This is a pair of poems I offer for your consideration for today’s (July 22nd) OLN – Live. they deal with two my views of life on earth. Read one, or both, and comment, should you wish, under the one(s) you’ve read. I will be reading “The City” today.
Read — “The City” HERE
-——-< * >———
Read — “Rocketman” HERE
THANK YOU ~ ENJOY!
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
until — let’s take a leisure drive
stick our heads out the windows
look at those beautiful butterflies
do they know which way the wind blows
we are rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
not certain where we’re goin’
I lost my pearly guitar pic
it’s been missin’ now for hours
I found my favorite baseball mitt
in a field full of wild flowers
acres of virgin rain forest
more than 200,000 everyday
what d’fuck is it we’re thinkin’
cutting those vital trees away
we keep rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
no idea where we’re goin’
let’s put on a sunny face
let’s not appear that we are dour
Thalia — help us laugh off our guilt
while we boogie down in the shower
630,000 machine guns
are privately owned in the USA
that is a lotta gaw-damned firepower
on the loose here everyday
ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha
maybe just to clear my head
I’ll go ’n climb that water tower
wow — I can see a lot from here
like those school kids by the flowers
229 school shootings
337 victims have sadly died
when you send your children off to schoolg
no guarantee they’ll come back alive
the horror’s rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
the solution is not known
hey — where’s that sunny funny face
maybe if we all join in a song
perhaps sing a song of make-believe
Euterpe — please play as we sing along
our planet’s becoming a garbage dump
ton n’a half of trash tossed away
by every man woman and child
each year in the US of A
ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha
oh sure — the world has begun to flood
the part that’s not — is burning
but hell — there ain’t no climate change
just ignore all that we’re learning
let’s just pretend that all is well
these g’damned masks are irritating
these stupid lockdowns are real hell
but global plague just keeps mutating
Melpoméne please — this is hard to take
like everybody’s gone insane
sometimes I’d like to fly away
just escape all of this pain
oh shit — my hair is all messed up
guess it’s time to go back home
but time has proven to be relative
many friends and relatives are gone
close that open window please
my apathy’s blowin’ away
when interplanetary trips begin
Urania — launch me on that day
soon I will be flown flown flown
into outer space I’m goin’
Mars is my new home
g’bye — so long
OLÉ!
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
we are rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
not certain where we’re goin’
I lost my pearly guitar pic
it’s been missin’ now for hours
I found my favorite baseball mitt
in a field full of wild flowers
acres of virgin rain forest
more than 200,000 everyday
what d’fuck is it we’re thinkin’
cutting those vital trees away
we keep rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
no idea where we’re goin’
let’s put on a sunny face
let’s not appear we’re dour
we’ll wash away the smudge of guilt
while we boogie down in my shower
630,000 machine guns
are privately owned in the USA
that is a lotta gaw-damned firepower
on the loose here everyday
ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha
maybe just to clear my head
I’ll go ’n climb that water tower
wow — I can see a lot from here
like those school kids by the flowers
229 school shootings
337 victims have sadly died
when you send your children off to school
no guarantee they’ll come back alive
the horror’s rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
the solution is not known
hey — where’s that sunny funny face
maybe if we all join in a song
perhaps sing a song of freedom
get the world to sing along
ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha
oh sure — the world’s begun to flood
the part that’s not — is burning
the world’s plague continues mutating
but hey — at least the earth keeps turning
it’s getting very hard to deal with
like everybody has gone insane
sometimes I’d like to fly away
just leave behind this pain
oh shit — I really messed my hair
guess it’s time to go back home
time it seems is relative
my friends and relatives are gone
wind up that open window please
my apathy’s blowin’ away
when interplanetary trips begin
I’m off to mars that very day
soon I will be flown flown flown
into outer space I’m goin’
g’bye — so long
OLÉ!
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
this city
that vibrates
with the hum of networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
often the we can
beyond the reach
of should we
this city
teeming
with college’d clones
like-patterned minds
that surge with ambition
that submit to the agendas
good or bad
dreaming of early retirement
fearing an early death
this city
bedecked in stainless
and stone
poured
erected
glassen’d
this city
ablaze in halogen
aglow in neon
awash in tears
of the poor
this city
its haughty monoliths
of varying shape
differing size
flanked in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
blink and beep
that ring buzz belch hiss
— and stink
this city
that intimidates
in cold and calculated majesty
this city that amazes
this city that abuses
this city is in my blood
but it does not
hold my soul
no
it does not offer solace
to my human core
that seeks the folded petal’s mystery
that marvels at the smallness
of a changing frond
at the tart-sweet scent’d
gnarled bark
of mighty conifer monoliths
thrusting ever skyward
or the magic
of a budding branch
this city
does not touch my spirit
soothed by wind and water
thrilled by song of birds
or the swoop of hawks
this city
does not spark my wonder
stirred by the yelp
or bark
or bleat
of beasts
this city
cannot reach my soul
that needs to see a salmon’s trek
the open sky
the roll of unobstructed clouds
see the fall of stars
this city
has nothing for my soul
that needs to hear the crack of thunder
resound for miles across the plane
then off the mountain’s face
that needs the fresh embrace of rain
the crisp and quiet drift of snow
the hues and sway of living fields
this city
leaves my spirit cold
that needs to watch the orchard
blossom and bloom to fruit
see forests
thick beyond horizons
or feel the lift of cresting surf
no
this city
does not satisfy my need
to know the evolving natural wonders
that inspire
that swell my soul
that resonate my heart
this city is in my blood
but it does not hold my soul
and so I look beyond
for my tomorrow
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
how many lilies
has it nourished
how many daisies
lilacs
roses
how many morning glories
it dispenses
its life giving waters
so gracefully in her hand
a delicate hand
gentle in its loving touch
gentle in its task
of planting
gentle in its tend
but rugged on any weeds
threatening her garden
she
the giver of life
the guardian
of her realm
but she could not stop
all that threatened
and I had not
her gift of giving life
oh would I had
so there
just where she left it
on the garden bench
still
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
I roll with a finger-snap
juke-jive strut
don’t mess with me
if ya’ know what’s what
I’m smoooooth
as a dry martini
name is Liz
but call me Queenie
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
It is a dangerous subconscious dehumanization, and in that, a subtle devaluation of each other, as flesh and blood. We have become more or less electronic entities we can have appear and disappear at whim and will. The internet, cable, and dish onslaught of things to attract us and distract us, via the “instantaneous streaming” of significant elements of our reality(s), create fewer and fewer ‘whole’ things in which we are substantively grounded, making much of our daily life ethereal, temporary, and superficial.
We are bombarded daily by unfounded supposition, opinions, dogmas, and blatant scripted lies; as well as immersive presentations of fantasy realities via movies, commercials, and video games. This occurs to such a degree that reality has become fluid — perceived truth has become relative. All of this leads further to dehumanization and devaluation of “real” human life.
We face an incredibly volatile situation, perfect for abandonment of a sense of responsibility for the real world, our earth in which we physically live — hence the acceleration of ecological disasters and burgeoning environmental collapse we are now witnessing. It also makes it much easier, through mislead and subterfuge, for evil, exploitive agendas to take root. Agendas that can develop into very serious real world social exploitation — hence, the growing Trump nightmare, and the other demagogs that have begun sprouting forth in society. So just where are we now? These are tense, dangerous, and potentially explosive times in which we live. Ours has become an ever more fragile world.
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
when in our reflection
we see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship to nature
binds us to our center
when our insanity
of magnified human arrogance
so distorts our vision
of the sacred ancient balance
so twists our vision
of our place in
or our inherent responsibility
to protect
the bone-broken reality
of the natural order
when we blatantly begin
to eat our own
while copulating
with false gods
on forsaken gilded altars
of rampant greed
of earthly neglect
of gluttoness abuse
of planetary resources
of utter disregard
for the sanctity of life
all life
then the hour of extinction
is certainly at hand
and we’ve all become
the hulking mass
of the apocalypse
deserving to be struck down
by the self-inflicted rapier
of raw wild justice
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
backwards
and upside down
soaring over the earth
over your cars
over your blurred human haste
look how fast I am
and invisible
I see you
though you can’t see
me
wonder where you’re going
going in your big hurry
somewhere
anywhere
nowhere
are you running away
too
I wonder
what are you thinking
how many of you are sad
how many happy
how many mad
bored
lonely
how many of you
are frightened
frightened
and hurting
how many of you are hurting
how many scared
broken hearts
am I racing above
right now
on your road
to nowhere
if you were fast as me
flying here upside down
and backwards
you could outrun
those broken hearts
those hurtful words
the mindless abuse
your fear
you could do it too
I bet you could
right now
I bet you could
too
just like I am
if you were fast
and invisible
like me
like I am
now
*
rob kistner © 2021
See other responses to this photo: Mindlovemisery
they carry my heavy heart
on their crest
and catch the tears
sorrowful tears
I cry at times
run aground
since you went away
times like now
would that I had a boat
a special boat
to ferry me
across this ocean of time
over that horizon of death
ferry me this day
to you
to see your face
just one more time
to hear your beautiful voice
rise in sweet song
would that I could hold you
this day
and tell you son
tell you the 10,000 things
I said far too seldom
when you were still here
in my life
*
U nmoored shipwrecked soul
thunderstruck — weathered with grief
broken on the rocks
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
This song by Sarah McLachlan, “In The Arms Of An Angel” always makes me break down. He is my son, Aaron Robert Kistner. Hearing this song takes me deep into memories of my sweet angel. My son Aaron died in his 18th year, just prior to entering college to study music. He was a very handsome, kind, and gentle young man – and a fabulous singer. I miss him so, everyday. I ache to hold him close just once more — to hear his beautiful voice. I wrote this poem very shortly after his tragic death in a horrible auto accident.
In loving memory of my son, Aaron Robert Kistner: 11/4/76 – 7/3/95
A simple snapshot,
taken at the airport,
upon your return
from having run the New York City Marathon.
A gentle, triumphant smile,
eyes beaming behind those ‘cool’ shades,
jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness,
bag gripped firm and steady in your left hand,
medal dangling proudly from your strong neck.
The victor: gentle, cool, hip, carefree, proud, and strong,
– fiercely handsome!
How profound this captured moment proved to be.
Taken just before the finish line of your 18 years,
it said it all.
Your race is run,
your bag is packed,
your reward’s in hand.
Fly my sweet angel – fly!
*
rob kistner © 1995
“to thine own self”
resonates the chambers of my soul
sweet as the song of angels
if one is not the author
or thorough editor
of the life one lives
it is plagiarized
its essence forged
my pen scribes my chronicle
until I apply my hand
the slate is blank
do not attempt to chart my course
I search my own horizon
outside the press of others
do not seek me on the surface
I break deep
below the chaos
do not summon me to your queue
I stand in line for no one
you are not my piper
do not tell me your truth
never will it be my canon
do not try to name me
I will never be yours
do not try to contain me
I live far beyond
as have I always
and ever will
life is fragile
it will be mine
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry Pantry at: Poets & Storytellers
to hold the rise
and the flow
of your petals
retain the pout
of your mouth
the smooth
of your neck
to do what —
outwit time
why —
to preserve beauty
foolish orchid
beauty is supple
beauty is soft
beauty is warm
beauty is fragrant
you are not
foolish orchid
it is beautiful
to live a full life
to age naturally
to pass gracefully
you will not
you are not beauty
you are not
the breath of life
you are ice
the hard chill
of preserved death
foolish orchid
vain foolish orchid
*
rob kistner © 2021
See other responses to this photo: Mindlovemisery
turn off your gadgets
your cell phones off
your video games
your computers
your movies
your TV’s
turn off your static
come to the forests
come to the fertile valleys
come to the rolling planes
come to the mountains
come to the oceans
stand with us
quietly
look
listen
what you will see
is magnificent perfection
what you will hear
is our weeping
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry Pantry at: Poets & Storytellers
Poetry Inspired by Ecological Change: Earthweal
It will be 108 degrees this weekend in Seattle, hottest day in recorded history, since the late 1800’s. The Pandemic is still with us, and likely entering new phases of mutation. Still I hear voices raised in human arrogance denying that this world is in trouble. We may never destroy the earth, it’s pretty resilient. But we are on our way to wiping out human life — if we don’t wake the hell wake up!
you know well
I am a wild heart
I am a free spirit
living wild & free
in sacred balance
with my world — this earth
the earth we all share
we creatures
and you humans
you careless humans
poet
help them see
I am in danger
as are we all
in danger
this fresh pure water
you see me drinking
that replenishes me
replenishes all of us
that we all need to survive
even more that the food we eat
it is rapidly disappearing
as toxins
permeate our earth’s
fragile water systems
if we would lose
only our precious water
earth’s ecosystem will collapse
poet
help them see
the true light
the only way
is this sacred balance
help them hear
the clear voice of truth
help them know
the pure heart of justice
justice for this earth
justice for us all
help them truly want
to reach for
to grasp
to hold close
this sacred balance
for they must
look poet
help them feel
the terrible suffering
this earth is struggling
mightily to endure
help them learn how to see
with their own eyes
as I see with mine
wandering this planet daily
help them to see
that they are the cause
and they are the solution
if they will open
their eyes
their hearts
their minds
poet
you see many things
but you oft talk in riddles
you avoid the cold
and the hard way
favoring the soft path
of platitudes
and metaphors
of meter and rhyme
but this is not
this is not that time
poet
look into these eyes
my eyes
that weep
for our foolish devastation
you must become
the wild heart I am
you poet
must look into the fire
of our burning earth
feel it burn your eyes
char your soul
then
poet
tell them how that feels
help them hear me
hear my wolf’s song
as I keen and howl
for my dying world
let them hear you scream
of the injustice
of the real danger
the imminent danger
rally them
set them ablaze
with the passion to
seek and secure
the sacred balance
to hold it close
become its protector
lift your pen
poet
like a sword
and strike down
this imbalance
this human stupidity
show them the way poet
I believe
with all the wildness
of my heart
with all the strength
of my free spirit
they will join the battle
they must
but you must tell them
poet
tell them what is real
tell them in the power
that is plain language
tell them my earth
is dying
tell them our earth
truly is dying
their arrogance
is killing it
tell them now
poet
tell them true
poet
they will listen
they must listen
now
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry Pantry at: Poets & Storytellers
Poetry Inspired by Ecological Change: Earthweal