Knock Knock


Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Knock Knock” by: rob kistner © 10/28/23

 
It’s nightfall
the darkness now descends
the hand of grief extends
horror chills me to my core

it’s nightfall
words of horror stain my lips
sweetness slips through my fingertips
and scatters ‘cross the floor

it’s nightfall
the shadows stoke my fears
a voice of dread rings in my ears
I am broken evermore

it’s nightfall
dark waves of misery
are rising like the sea
I am stranded on the shore

it’s nightfall
would I were alone
confusion grips me to the bone
terror is knock-knocking at the door

it’s nightfall
I hear you call my name
I’m about to go insane
I just can’t take it anymore

again you call my name
yet again you call my name
with all the knocking at the door
I really can’t take it anymore

finally I scream
“yes dear! — I can hear!”

you shout — “my feet are sore
answer the damned door”

“or those trick’r’treaters
will knock — forevermore

*
rob kistner © 2023-24

Poetry at: dVerse

More poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

Poetry at: WGO

 

Forever Mine

Happy Halloween!
ALERT… This is a very dark, haunting piece. …ALERT!

Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Love Is Blind” by: rob kistner © 10/29/24

 

Do you think
you’re not still my slave
since digging yourself from that earthen grave

since you sullied your delicate hands
clawing up and out of my bottom lands

do you think you’re safe

think perhaps that I don’t know
where you are as you come and go

do you think that I don’t feel you
with my every breath
that I don’t breathe you

really – don’t you

do you think at all
my love

anytime I want you
you are mine

anytime…

…well now
look who’s finally awake
quite a long nap you chose to take

…what love, where are you?

…surprise…
you are here where you belong
with me — my love

you like your leathers
I hope you do
I picked them out love
just for you

you know I love you
you love me too
we have a love uncommon
you know we do

don’t you

you are mine
it’s true

forever

your every move is known to me
your every thought is mine to see

every fear
mine to trigger
and every fear is growing bigger

I am the ghost
haunting your lair
I am your uttermost secret terror

you will not know
whence I may come
I am the shadow you are running from

the stranger hidden across the street
the sudden sound that startles you
from deep in sleep

so cling mindlessly to your false hope
as ‘round your slender neck
I slip my rope

…my love — I’m so, so sorry…

you think I’m mad
well that may be
but that’s too bad

for you
not me

you pray they catch me
we’ll see
won’t we

your nightmare is I’ll not be caught
your dream’s come true
for I will naught

you hope I make a big mistake
dare a close call
risk my downfall

you sense your time is short
the hour is late
you feel the weight
the grip of fate

you think you might escape
get away
run free

…my love — I’m so, so sorry…
but that will never be
there is no such risk for me

for I am brilliant
wicked cunning
you’ve felt my power
is it not stunning

does my magnificence make you afraid
knowing ‘cross your neck
I may slide my blade

as I’m creeping quiet from behind
to steal your life
as I am so inclined

as terror shivers
up and down your spine
remember always

you — are — mine

forever mine
til the day you die
and this is that day

so — m’love…

…goodbye

*
rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at: dVerse

Poetry at: WGO

 

That Kiss


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “That Kiss” by: rob kistner © 10/28/24

 
That kiss in the moonlight
that starry autumn night
as passion’s fire burned bright

aflame was our urgent need
hot was that stolen moment
emblazoned was our lover’s promise
in that distant smoldering midnight…

…sweet memories of our fiery love
stir my heart tonight


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Yes, That Kiss”
by: rob kistner © 10/28/24

*
rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at: dVerse

 



Neuralspace

“A dream is not reality but who’s to say which is which?” – Lewis Carroll

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Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Dimension of Dreams” by: rob kistner © 10/24/24
 

Between wakefulness
and rem
there is a place
a dimension that I know
a dimension that I roam

that dimension
the neuralspace of dreams
of fantasy
of illusion
where imagination roams

a place where poetry lurks

it is here I pursue
the fleeting
elusive
words

le verset tient mon âme

down the street of the sky
here night walks
scattering poems
inspired dreams of truth
enthralling dreams of wonder

night releases the dreams
the poems
from unclenched
open hands of truth
hands of enchantment


Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “FeyLuna”
by: rob kistner © 10/24/24

to be blessed
in love’s wellspring
by fey luna
with the aura
of magic
and enlightenment

so the winds of vision
can realize this night
to collect them
lifting them to full promise

to poems of clarity
of open mind
of true heart
of steeled spirit

meant to embrace
meant to inspire
meant to enchant

and to be more
still

le verset tient mon âme

so listen
think wondrous thoughts

the hours now rise
putting off stars
casting spells

and it is dawn

awake now…

in the street of the sky
light walks
moving in a sound of silence
scattering poems anew

listen…

be ready

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Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Street of the Sky”
by: rob kistner © 10/24/24

*
rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at:d’Verse

Poetry at:Poets & Storytellers

 

Fractal Fantasy

Come with me, and you will be, in a world of pure imagination” – Anthony Newley

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Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Fractal Jester” by: rob kistner © 6/23/24
 

Come with me, my spell you’re under
it is a magic of a most splendorous kind
a wilding world of pure cornucopic wonder
here, treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this kingdom of your expanding mind

come with me to mystical ports of call
we’re no longer tethered to mere mortal
soar high above the mythic wonderwall
now swept up in this miracle protocol
we’re full sail through mystery’s portal

come with me to a fractal paradise
far beyond anything one can imagine
geometric forms flowing so precise
seemingly organic, yet quite concise
they’re rolling out, as they fold back in

come — beyond fantasy’s elaboration
a world your mind alone cannot beget
it’s a wondrously sweet hallucination
it will boggle your fired imagination
what you will see you will never forget
so… come with me — yes, come with me

38CE96C0-4CAF-4CDE-A9A7-FEB7DF386769
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Fractal Portal”
by: rob kistner © 6/23/24

*
rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at:d’Verse

 

Larch Magic


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Larch Magic” by: rob kistner © 10/22/24

 
Autumn here in the Pacific Northwestern United States is the season of emeralds and gold. The emeralds emanate from the many types of conifers that grow tall and plentiful here in this beautiful region, staying brilliant shades of green year-round. But the gold, that is the magic, and it’s a fleeting wonder that happens only in the Fall season. The source of this prestidigital marvel of nature is a geographically limited pine tree known as the Larch.

Larches are like a pot of gold here in the Fall hiking season. Their flaming yellow needles turn a Cascade Mountain landscape into something ethereal and otherworldly. The few short weeks, during mid-Autumn when the larches’ needles turn golden, make them all the more precious to spot. I call it the season of “Larch Magic.”

As splendrous as gold
cascade mountain larches make
autumn spellbinding


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Larch Gold”
by: rob kistner © 10/22/24

*

rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at: d’Verse

 

Chi-Town Fire

~ a poetic Chi’caga saga in rap rhythm’d spoken word ~


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Chi-Town Fire” by: rob kistner © 10/18/24

 

Me and m’tune-crew
was poundin’ lick-true
blue-jazz-rocked
tempo-unlocked
on a skin-tight
be-bop ultra-vibe night

dude…
we was edge-lookin’
max-cookin’
zone-cruisin’
rhythm-flash’n
beat-bruisin’
n’wail’n righteous

my vocals were satin-pure
honey-drippin’
tear-coaxin’
pitch-sure velvet

my conga chops
were ev’a-riffs
nev’a-stops

tap-bap
slap’n-clap
rapity-rapity
whapity-snap

finger-tip’n
riff-trip’n

was truth-smokin’
urgent-strokin’
caressin’ the key-taut hide

d’band was soul-inspired
velvet-fired
finger-flamed
untamed
finely-sussed
and fully-percuss’d
melody-makin’ madness

the reeds bled
horns knocked’m dead
n’d’fenders shred

all head-fed
chi-town tune-dudes
beatin’ it get-down

randy-rude
steamin’-shrewd

yeah
we laid it down
way-way down

a plump’n’roun’
toe-tap itchin’
some-bitchin’
tundra-cool
diamond-jewel
bedrock-bottom
n’man it got’m

moooovin’

the big joint shook
thunder-thumpin’
power-pumpin’
rolled-under
in bles-sed wonder

the scene was more’n jake
a rhythm-quake

we was smoooth-jammin’
grooov-slamin’

our stick-man caps
rocked his traps
roarin’ thunder-claps
with a beat tight
as a steel trap

sweet suuny jade
she sang’n’played
s’fierce
unafraid

her upright slay’d
while big roy
rolled the ivories

we kicked our tunes
tore up the house
lo-ridin’ the night
true outta sight

skirts’a flirt’n
babe-legs was freak
stone-fox sleek
sunup-luv t’seek
so not-meek

we’s all gig-stoked
prime’d and smoke’d
blood-shot eyes
sun on the rise…

…so to my pad
ta’ave what we had

down the rabbit hole
full blow’d away
t’shut d’day
to clutch’n’such
nod’n’sway

to finish it
really-right
gold-ribboned tight

man…
…we set chi-town
afire tonight


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Sunrise Sax”
by: rob kistner © 10/18/24

*

rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at: d’Verse

 



Liberated


This Lê Phô image above inspired my image and verse below
——————-<§>——————


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Liberated” by: rob kistner © 10/16/24

 
This day
you are free
free to fly

to rise and glide
in buoyed flight

to soar skyward
in sweeping circles

so fly
fly
fly high

high above this constant rain
you are no longer earthbound

not a prisoner
of my rattan cage

nor of my constant sorrow

no longer captive
this day

this day you will soar
swoop
and dive

this day
you are free again

alive

give thanks for your feathers
and hollow bones

I have neither

I cannot escape this gravity

so bird
fly for us both
my heart will soar with you

*

rob kistner © 2024

Poetry at: d’Verse

 

Forevermore


Original DDE™ digital surreal art: “Gentle Light” by: rob kistner © 10/14/24

 
There will come a time
on a distant knoll
in the gentle light
of a sunset drizzled mist
we will again
stand together

friends

and we’ll tell each other
of the wonders
we’ve beheld

the truths
we’ve discovered

and we’ll know love again
forevermore

*
rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse

 

All My Lovin’

An old man remembering his awakening to unforgettable young love.


Original DDE™ surreal art: “Stealing Kisses” by: rob kistner © 10/8/24

Author’s Note:
My inspiration for writing “All My Lovin’” was drawn from exploring the record albums of my youth. Also, strangely enough, from a wonderful novel by Peter Heller entitled “The Dog Stars”. It was reinforced by my awoken curiosity, which found me sampling the top 100 hits of 1963, which was the soundtrack for the summer of my 16th year. That landed me solidly on the Beatles. It was the summer of my red ‘62 Chevy, which I traded for my true gem — a ’57 Chevy Bel Air “rag top”. It was my ‘63 Triumph 650 Bonneville motorcycle, my first rock and roll band, and my first “girl” — oh that rush of young love.

Looking back at my early teen years, those years when I was waiting for my life to begin, I flashed on my memories of young love. The intensity of that tender, pure, unrealistic infatuation, could perhaps have happened only then, in those times – in that summer of 1963. Before assasinations, collapsing economies, open social unrest, Viet Nam, before AIDS, COVID-19, rampant drugs, criminal presidents – the year of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, the Beach Boys took the world surfing, Annette Funicello playing beach blanket bingo, Ruby promised our day was coming… Chevy ragtops, Triumph Bonnevilles, OpArt, and President Kennedy challenging us to go to the moon. This was a time, maybe the last time, when teens were still blissfully innocent.

I don’t know why that feels true. Perhaps it’s because we were so naive and so unsure as teens, in that post WWll, white-picket-fence, father-knows-best, american-dream, faux-utopia. We were tentative and waiting, wondering. It’s as if love imagined to be that innocent, needed that much room, that much “open” mental space, that much time, that much emotional “safety”, that much unbridled belief, for it to take root, and to bloom – even if but for a brief moment in time.

