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ruredernot32

About me

Total posts:
8732
Profile views:
7335
Last seen:
06/20/17
Joined:
09/08/06
Lives in:
City by the Sea, OO, us
More
Favorite Music:
Muse Mongers Motel My Blog
Favorite TV Shows:
Pig Pens and Playgrounds I scribe the scribble the station of nations my heart crosses lines of feathered clouds to dot the day with wolf howls, native dances, fast feet flopped, flaming, in the frenetic fields of promise my name is Andy, how is my assonance? check my bell weather well, I weep in the wind, I cry in my cave, I love in my loss, eye see things good and bad, it's the processing that pulls me into pig pens of mud and madness until I howl back at the moon, raise my hands up to the stars, lift my heart up to the heavens, push my pen into a poem, ....as all the world becomes my playground once again. ajs Notes From the Base Camp... poem IV Here below DSL waves my FM antennae is tuned to virtual Jenna I bend popcorn dreams into soft caves where Jane searches for a Tarzan behind the Northern Lights towards black and white We are all crazy by definition neurotic in our nuances chasing impulses towards purple clouds until we surrender to another gain or loss the dust of our days settles into wrinkles that reminds us of the gravity of our days we bark at moons in restless dreams in hopes our children find a better way Here at the base camp I cook up new dreams filled with silky thighs and soft breasts I fantasize to avoid the pain of this stark reality reminding myself that honesty frees the soul he is a demon, I'm quite fine with that if not for darkness God would shed no light ajs Dusking a Dream As time itself bleeds the 'morrow one last breath before the dusk I think of her as the sun slides down true it is that love has eyes that see beyond horizons to distant shores where dreams become the light of sun itself Yet, here I sit below a blue moon as midnight calls me to its glow it tides my heart, my blood to flow, in loves eternal wishing well so true it is that love decides when it leaves, when it arrives my only hope is that soon I live to gaze into its eyes ajs Sunday Morning Appointments After the eclipse; father to son, son of mother, earth of man, we ordained our days beyond the cutting of umbilical cords pierced screams from low-lit rooms shrilling the night in need of more. Mother Earth our second womb in her baskets we made wine from grapes teased the night air with saucy tongues sipped the sun with symphonies of song before splitting atoms into bombs What becomes of life that lives on after death in the minds of men? Some tribute in a late night dream but, few things ever change unless we ourselves believe they can. All is still here in my cave save the heartbeat of a wounded man ajs. "Sunburst" Honey Drunk in the catechismal claims of your revelations you are a vibrant lover unhinged, as free as fast water we dance on cloud puffs love is light in trust unprotected in the gold glory of a new dawn ajs "Love is Revealing" You can lay your head down down to the ground feel the earth breathe as your heart starts to pound. You can see the moon rising above the scrub oaks you can laugh at the truth when your lonely heart jokes but you can't wage a war and expect to win if you're running from love on both sides again and the halo is fading and the innocence gone and it's damn close to frightening how the years have moved on ain't it truly revealing How love just hung on. I took the fast train to Boston In the wink of an eye I had passed through the heavens and hells sliding by, as the sights like a movie played out the glass I was caught in a moment between the future and past and the girl with the backpack from Krakow had come to gaze at destruction In New York's August Sun the towers of power cast no shadows now just an empty reminder that all's changed somehow I sat on a bench twenty-five years ago with a girl that I loved but she had to go now the clock it kept ticking and the time slipped away ain't it truly revealing when love comes to stay a man and a woman shared that same bench and wondered in silence where all the years went and they know of a calling that might never be heard in the truth of that moment it all seemed so absurd In another ten years when the waves call us back what excuse will we have for the things that we lack.......... >???????< we can talk on forever but in silence there's truth love knows no difference between aging and youth And the woman from Krakow said she liked my smile so I shared her my thoughts and relaxed for awhile and she spoke of her future as she ran from her past and said ain't it crazy my friend how old love can last so I told her my story of a woman I know and I sensed that she liked me by the way her eyes glowed and I wondered in silence if Polish girls dance as the train rambled on I slipped back into my trance I was dreaming of cartwheels with the shores risin' sun and kayaks and dolphins that all add up to one world that we live in we are here and then gone ain't it truly revealing how love just hangs on In the madness of thought new dreams are born rushing like rivers through the baggage we've worn and they make you brand new and they bring you new light but as fast as they come they can fade out of sight but I know of a dream I once packed away and ignored in my heart where I knew it would stay the girl is a woman a mother, a wife so my dreams just a dream and I go on with my life. The train it is ramblin' and so are my words that blow by my day like