like something viewed

Through a distant window

You

The quiet rebel

The pot smoking hippy

Who could have told me

Some great stories

 

I did hear the story

Growing up

Of the clean cut kid

In Buddy Holly glasses

Joining the Navy

Off to see the world

Though, as a child, I didn’t really understand

All the words:

AWOL

MP’s at my grandparents door

Disappeared?

How my mother said she’d prayed

Every night of those months

For her younger brother’s safe return

 

You returned

A new man

Independent

Free

Bearded and long haired

With John Lennon glasses

Having traded the uniform of war

For a uniform of peace

 

My memories of you maybe few

But no less bright

Me, a little boy

Being spun around ’til I was dizzy and giggling

Me, a young man

In need of a ride to work

And a place to spend the night

You were there

Never knowing

How you made me into a fan of The Doors that night

And changed my poetry forever

 

Yes, I write this for you

Because of you

Uncle Buddy

The pot smoking hippy a generation away

Who could still teach the young punk rocker

A thing or two

And now that you’ve broke on through

To the other side

I won’t say rest in peace

I know you will

Because you lived in peace

Free

Possibly the most free man

I’ve ever known

 

(For my uncle Henry “Buddy” Miles Dec. 7, 1954- Oct. 27, 2012.  Keep rockin’ on the other side, Uncle Bud!)

 

Waiting for the sun

Waiting for the sun to rise

Cold wet night seeps into my bones

The wind moans under its own chill breath

Carrying away the smoke of my cigarette

The sound of strings and woodwinds from my window

Carrying away my thoughts

Scattering them across the world

In a hazy, spiraling swirl

 

Waiting for the sun to rise

Chase the faceless nothingness away

Bring something new

Begin something

Throw open the doors of perception

The doors of possibility

Let the hinges of my mind unfold

Like a book dropped

Falling open to a new page

 

Waiting for the sun to rise

Watching the minutes flicker by

Hours disappear like drying puddles

‘Til I can rush towards freedom

Brief and sweet

Home again, where I work

To fill no other man’s pockets

Only the coffers of my soul

Waiting

Waiting

For the sun to rise

Vacation Gold

Crystal water

Floating weightless

Suspended

Beneath the bluest sky

And golden sunlight

There’s nowhere to go

Nothing has to be done

Just breathe

And enjoy life

Freedom

The limitless possibilities

Of hours unbound

Not a dark cloud in sight

Except for the specter of knowing

When vacation is over

Time will again

No longer be mine

So I float away

Forget the future

Because today I work

For myself

And the sun pays my wages

In gold

Unspoken

The words unspoken

Shout loudest of all

The words

That could set us free

Or make all things clear

The hardest words to utter

Are the ones that could cause change

The unknown

Change is scary

Is it better to live in chains?

Is it better to hide behind silence?

The keys to freedom and truth

Lie within

Longing to be spoken

The Hardest Thing to See

The hardest thing in the world to see

Is the difference

Between the person who says “I love you”

Because they want you to make them happy

And the one who says “I love you”

Because they want to make you happy.

 

But the difference,

Though so difficult to see

That it seems invisible,

Is immense.

For it is the dividing line

Separating

Selfishness from selflessness,

Neediness from giving,

Control from freedom,

Lust from love.

 

 

**This was something I was thinking about last night.  The truth of it is probably up for debate.  Some may see it differently than I do…  But I will be the first to admit that I have been guilty of saying it for the selfish reason in the past.***

I’m Free

The cold, black clouds

I thought would never leave

Have finally gone

And set me free

 

No longer does my heart

Wallow in pain

No more tragic darkness

Where it so long had lain

 

Time held me prisoner

In a cell of tragedy

‘Til one day there was you

And you set me free

 

Now it is winter

But despite all the snows

Thanks to my love

My heart’s no longer froze

 

You are the angel

That’s set my heart free

And though it sounds simple,

I love you, Aimee

 

-November 1996