Ever Present Threat

~ I am reprising this piece ~

38CE96C0-4CAF-4CDE-A9A7-FEB7DF386769
we must protect life
let’s not make life a dice game
COVID holds d’bones
Autumn’s leaves should be what falls
don’t gamble with the children

 
Reconsidering crowding children back into classrooms this coming new year of 2022, as the elusive DELTA VARIANT continues driving more major spikes in the current raging pandemic, spikes that are even more contagious and lethal than the original outbreak — is blatantly absurd and socially irresponsible. Our youngest are not vaccinated, and we truly do not know just how easily they may become contagious carriers, or they themselves suffer some longterm personal health issues — or worse. I am so torn knowing my grandson Alex, who comes down to visit me everyday, will be heading off to 2nd grade unprotected, on Wednesday. Love that little man so!

Adult humans do, at our best, continue to demonstrate arrogance, impatience, careless irresponsibility, and blatant ignorance in the face of this deadly scourge. Even the easiest, most basic gesture of consideration for others, wearing a mask, foolishly ignored — turning an act of public safety for the community, into some selfish statement of defiance. Humans are turning common sense into a deadly political confrontation, masqueraded as “human rights”?!

And now we are putting the health and safety of our children, as well that of our society as a whole, in mortal danger, by making them pawns in this “rush back to imagined normalcy”. Why? Because we find the necessary continued actions to effectively protect the human right to life — inconvenient, bothersome or confining. Attached to a respirator in a hospital bed, is more confining. A coffin in a grave is far more confining — permanently!

Listen, we have no idea what the “COVID surge-affect” of these massive moves away from safety, already undertaken, will ultimately cause. We do see emergency rooms being strained to breaking again. We see disease and death rates dramatically spiking again, and we see human adults acting like spoiled children, refusing to get vaccinated. Or simpler yet, to mask up! Now we are going to play Russian roulette with our children!

I hope I am just overreacting, but the evidence of the past 18 months tells me there is cause for genuine concern. Time to batten down again until we actually wipe out, or effectively contain COVID, and it’s ongoing mutations — at least to the degree we have with the flu. We still do not understand this COVID in the same way we do the flu. This is not the time to up the stakes in this gamble with the health and the lives of the human race, by rolling our innocent children out like dice!

we must protect life
let’s not make life a dice game
COVID holds d’bones
Autumn’s leaves should be what falls
don’t gamble with the children

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

Got Her Man

 

It’s friday night
and the lights are low

when she enters
to break up the bar fight

fight over
a little suggestive banter
now she and I
are involved in our own
friendly physical “tussle”
getting in the swing

she’s left on
only her shirt
unbuttoned
blousing open

her golden shield
gleams aureate
in the glow of candlelight
she’s so beautiful
young and sweet

her breasts
partially veiled
accented in lace
soft in the amber wash
gently rise and fall
with her heavy breath
everything is fine

enticed
my eyes glide her length
fondled warmly
by the lush half-light
folding upon her
from the single flame

they pause
entranced
by the velvet flower
sensuously shadowed
in the satin cleft
where supple limb
meets supple limb

ooh, see that girl!
intoxicated by this vision
I can only stare

helplessly captured
utterly arrested

she got her man

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Thanksgiving Dinner – 2021

“This dinner takes place in a dimension — apart from time.”

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Welcome to this Thanksgiving’s festivity
a dinner to celebrate originality
the main course is vision with a fresh side of wit
it’s time to get started, please everyone — sit

our first guest is Salvador Dali
his work’s “out there”, but it’s not folly
he sees life in abstract, and paints with great flair
he’s taken his work where few artists would dare

may I now present Mr. John Lennon
you might know the band that he plays in
clever and candid, what he thinks he will say
I think he might just be a legend some day

please now greet Mr. Kurt Vonnegut
he’s a satirist and exceptionally literate
his writing is brilliant, his mind so alive
hope you get the chance to read Slaughterhouse Five

this gifted woman’s Joni Mitchell
the music she creates is insightful
a beautiful mind with a magical soul
the white queen of wisdom, and sweet rock’n’roll

the man to my left’s known as Ghandi
his courage is truly beyond me
he rejects violence — it’s peace he does seek
confronts anger with patience — but he’s not weak

this lady is Amelia Earhart
in bravery she stands apart
she’s currently committed to a great undertaking
solo trans-global is the flight she’s soon making

our next guest is seated beside her
a great poet — meet Gary Snyder
honest and spiritual, he is incredibly smart
his poems about nature stir the mind and heart

proud that here on my right is Dr. Fauci
no matter what you heard, he’s not grouchy
he and the front-liners, work hard keeping us well
and those who don’t get it, can all — go to hell

our final guest thankfully is you
we all believe you belong here too
your bright creative input, will keep spirits high
especially if you remembered to bring — pumpkin pie

this party is purposely small
and I hope that it stimulates all
I think you’ll agree, each here is a winner
thank you for attending this year’s Thanksgiving dinner

oh, and one final thing — please know I’m elated
that each of us here is fully vaccinated!

*
rob kistner © 2019
updated revision © 2021

Happy Thanksgiving

Poetry at: dVerse

 

~ from the sublime — to the absurd ~

Enthralled



Art by:Fay Collins
 

Standing at water’s edge
gazing upstream
I marvel at the beauty
of this pristine stream

it ambles
rippling quietly
in crystal clarity
ever onward

gently
past these emerald climbs
that coddle it
keeping it safe

nudging it tirelessly
toward home

the timeless sea

I hear the lullaby
of this valley

a lilting song
of the peace
of the serenity
nestled soft
in its earthen embrace

captivated
I lift my head
listening

the breeze murmurs
whispering in the boughs
of the leafen’d sentinels
ever watching at its banks
patient in their vigil

just then
a zephyr wafts downstream
brushes my face
tosses my hair
and dances past me
round the bend

a hushed gasp
escapes my lips

like a prayer

I’m breathless
‘midst this beauty

my spirit
enthralled

*
rob kistner © 2021

Happy Thanksgiving

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Desolation

Some may look at the painting below and see winter — I saw much more.


Art by:Fay Collins

 

Human ignorance
has prevailed

COVID was victorious
it has wiped out
much of human life

years of struggle
and strife

the ones
the “Cove” didn’t get
were wiped out yet
in the plethora of wars

the mask wars
the vax wars
the race wars
the tech wars
the water wars
the food wars
the fuel wars

the no-more-war
wars

like a dumpster fire
after dumpster fire
of unbridled desire

atrocity after atrocity
of brutal ferocity

devastation after devastation
with little hesitation

humans were fools
intolerant
greedy
uncontrolled
fools

mindlessly wielding
devastating tools

ignoring the rules
of nature

their destructive hand
polluted the land
poisoned the seas
destroyed the air
they just didn’t care

they even have the earth
reeling it their wake
making mistake
after mistake

see the barren soil
the brittle dead bushes
the spindly leafless trees
the absence of all plant life

the great mandala turns
the earth burns

all that covers the ground
is a green
moss-like fungi
poinous to humans
if there were any humans

there are not

their remains rot
in grey gnarled piles
spread over miles

no animals remain

gone insane
driven by cupidity
endless fevered stupidity

humans managed
to wipe them away
day after day
‘til everyone of them
gone from the planet

even these hills
once teeming with forests
are frozen
dead
lifeless
sorrowful

they had been warned
over
and over
and over
again
and again

and then…

they blew it
we knew it

this is a portrait
of human arrogance

when we replace them
any alive
we will erase them

the damage they’ve done
will be undone

we will be far
far better stewards

they failed
we will not

when the earth’s toxicity
has finally abated
we will land
and expand

we will terraform earth
back into the paradise
we first encountered
many millennia ago

restore its beauty
restore its worth

we have watched
we are patient

we knew they would
destroy themselves

they couldn’t
just wouldn’t
help themselves

we are the Brin
coming again

this time
we stay

*
rob kistner © 2021

Happy Thanksgiving

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Read more about The Brin

What is Thanks

 

When I consider giving thanks, so much of what I feel seems laced with a tinge of expectation. I have so much in my life that falls invisible to me in the day to day. I feel, even in my 75th year, that I have much to learn about true thankfulness.

Perhaps growing up in this American land of plenty, then more, has dulled my sense of what it means to be mindfully thankful. Yes, I feel happiness at times, but is that thankfulness? I seem always in search of an understanding of that authentic feeling.

There’ve been times, like this pandemic, that’ve drawn me closer to catching a glimpse of genuine gratitude. So perhaps what I am grateful for is the realization that I still have much to learn in this matter — and that I am fortunate to still have the chance to do so.

do I know thankful
too much I take for granted
so much I should not

*
rob kistner © 2021

Happy Thanksgiving

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Bohemian Nightfall


come take a fantastical journey, through the green door
part fact & part fiction — part sanctified contradiction


photo: Debbie Meagain

 

There was a back door
on the back ally
green and ragged
worn as the souls inside

locked
but they left the key

those invited
knew where it was

those that didn’t
weren’t invited
take your trade
to the front
please

this door opened on the inner sanctum
of City Lights — San Francisco

a place of hard truth
a place of tough love
a place of sweet miracles
a place of fascinating minds

the ever-pulsing artery
feeding the beating heart
of the beat generation

come with me
and you will see
a most surreal
reality

but know

enter that door
and you’re changed

forevermore…

 

 

Oh
I was there

you and Jack
suckling life’s sweet underbelly
in the quaking
nocturnal
neon zoo

me
in my plastic-handled-Roy-Rogers-two-gun glory
running fast as I could
to catch the bad guys

racing
to outdistance the abandonment
the alienation
that already knew me
by my first name

altogether too damned familiar

 

Oh
yes
I was there

separated only by time
the chronological happenstance
of conception

you
Jack
and Neal

groin deep
in human wallow

swilling full
the brain-drug
flesh festival

spewing forth
to fill in latter years
my fertile ears
with the siren song
of sacred dissatisfaction

your fingers burned
from dancing with the fire-whores
of truth
angst
and indignation

me
swollen
with the sting of banishment

taunted

the outcast bastard
unaccepted by my peers

frightened child
fleeing to a world within

yet vibrating
with virgin vision
naive imagination
foolhardy faith

that somewhere
someday
somehow
something
must be better

 

Oh
hell yes
I was there

screaming over that hallowed hill
of pubescent predilection

fast
and hard
as holy hell

cresting
and crashing in
just as night fell
on bohemia

the streets
now new ablaze
in a black-light
strobe-light
tie-dyed light-show

I was on the road
I was on the bus
I was on my way

howling mad
and mind-expanded

I came
in a rolling demon’s fire
lighting the night

dancing
with every devil
I could find

ranting
and raving
and blazing

a combusting
carnal fireball

roaring

hormoned-hungry
for all of life’s deliciousness

ferocious appetite

lusting
and longing to consume
every forbidden morsel
and crumb

to gorge the smorgasborgadelic mindfeast
succulently set
by Neal
Jack
you
Tim
Ken
and guitar Bobby

but you were
so cool
so coooooll

man
I was there
…almost…

thundering in your shadows
warmed by the afterglow
of your light

though just beyond

though just
too late

each light
burned so brightly

then each burned out
all flames are gone

I will remember – Allen
all you crazy
blessed bastards

I will remember

you marvelous
magic
maniacs

madder men than you
the world will not soon see

but now
night has fallen
on bohemia

you’ve departed

now

there’s only
me
and your specters
in my conjured memories

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

 

The Cord



Robertson ~ McClure ~ Dylan ~ Ginsberg

 

Though we’re different
a common cord binds us strong
we are word crafters — poets
it’s our genuine self
this is the bedrock of our souls

* * *


Gary Snyder ~ Allen Ginsberg

 

Gary and Allen
never broke the cord’s sweet bond
shared the glow of city lights
though Gary loved rip rap
zen took his journey to japan

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Just For Me

BELOW I HAVE WRITTEN LYRICS TO A SONG
(the music bed is not yet written)
* the first couplet is the slower tempo intro
* the quatrains are the verses
* the italicized quatrain is the bridge
* the final verse has a tag couplet coda (outro)
* song fades with coda improvisation

 

When I was young I learned the magic held by a song
since then I’ve been singing my whole life long

at 11 I discovered
I could truly sing
learned the joy
singing can bring

it was at Christmas
nineteen fifty eight
I found my pipes
then changed my fate

a tear can cloud even the brightest day
but a song will blow those clouds away
sadness is just a passing state
so sing — let your heart celebrate

a frightened child
singing set me free
that wonderful discovery
is my life’s epiphany

I have sung for many
and I’ve sung for few
it was thrilling to know
they really wanted me to

a tear can cloud even the brightest day
but a song will blow those clouds away
sadness is just a passing state
so sing — let your heart celebrate

sung on big stages
sung in little bars
the adventure of singing
has traveled me afar

I’ve sung for money
also sung for free
what I truly enjoy
is singing just for me

[INSTRUMENTAL BREAK]

sung on big stages
sung in little bars
this adventure of singing
has traveled me so far

I’ve sung for money
also sung for free
what I truly enjoy
is singing just for me

but — what I enjoy most
is singing for you and for me
singing — sets my soul free!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Night Bus


ADULTS SWIM HERE

 


“faces of the unending night”

 
A ttractions and repulsions
splendid revulsions
precarious fragility
a mysterious dance
on the razor’s edge
of balanced tolerance
messy romance

relativity’s fabric
tangled taut
in perception’s cloth
so forever caught

reality’s delusion
fantasy’s inclusion
leave no doubt
the inside’s out

the seductive promise
the eternal question
the elusive answer
the sequin’d dancer

the everlasting bastion
of almost truth
in far flung fashion
blessed uncouth
the painted youth

a siren’s call
an ever wondering
a reason why
because it is all
before the fall
the rudely gall

cause of fiction
source of myths
sparks of friction
fountainhead
of superstition
ghastly beautiful
contradiction

this magnificent obscurity
this source of mystery
this illusion you see
is reality to me
and he and she
to us
on the night bus!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

Unpuzzled

… set soar the word, free as a bird …


“Communing with my muse” by: rob kistner © 1985

 
Form does not a poem make
it’s the poet’s task to undertake
to speak to us of marvelous things
igniting the feelings mystery brings

to have mastery of the word
to speak the power to be heard
able to weave words into emotions
to unleash all of our inner notions

to captivate us from the start
to stir within our truest heart
hold us fast in wonder’s trance
coaxing us through a magic dance

but bending words to fit form’s puzzle
locks this poet into a muzzle
it then becomes problem-solving for me
not unbound heartfelt poetry

I want to paint colors that I see
and let those colors mingle free
do I seek specific form — I do not
it’s genuine feeling I‘ve always sought

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Days Of When

This weekend past, I had gotten word that another of my friends had passed. It hit me quite hard. He was one of my oldest friends, in both age and duration. Today I have been staring out the window a lot, watching the November rain, deeply saddened. When I sat down to read Laura’s prompt here, this unfinished draft of a poem came to mind, and began to again stir within. I was moved with the inspiration to complete it, so I’d like to share it. It is certainly more than Laura suggested, but I had to get it out. If it is longer than you care to read, no problem, just skip it — but thanks for visiting.

 

There are days
when fading memory flickers
that I still can feel
the breeze of yesterday
gently stir my soul

wonderful days remembered
of grace and lightness
of friends beloved

those days of … “when”

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

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

when we had only heard the word pandemic
and never imagined it would happen to us

when we believed in our chosen leaders
if not every word, at least their good intent

when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams
and the amazing future stretched before us

those wonderful years of possibility

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

raised our children
grew our careers
our families close
through all those years

but that was then
in those days of … when

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

my soul is uprooted
by life’s growing madness
I search its blessings
curse its sadness

these are brittle years

I am bent by the yoke of worry
heavy with the weight of loss
frustrated by my lack of wealth
struggling with my fickle health

I am haunted by the ghost of memory
a memory I must now fight hard to keep
through these lonely days
when I think of — when

these empty days
when I think of old friends

how can this void be filled
when those so vital
have near all departed

this world denied
of your wit and wisdom

so much kindness
and love lost
as each — you passed
seems no good lasts

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

how…
by not forgetting

I remember you all
I remember you now

and all those days
of all those years
that is how I fill this void

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

may they continue growing
even here in my winter’s light
to make me kinder
make me gentler
make me more grateful
before the dark of night
falls hard
and halts my faulted pace

good-bye my friends departed
I see you now
face after face

ever will I tend these seeds
and think of when
there were days of you

as long as embers
of my memory smolder
you are remembered

I will not forget

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Reality

 

As we live more and more in the screens of our myriad electronic devices, and less and less in the face-to-face world, we find it easier and easier to dismiss each other with a swipe or touch of those screens, or an on/off button.

We are living more and more in a conjured world — “cities of our mind”. It is a dangerous, subconscious dehumanization, a subtle devaluation of each other as real. We’re becoming electronic entities we can make appear, or disappear, at whim and will.

We’re bombarded daily by supposition, even blatant scripted lies. We’re frequently immersed in the fantasy worlds of movies, TV, cellphones, and video games. Reality has become fluid — truth’s becoming relative. This leads further to that devaluation of human life. Likewise, I am bombarded, yet I stand on this “truth litmus” — I carefully test it before I ingest it!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse