Saturday Night Downtown

Street lights gleam

Reflecting

Off the onyx surface of the night

Their electric hum, a backdrop

For the low drone buzz

Of a Saturday night

Downtown

 

I hear activity on the streets

Voices and cars

The clubs and bars

Slowly filling

Music pounding

Where all are searching

For something

Good times

Camaraderie

Escape

Sex

Love

Or some combination

In the dimly lit haze

Of cigarette smoke and perfume

And the drying dregs evaporating

From bottles and glasses

 

Seekers all

Just as I

I’ve found those things before

And I’m sure I will again

But not this night

This night, I will write

Ink and paper escapism

Wish the other seekers good luck

There’s a single Guinness in the fridge

And enough 12 year old single malt for a small glass

And words enough

To keep me up

‘Til last call

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

Muse

I’m having a hard time coming up with something to write tonight, so I guess I’ll post this old poem from 2006 when I was fighting a nasty case of writer’s block. –

Muse

Where are the words?

They’re lost

Bereft

They’ve jumped like lemmings from my mind

Into a chasm of loss

Once upon a time they would come

I didn’t have to think

They came

Leaping from my pen

Ink jewels

In blue and black

As if they weren’t mine at all

But channeled

From some eloquent spirit

Longing to be heard

Where are you now spirit?

Muse?

Whatever name best fits you

You fed me words once

Now I’m starving

Craving the language that once nourished me

 

Were you pushed away?

Sickened by my filthy cynicism?

My reality?

My day by day drudgery?

Stagnation

“There is a rot on us all”

I let the rot grow over me

And my muse withered with it

 

Can I resurrect you?

If I raise my pen once more

Will you return?

Like a soldier fresh from the front

With countless tales to tell

To make me feel vital

To have energy

Crackling with the electricity of creation

Freedom

That sweet remembered taste

It is out there

Waiting for the train to pass

Drop me off, muse

I think this

Is my stop

Speak Softly

Speak softly

Gentle child

And tell me what you’ve seen

What you’ve heard

What’s been done

Where you’ve been

Who are you?

I knew you

Or someone like you

In pastel colored days

When the sky was always a haze

And the foul minded

Sheet metal world didn’t exist

That was love

Obliviousness

Sweet pale blindness

A youthful ecstasy

So that the gods sighed with nostalgia

Time took away my blindfold

As well as you

And when I opened my eyes

The world was black

Speak softly

Gentle girl

And tell me

Is the world still as it seemed?

Can I still look through rose colored glasses?

Or will it look like fire?

Engulfing a civilization

On the brink of discovery

Can I still look through rose colored glasses

And see you?

Reality has no lover

Time knows no shame

And fate has no fear

Of crushing a love

Of murdering feeling

Like a firing squad of the damned

Speak softly

Gentle lady

My mind is sore

And I am scream sick

Tortured by reality’s half-sung chorus

Speak of your highway

And those who have toured there

Like a documentary

Filling my head with new mysteries

I can only pretend to understand

Ruin comes quickly

As a new fad sweeping the nation

And passes just as muddled and confused

Resurrection comes at a high price

Your words, dear lady,

Are the words of god

On a clear night

On the open plain

Speak softly

 

(This is an older poem I wrote in the 90’s, but it’s one of my favorites)