stories you've heard and Krakow is calling from across the way talking of fate and the prices we pay and I wonder in silence of her crossed thighs are they closed in defense of the look in her eyes? some women are starving some women just lie and go on with their lives without asking why? and then in a moment the thoughts were all gone ain't it truly revealing how love just hangs on On the old streets of Boston, I walked in the night, and remembered an evening when the dream was in sight we were both younger all those spent years ahead were still there for living so we parted instead of facing the truth that lived in our hearts there's no time frame for knowing when love ends or starts And then on that night with the flash of a screen I saw her name there and soon after the dream came up from the heart where it rested in wait love just doesn't get it that sometimes it's too late Now here I am learning after four months have gone That love can be crazy When it just hangs on. There's a sun that is hidden by the roll of the earth there's a day that is waiting for a new birth There's a girl on a train with a fluttering heart swearing inside that they'll never part She's too young yet to know of the truth love will keep so I lay my head down in search of sweet sleep and my last thought before my dreams sailed me away were centered around love and the price we can pay and then in a moment my thoughts were gone ain't it truly amazing how love can live on. Ain't it amazing, revealing, and true that when it comes to loves choice, there's not a thing we can do when I think of the years that have all gone all I'm left with is realizing that love just hung on. And when the dust of my life is blown in the wind I'll visit you often forever friend for although my life in a sense will be gone you'll still hear me whisper that love still lives on. ajs
Favorite Movies:
"Karma" Timeless is the whipping wind that leads us to ghostly sins when in step we walk astray karma bleeds the days to gray for what we leave along our path may one day find its own way back ajs Burying the Sword I shall not want what I haven't got until it's placed in front of me seldom do we envy that which our pondering eyes have yet to see In the seven dreams of Lad and Dad dating back to my youthful chimes I thought in time all would be fine he was of another state of mind Bricks to dust as time will pardon man for mistakes along the way but once denied denying gains some itself becomes a game to play Over hedgerows my leaps and falls my conduct bad at times of course though guilt itself has bound my heart no choice upon me has been forced Each day death knocks upon a door unknowingly at times to call us to dust as bricks the same it's only life friends after all I tend the hoe in vital soil faith the fall brings just reward I shall concentrate on my garden For never fed was I by sword So be told the time I keep will lead me further on to rest my only hope is that you find I never cared to pass your test ajs Sewing With a Friend Sunrise, fast light, behind it planets still unnamed I dance at daybreak singin to a whitewashed moon The threads in a seam, it's not the one, but the sum of everything, that keeps us tight enough to sleep The spider silks its web, an instinctive purpose, there is no need for wings when traps are set they come to you in their frenzy, and fall dead hanging by a limb, a pittance for the effort. You spread mustard on marbled rye humming some tune you forgot the words to my foot begins to tap, you stop instantly In our silence I recall you look fabulous in silk ajs
Favorite Books:
Regarding Black and WhiteThese tribes of thought gathering tracks of non-compliance this hardware-brain that racks pins waiting on a roll these wars that internalize their every battle in the space between the filters of swift change This discomfort born of silence that makes love to all my fear here below the hollow moons that tide my changing mind where the smiles are quite forced and low rewarding when the phony rises from the ego ashes of refrain Before I dance around the daylight then succumb again to night The flowers of my dreams, oh how they die forever slowly though their beauty got me through some blazing storms how the children smile when I so gladly greet them not knowing of the gifts returned to me and moreAnd when in my silence I declare that I am shameful for compulsions that have led me fast astray when I am drawn unto my knees seeking deliverance may the spirit of my God forgive my impulsed way As I dance around the daylight then succumb again to night When the fog is lifted without a good intention when the path leads me to another shade of black may I pay my penance in the honesty of shame until my will returns to lift me once again And in my travels may I one day hold the sun just long enough to know I've gone too far for freedom as it leads to satisfaction should by all accounts reciprocate itself When I dance around the daylight then succumb again to night In the hollows where I parade unfit, so unknowing in the vestibules between the driving rain may I sense the beauty of a fragile moment enough to know the worthiness of lightAnd when I sleep I pray that I will find tomorrow's journey to be the beggar of still better things to come so that the love of life still burning here inside me leads me to a peaceful death when I am done When I no longer need the daylightwhen I fade forever in the nightajs ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Transformation I. In the piercing heat of the