wounding the darkness with their white glow
filling the night with sullen faces
warming the hearts of worshippers
who flock to the idol of goodness
and wonder aloud:
"why am I evil?"
Life in Eight Lines
Lovers wait, angels kiss, and buglers sound the call
Birds alight in darkened eaves, and never think to fall
Heroes fight, soldiers die, their women bring forth tears
Dreams fall down, prayers are bound to never reach God's ears
Sinners cry, winners lie, men sit and cut the Deal
Children scream, students glean, and never ask what's real
Death comes fast, old men ask "why do I still live?"
Saints will sit, and soon admit: there's no answer left to give.
(for Nicole Brown Simpson)
I weathered the storm.
I played the roles: wife, mother, sister, daughter.
I smiled for the camera.
I bathed in the paparazzi's harsh light.
I clenched my teeth and took it like a woman.
I dined on death at Mezzaluna.
I crossed over.
Now I cry out for justice.
Who is listening?
(for Roberta Ann "Bobbie" Lambert)
Maybe the sun forgot to stop rising,
The birds forgot to stop singing,
And the sky forgot to stop being blue,
But the world just doesn't seem to go on turning
The surgeon's scalpel
And the murderer's bayonet:
One is to hurt
And one is to heal,
But both are the same
When life they do steal.
Both do their work
With nary a sound,
And both are stained red
When Death comes around.
The Big Double-You Eye Eye
When I see the rising sun
I think of death marches and Samurai swords and bayonets
When I see the iron cross
I think of short pants and stalags and house painters
And I ask myself:
Are these things real?
Did we really storm the beaches at Normandy?
Did the thousand-year Reich really crumble into the ashes?
Was the world really made safe for democracy?
It ended twenty years before I was born
But in my mind and on my TV
The panzers still rumble
The stukas still dive
The kamikazes still keep on coming
And the Good War keeps raging out of control
The sweet liquid is hot to the touch as we lower ourselves in.
The thickness surrounds us, filling every pore.
The warmth embraces us like a mother with a newborn.
We drink in the sight, the scent, the texture.
The sticky sweetness engulfs us as we move closer.
Our bodies meet, and I discover a deeper warmth and a greater sweetness.
Our caresses burn with the fire of midnight as I kiss your body clean.
And as my lips explore the hot silkiness of your skin,
The only sweetness here is you.
When you gaze at the stars tonight
Know that they gaze back
And smile at your uncompromising beauty...
If you listen closely, you will hear them whisper your name
And when I hear it I will smile
For it is a name that sits close to my heart tonight
Your love blossoms around me like a beautiful flower
Your love cradles me in tender folds of happiness
Your love takes wing and flies through my soul like a beautiful spirit
Your love wraps my heart in sweet thoughts of us
Your love takes me to the highest mountaintop of hope and the deepest valley of passion
But most of all
Your love brings me a special gift wrapped up in dazzling light
And that gift is you
Your beauty delights the senses,
Your kindness warms the heart,
You have taken the radiance of the sun
And made it your own:
It shines in your face
And reaches out from your soul.
I am enchanted.
My Ode To Joy
In these calm, quiet moments
I come to realize
she is all I ever wanted
all I really need
In the quiet comfort of home
I come to realize
home is where she is
In the quiet, still thunder
of Ode to Joy
I come to realize
why the Maestro gave the world
for his Immortal Beloved
Before I met her
I dreamed of his choir
in the silhouette of burning buildings
and Bruce Willis with a machine gun
In the still soft sweetness of her voice
why Gary Oldman
(the soft-spoken Brit with the Cockney accent)
brought Ludwig to life
as a lanky youth
submerged in a shoreline pool
of crystalline water
In the still soft sweetness of her touch
I take her hand in mine
In the burgeoning promise of our life together
I gaze up at a sea of stars
and (as Ludwig did) I write my first Ode to Joy
upon the velvet wings of the midnight sky
Ode To Babe
(upon the film "Babe"s defeat at the Oscars)
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the little pig called Babe:
His hopes and dreams were shattered on the night when stars are made.
His flesh will now be served with toast and marmelade,
But his truth is marching on.
(to the memory and genius of H.P. Lovecraft)
In the city of R'lyeh beneath the sea,
Cthulhu has slumbered eternally.
Through countless eons of mortal time
Dreams and visions have crossed Its mind:
Of how it was and how it will be,
Of the destinies of you and me.
And as one hears Its disciples say
From Singapore to Innsmouth Bay,
Cthulhu will awaken one day.
So when the sea churns and quakes some night,
And the shamans say that the stars are right,
Know that Cthulhu has regained Its might.
For as the Mad Arab warned mortal men:
What has come before will come again.
Breaking down the window of consciousness,
I see the shards arrange themselves in kleidoscopic shapes.
My soul winks at me from the sharp corners
Of the crystalline violence that lies
Scattered and broken at my feet.