The Edge


Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “The Edge” by: rob kistner © 8/15/24

 
Standing at the edge
feeling far below
the great tides

the ebb and flow
the rise and fall

the come and go of centuries
of millenniums
wave by wave
day by day
as it has always been

this might incarnate
this power of indifference
this surge of perfect apathy

and I
as insignificant as the grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
dragged helpless in the undertow

a great froth crested wave
rises up in beckon
the silk of azure blue
draped smoothly down its sloping back
as it dances on the deep

how easy I could slip
into that fathomed realm

down
down
ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much a noticed sound
quiet as a breaking heart

absorbed into the churn and roar
without so much a ripple
to disturb the steady surf

a subtle crease
irrelevant
erased
even as it came

*

rob kistner © 2011
originally linked at Magpie Tales

rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse

 

Pepper’d Memories

 

Yes — I was the walrus
so too the fool on the hill
I was the nowhere man
sometime I feel nowhere still

but when the Fab4 took the stage
and raised their voice in song
they roused my golden slumber
my spirit sang along

I strolled to strawberry fields
along sweet penny lane
and when miss Rigby died
I felt McKenzie’s pain

stowed in the submarine
and sailed beneath the waves
down with the octopus
among the coral caves

and when the sergeant
struck up his lonely hearts club band
I fell in step by step
to march off to Pepperland

but before I’d hit the road
I ended up wounded in my bed
a delinquent name of Maxwell
took a hammer to my head

he’d come through the bathroom window
I forgot to shut it tight
I should have known better
but it’d been a hard day’s night

my friends had called for help
doctor Robert came in time
I’d said doc don’t let down
he did not — and I feel fine

cops searched helter skelter
looked here there and everywhere
but they found clues for no one
I said let it be I didn’t care

leaving home, you won’t see me
I said heading out the door
when I saw her standing there
my lover from the night before

oh darling let’s go day trippin’
I want to hold your hand
down this long and winding road
it won’t be long to Pepperland

now we’ve come together here
me and my sweet belle Michelle
she’s been writing paperback novels
the kind the drugstores sell

we have no plans to get back
we’re swept up in the allure
of Lucy and her diamond skies
on our magical mystery tour

even with George and Johnny dead
that old magic’s not yet slipped away
because old Paully‘s discovered AI
so a brand new tune is on the way

it will be so very cool
to hear them once again
to remember those wondrous days
get to relive them now and then

*
rob kistner © 4/5/11
expanded version: rob kistner © 6/13/23

Poetry at: dVerse

 


https://youtu.be/oz3JlMhgfq0

SunsetGunn

NOTE — I borrowed lines and inspiration from my 2011 poem: Skye Fyre
 

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The SunsetGunn is loaded, the controls, in GunnMaster’s grip
calmly concentrating, he scans the horizon with careful eyes
the golden sun having made his journey, is weary from the trip
quicksilver moon will very soon, traverse the starry skies

Gaia rolls on gently, hushed in quiet space
GunnMaster has her skyline, locked squarely in his sight
Gaia pulls a veil of stars, slowly across her face
GunnMaster has a task, he needs complete before its night

he’s to set the sky ablaze, before he falls to sleep
a fiery coral-orange, twilight-blue, and crimson-red
in patterns broad and bold, in colors rich and deep
he carefully aims the SunsetGunn, and blasts it overhead

in a brilliant, blinding flash, he sets the dimming skies a’fire
in vivid hues, and lavish shades — the dusky sky ignites and burns
GunnMaster has succeeded, so for this night, he can retire
the SunriseGunn already loaded, in early morning, he returns

IMG_8599

*
rob kistner © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

 



A few more from Animal Logic — GOOD SHIT!



Flying Backwards


 

H ey look
look up here
I’m flying backwards

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

 


Seductive Fantasy


…a stream of consciousness trip…

 

Soaring psychedelic
colors pierce my eyes
to bleed into my mind
pulsing into shapes
and melting forms
dancingly irregular
a brilliant cacophony
of fully beautiful discord
that flows in time displacement
blared breathing blending abstract

wow dude!
~~ drifting drifting ~~

so wondrous and magical
as to create a dreamspace
where reality steps away
to a seductive fantasy
that roils and broils
a seething serenade
of sounds and vision
a sanctified vibration

simply too gone!
immaculate!

joyful noise’d orblets
flaring and flashing
in hues and shades
in timbre’d cadences
they spark stiletto sharp
stabbing staccato’d stealthy
and again colors pierce my eyes
lovely rumblings fill full my ears
shifting spinning and floating
to journey a’new through
my beautiful bountiful
and utterly blown
mind garden

}|=|{

psssst! hey! you!
am I conscious man —
— or halluuucinating truuuth?

rob kistner © 2021

Day 1 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021


Folding Together

My daughter and son surprised, I should say shocked me yesterday, revealing the name and photo of my actual birth father — and the name of my birth mother. This information was unknown to me for 74 years. In fact, I was unaware my kids were genealogy mining. I was stunned to look at the picture my son showed me of a man, heretofore unknown to me, and quite clearly and eerily see “myself” — and the unmistakable faces of my son and daughter. Joseph Lawrence Perrmann and Evelyn Tieke — my birth father and mother. I was utterly floored. Using De’s prompt, I’ve created an imagined romantic scenario of that day they met, and I was conceived as a post WWII bastard — later to be placed in a “sealed” adoption.


 
she is as bright as sunshine
and as beautiful as a summer day

what a most unususl place
to find such beauty
he muses to himself
as he paints her fondly
with his admiring eyes

“come here often miss”
he rolls off his lips
with a slow sly smile

“only when my laundry’s dirty”
she smiles back
with a perky snap

“what brought you in mister”
she banters jokingly

“like you, dirty laundry”
he emphasizes dirty

“you got a big load there”
she observes coyly
with a lingered downward glance

“you got a nice full basket too”
drawing ‘nice’ to a sly sssizzle
“what’s your name”
he asks, seductively

“Evelyn, what’s yours”
she flirts back

“Joe, but friends call me JL
you can just call me
whatever feels good to you, Evelyn”
he offers with an inviting smile
“can I call you Eve”

“sure, Eve is nice
what’s the L for, Joe”

“Lawrence — Joseph Lawrence Perrmann
purr, you know — like a cat”

“I’m Eve, Eve Tieke
you know, like the wood”
she says
“wa d’ya do JL,
rather, Joe”
she teasingly purrs

“I’m now a cop,
was Navy shore patrol,
I’m just back from war”

“where’s your gun officer”
she coaxs

“I keep it holstered
until I need t’use it”
he warns mockingly

“is it a big gun, Joe”
feigning wonder

“it’ll do the job Eve
you like guns”

“not usually
but I bet yours is nice”
she says breathily

they continued chatting
and flirting
while they laundered
growing more interested
and mutually attracted

just then
buzzzzz

“well, laundry’s dry Eve
wanna help each other fold”

she looks around
“these tables are awfully small”
she replies encouragingly
“I live just around the block Joe
and I have the perfect table”

“great Eve, let’s go there
and fold together
— how does that sound”
he asks suggestively

“purr-fect, Joe
I would love to fold with you”
she says directly into his eyes

“OK,
then let’s go
show me the way Eve”

they pause
their imaginations fully engaged
smiling deeply into each others eyes

“OK” Eve says warmly
body language relaxed
eyes willing

then JL turns
grabs both baskets
full of their warm laundry
and out the door they go

together

and into my history


rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

That Velvet

Vote = Voice — Speak Up! 2CC45105-E580-4197-9120-35D724A74CF8

Sorry for this interruption. Feel free to ignore this section and move directly down to the poem, if you choose. The poem is much more sensual and dreamy. This first section is cold, no-filtered, stark reality — fully and sincerely expressed, as I see it. You see, I need to sum up my final, perhaps controversial thoughts, on the issue of protest, introduced here last Thursday. I have been slowly simmering since then: Love MUST win. My proud hippie soul tells me it can — it must for earth, and her human tribe to flourish. As naive and pollyanna as this may sound, I haven’t lived nearly 74 years believing that peace, love, and intelligence will find a way — to simply stand by and see these qualities of integrity snd dignity trampled beneath the feet of humankind’s baser instincts. Perhaps good people have turned the other cheek for too long. Maybe being passively resigned to the perpetraters of evil is not the way. Perhaps it requires an extreme natural culling of the tribe to remove the evil, the result of the arrogant stupidity of that group. Whether I should revel in that possibility is something my peaceful self has been truly struggling with the past few years — since the extinguishing of the Obama light. It goes against my nature. But the continuing greedy, destructive, and heartless ways must end, or perhaps be brought to an end. At my age and health, I, and most of my Aquarian generation, can’t, or won’t, effectively mount the resistance. We lack the stamina or money, or both. Too many among my generation, who may be capable, have lost the vision — turned during the mine-me-first Reagan 80’s, and the grab-fest in the years that followed. I feel we need responsible, strong young leaders to organize on a large scale, activate on a broad scale. It breaks my heart to say it — but me and my generation, we failed. Those who are coming after us, can’t afford to — or humankind and this great spaceship earth, truly are fucked! The power can belong to the young — take it, and wield it wisely! Sorry if I shocked or offended. Just the honest humble opinion of a tired old man. Not too tired to *** VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! ***

========================

And now {{{deep breath}}} time for the poetic entertainment:

***

…inspired by the Kate Bush video, “The Sensual World”…
This is a 2nd revision of my original 2012 version.

