A Toast

A parched throat makes for difficult speech… Instead of clearly communicating, you find yourself throat clearing, self jeering, eyes watering, mind wondering when this hacking will begin departing, all the while knowing that – it’s really not attractive.  You can see into souls through eye windows, the dimming glow as their response to your unintended show… It almost does not matter what you know, because like a dam, your words have lodged in your throat blocking your flow… Releasing spittle and foam at random intervals – overall damage is minimal, but the purpose in which you originally opened your mouth to complete has died all of its lives, and it’s game over – Nintendo.

But you know that it is not your fault… You needed just a bit of moisture, as some fine cuisine needs only a mere dash of salt… But without Mrs. Dash, appearance is divorced from success, like dollar signs taken off of cash… The end result being paper scraps… Tidbits, leftovers, unwanted – anything synonymous with trash… Because anything not done wholly simply will… not… last.  … And it is ironic because you can feel the tangibility of what it is you want to say deep inside your very being… Some wondrous thing – or perhaps simple – yet nevertheless unexpressed that only your eyes are seeing.  Ahhh if only you didn’t have a noose delivery!

A tendency to get choked up from the throat up when it’s something vital from your heart that needs expressing!  Vision is both a curse and a blessing… You wish that you could just pop a pill discreetly, or take a sip of some magical serum, to free you from this self induced delirium, after-all what good are above average thoughts if you must live in fear of them…?  … Looking… Searching… Waiting… Your soul knowing… That there is an answer… There is a way out of this moat… There is a cure – there is an antidote… There is a little known diner on the outskirts of town… A little further than just a ways away, but closer than too long would take… Open to any who care to pass through its doors into peace, and reverberating revelation… Who have an appetite that yields only unto satiation…

In this diner, the sparkling diamond glasses are for every occasion – for every moment in life is special.  Here – there is no such thing as wasted. No concept of the term “outdated,” no reference for existing without existence and purpose being mated… It’s not Heaven – but it surely is not earth… Just a small, easily missed diner… The menu?  Your heart’s desire.  The sign hanging over the counter only says “Higher.”  Order whatever you like, with whatever sides, anything you can think in your mind can be made manifest, for the deep recesses of thought – are who you are.

… There is but one drink served here however, and accompanies every meal… It unstops your throat, and has a rather curious feel… Smooth going down, but it can make your heart race, or your body shake… Tears may stream down your face – but tongues are always loosened, and obstacles are parted, that one may behold one’s goals… The ears become sensitive to the word “go,” ambition oblivious to the word no, and all too often the diner echoes with fearless declaration of “look out below!!!”  This – this special drink, birthed from the progression of time to meet human needs like dough… This elegant glass of shimmering power that can unblock your throat… THIS – is wine for the soul.

~The Wordsmith

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And There Was Her

I don’t know what I want… or fully what I am… But I know what she is. I recognize her like the foggy haze of a dream stolen from the hearts of better men.

She is thunder in the storm, a voice cutting through the chaos giving purpose to the light.

She is my best kept secret, hidden away in chambers of love so deep I’ve yet to discover it for myself.

A deluge of sparkling fireworks, scalding the adoration clean off my tongue, rendering me speechless.

She is the cinnamon scent of well scored holiday cinema…

She is the candle I light when I don’t know what else to do and night won’t let me sleep.

A roaring delight, volcanic passion thinly wrapped.

She is a universe of unspoken divinity and I, a priest desperate for the prayer to charm her…

She is the aspiration of the ocean, the magic patiently sought by stardust.

A flower spinning petals through the bar room air, dashing the drowning depths of escapism with her dazzling photosynthesis.

She is the pause in my cadence, that sacred word just on the tip of my tongue that I can’t ever seem to remember…

She is the solitude of the hero and the flag of the warrior- nobility knows no identity without her.

An unblemished flaw, juxtaposing past and prologue, disturbing the stories swirling all around me with her reckless dedication to being so in the moment that all others fall away…

She is the response to our Lord’s very first command.

Let there be light…

And there was her.

###

Dear Carrie

It’s scary ya know.

The world without you here.

I discovered too late the spirits of you and I were quite near, toast of champagne dear, now I’m trapped in the headlights. Staring into the shine trying to get a glimpse of your eyes. The car keeps approaching, wants to play chicken with me, Life already bulldozed you got a taste for blood, now she’s smitten with me! And I can’t move, it’s like I’m rooted to this spot; you died last year, I froze the moment, and time forgot. So now everyday is yesterday, dictionary on the swing, words at play, make it rain, stranger things like alchemy.

Oh wait.

I’m just cryin.

But I don’t care. Folks are laughing, you didn’t even meet her, if you woulda met her when you were married you probably would’ve cheated with her; plus she was on drugs tucked under the shade of a relapse, everything you like about her was far far away like a Shrek and charming rematch. So relax. Save your tears for real angels. Not another fallen pixie on a first name basis with rehab.

Dear Carrie, I don’t even respond to those folks no more. They make me wanna choke their vocal chords with a rubber hose around their throat til it don’t open no more. My hope is so sore. You were like a bottle of lightning and right when I picked it up to read the message inside it, you disappeared avatar roku style. I’m supposed to be goku how, feel like Liam neeson’s only child, everything I’ve learned since you were taken has cost me everything, ouch.

Is this what heroes are made of? Cords of your soul washed up, in the devil’s tub, but you’re Heaven touched, so Excalibur, in those burning thumbs, cannot overcome, the Lord’s banner hung, over every rut or find a weakness or opening to make a clean cut! Being a villain would be way more easy. Which is why you are Princess Leia both on and off screen to me. All you did was fight for right… even when cuddling with your darker side.

And I admit I cried. When I got home that night. You were the last Jedi. By faulty roll of dice. I’m dreading number nine. Cuz that glory is your right! But who am I really mad at? Me for playing it safe? Or you for living your life? Your legacy lives forever. Like Benjamin Franklin’s kite. And if I’m being Frank, I ain’t feelin too hot, dog, cuz the bark is fearsome, but I’m scared I’ll be all alone if I don’t leash this bite…

**sigh**

Dear Carrie, I’m working on it. Even in my peace of mind a piece of me is going bonkers.

Cuz you’re still not here.

So many loved you, almost none of us deserved you, but I heard lately from a woman of wondrous virtue that it’s not about deserve ooh. It’s about what we believe. And although I close my eyes and just scream cuz you not alive is obscene, when I open them again… there you are right next to beside me, auditioning for this musical, telling me to tell the truth.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Carrie Fisher drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra.

Oh God. It’s been so long. I was supposed to be leaping to safety, but instead I wrote a whole song. Well if I die, don’t tell them that I died. Regardless of how I go, I want it reported that I-

###

Two Many Ones

I keep thinking about you, even when I shouldn’t be thinking about you. It’s like the last ten thousand rounds were a circle and I’m up for round two. But this time, the story would be different, I’ve learned enough to make a difference like the enemy of addition. The mission is written in tinted ten pins, so even if I strike out and my mind clouds in the gutter, the resulting explosion will reset my broken pieces.

But that’s not what you want, is it. That faucet’s cut off like you’re done with the dishes. I know it sounds silly, but look how well we’ve done willy, I imagine the point of conversation starts at reminiscing. We ain’t gotta be together, for you to be here with me. And although the only parts of the castle are still sand, at least we managed to build a city, starlight brand, lifted the band up off our fingers, slipped out of the mask, I put you through the ringer, and I’m sorry for that, but now the real thing is, all we have, and if we had to crash our paths to shatter hour glass and blast the fatted past aghast at massive smash, to pass through gaps and splash in satisfaction, promised land-

Then I’d say worth it.

This is what I mean when I say I’m thinking of you. We couldn’t break orbit together, but we invented better rocket fuel, from knocking jewels, together like playing bloody knuckles outside the classroom in your favorite sweater draped in leather, what happens next is everything like the molecules of matter.

I wasn’t your plus 1. That’s why things could never add up. And you weren’t my soul mate. That’s why it never felt like Heaven. We were like two convicts, jumping from our hiding place, diving out the window and sliding down the fire escape. It wasn’t til we hit the ground, right where Sandra bland went down, that we got bullocked by the switching lanes.

Oh shoot, we’re running different ways. The breeze brings me your scent occasionally and I just give a little wave like a beach in San Jose, I know now we weren’t meant to be, my inner me is no enemy and it’s ended please…

Don’t regret the time we spent. Even if it turned out to be monopoly money. Because now, for every dime we get…

We know better than to put it in slot machines, the magic bean, makes a fool of our country.

Footprints

Every victory is a tipped tank carving the shards of me with hard angles, my darn ankles roll like grandma’s head in pa’s stranglehold!

Trophy is gold. Hands are brown. Heart is black. I curse, it attacks, I pray, it distracts, I may have a way to unbraid all the tracks, send the train off the map, this pain isn’t gain it’s terrain on collapse!

My footing stays unsteady. Without the bottle in my fingers my arms start feelin heavy. I can’t escape from escapism because when you’re not sick there is no remedy. Oh jiminy. God forsaken brevity. I’d burn a cross on mount Olympus if it meant experiencing divine levity.

Han wasn’t the laser brain. That goblin was me. Lightsaber straight through the center of my cranium. Severed identity. I’m sorry Carrie. I keep feeling like I’m betraying your legacy. What am I supposed to do when doing right and doing wrong are still being true to me?

TD Jakes said that being famous is the side effect of being effective… like a sycamore searching for sustenance in asgaard- I’m not sure where that leaves me. Honesty is the best policy nobody wants to cash in on. Poets are really practicing politicians posing as paupers and players of God’s midnight song, but late in the midnight hour all the magic of facade is gone.

Too many nights alone. Creating fragmented memories and calling them poems. The sound in the forest that nobody hears is the melodic tone on which my life steers. There’s no drop of golden sun for thirst of female deer, just West coast homeless probes in an autotuned tunic. I guess every superhero needs his theme music. 

But my theme is red light district. Look around. I blew it. And that line might have gone too far, but when you’re the only friend equipped to go the extra mile, you realize…

Most of your life will be dark patches of moonlight. Without even an echo to find your way home.

###

Reframed

The string is taut

I’m still learnin though

When I was a kid

It wasn’t such a far drop

Now every misstep

Blairs the warning crescendo

Of look out far below

Eyes on the prize or the sting of the fall?

Every moment my feet inch out a little farther

Arms stuck out like rusty helicopter blades

Tipping. Balancing. 

Heel toe shuffling

A deck of cards sans hearts or ace of spades

I’d put the whole lot back in the box, but-

When I’m quiet…

I can hear something calling to me…

Halfway out over an abyss I can’t fathom

Bare feet scraping trying not to think of what’s possible to imagine

Fireworks in the background

Crazed fans screaming from the bathroom

Silent observers reading each character, assured that they know mine, right down to the letter…

I can see the grass stains on the goal post

Makes me feel like there can’t be much more to go

Phone rings

Wakes me from my coma

It’s not just mom and me anymore

There’s a whole stadium studying my persona

I’m not the whole show

Simply one act

One note card on the storyboard

What could be more humbling than that

Can’t wipe the blood off my sword anymore

Every crimson stain a memory

A talisman from my past

Like Vader’s gift through Anakin

Looped through Padme’s lifeless fingers

Love’s light lost at last…

The string is taut

I’m still learnin though

Sliding along the edges of this fraying education

At this altitude

Booing and cheering have the same insinuation

Whether insane or not…

Boy you better make it