Musings and Poetry

My collection of poems, stories, and fitful spurts of creative energy.

December 30, 2003

Hunger

An aching in the legs. A pain that needs to be stretched. You can't remain at your desk, you must move. The searing, jabbing pain is unbearable. Fire courses through your veins. Only by rising, rising and moving, working out the muscles do you have any hope. You begin to swoon from the intensity. You stumble and almost fall. Hope. There in the distance is the cure. Just a few more cubicles and you're there. So many options, but how best to get it to the source of the pain? You can't smear it on, you can't inhale it, it must go into the blood. Sugar, carbs, fat and grease. This is the only cure. You are propelled, you are commanded by the pain... Ease me, soothe me, sate me! You must, you cannot deny the pain.

Hunger.

December 29, 2003

RED BRICK

STAINED RED BRICK STARES AT ME.

NOT THE PAINTINGS, CABINETS AND MIRRORS, BUT THE RAW MATERIAL ON WHICH THESE THINGS HANG.

THIS EXTERIOR TURNED INTERIOR LOOKS BACK INTO MY BROWN EYES.

IT IS ROUGH AND RUGGED. THE HANGING CLUTTER CANNOT MASK THE MATERIEL CRAFTED TO WEATHER THE ELEMENTS.

INSIDE ME IS ITS BROTHER FAƇADE.

PEOPLE INTRUPT MY GAZE.

BLISSFUL MOMENTS OF BLAZING LIFE, THEY ARE BRIEF INTERUPTIONS IN MY ETERNAL CONTEMPLATION.

SOMETIMES PEOPLE LINGER. BLUE, GREEN, BROWN AND HAZEL EYES. ENGLISH, SPANISH & PORTUGUESE TOUNGES.

ALWAYS THERE BEHIND LINGERS THE MORTAR AND RED AND BROWN MOTTLED MATERIAL.

I am angry

Alone in a corner in a crowded room an emotion, usually bottled up and hidden away in a dark safe corner of my mind, boils and threatens to spill out. I fear it will pour over the world. My ire will overwhelm those in my path. They will shrink away from my furrowed brow and blazing eyes.

Too long have I kept this hidden. I have stashed this away out of fear. Fear of the power I wield with my pain and vengeance. The anger is not wild, it is controlled. The heart beats steady and strong. A berserker soon is consumed by his own energies and dies quickly. This energy is like the slow tide of the ocean. Roiling and boiling into a great tsunami of unstoppable force. I will not run through the street terrorizing all in my wake. No. My sting will be in sarcasm, ruthlessness, determination, force and tough love. My weapon will be my evil eye.

My heart has been strong and my courage intense. Long have I trembled at the thought of moving forward. I have feared my leadership, and quailed at my abilities. I have allowed others to undermine my confidence. I have invited doubt into the house of my heart and made it my bedfellow.

Now, my light shall burn strong and fierce. The righteous and just will bend to my will and darkness will kneel at my feet and paw at me for mercy.

There will be no mercy.

I will trample darkness and light.

I will use it as a stepping stone on my climb to the top of the mountain. There death shall cower and do my bidding. The elements will battle and rage yet will follow my orders. The worlds will be mine to make or unmake.

It is there, on the top of the world, I will pause. At that great moment when all harkens to me and trembles at my hand, the very hand poised to destroy all existence, I will kneel in the sand and dig a small hole. With my mighty left hand I will assault my chest and tear out my heart and drop it in the hole. My scream of pain will shake the very core of the earth and from the tremor of the ground the sand will slide back over my heart.

My tears. My tears of sorrow over all lost things will water the ground. I will collapse and my last breath in the stillness of eternity will strike a spark against the sand. A spark that warms my heart and shocks it back into life.

It beats.

My blood flows into the earth, pumping, coursing deep into the bowels of fire.

The top of the mountain trembles and with a great wrenching sound the ground cracks and the mountain splits in two. A great tree bursts forth. The branches reach up into the heaven, the roots stretch to the warm core of molten lava.

Stillness.

The world marvels at the Tree. All sadness disappears when you gaze upon it. The world changes in the shadow of the Silver Tree. War ends, hunger ceases, laughter flourishes.

When passions flame people turn to the Tree. Their passions are changes, absorbed, given back pure and used by everyone. A great anger turns into a passionate love-making, hatred becomes a caress, fear, a kiss. Bodies and souls intertwine. Lives become eternal, death no longer holds sway. The last child had been born and the world flourishes in eternal life.

From the love-making comes a new race. Men and women both bear children infused with light. They are creatures that never know darkness. These rare children are so light and beautiful that they move as if they have wings. They breeze through the air and eventually fly off into the sky to the far stretches of the universe. They take the light of the Tree and go to sow seeds in other lands for other peoples.