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That Velvet

~

would I were that velvet
that she reaches for so fondly
strokes with delicate pure fingers
with soft silken hands she lingers

embraces to her bosom
wraps ’round her slender shoulders
tingles with excitement
as she surrenders to its touch

would I were that velvet
that drapes her lilting essence
that falls and folds and fondles
as she ascends the stairs each night

the plush and luscious fiber
that rises on her breasts
with each soft and subtle sigh
each deep impassioned breath

oh would I were that velvet
that glides her naked form
on those sunset autumn evenings
enwraps her perfect body warm

that chills and thrills in shivers
as she opens it ‘neath moonlight
and swoons hushed smouldered gasps
as she blooms forth firm and pleasured

oh would I were that velvet
would I were that velvet
oh sweet sensuous angel
would I were
would I were

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2012
(revision © 2020)

 

Open Link Night #275

Falling To Pieces

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”I can’t see the end of me” by: Oladios

 
Falling To Pieces

~

oh dear
I fear
I have lost my heart

and along with it
a larger part

if I do not panic
but stay calm
instead
being careful
not to lose my head

if I can
look to the future
avoid the dread

it’s not hard to conceive
kitty I truly believe

though parts of me
have certainly
lost a bit
of fleshy tether

eventually
with what’s left
of me
I can finally

pull myself together

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019

 

  • To check out more poems at Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE
  • Savior

    E653E151-3EC9-47D4-94CE-771B62FC1B04

     
    Savior

    ~

    I remember when it happened
    remember well
    the blinding flash
    that sent me scurrying
    underground
    into my private bunker

    I suspected this possibility
    thankfully
    I was prepared for the moment

    that moment
    that horrific moment
    forever dividing then
    from now

    then
    comfortably alone
    walking my property line
    along the azure waters
    of the clear mountain stream
    that rolled towards me
    crisp and pure

    then
    in an instant
    the startling sound
    the strange light
    soaring above the douglas firs
    that stand proudly
    at the river’s edge

    sentries for centuries
    protecting this northern boundary
    of my lands

    steady
    enduring
    supple in the winds
    that waft and quicken
    breathing life
    whispering their secrets

    now
    two years on
    since that ominous moment
    the bone chill
    the penetrating feeling
    of fear

    now
    I am alone again
    but now
    quite absolutely

    no evidence of survivors
    my beloved wife
    did not make it

    the global communication grid
    totally destroyed

    too long
    since I have seen
    another’s eyes
    or heard another’s voice

    now
    I ramble this valley
    wade this stream
    in my hazmat suit
    mumbling quietly
    to no one

    rations are running out
    water
    food

    I am at the ragged edge
    of coherence
    of sanity

    I cling to the hope
    for a sign of life
    someday
    any life

    but they are all gone
    every — last — one
    gone

    can I last
    have I that patience

    how long can I hold center
    how long
    until my fragile psyche unravels

    if I could just remove this helmet
    breathe fresh air again
    feel the breeze on my face

    while the trees are fine
    carcasses are everywhere
    animals
    fish
    birds
    insects

    I fear the air is toxic
    deadly

    will it ever be safe
    how can I know

    wait
    what’s this

    “Hey, hi little fella!”

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019

     

  • To check out more poems at Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE
  • Arrested

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    Arrested

    ~

    she’s left only her jacket on
    unbuttoned
    blousing open

    the gold of her badge
    glints fetchingly
    in the glow of candlelight

    her breasts
    partially veiled
    soft in the amber wash
    gently rise and fall
    with her heavy breath

    helplessly
    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

    intoxicated by this vision
    I can only stare
    and melt

    utterly arrested

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    ________________________

    The “X” rated 2018 version

  •  
    -=> RAW ADULT  CONTENT <=-

    ABD318EC-3EEA-4D4A-9667-B71AC2A5DD98

  • Arrested
    ~
    unbuckling her regulation holster
    she lays it neatly
    on the sest of her cycle

    she removes the rest of her wespons
    and places them on the ground

    she is now unarmed
    but she is still packin’

    unzipping
    she lets her regulation uniform trousers
    slide in a nylon rustle
    down her thigh high lace tops
    to fall
    gathered at her sculpted ankles

    leaving her regulation leather heels on
    she steps over her slacks
    abandoned at her feet

    she walks toward me slowly
    hips pivoting left then right
    taut thighs mesh silken

    swish  swish  swish

    placing one foot
    in front of the other
    striding with authority
    heels sounding

    click  click  click

    she approaches
    backlit by the red and blue pulses
    of the BMW’s frenzied lightbar

    she stops
    straddling over me
    as I am handcuffed
    sitting on the highway
    leaning agaist the door
    of my Audi R8
    popping and snapping
    as the 610 hp’s cool

    she unbottons her regulation jacket
    and drops it at my side
    she’s left only her regulation shirt on
    as she unbuttons
    it blouses open

    her body badge is revealed
    the gold glints fetchingly
    as it dangles
    on a thick leather cord
    from around her smooth firm neck
    resting nestled
    in the perfect cleavage
    of her pert young
    braless breasts

    no

    these are tits
    perfect tits
    right out of a teen’s temptation
    aglow in amber warning lights

    her nipples
    proudly erect
    partially veiled
    soft in the amber wash
    gently rise and fall
    with her heavy breathing

    leaning over
    fixing me with her fiery eyes
    she speaks
    “you were driving recklessly – sir”
    then rips away her black string thong

    helplessly
    looking up
    my eyes glide slowly
    lustfully down her length
    fondled warmly
    by the flashing golden-orange
    folding and refolding
    upon her luscious flesh

    they pause in gentle decent
    entranced by the velvet mons
    shorn smooth and oiled
    sensuously shadowed
    in the satin cleft
    where supple limb
    meets supple limb

    intoxicated by this vision
    I can only stare
    swelling rigid with excitement
    and swoon
    breathless

    utterly arrested
    eager for interrogation

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2018

    Drowning

    Drowning

    ~

    on the boulevard
    outside
    last night’s rain
    puddles
    midst the chaos of metro-clutter
    as if abandoned
    by the waters of earth

    it shoulders its way
    through the culverts
    in search of mother sea

    this day begins golden and crisp
    bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

    lovers and their beloved
    sit by morning windows
    with tea
    and curiosity

    they talk

    in these moments
    their souls spill
    one into the other
    entranced

    somewhere
    tender lips
    are sculpting sweet words

    but here in this quiet
    I drown in your eyes
    fallen into azure pools

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

  • Click for bonus pleasure…

  • Golden Lady

     

    Golden Lady

    •

    golden lady in sensuous silk
    a beauty sure to mesmerize
    sculpted by a master’s hand
    so seductive as to scandalize

    a stare of comely crystal blue
    floats above a ruby pout
    spellbound by her magic eyes
    she holds your soul with no way out

    her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
    like a supple paintbrush flowing
    her smile will fire and hypnotize
    then wrap around you knowing

    you are now her helpless captive
    quite hopelessly addicted
    in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
    is she an angel — or is she wicked

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Bert Stern

    Wonder

     

    Wonder

    •

    to grow up
    is to chase off
    our innocence
    our naïve belief
    in the world as a beautiful place
    to harden against the magic
    of our childhood dreams

    but if by chance
    we can cling to just one
    perhaps we can hold on
    to our precious sense of wonder

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • photo: “Alice in Wonderland” by Yuki Valentine

    King of Sunrise

     

    King of Sunrise

    •

    on the boulevard below
    last night’s rain puddles
    midst the chaos of metro-clutter
    held hostage by tire and curb
    as if abandoned by the waters of earth

    it shoulders its way through the gutters
    in search of mother sea

    this day begins golden and crisp
    bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

    me and the first edition
    we sit by this morning window
    with coffee and curiosity
    quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news

    I read
    occasionally glimpse the screen
    grow troubled by our human plight
    amazed how we never learn
    when the answers seem so obvious

    in this moment
    the tv drones
    my frustration rises
    my spirit slips
    my mind drifts
    lifting on the vapor ribbons
    wafting from my steaming cup
    until I stare distracted

    the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
    but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
    imagining how different it would be
    if I ruled this world

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    The Mask

     

    The Mask

    •

    when donned the mask
    the transformation
    smoulders forth the other

    the fantasy
    on wings of dreams

    she is she
    and too
    the other

    unleashed at light of passion’s moon
    manifest at your request
    sustained this night
    at her delight

    she is your isis
    she is your venus
    she is your every longing loosed

    she brings everything in life you miss
    bestowed with aphrodite’s kiss
    but as you burn you should know this
    beneath the mask waits a dark abyss

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales