FIRE IN THE BRAIN

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FIRE IN THE BRAIN

Children watch me run through the streets,

And wonder, what is it all about, my hurrying.

My eyes push forward,

Cause me to squint.

Then all at once I break into a smile.

And night after night in steady flow

Ideas collect, press fierce,

Hard against my brow.

The pressure makes for heat;

There is fire in the brain.

I hear words march with noise

Akin to soldiers' boots slapping on pavement.

I see your gaze upon me.

The beauty of your large brown eyes

Engulfs my neural circuitry.

Oh I smell wheat grass!

It's being blended with fresh strawberries and oranges.

I love the juices' heady odor,

When ever I breathe it in --

I am reminded of you.

We looked out the window.

We sat upon stools at a Formica bar,

A long, plate-glass window provided unobstructed view,

And we people watched the intersection,

Corners at avenue and street, the sidewalk before us,

They became our theater, and we agreed;

It was pleasant evening’s entertainment.

Pressed, cardboard cartons contained our suppers.

We ate our meals with plastic forks and knives;

The napkins were brown, recycled paper.

Believe me, no irony intended. Honest!

Every memory, every instant

My being with you, every occasion was lovely!

I shall die a happy man.

Die a happy man?

Here's my defense.

However I may wonder,

Whether ultimately I write fact or fiction.

Do I possess truth or fall to illusion?

I know that those two forces bind me,

As is the case with Siamese Twins,

Who are born to share common cerebrum.

In a language plain, common to us all,

Here I stand and bear witness,

Though that I am flesh and born to perish,

Spirit informs me and grants me friends,

Friends who are awaiting worship,

And friends of friends who celebrate the light,

A priesthood of all believers who patiently gathers

Filling the rows of benches in the meeting hall.

And one by one this church affirms a new covenant --

God is love and death has no power,

The kingdom lives within us, our souls immortal.

LET ME TELL YOU TRUE, rewrite

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LET ME TELL YOU TRUE

As you know, I am quite over you.

I barely think of you more than twenty times a day.

Though I must confess that today,

When I went all around town in what had been

Just an incredibly gorgeous day – 89 degrees Fahrenheit,

Dry, even very dry, and absolutely sunny

With a ten mile-per-hour steady breeze --

My thoughts of you had crossed my mind

At more than twice the usual number-rate,

Which marks my each and every waking hour,

Whether morning, noon, or night.

Seems every great weather day reminds me of you.

OK! I am not going to blame you for it.

My arithmetic is poor and I am congenitally distracted.

On Monday, now that was two days ago,

It rained and rained, the entire day was hot and stuffy.

Still my heart ran to you a hundred times.

This count was not my total sum.

Later during that day I stepped into a puddle,

And dropped my umbrella, so wasn't it better,

Certainly more rigorously honest,

That I should start my addition once again and all over.

Thus by bedtime, I had the number thirty-three,

Which then I added to my original, first total of one hundred.

In my own defense, you no doubt recall that

Low barometric pressure has always had a bad effect on me.

All right, let's get real, if we average out my daily count,

One thing is abundantly clear, no mistake about it,

I no longer spend my days just thinking of you.

And let me tell you true,

My thoughts turn to you

No more than thirty-six times a day.

SWEET TALK

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SWEET TALK

Out in Arizona my Dad,

He grew roses.

He embraced the great merit,

Loved to say,

How he enjoyed cultivating his own garden.

That spot he tended along side the house,

It was the love of his retirement.

I saw those roses disporting,

Performing and they were real pretty,

But I must say aloud,

They never flowered like you.

They never looked the way

You looked tonight, darling.

Though some may find this verse coy,

No more than borrowed phrase and imagery

Notions common in the language of the heart,

Yet I swear to it. I tell the truth,

The same as if I stood in court of law

My right hand raised, the left upon the Holy Book.

I ask that you accept my plight.

Know that the risk of divine displeasure informs it.

Whatever the flattery animating this verse,

Its terms of endearment are sincere and honest.

FIRE IN THE BRAIN

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FIRE IN THE BRAIN

 
Children see me run through the streets,
And wonder, what is it all about, my hurrying.

My eyes push forward,
Cause me to squint,
And then I break into a smile.

Night after night in steady flow,
Feelings and ideas collect; press fierce,
Hard against my brow.

The pressure makes for heat, then fire in the brain.

I hear words march with noise
Akin to soldiers' boots slapping on pavement.

Then I see your face.
The beauty of your large brown eyes
Makes my brain run riot,
Engulfs my neural circuitry.

 

Oh I smell wheat grass!
It's being blended with fresh strawberries and oranges.

I love the juices' heady odor,
When ever I breathe it in --
I am reminded of you.

We looked out the window.
We sat upon stools at a Formica bar,
A long, plate-glass window provided unobstructed view,
And we people watched the intersection,
Corners at avenue and street, the sidewalk before us,
They became our theater, and we agreed;
It was pleasant evening’s entertainment.

Pressed, cardboard cartons contained our suppers.
We ate our meals with plastic forks and knives;
The napkins were brown, recycled paper.

Believe me, no irony intended. Honest!

Every memory, every instant
My being with you, every occasion was lovely!
I shall die a happy man.

Die a happy man?
Here's my defense.
However I may wonder,
Whether ultimately I write fact or fiction.

Do I possess truth or fall to illusion?

I know that two forces bind me,
As is the case with Siamese Twins,
Who are born to share common cerebrum.

A LOVER'S DILEMMA

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A LOVER’S DILEMMA

Too much, or too little wine,

Either way that woman proves a problem!

Give her none,

She can not find the truth,

Give her too much, the same.

RED ROOF INN, Love a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey

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RED ROOF INN,

Love a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey,

Revised, April 2012

Darling, darling, girl,

Much between us remains unsaid,

Remember that first overnight date at the Red Roof Inn.

I am in search of this lost time.

An impossibly large bed stretched out across the room.

Between its feet and a long chest of drawers

A narrow aisle traveled the length.

It ran from the front door to the rear of the room.

And you, there, in your bikini briefs,

At the end of the aisle, you were in an alcove,

An enclosure directly opposite the bathroom;

It occupied half the suite’s entire width.

Your back to me,

You stood up against a cantilever table.

It was a wall-to-wall vanity with a mirror,

A mirror whose length matched the table’s surface,

And it covered the back wall up to the ceiling.

Recessed lamps provided light from overhead.

You brushed your hair, and

With each stroke I saw

How your shoulder blades flexed.

I rose up from the bed,

Took a few steps,

And then, still from behind you,

I remained behind you,

I bent my torso forward at the waist,

And extended my arms between your legs.

I was squatting and each one of my hands

Was wrapped around one of your ankles.

My fingers held you just above your feet.

Head-down, I pulled myself close to you.

My left shoulder went to the center,

It rested within a spot between your buttocks and legs.

The left side of my chin found a niche,

It touched the back of your right knee.

That was the posture when I had at first embraced you.

Once I stood up,

Regained some sense of normal composure,

I told you that

I had never personally encountered a woman,

Who looked so much the better naked than clothed.

“Wow!” Burst out. And you said,

“You sure know how to compliment a girl.”

I was dumbfounded. I thought for a moment;

I took a moral attitude, yet my tongue was tied.

I spoke these words, yet they were only to myself.

‘Woman! Trust my veracity.

‘Do not confuse my honest praise with flattery.’

Then, pretending to further my defense,

I more or less recalled the poet’s immortal words,

Those lines about truth and beauty being one,

And is not response to beauty, truth?

I ran the maxim in my mind. I remained speechless.

“‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty.’”

I dwelled in total awe of you.

And when old age our generation shall waste,

And time brings world to more and other woes,

We have had this moment and its sentiment remains –

‘Darling, that is all,’ I quoted the lines to myself,

I had not uttered a word aloud,

‘You know on earth, and all you need to know.’

RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO, A Poem about Friendship

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RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO,
A Poem about Friendship



Respond to this video.
Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what you think,
Or tell me what you may believe.
I can’t be friends with her;
She is no friend to me.


Tell me what to do,

It’s not she’s bad,
Or evil beyond belief;
Yet she has broken her every promise,
No regard for holy vow,
But the real truth behind her lies,
And here great sympathy is required,
She has a hard time copin’,
Livin’ in the regular world,
Bein’ like all the other girls,
Who fit in the regular world.

Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what to do!
My heart’s been rendered,
I feel it split,
I feel it’s split in two.

Nothing to win, and
Nothin’ left to lose.

‘Oh, you’re such a pretty girl,
Why are you so skinny?’
That’s what the ladies ask,
When she just standin’ there,
Standin’ there waitin’ for a bus.

Let me tell you what she said,
I tell you, dear audience,
What she once revealed to me,
She said, she’s always starvin’
That’s how she, she got worn away,
I’ve seen her get thinner,
Thinner by the day,
She can not finish her dinner,
She imagines cottage cheese,
Sees it form on the back of her legs.

Let me whisper a secret,
Maybe it will clear the air,
The first piece of furniture,
The first thing I bought for this house
It was a white, electronic scale,
She will not step on the scale.

Her bleeding it stopped some time ago,
But no problem with that, when there’s the pill,
Tweak the hormone and, anyway,
What’s so important?
Why the big deal?

Really, I can hear her say it,
As if she were present,
Right before me into my face, talkin’,
She be all pretend, diffident,
Yet the tiny sarcasm in her voice,
Oh that’s her, littl’ miss perfect!

‘Come on! I’ve got it, no problem!
‘My blood, it’s flowin’!
‘I’ve got my period right now.’

Respond to this video.
Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what you think,
Or tell me what you believe.
I can’t be friends with her.
She can’t be friend to self.

Nothing for me,
Nothing to win and
Nothin’ left to lose.

It’s so awful, it’s weird,
I know she still loves me.

Will she ever be carefree again?

Can it be she’s really dyin’,
Dear God, I fear it’s true,
But she runs for miles,
Goes to the gym every other day,
Claims the thing, under-control!

My heart is broken,
All I can do is pray.

I can’t be friends with her,
She can’t be friend to self,

What else can I do?
What am I missin’?
I’ve never doubted her beauty!
Please, tell me, tell me,
-- I love her! –

Merciful Heaven!
Is there any thing,
If there is any thin’ I might do?