These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o’clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. Although I could no longer see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching...
Tweet As of this date my YOUTUBE Channel registers 234,000 + Single Page Visits, Video Views! A Google Search of the termsStanley Pacion YouTubeyields a result count of thousands. Please SUBSCRIBE BUTTON
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 mere 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 gather 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 eternal.
Tweet As of this date my YOUTUBE Channel registers 230,000 + Single Page Visits, Video Views! A Google Search of the termsStanley Pacion YouTubeyields a result count of thousands. Please SUBSCRIBE BUTTON
SHOUT OUT Uneasy, when it came to sex, You made me feel
I was doing you wrong. Your body stiffened, And, I remember, once you said, “Too incredibly intimate!” Later I watched in movies, Men drop to the knees, It seemed nothing special, No more than regular business, Hollywood presents its usual fare. In a recent film with a Bedouin setting, North Africa, camels on route, Over windy hills of sand, oasis to oasis, Hardly a trend setter, The lead takes his captive, Calls her wife number three, and there Within the walls of his village home, He keels. While camera spies, He takes love by mouth. Since I last had knelt before you, Months have passed. I wish I might kneel now, Just as does the sheik in the movie! But you, you are gone. And with you, too, went Health, and work, and sleep, They have fled irrevocably! I wake in the middle of shouts. I picture you and our last night at dinner. I see you there sitting before the table, And in a fleeting glimpse I recall your delight, How you savor and chew upon your meal. I rise up from my bed and step toward my desk. I mean to write, But swoon instead. Down my back and below my collar, My night shirt is wet of perspiration. Were I not lost, driven to distraction, If only once more could I clear the mind And assume a proper bearing, Where did I ever hear that love is a gentle thing? Can’t figure what’s up with me; I feel a faint. My stomach is turning. 'Fetch a chair!' I say aloud, though I am home alone. 'Never mind. I’m fine. I’m okay.' (As if somebody here bothers to listen.) ‘The weather has been unusually hot, ‘Especially these first two weeks of August; ‘Actually the same was true for all of July and June. ‘Yeah, that’s the ticket. ‘It’s just this summer's terrible heat!'
Tweet As of this date my YOUTUBE Channel has received 202,000 + Single Page Visits, Video Views! A Google Search of the termsStanley Pacion YouTube Channel yields a result count of 400,000. http://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion
SHOUT OUT
Uneasy, when it came to sex, You made me feel I was doing you wrong. Your body stiffened, And, I remember, once you said, “Too incredibly intimate!”
Later I watched in movies, Men drop to the knees, It seemed nothing special, No more than regular business, Hollywood presents its usual fare.
In a recent film with a Bedouin setting, North Africa, camels on route, Over windy hills of sand, oasis to oasis, Hardly a trend setter, The lead takes his captive, Calls her wife number three, and there Within the walls of his village home, He keels. While camera spies, He takes love by mouth.
Since I last had knelt before you, Months have passed. I wish I might kneel now, Just as does the sheik in the movie!
But you, you are gone. And with you, too, went Health, and work, and sleep, They have fled irrevocably!
I wake in the middle of shouts.
I picture you and our last night at dinner. I see you there sitting before the table, And in a fleeting glimpse I recall your delight, How you savor and chew upon your meal.
I rise up from my bed and return to my desk. I try to write, But swoon instead. My night shirt has the wet of perspiration, Down my back and well below The neckline binding at its front.
Were I not lost, driven to distraction, Were I able to clear the mind And gain once more a proper bearing, This poem might read better by far.
'Oh, Oh goodness!'
Though I am up and about, Ready to write before the computer screen, I feel a faint. My stomach is turning,
'Fetch a chair!' I say aloud in my empty home office.
'Never mind. I’m fine. I’m okay.' (As if somebody here bothers to listen.)
Hey! She can't do this to me! I'm an American! I was born and raised in Illinois. History taught me about Lincoln's Volunteers, They were the ones who burned Old Dixie down.
I'm the Pepsodent kid, I have hung out on the skin of my teeth.
My uncle was a dog catcher. From him, I learned to capture animals in heat.
Where I come from -- there is no foolin' around.
Where does she get the nerve? She leaves me home alone for months on end.
I've known speeds, man, faster than Flash Gordon, I can fly from planet to planet, Find and live amongst a whole new breed,
What do I need her for?
Got to be kidding! I mean... she can't do this to me!