The not knowing anything really for certain, but hoping, with aching faith in the possibility of pure true love, was both thrilling and unsettling. It was a love full of passion and devotion, but scary. We were not completely certain how to navigate such an emotion, not really, so we left it alone, tried to let it unfold lightly, terrified we would lose it. And if it did manifest, it felt so big and beautiful, and unbelievable! It was most often short-lived, owing to our immaturity, and the fragile combustibility of the feeling – but what intoxicating joy, such heady exhilaration! Those were the times when the apparitional gossamer wings of all consuming young love did fly to the moon, and carried us helplessly, but willingly, along. Here is my poem, “All My Lovin’”…

 
Strong slender legs
carry firm eager bodies
perfumed and cologne’d
around and across the dance floor
pulses racing

electrified — entwined — excited

young groping lust
craving
yet hesitant

swept up in innocent bliss
shadowed near the band shell
beyond the glow of incandescence
aching for that kiss

swollen with erotic effervescence

throbbing with the big beat
of scorching rock & roll

or drifting on a cloud
of ethereal romance

fantasizing there might be
a chance
hormones afire
in a maddening dance

smoldering for some
longing for more
confusing for most

a pubescent play
beneath a high starry sky
sparking with carnal fantasies

humid as our urgent embraces
hot as our stolen kisses
as forever as our promised love
in that distant
teenage midnight sizzle

stealing kisses
in the drizzle

praying our fragile feelings
our imagined love
would not falter
nor fizzle

such glorious terror…

…sweet ghosts of my youth
haunt from long ago


The album in 1963 (American release)


Me in 1963


My Summer of 1963


My car in 1963

*
rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse

~ hit parade of 1963 — my first summer of love ~

Never

“The “WhatThreeWords” for my zip code and street address were: moment / reveal / charge. Inspired by my 1984 Sept-Oct solo cross-country motorcycle roundtrip from Ohio to the Rockies and back, I incorporated my three words into this poem.”


Original DDE™ surreal art: “Due West” by: rob kistner © 10/3/24

 
The vast prairies
of my middle america
still in my mirrors
leaning comfortably into turns
breeze streaming through my hair
I begin to wind my way
into the mountains
into the golden evening
alive with two-wheeled freedom
master of the open road
not counting days
not keeping track
charging onward
feet up and flying

as I dash between shadow and light
the sun reveals itself
from time to time
from between the peaks
warming me
as it begins to settle
behind the western slope
of the mighty Rockies

I’ve shed structure
the heavy mantle of life
to venture into the random
into the unknown
to fully embrace life
the magnificent perfection
of simply living
in and for the moment
enjoying the thrill of the throttle
rapture in the lightness of freedom
spirit flying
so high and far above the ground
my spirit’s never comin’ down
never!
*
rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse

 

Never Forget


Original DDE™ surreal art: “World’s Wonder Window” by: rob kistner © 10/1/24

 
There are days I still can feel
the breeze of youth gently stir my soul
days remembered of grace and lightness
when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams

those days
of new found friends
of us

when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder

when we were certain we’d all live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure

those carefree days

the days we witnessed one for the other
as we made vows to our chosen life mates

we raised our children

we grew our careers
or our skills and artistry
our avocations

our families close
through these growth years
years of challenge
and sadly — those times of tears
but too — there were days of joy

steadfast dedication

but not these days

I’ve grown unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds of time and fate

my soul is rooted too deep
in life’s demands
in it’s obstacles

I search its blessings
curse its burdens

these brittle days

I am bent by the yoke of worry
staggered by the blows of disease
heavy with the weight of loss

I am haunted by the ghost of memory
haunted by regret
the lonely days
when I reflect on these
set upon by another challenge
or another loss
brought even to my knees

these empty days

how can this void be filled
when ones so vital have departed
gone on one by one
we’re left brokenhearted

but not filled with strife
I still feel their life

this world was denied much wit and wisdom
kindness and love lost
when each, you passed

how can this void be filled
when ones so rich in these
are gone
gone so far beyond

ones who understood the need for giving
in a careless world
darkened by greed
that’s lost the soul of living

under attack by brutal lies
of deadly pandemic
when innocence dies

you
of tender hearts
truly unselfish
whose warm embrace included all
devastated by our fall

how can this void be filled
when such brilliant lights
have been snuffed out

I will not forget

I will remember you all
as long as I am able
I will remember all those days
that is how I will fill this void
keep focus on tomorrow

with the seeds of friendship
you each planted deep inside my heart
now filled with sorrow

may they grow to make me gentler
and me — the world a better place

good-bye my friends

ever will I tend these seeds
and think of you

I will not forget
I will never forget

*
rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse