Thank you to all my beloved family, friends, fellow poets & writers, and cybermates for your wonderful surprises and well wishes — they are genuinely appreciated!! 😉
Rob’s 63rd Birthday Blogpost
Author: Rob Kistner
Seeking Forgiveness
…this is a poem about the horror and ethical dilemma that is war, and the devastating impact it has on many soldiers…
•
crisp red from the scalding sun
from devastation’s fires
from cruel vision of relentless horror
scorched by vicious exposure of sentenced gaze
take refuge in this heavy late evening dew
thick with munitions soot
settling like a shroud
lubricious
opaque
obscuring
I am sustained by this damp cool pall
that descends upon me
wraps ‘round my pained countenance
fevered with fatigue
deafened by weapon’s roar
crippled with despair
driven by faint memory of honor
of duty
of human dignity
I stumble
broken by this sin I shoulder
this perversion
not of my making
but of my charge
my sin
conceived and unleashed
by those who would impose their will
their twisted utopian vision
who would advance their agenda of domination
those who would take it all
wear the conqueror’s crown
who would rule the world
a world now broken
corrupted by their vision
spoiled by their vanity
a world in chaos
I have but this bloodied ruin-riddled highway
of deepening nocturne
of dying dreams
crushed innocence
destruction
death
decay
of my duplicity
of my guilt
my shame
fear not for the future
weep not for the past
…impossible
and so I stumble on
muttering mea culpa
saturated with this falling evening
with this drenching sorrow
slinking in exhausted alert
nerves shattered as eggshells
numb to panic
hollow
empty
into this coming night
and the next night
and the night that follows
that always follows
captive on this road of murder
of mounting evil
of brutal human arrogance
prisoner of this lost highway
seeking forgiveness
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•> click HERE to read The Failure of Architecture, a poem I wrote about the ethical dilemma of the corporate world <•
The Failure of Architecture
…this is a poem about the dehumanizing impact of the cubicle’d corporate world, and the often questionable ethics that pervade it…
…collage entitled: “Robotomy” – by: rob kistner © 2004…
•
they rise gargantuan
icons of the clever human
they vibrate
with the chaos of mixed agenda
they hum with networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
‘we can’ beyond the reach of ‘should we’
bedecked in stainless
glass
and stone
ablaze in halogen and neon
strewn here and there with art
their essence remains sterile
their foundation is profit
their cornerstone often cupidity
in varying shape and differing size
swollen with the buzz
rustle
and clatter
of corporate cacophony
they flank in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
ensnared in the honk
screech
and roar
of gridlocked anguish
soaring above the drone and glare
and the dirge of dying dignity
these pretentious monoliths can intimidate
emotionally eviscerate
creatively castrate
spiritually suffocate
stagger and stun
a cold calculated majesty
ultimately — this architecture fails
for it does not move the soul
that seeks the folded petal’s mystery
that marvels
at the smallness of a sprouting frond
the beauty of a burled oak
the magic of a budding branch
at the glory of a redwood’s rise
it does not lift the spirit
soothed by a morning breeze
whispered in autumn aspens
or stirred by a loon’s lament
over the still water of a dusk lake
or thrilled by the song of birds
the mighty swoop of a redtail hawk
or captivated by a coyote’s midnight call
it cannot touch the heart
that needs to see a salmon’s trek
the dolphin’s arc in an open sky
the roll of unobstructed clouds
or a fall of stars
it offers nothing to the dreamer
who needs to hear the crack of thunder
resound for miles across the plain
then off the mountain’s face again
yes…
this architecture fails the human core
that needs the fresh embrace of rain
the crisp and quiet drift of snow
the hues and sway of living fields
it leaves the spirit cold
that needs to watch the orchards bloom to fruit
see forests thick beyond horizons
or feel the lift of cresting surf
no…
there are no human constructs
that satisfy this need to know true splendors
evolving natural wonders
wonders that inspire
resonate the heart
that liberate the soul
to leave one…
…transcendent
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…this edited rewrite, of a poem I wrote in 2007, was inspired by a prompt at sunday scribblings…
Shut Down
…this is a love poem, that addresses its sometimes sad impossibility…
•
Find you, the elusive,
Elusive, hiding from the light.
I want to see you,
See you, the hidden,
Hidden, cowering out of sight.
I long to know you,
Know you, the evasive,
Evasive, running, ever in flight.
I want to touch you,
Touch you, the distant,
Distant, and as dark as night.
I want to love you,
Love you, the frightened,
Frightened, damaged by your plight.
But I can’t reach you,
Reach you, so broken,
Broken, untrusting, shut down, closed tight.
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Naked
…this is a love poem, that is also a yearning for honesty, in the face of our fundamental human tendency toward insecurity and fear…
photorendering entitled: “Liberated”
•
see you naked
naked — backlit by the sun
naked — in a mountain meadow
naked — running in the rain
naked — in a flower garden
naked — lying in the surf
naked — walking in a forest deep
naked — smiling on an autumn morn
naked — in a peaceful sleep
naked — in a redrock desert
naked — by a waterfall
naked — in a gentle breeze
naked — on a silvered night
silhouette ‘gainst a sterling moon
naked — folded in my arms
with your heart and soul laid bare
all your dreams and fears exposed
every pretense stripped away
…naked
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Courage
•
he lifts himself quietly
so quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
makes his way
carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed in a heap
un-moving on the floor
save a twitch of the sodden head
which head now harbors demons
where nocturne angels of sweet release
laid down lush upon her
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered
silver in the soured vein
he stops but for a glance
verifying life
then moves on
head down
he angles to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash his face
a face
lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare
and lonely
knowing eyes of sadness
stare back from the mirror
broken as his heart
in the dank foodless morning
of this ruined single room
he gathers up his books
steps lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets
heavy
with a childhood of strangled dreams
he ducks and dodges
in and out of shadows
his prayer
to once again avoid the evil
seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled brickened canyons
evil
which should diligence fail
will consume his youthful soul
deliberately he continues
until at last
he finds his way into the building
into the classroom
into his desk
into the only hope
to which this innocent dare cling
• • •
rob kistner © 2/4/10
Forgotten
•
into a grey tangle
of thoughts
memories
of answers
explanations
recognitions
damp
with vague familiarity
I reach
but do not retrieve
they slip my grasp
in cruel torment
and tumble away
opaque
unconnected
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Time
•
ever accelerating
in spiral linearity
time
escaping into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Invisible
•
you do not see me
no shadow cast
that you perceive
no movement
to catch your eye
no color
no shape
no texture
to you
I am
invisible
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Always Music
•
there is always music
in the light
in the dark
in the heat
in the cold
in the calm
in the chaos
in the coming
in the leaving
in the joy
in the sadness
from the birds
for the birds
there is always music
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Silence
•
what have I to say
that has not been said
so many times before
in so many ways unique
so here will be said
what has not been heard
resonant
in silence
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
This Fog
•
it is forth from this fog
begins my journey
midst snares of habit
and chaos of distraction
provocative intrusions of impulse
their steely grip resolute
tug t’ward frenzy’s edge
yet clarity struggles
to find foothold
a tentative purchase
from whence a life
is launched and guided
confusion an insistent helmsman
steering a frantic manic course
and I a captive captain
blessed and cursed
set upon a wondrous quest
of worried fascination
ever charting port to port
troubled sea to troubled sea
on fragile footing
steadfast to overcome
to overcome
to always overcome
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
Ritual
•
keys
especially car keys
reside in an alternate universe
not everyone is aware of this
but it is true
keys can crossover into our realm
and will
reluctantly
but this requires of us
a rather detailed ritual
involving cursing
combined with scowling
and at times shouting
the gritting of teeth
some degree of fist clenching
frantic lumbering from room to room
perhaps adding arm flailing
the turning of circles
and rigid glances to the heavens
to demonstrate earnestness
this generally is not sufficient
to recall the keys immediately
so
genuflecting becomes a major component
followed by deep bowing
to gaze suppliantly
under chairs
sofas
beds
desks
and dressers
large appliances
small might also be considered
be aware
it is not wasted endeavor to peer into the fridge
as it has been known to elicit positive results
though not often
keys still a no-show
then lifting of seat cushions is recommended
it appears to increase the power
of this prayer of reunion
tossing can be included for drama
some keys are drawn to drama
if still no sign of keys
then transition to the opening
and slamming
of multiple drawers
large and small
deep and shallow
wooden
metal
and synthetic
don’t forget to include the bathroom
as keys sometimes choose to reappear
in most unusual and exotic places
still no keys
then move to the pocket searching phase
jackets
shirts
trousers
walking shorts
it seems the more clothing types one addresses
during this portion of the ceremony
the more effective it is in summoning the keys
the rite may also need to include
the repetition of a number of ceremonial elements
already completed
it is not clear precisely how many must be repeated
so
this particular part of the ritual
is a bit of trial and error
very frustrating
but sometimes essential in conjuring keys
occasionally so is retracing
portions of this journey of petition
the exact requirements
for satisfying this backtracking
is also ambiguous
so
use your best judgment
in fact
one must remain aware
this is not an exact rite of entreaty
so
perseverance is highly recommended
if the keys are distracted
or otherwise engaged in their alter-realm doings
it may be necessary
to include a pilgrimage to the garage
to perform an in depth laying on of hands
in scouring the car
often this will stir the key’s attention
and bid them come
for they spend quite a bit of time
when in our realm
in close relationship with the car
if all else has failed to beckon forth the keys
it may be necessary to solicit the cooperation
and participation of a loved one
to then repeat the entire ceremony
if one resorts to this partnering
as a part of the search and retrieval ritual
it is important to honor the chosen loved one
with praise and gratitude
and certainly gifts are not out of place
please know
at times it is necessary to make such offerings
prior to securing cooperation of a loved one
especially if one did a poor job
bestowing ones thanks and admiration
following a previous such ceremony of discovery
in which the said loved one jointly participated
this is not sacrilege
and occasionally will bring about early success
in calling forth the keys
once the keys make their appearance
it is tradition to exaggerate ones relief and joy
extolling the virtues of the keys
careful never to scold
exclaiming their importance
and to boast promises
proclaiming how you will stay closer
and better in touch with the precious keys
understanding
that this pledge of fidelity and improvement
is completely ceremonial
and will have no real impact on the future
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
Misplaced
•
my keys
my car keys
where the hell are my car keys
I’ve looked everywhere
well
obviously not everywhere
I can’t keep track of things
better find Kathy
thank heavens for the gift of voice
makes her more difficult to lose
unless we’re in Costco
woman enjoy a special gift
the gift of invisibility
my keys share that gift
if it’s not the keys it’s my wallet
if not my wallet — my notes
a pen
my watch
that phone number
a book
the tickets
my eye-glasses
those personal receipts
some damned thing is always lost
my life is search and rescue
drives me up the wall
and everyone around me — crazy
except Kathy
patience personified
what would I do without my wife
wouldn’t be only my things that were lost
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
The Window
•
outside my window
midday celebrates
alive with September sun
and the scurry of creatures
warmed by late summer
nature
in splendid voice
the chuff of tree’d red squirrel
blend with the song
chirp
and trill of birds
chickadee
goldfinch
western bluebird
and others
fly
flutter
and flit
cracking the black-oil sunflower seeds
that spill from their feeders
under the patient eye of a red-tailed hawk
casually calling
from the top of a Sitka spruce
swaying in the crisp blue sky
woven into this sonic tapestry
the muffled belling of a deer
wandering in the safety of the old-growth
whispering in these foothills
the quiet bark of a neighbor’s dog
echoes through the basin
up along the stream
signaling its curiosity
reminding me we have friends nearby
the soothing rustle of leaves
large and small
stirred by the breezes
waft through this valley
smartly punctuated
by the staccato of conifer cones
that fall from time to time
wrested free by chickaree
and chipmunk
chattering high in the Douglas fir
busy with their forage
wap wap wap
they strike the ground
and bounce off our roof
closely followed
by the scamper of their liberators
crunching their way
to the heart-meat of the cone
the delicacy
that elicits this furious industry
I sit by the open window
with tea
and fascination
mesmerized by all I behold
intoxicated
by the heady fragrance
drifting in
cedar
pine
fir
lily
rose
morning glory
grasses
loam
and more
a rich earthy bouquet
I breathe deep
exhale
free a smile
and marvel
• • •
rob kistner © 2009