unfolding day we set sails for Avalon. Guided by winds we tested our fate, proving it was fragile in the desperate side-by-side of our changing lives. In the unrelenting fury of fiery dreams, we fought recklessly with our thoughts of salt and the hunger it ignites. With a blank stare you spoke of Nostradamus, defending his wrongs, protecting his rights, I moved on to Socrates and Skinner, where I survive despite myself, somewhere in-between my own beliefs and what I sell myself. When the crust of fear owned our faces when the residence of death arrived with cracked-thunder we proclaimed it was this life we so despised we surmised it was enough to explain the every single thing that danced around our darkness, until it was our EVERY THING. THEN: In the kinetic flow of the "I" of a hurricane, the calm was achieved with the tilt of a sail a different view of the same day, like a persistent sun, shining through a fog-filled memory, we danced upon our past, splashing champagne in celebration, we realized at once that love for us was meant for more than just one life. When the tail swept us from our peace we beckoned God, all the Gods that anyone has ever faith..ed, then we rocked, we rocked the sea with the clear evidence of fearless children. As your iridescent eyes held my gaze. My last thought before the passing of the storm, with the rebirth of the golden sun was of you, you, in your summer smock, wind-blown hair like a horsetail black as an eclipse, you tied lines as I lusted for a final taste of the skin beneath the cotton bronzed and shining, I praised God for our survival. We danced to avoid eye contact I couldn't take the heat behind your stare, we imprinted ourselves on each other as I quieted you with the joining of our lips. II. Years Later: I was thinking about some slut I met in Austin, how she did me how I never forgot that hour how often I've visited it in frail lonely moments, that suddenly turned horny. How I knew I could never love a whore for more than one explosion and yet cannot forget her for a lifetime. It's the irony I keep, this place that makes it all OK. I push it aside and reach for the chardonnay, chuckling to myself about the speed of those hips, the look in the eyes of a woman who knew what time was for. It's all about being honest, isn't it? this muse that runs through hot blue veins to fingertips that tap their blues until the final sigh. This second chance to live again here, with my pen I write of her. Once death is close enough to feel, to taste, to touch, speaking a mind seems hardly a struggle at all. ajs I Walk in Wilds at Times Mindless in this short order cook world of show and tell On the corner of Killdaddy Rd. three young rabbits freeze to the sound of an oncoming car. they've survived by getting laid a lot life boils down to math. My friend just had her hair done recolored, she took the red out though, her heart still burns complete. He is standing on the sidelines thinking he's got it all figured out funny how the dance goes on behind the scenes of dysfunction. I speak my mind my mind speaks ME together we confuse ourselves but we make up for all of that; we laugh at the same jokes ajs Two Guitars Last I saw you we were in the North Woods guitars in hand searching for that place in the music where the harmony resides Travelling down the highway of notes and chords from opposite directions you on the stretched octive hanging on the last note of a chromatic scale me in the ninths slipping in the bass line from below Until we met in that cheerished space that place all artists search for but seldom find All the talking around us stopped above the campfire we took off like eagles riding thermals we sailed above the cliff-tops until our instincts brought us down The fire of that night has never died I took it with me, it burns in my fingertips bringing energy to my tired limbs it burns in my soul demanding attention reminding me of the reasons I still play For me, for you, for her, and yes even for the drunks who are still calling out "Hey do you know Free Bird?" I tell them I do but I only played it once in the forrest near a campfire above the cliffs .....and it had nothing to do with leaving here tomorrow ajs Contrary to Popular Opinion Once-------- with a deep seated conviction that of Barnum, Caesar, or their enemies I set about a show in rings, hoping Gloria would be amongst the crowd entertained by the way I jumped through hoops; out past the gardenias over fences beyond the mount where the sea faces a quick death before it undertows then rushes back to black. We are still prisoners of broken dreams our rocking horses long discarded, we wet our nights in carnal desires, while our children visit Mr. Internet, all dressed up and waiting to take them on a cyber ride for life. I remember Gloria well, she was the one who never needed any more attention than she got she was always busy smiling back at the sun wearing her sister's hand-me-downs, skipping home from school whistling to a Monkey's song something about a Pleasant Valley Sunday. I hear she has a house up in Short Hills now they tell me there are rainbows there each day I'd guess she loves the butterflies that dance about her garden just beyond her reach. But, nothing is what we would like to think it is there is always something else behind the door tonight I shall go down to the sea I'll be there on the sand contemplating the man who chose to tame the elephants instead of studying the space between the planets or, the time it takes to make a man from boy ajs
Less

What I've Been Up To

My Poetry and Photography


image

The Aftermath

I wake in waters of words
in waves that roll over my fears
all my doubts delivered

no pretense, or pretending
the chaotic chisel of
my hammering head

speaking five languages at once
each one right though not righteous

all the world at pause
I see you in the doorway of dreams
your face distorted
your heart on the floor

I am not broken
I am bruised
there is a sea
awaiting my arrival

the waves shall roll me into the rising sun
where the peach of my longings
will paint my face enough
for me to laugh again

belly driven
out loud

ajs

image


"Over Hills to Pastel Meadows"

Once before a break of day
when in the silence of a stored cache
there upon my memories ladder
one ring above a thought came after
what was once as fine as lace
now lay defeated and disgraced
time alone tells tales that ail
in winds on shores and tears of shale
they echo off the Cliffs of Dover
to be a man now twice passed over
yet a purpose more than chains to bind
can set a man to see once blind
so with the rising sun's new light
I curse the day dreams fell from sight

A tick of time meant so much more
than the clicking of a closing door
for what becomes of what is gone
leaves a man no choice but
to move on

there before the break of day
eagles wake as children play
as stars fade slowly to blue skies
I find them twinkling in her eyes
her wish for love that would last
before the deluge's aftermath
for my dear now defined

you have at last escaped my mind



and travel down this road of life
should I be alone or with a wife
I shall think of her and often do
in pastel shades of green and blue
I have come to bare the bitter calls
of restless souls in nameless halls
always is my will to change aheart
that gives its way to rage
the knaves that dance
to and fro behind the glass
of ebbs and flow
shall not defeat a day at hand,
so long as I am my own man

I know not of the journey's worth
or why it is I was birthed
I have no will to go back in time
for what is hers is not mine

I break my bread here today

goodbye to winds of yesterday
I breathe free air then travel on
one more dream to be bygone
with the calling of my own true heart
I wish her well, then depart
the night falls down

in blues and blacks

never meant
for coming back

no, never meant
for coming back

ajs


image




My Hobbies

Licking noodles off of cherry strings.

Playing Golf with a Beach Ball in the rain.

Juggling lettuce heads in the shower.

Wrestling with my cat Turbo.

Trying to figure out why fat, old, bald, men hate me.

Hallowing in the hollows of a hurried hurricane

Studying the ups and downs of posterior hemisphere shifts

Looking for a laughs in the legions of letters I never wrote

















Spilling The Ink

Mindkeeps


I break cadence with the stomp of a foot
the hammer down, cracked sound
something loud like thunder

..................only better

I rain on you
like a steamed train
exhausting down a hill

I have no desire to best you,
test you, arrest you, in my arms

There is a vague and haunting knowing
of things that mutilate a soul
until the heart contracts in pain
until we die to live again

With the deliverance of a new dream
the sun bursts us into something finer
than wine, or the sweet surrender to love
that fits us like designer jeans
as if we were naked beneath
a lazy, summer, azure sky

I have swindled your desires
in the labyrinth of lust
until your brow sweat
became your peach juice
bleeding from your whore river
into a wide open, rolling, sea

I have played the fool for you
been uncovered then discovered
until my zero equaled nothing
when all along it seemed to scream
that I was number one

There are high thoughts that lead to prisons
into the MINDKEEPS of our own illussions
until the skin gags then chills above hard bones

We are pioneers of failure
both of us chisseling out a fallen dream
until the sculpture is complete
when at once we find two people
shaken, broken, in an
overused, abused,
washing machine

Tonight I tempt the temple
the high seat God himself sits upon
I question all I've ever been
beyond the sniffing of a thong
but, in my deepest searching
when the voice is still and we are past
there will come an answer
I will be free at last

II.

"Dream, Dream, Dream, all I ever do is Dream"

She came to me silk dressed in the attire I prescribed
my mind is a mansion of madness at times
I attain the unattainable in quarterlies of temporary

I saw here there, her skirt wind waving in the night
my horn blew her a hello as she bent to grab her luggage
changes mount our days in soft percussions
they come slowly building up
until the bass drum hump is louder than our hip smacks
when we find ourselves alone
fingers tapping keys, wondering what is was that brought us

.........................HERE!

III.

There is a rhythm talking to my soul
an ancient beat in time with no time
it stutter steps its way past midnight
until the chimes of freedom can be heard

I feel the wolf is rising in my loins again
Is this a new beginning or the deluge of an end????????

I harbor in my solace without compromise
for the beauty of a thousand diamonds
does not touch the wonder of her eyes

With my contraband entitlements
where I pack silent thoughts into a cage
I remind myself at once
I am neither slave nor man of rage

In the birthing of a new day
something better than we have lived
I find it in my heart to free myself
as I forgive to live again

Every single soul, yes every child of God
will one day find a space to say
"It's time for moving on"

IV


I shake, crack, rattle, with a bing bong song of love
standing up on one foot gazing stars above
who amongst us is above it when the darkness crashes in????????????
we are not insomniacs, we are waiting on the light my friends


V.

I am shielded in my rainbow suit
a brave cameilion in high grass
in a state of mass confusion
realizing few things ever last

Once again I will be hunter man
seeking out the soft skin of my prey
I'll hip dance horizontally until my
equilibrium has no say

You might find me in a summer dream
casting hooks into the waves

With the wind and my faith
I hereby set her free
may the future bring us something more
than cries of ecstasy

ajs


Listen to the Children



They speak mind speak

of things that ring or sing

before they have enough

of each other

then fists fly

or feet stomp

and they are done


Listen to the children

they have their needs

sweets and treats

and dirty socks

but give them love

and they receive it

look into their eyes

and they believe it

give them hope

and don't betray them

Listen, oh listen,

to the children

ajs



Resurrection


I tracked your tears
from Bolivia to Brazil
they wet my jungle mind
ablaze in passion
your temple tongue
that whispered from the heaven's
a melodic dance of freedom
expanding even the night sky

I twirl you around my nights now
in dreams of rushing rivers
I am your white water
after the storm
heading to the sea
where I will find you
sitting soft upon the high chair
of a crescent moon

ajs

Bad Timing


I have set my sights
outside of your
kaleidoscopes

where the colors blend
from black to better
with a twist of a wrist

white is always loud
against the dark

before it all fades to blue
warped in the deluge
of a thousand
misunderstandings

you stand misunderstood
i stand here
wondering
why


ajs


The Space Between You and I


I have felt the world explode between my fingers
the past participles of lost generations
dreamers, scheemers and mindless thieves

Saran, Sir Han. Sir Hand--------


me something more
than a timeless masquerade.


I have called lost souls to my trumpet
in the gathering of ages
silver coated and well spent,
depicted the lost movies
of gray screen days.







You don't get me here with spaces.


The Space Between You and I



I'm fine with you
and (eye)

lost between two mirrors
walls away from giving in

maybe it's the space we keep
that leads us to a queer profound??

Take the highway
there is a map
to lead you ---------------------- any where.

Still,
nowhere is the space


we keep

when life becomes a lie

ajs


Homeroom

Mrs Clauson knew of things
things that make us better
all in time, in due time
after sunsets when the quiet comes
we need only ourselves to find sleep

I was never lonely, it is a strange feeling
something like total darkness in the light of day
I'm not comfortable with passion prisons
I prefer the look in HER eyes
its been there since I was a boy
always deep, always real

I remember how Mrs. Clauson
would speak of my future
she made me feel larger than I was
she warned me of traps
the obstacles of bad choices
how one turn can change a life

Funny how she came to me tonight
dressed in angels wings
a soft smile, then a head nod
....I knew that I'd be fine


ajs




Sweet Descent


She tempts the timid in me
that hides behind stained glass
my warrior front a means of protection
no defense against the
screaming truth of lust
it vibrates my soul
to remind me
that I am a man
removed from caves
still ready to dip
into her honey nest
as the lore of ages
speaks to me waist high
I explode into
an epiphany of moans
that turns to grunts until
my brow dots in beads of sweat

I release the energies of men
who never danced enough to know
the sweetness of her peach
or the essence of a final sigh
after the body shakes out of control.

ajs



image


Yin & Yang

waves roll to shore

foaming water kisses sand

opposites attract

ajs



Toy Soldiers


Fresh,
a slip of tongue
an adolescent impulse.
Later he will learn not
to say what he means,
when he dims to mellow.

Tough,
he'll learn to be
a remnant of himself.
He'll carve days of dollars
they'll rise and fall,
sink or swim.

Later,
he will gaze
at the slip curl of
a summer moon
thinking of lead
army men, and G.I. Joe.

June,
such a lovely month
for a man to be born,
again, and again,
dying in-between
each blink of sun.

Stranger,
what kind are you
Gray or blue?
I'd really like to know
if you ever won
at Stratego.

Before,
we begin our dance
of words and impressions,
here beside the middle-age
of life, still taking sides
and building walls.

Tomorrow,
you may find me
beside a hemlock
picking small cones
for a Marigold potpourri
no less, or more a man.

Until,
that day arrives
we guard ourselves
enough to be at ease
to give each other
what we plan.

Free,
Is a large word
it comes in moments
when the soul is loud,
then quietly slips away
hanging just beyond
our reach.

Me,
I chose the ones
in the prone position
blue, they fought at rest
hidden in the black grass
bullets whizzing by.

ajs
April, 1999



image
Adirondack Angling

Here in the Venice lounge
we have no lagoons
we have no gondolas,
mountains and lakes
are plenty
they silver Sunday afternoons
framed by green grass
it rises up towards Placid,
where the snow caps into June.

We live in the nub of days,
center staged in a cloud's wink
sliding into serpentine streets
and dangerous driveways
that lead to hammocks
and hell raisers, feeding hounds
that roam fence free along the shore
licking life in tail wags.


There is no clear conversation
at the morning diner just
updates on where the fish are,
obituaries and announcements
no hustle to hassle the soul,
you might think we are sleep walking
our world is an oblique obsession
where life itself is just that.

In an old Adirondack chair
Charley Yeaton blows smoke rings
from a hand carved pipe,
they expand and then distort,
resembling his stories drawn
from memories of nicks and cuts,
there's rainbow trout on the grill
enough for spitting bones
when the beer runs out
we fade away into
camouflaged cabins.

Nothing much has changed here
since I read my history book
all the world's still an apple pie
when seen through Rockwell eyes,
someday we might regress
and allow a corporate park
all the city folk will come
to fill up cubicles
as motor boats
pollute the lakes,
but for now my friend Jonathan
still puts on his jeans
and carries his canoe
down the winding path whistling,
before he disappears
into a 1950's dream.


ajs


My Poetry and Photography


image

The Aftermath

I wake in waters of words
in waves that roll over my fears
all my doubts delivered

no pretense, or pretending
the chaotic chisel of
my hammering head

speaking five languages at once
each one right though not righteous

all the world at pause
I see you in the doorway of dreams
your face distorted
your heart on the floor

I am not broken
I am bruised
there is a sea
awaiting my arrival

the waves shall roll me into the rising sun
where the peach of my longings
will paint my face enough
for me to laugh again

belly driven
out loud

ajs

image


"Over Hills to Pastel Meadows"

Once before a break of day
when in the silence of a stored cache
there upon my memories ladder
one ring above a thought came after
what was once as fine as lace
now lay defeated and disgraced
time alone tells tales that ail
in winds on shores and tears of shale
they echo off the Cliffs of Dover
to be a man now twice passed over
yet a purpose more than chains to bind
can set a man to see once blind
so with the rising sun's new light
I curse the day dreams fell from sight

A tick of time meant so much more
than the clicking of a closing door
for what becomes of what is gone
leaves a man no choice but
to move on

there before the break of day
eagles wake as children play
as stars fade slowly to blue skies
I find them twinkling in her eyes
her wish for love that would last
before the deluge's aftermath
for my dear now defined

you have at last escaped my mind



and travel down this road of life
should I be alone or with a wife
I shall think of her and often do
in pastel shades of green and blue
I have come to bare the bitter calls
of restless souls in nameless halls
always is my will to change aheart
that gives its way to rage
the knaves that dance
to and fro behind the glass
of ebbs and flow
shall not defeat a day at hand,
so long as I am my own man

I know not of the journey's worth
or why it is I was birthed
I have no will to go back in time
for what is hers is not mine

I break my bread here today

goodbye to winds of yesterday
I breathe free air then travel on
one more dream to be bygone
with the calling of my own true heart
I wish her well, then depart
the night falls down

in blues and blacks

never meant
for coming back

no, never meant
for coming back

ajs


image




My Hobbies

Licking noodles off of cherry strings.

Playing Golf with a Beach Ball in the rain.

Juggling lettuce heads in the shower.

Wrestling with my cat Turbo.

Trying to figure out why fat, old, bald, men hate me.

Hallowing in the hollows of a hurried hurricane

Studying the ups and downs of posterior hemisphere shifts

Looking for a laughs in the legions of letters I never wrote

















Spilling The Ink

Mindkeeps


I break cadence with the stomp of a foot
the hammer down, cracked sound
something loud like thunder

..................only better

I rain on you
like a steamed train
exhausting down a hill

I have no desire to best you,
test you, arrest you, in my arms

There is a vague and haunting knowing
of things that mutilate a soul
until the heart contracts in pain
until we die to live again

With the deliverance of a new dream
the sun bursts us into something finer
than wine, or the sweet surrender to love
that fits us like designer jeans
as if we were naked beneath
a lazy, summer, azure sky

I have swindled your desires
in the labyrinth of lust
until your brow sweat
became your peach juice
bleeding from your whore river
into a wide open, rolling, sea

I have played the fool for you
been uncovered then discovered
until my zero equaled nothing
when all along it seemed to scream
that I was number one

There are high thoughts that lead to prisons
into the MINDKEEPS of our own illussions
until the skin gags then chills above hard bones

We are pioneers of failure
both of us chisseling out a fallen dream
until the sculpture is complete
when at once we find two people
shaken, broken, in an
overused, abused,
washing machine

Tonight I tempt the temple
the high seat God himself sits upon
I question all I've ever been
beyond the sniffing of a thong
but, in my deepest searching
when the voice is still and we are past
there will come an answer
I will be free at last

II.

"Dream, Dream, Dream, all I ever do is Dream"

She came to me silk dressed in the attire I prescribed
my mind is a mansion of madness at times
I attain the unattainable in quarterlies of temporary

I saw here there, her skirt wind waving in the night
my horn blew her a hello as she bent to grab her luggage
changes mount our days in soft percussions
they come slowly building up
until the bass drum hump is louder than our hip smacks
when we find ourselves alone
fingers tapping keys, wondering what is was that brought us

.........................HERE!

III.

There is a rhythm talking to my soul
an ancient beat in time with no time
it stutter steps its way past midnight
until the chimes of freedom can be heard

I feel the wolf is rising in my loins again
Is this a new beginning or the deluge of an end????????

I harbor in my solace without compromise
for the beauty of a thousand diamonds
does not touch the wonder of her eyes

With my contraband entitlements
where I pack silent thoughts into a cage
I remind myself at once
I am neither slave nor man of rage

In the birthing of a new day
something better than we have lived
I find it in my heart to free myself
as I forgive to live again

Every single soul, yes every child of God
will one day find a space to say
"It's time for moving on"

IV


I shake, crack, rattle, with a bing bong song of love
standing up on one foot gazing stars above
who amongst us is above it when the darkness crashes in????????????
we are not insomniacs, we are waiting on the light my friends


V.

I am shielded in my rainbow suit
a brave cameilion in high grass
in a state of mass confusion
realizing few things ever last

Once again I will be hunter man
seeking out the soft skin of my prey
I'll hip dance horizontally until my
equilibrium has no say

You might find me in a summer dream
casting hooks into the waves

With the wind and my faith
I hereby set her free
may the future bring us something more
than cries of ecstasy

ajs


Listen to the Children



They speak mind speak

of things that ring or sing

before they have enough

of each other

then fists fly

or feet stomp

and they are done


Listen to the children

they have their needs

sweets and treats

and dirty socks

but give them love

and they receive it

look into their eyes

and they believe it

give them hope

and don't betray them

Listen, oh listen,

to the children

ajs



Resurrection


I tracked your tears
from Bolivia to Brazil
they wet my jungle mind
ablaze in passion
your temple tongue
that whispered from the heaven's
a melodic dance of freedom
expanding even the night sky

I twirl you around my nights now
in dreams of rushing rivers
I am your white water
after the storm
heading to the sea
where I will find you
sitting soft upon the high chair
of a crescent moon

ajs

Bad Timing


I have set my sights
outside of your
kaleidoscopes

where the colors blend
from black to better
with a twist of a wrist

white is always loud
against the dark

before it all fades to blue
warped in the deluge
of a thousand
misunderstandings

you stand misunderstood
i stand here
wondering
why


ajs


The Space Between You and I


I have felt the world explode between my fingers
the past participles of lost generations
dreamers, scheemers and mindless thieves

Saran, Sir Han. Sir Hand--------


me something more
than a timeless masquerade.


I have called lost souls to my trumpet
in the gathering of ages
silver coated and well spent,
depicted the lost movies
of gray screen days.







You don't get me here with spaces.


The Space Between You and I



I'm fine with you
and (eye)

lost between two mirrors
walls away from giving in

maybe it's the space we keep
that leads us to a queer profound??

Take the highway
there is a map
to lead you ---------------------- any where.

Still,
nowhere is the space


we keep

when life becomes a lie

ajs


Homeroom

Mrs Clauson knew of things
things that make us better
all in time, in due time
after sunsets when the quiet comes
we need only ourselves to find sleep

I was never lonely, it is a strange feeling
something like total darkness in the light of day
I'm not comfortable with passion prisons
I prefer the look in HER eyes
its been there since I was a boy
always deep, always real

I remember how Mrs. Clauson
would speak of my future
she made me feel larger than I was
she warned me of traps
the obstacles of bad choices
how one turn can change a life

Funny how she came to me tonight
dressed in angels wings
a soft smile, then a head nod
....I knew that I'd be fine


ajs




Sweet Descent


She tempts the timid in me
that hides behind stained glass
my warrior front a means of protection
no defense against the
screaming truth of lust
it vibrates my soul
to remind me
that I am a man
removed from caves
still ready to dip
into her honey nest
as the lore of ages
speaks to me waist high
I explode into
an epiphany of moans
that turns to grunts until
my brow dots in beads of sweat

I release the energies of men
who never danced enough to know
the sweetness of her peach
or the essence of a final sigh
after the body shakes out of control.

ajs



image


Yin & Yang

waves roll to shore

foaming water kisses sand

opposites attract

ajs



Toy Soldiers


Fresh,
a slip of tongue
an adolescent impulse.
Later he will learn not
to say what he means,
when he dims to mellow.

Tough,
he'll learn to be
a remnant of himself.
He'll carve days of dollars
they'll rise and fall,
sink or swim.

Later,
he will gaze
at the slip curl of
a summer moon
thinking of lead
army men, and G.I. Joe.

June,
such a lovely month
for a man to be born,
again, and again,
dying in-between
each blink of sun.

Stranger,
what kind are you
Gray or blue?
I'd really like to know
if you ever won
at Stratego.

Before,
we begin our dance
of words and impressions,
here beside the middle-age
of life, still taking sides
and building walls.

Tomorrow,
you may find me
beside a hemlock
picking small cones
for a Marigold potpourri
no less, or more a man.

Until,
that day arrives
we guard ourselves
enough to be at ease
to give each other
what we plan.

Free,
Is a large word
it comes in moments
when the soul is loud,
then quietly slips away
hanging just beyond
our reach.

Me,
I chose the ones
in the prone position
blue, they fought at rest
hidden in the black grass
bullets whizzing by.

ajs
April, 1999



image
Adirondack Angling

Here in the Venice lounge
we have no lagoons
we have no gondolas,
mountains and lakes
are plenty
they silver Sunday afternoons
framed by green grass
it rises up towards Placid,
where the snow caps into June.

We live in the nub of days,
center staged in a cloud's wink
sliding into serpentine streets
and dangerous driveways
that lead to hammocks
and hell raisers, feeding hounds
that roam fence free along the shore
licking life in tail wags.


There is no clear conversation
at the morning diner just
updates on where the fish are,
obituaries and announcements
no hustle to hassle the soul,
you might think we are sleep walking
our world is an oblique obsession
where life itself is just that.

In an old Adirondack chair
Charley Yeaton blows smoke rings
from a hand carved pipe,
they expand and then distort,
resembling his stories drawn
from memories of nicks and cuts,
there's rainbow trout on the grill
enough for spitting bones
when the beer runs out
we fade away into
camouflaged cabins.

Nothing much has changed here
since I read my history book
all the world's still an apple pie
when seen through Rockwell eyes,
someday we might regress
and allow a corporate park
all the city folk will come
to fill up cubicles
as motor boats
pollute the lakes,
but for now my friend Jonathan
still puts on his jeans
and carries his canoe
down the winding path whistling,
before he disappears
into a 1950's dream.


ajs


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