Frozen Man

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line art: “Frozen Man” — rob kistner © 2008

 

Stopping Is No Option

~

— QUADRILLE —

Stopping is no option

giving up
is giving in
grip letting go of dreams

frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage

happy is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded

stopping is no option
for the times
they are a’changin’

rob kistner © 2020

~ ~

— COMPLETE VERSION —

* Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE

Stopping is no option

to lose the way is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one atrophies
rigid with despair
paralyzed with doubt
locked in hopelessness
bound by fear

the giving up
is the giving in
is the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams

loss of faith debilitates the soul
cripples the manifest light
that shines so bright
at the leap into sacred uncertainty
so bright
as to boldly illuminate truth

frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage

terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked

wounded by fear
bleeding out the color of life
hemorrhaging joy
exsanguinating possibility

a cold brittled husk
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
as to light the way of truth

valiant is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded
a cry of dissatisfaction
a voice of change
a stand for defiance

stopping is no option

so senators and congressmen
you best heed the call
don’t stand in the doorway
don’t block up the hall
for they that will lose
will be they who have stalled

so brothers and sisters
raise up your hand
let it be known
throughout the land
if we want change
we must take a stand

NO
stopping is no option

for the times
they are a-changin’

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2008
revision © 2020

 

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NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE

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

Day Breaker

“stream-of-consciousness rant”

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”Drinkin’ Thinkin’” by: rob kistner © 1997

 
DayBreaker

(hard-drinkin’, jazz-lovin’, workin’ man’s lament)
~

day breaks
on
a new week’s
sun

putrid
as the stains
on my
flesh-soaked
mattress

damp
as my sour
mat
of fevered
greasy
tangle

hot
as my
whiskey-foul
breath

another
un-commuted
sentence

6A-6P
’til
merciful dusk
delivers me

jack-knifed
into
my
jack and coke

don’t obsess
in sorrow

drown
all
‘da-way
down

a bottom-dive
to comatose

no virtue
feigned
nor
implied

mad goes
the struggle
‘til
saved by
jazz
48 over
‘da
dub-ya
hump

2
debauched
24’s
then
the hissing
sting
of monday
and
the mindless
6-6 grind
120 n’out

cruel numbers
game
goes
round round
and ever round
’til
the tombstone’s
tender
solace

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019

 

  • Click below to see what’s being imitated at dVerse:

    Imitation Practice

  • Crows of Castle Keep

    “Castle Keep is my metaphor for the mind.”

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    Crows of Castle Keep

    my contemplation on dementia

    ~

    my memories gather and squabble
    like the crows of castle keep
    they pick the bones
    of my recall

    bones against the cruel clay
    of an arid
    barren mind

    littered with the harsh forgotten
    like the bones of the dinosaur
    I’m becoming

    struggling
    with what letters are made of
    my words crack and crumble

    my thoughts
    parch and wither

    lonely silhouettes
    against an unforgiving skyline

    fading visions of my past
    of my life
    my home
    of yesterday

    harder and harder to remember
    the degrees of separation
    growing ever greater
    smoldering in the fog
    of my reflected past

    splashes of vivid color
    on scraps of paper
    blown in the mounting winds
    of my confusion

    dread rising
    that I will soon not remember
    what it all meant to me
    a stirring fear I will forget
    lost in tormented emptiness
    that all will go black

    this is not just a poem
    it is much more

    this is a light
    searching in blackness
    for familiar things
    for persons beloved
    that I do not recognize

    this is a fractured tome
    a cry of frustration
    a tear of loss
    a whispered prayer

    an epitaph
    to my fading map of then

    of cherished memories
    that now falter
    and dim

    slowly slipping
    unintelligible
    into the cacophony
    of the crows of castle keep


    E8A2F1BD-9ED3-4D31-95BE-D36EA9CEECC3

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019

     

  • Click below to heck out more poems of blackness on dVerse:

    dVerse Poetics: On Shades of Black

  • 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
  • Time’s Window

    “This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“

    96A0D5B9-69EF-49DB-BE33-C1347DFE7938

    E280E402-14C8-4DF8-BE06-05995B79BDD1

    8406EEC5-F134-4D0F-AF92-19D3B1F79A86

     

    Time’s Window
    ~


    we now have a wonderful
    new Seattle home
    shared with family
    ruled by my little guy
    my precious 6-year-old grandson
    and I know sweet happiness

    but there are moments
    with eyes closed
    I can gaze back
    through time’s window

    I see my beloved Oregon home
    of 25 amazing years
    vividly alive this morning
    here in my memories…

    through my window this day
    I see the scurry of creatures
    warmed by the Oregon summer

    I hear nature
    in splendid voice

    the chuff
    of a tree’d red squirrel

    the song
    chirp
    and trill of birds

    chickadee
    goldfinch
    western bluebird
    and others

    fly
    flutter
    and flit

    in a flash of orange
    a striking northern flicker
    momentarily eschewing insects
    is peck peck pecking
    cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
    that spill from our feeder

    a red-tailed hawk
    calls
    from atop a Sitka spruce
    swaying
    in the crisp blue sky

    the muffled belling of a deer
    wandering the safety of old-growth
    whispers
    through the foothills

    the distant bark
    of a neighbor’s dog
    echoing the basin
    up along our stream
    reminds me
    we have friends nearby

    my wife’s
    gentle laughter
    validates the friendship

    her tender smile
    validates our love

    the rustle of leaves
    stirred by the breeze
    wafting through the valley

    smartly punctuated
    by the staccato
    of conifer cones
    that fall
    from time to time
    wrested free by chickaree
    and chipmunk
    chattering high in Douglas fir
    busy with their forage

    wap wap wap

    they bounce off our roof
    striking the ground

    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

    drifting in the window
    intoxicating fragrances

    cedar
    pine
    fir

    lily
    rose
    lilac

    grasses
    loam
    and more

    a rich
    earthy bouquet

    caught in my reverie
    I breathe in
    deeply
    to suddenly remember

    …I’m not in my Oregon home
    I am in my new Seattle home
    and it’s filled to overflowing
    with family
    and love

    for a moment
    I do not open my eyes
    I linger a bit longer
    in my beautiful dream
    of my Oregon

    my heart will forever be there
    but we will likely never go back
    not until my ashes are spread
    high in the Cascade Mountains
    on Mt. Hood
    across breathtaking Lost Lake

    but here
    now
    on this day
    filled with memories
    and joy
    a solitary tear
    falls

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019


     
    This new write was a remarkably mind purifying write for me. Click to see how others are purifying their minds on dVerse:

    Poetics- Purifying the Mind

     

  • Click to check out the haps at Toads
  • The Gift


     
    The Gift

    ~

    unworthy fool am I

    to ignore it
    to abuse it
    to mistreat it
    to misuse it
    to mishandle it at every turn

    no way am I deserving

    yet over and over
    you lay it at my feet
    to protect each step
    on life’s harsh road

    time after time
    you wrap it round me
    as shelter
    from sorrow’s storm

    again and again
    it nurtures and sustains me
    on my journey through
    the wastelands of the lonely

    this light
    this precious treasure

    no way do I deserve
    but forever will I cherish
    your soul gift
    of selfless love

    would I could give you
    such a gift in return
    it would be my purest
    my most unselfish gift

    a gift golden as the sun
    tied in a tinsel of stars
    to nurture you always
    to keep you radiant

    my most precious gift
    of a love supreme

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019

     

    32AD0E85-B0A5-4D6D-B19A-E51CD04E0C53DAY 7

    Swept Away

  • A bluesman’s life and soul: “Music gives me goose-bumps, especially when created from the heart, by a genuine human spirit…”
  • swept-away.jpg

     
    Swept Away

    (- REDUX 2019 -)

    ~

    memphis red
    no longer is

    gray now shines
    from a balding head
    filled with scarlet embers

    memories still burn
    a fired spirit

    too deep for coddled mortals
    to fully fathom

    red is real
    red is legend

    his tales of pain
    of injustice
    the lore of the big muddy

    his eyes
    earthy brown
    turbulent as that river

    his stare
    a deep current
    impossible to escape
    you’re swept away

    his voice
    a tempered edge
    honed by blues

    broadleaf husky
    thick as sorghum
    smooth as beale street bourbon

    the cf martin
    swings from a leathered neck
    on a tattered strap
    stretched and shaped
    by the heft of sorrow
    poured into the soundhole

    marked and scarred
    by years of burden
    of witness

    its character and patina
    bear testament
    to a genuine soul

    cracked and seasoned hands
    reach with suffered care
    to wrap the fingerboard
    in love

    callused digits
    yellowed by habit
    depress taut strands
    no longer catgut

    blood and bone
    grip
    connect
    sculpting emotions

    true life
    ensnared in sitka spruce
    and spiraled steel

    knowing strains rise
    chords of loss

    rhythmic stomp
    stinging verse
    of broken promise
    failed love

    of dirt field
    cruel street
    back alley
    of harsh wisdom

    resonate to fill this space
    to break my heart
    to steal my soul

    swept away

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2007

    __________________________

    photo rendering above entitled: “Knowing”
    rendered by: rob kistner © 2007

    Click here to read about more blues on TOAD

    Distant Farewell

  • LONG-FORM, FREE-VERSE, SCI-FI ADVENTURE/LOVE POEM

  • Far-Worlds Corp research space schooner “Thadius”

     
    Distant Farewell

    ~

    “I’ve watched
    golden fire clouds,
    hanging in pale green skies,
    over the azure seas of Toluras

    I’ve seen the copper leaves
    of the parmus fronds
    flashing from indigo mountains
    in the crystal mists of Gemin.

    I have beheld exquisite beauty
    in my rich, full life
    but none so beautiful
    as your eyes tonight”

    this Artheo whispers
    his breath warms
    the tender lobe
    of my eager ear

    he presses his lips
    softly to mine
    with gentle passion
    bids me farewell

    now three hours past
    I linger in the bittersweetness

    I can still taste him

    here I am
    hurtling through space
    standing on the aft deck
    gazing

    reliving the kiss
    a sudden chill
    shocks me sober

    been here, done this
    precisely this
    in every detail

    impossible

    it’s my first time aboard

    a foreboding grips me

    I shiver as I watch
    the jade-sapphire orb
    grow smaller
    less relevant

    it now recedes
    less visible
    through the carbon-Lucite

    zero-g frost
    forms and obscures
    this breathtaking view
    of the lush planet

    our home planet
    Gaia

    a place
    some now on board
    will not again see
    for fifteen years

    if they are
    counted among
    the fortunate
    who do return

    we race
    exceeding light-speed
    toward a distant
    call for help

    unknown destiny
    in uncharted space
    with no idea
    what we will encounter

    the call made it certain
    no good lay ahead

    36959008-29B1-417B-B92B-2DA45555B906

    I am Sephias
    going to Topiarus
    to return
    in a year’s time

    I am distraught

    the anxiety
    of separation

    intense pressure
    permeates the crew
    who go the distance
    to the edge of space
    to answer
    the cry for help

    it is contagious
    I feel this too

    I feel ungrounded
    each time I choose
    to leave my man
    to go on mission

    my soul mate
    Artheo

    our love is deep

    it has withstood
    these essential
    separations

    we understood
    when I joined Far-Worlds
    that separation
    came with the program

    but knowing this
    makes it no easier

    my anxiety
    is heightened further
    given this mission’s
    uncertainty

    at Far-Worlds Corp
    we are involved
    in new-resources
    exploration

    we’re scientists
    not trained spacetroopers

    our expertise
    not military

    this ship
    the Thadius
    is a space schooner
    solar-wind powered

    a research vessel
    not a fast and agile
    battle cruiser

    not suited
    for space combat

    the security force
    we have on board
    trained to defend
    not to attack

    they protect us
    from known threats
    on our journeys
    through known space

    this mission’s different

    the unknown
    makes this dangerous

    the Dextorium
    was an advance ship
    sent to reconnoiter
    9 months ahead

    the Dextorium
    did in fact carry
    a battle-trained
    spacetrooper force

    but it has now
    fallen silent
    for many months

    the green glow
    of the interstellar
    contact indicator orb
    means they’re out there

    but silence
    not a word

    stream

    to take my mind
    off things disturbing
    I drift to Artheo
    to our last kiss

    he presented
    a calm brave face
    at our goodbye

    but I knew better

    now together
    two centuries
    rest assured
    I know my man

    as decorated Primests
    of the Science-Sect Elite
    we are privileged
    with three birthing cycles

    to improve the human strain
    a 40-year
    no-birthing period
    our second
    now nears its end

    soon
    we will enter
    our third
    free-birthing cycle

    we both welcome
    the sabbatical
    of twenty years
    that it affords

    we’ve begotten
    families
    in prior cycles
    and love them both

    we now dream
    of this newest family
    our near future
    holds in store

    this coming family
    is most important
    in our lives
    Artheo’s and mine

    state edicts dictate
    3rd cycle families
    caretake their fosters
    as health declines

    as we move closer
    to our stand down
    and cryogenic
    hibernation

    this new family
    will be our comfort
    as our current life-phase
    draws to a close

    as I reflect
    I am disrupted

    a sudden chaos

    panicked commotion
    on the foredeck

    there is great alarm

    I rush forward
    in time to see
    a startling scene
    begin to unfold

    there
    directly in front
    of our speeding ship
    menacing fields of energy

    they begin to spread
    linking together
    with apparent logic
    forming a grid
    blocking our path

    acting intelligently
    as though a sentient
    living thing

    6FF94A1C-DB1C-4C39-817D-5A5A040E2050

    they are immense
    and they are many
    as they assemble
    into a spherical net
    continually expanding
    as far as one can see
    it is there

    spread far too vast
    to travel around
    their advancing speed
    we cannot outrun

    as we approach
    the pulsing web
    their acceleration
    becomes exponential

    no doubt we’re on
    a collision course

    suddenly
    my senses jolt
    I stagger back
    in shock and awe

    it is now quite clear
    what fate befell
    our advance party
    and it appears others

    they’ve been, well
    they’ve been absorbed
    by this horrific
    electronic death-mesh

    we are defenseless

    we on the Thadius
    can only stare
    frightened
    but spellbound

    the crew’s emotions
    now run the gamut
    tears fill most eyes
    as hell approaches

    then I see more clearly
    in the eerie violet
    sphere of energy
    closing upon us
    tiny multi-color specks

    B0BAAB26-E387-4921-9D3B-3F363F9CACA8

    captured life-energies
    of the Dextorium crew
    and countless others
    that have come before

    their vital essence
    has been consumed
    by this entangled nightmare
    that now besets us

    their images flicker
    in and out of focus
    trapped in the grid
    held fast and hopeless

    empty faces
    of complete surrender
    translucent
    dead eyes
    living ghosts

    this thing is coming
    this host of evil

    terrified
    I feel helpless
    so confused
    and so alone

    its then I rush
    to my solarcomm
    to send a message
    to Artheo

    holding a Droon orb of light
    bravely I begin
    first sharing poetry
    as is our custom

    IMG_8614

    “we have walked quietly hand in hand
    in the emerald meadows of Telma
    sharing its golden angelfruit
    sweet as our stolen kisses

    we’ve heard the haunting call
    of the coral winged Lellurt
    in Droon’s violet skies
    over teal Darpin Bay


    now fate deems we part
    see this Orb of Light
    it is my true heart
    when I am gone
    it will shine on
    sweet Artheo
    it is my love
    eternally”

    “right now,
    I want to hear
    your soothing voice
    my precious love.”

    “I would give the world
    to hear your voice.”

    I am speaking
    in a tone controlled
    yet laced with longing
    and melancholy

    “I love you my dearest
    but something bad
    is happening now
    here where I am”

    “there’s a chance”
    then I must pause
    collect myself
    to start again

    “there is a chance,
    I may not return
    to you again,
    to our sweet life”

    here my voice quavers
    and then it cracks
    as I try to add,
    “or — to our children.”

    grasping for courage
    I go on

    “if this is
    to be my end
    it falls to you
    to raise them now”

    “please let them see
    they’re loved forever
    protect them well
    and keep them safe”

    it’s now a struggle
    to form the words
    but filled with love
    I press on

    “remember my eggs.
    they are safely stored
    at the Off-World Corp’s
    Reproductive Center.”

    “my surrogate
    has been selected
    she is tested
    and bonded pure”

    “you must see
    our new family born
    Zenus and Rennar — born

    please promise me!”

    choking back
    so many emotions
    I now fight
    to conclude the message

    this is the last
    I will ever send
    to my beloved
    Artheo

    these are the last words
    he’ll hear me speak

    moonfall2

    “these children,
    Zenus and Rennar,
    will be the final connection
    between you and I”

    “remember forever
    they are a part
    of each of us
    my darling one”

    “he and she
    will care for you
    and see you through
    your dimming years.”

    “they will love you
    as you’ll love them
    give them my love
    tell them about me.”

    voice faltering badly
    I rise to finish
    and share with Artheo
    my final words

    “god, oh god,
    how I want you
    here in my arms
    my one true love!”

    with that,
    my heart breaks
    as I stare silently
    into the screen

    teardrops streaming
    down my cheeks

    12 hours later
    the message arrives
    on Artheo’s
    commstation screen

    he is gripped
    by disbelief
    at what he sees
    at what he hears

    consumed by horror
    unable to move
    he stands trembling

    frozen by grief

    as he sees
    my message end
    my image flickers
    and then it fades

    Artheo
    falls to his knees
    without sound
    silent for some time

    then
    with a growing mix
    of fear and sorrow
    on his ashen face

    he throws back his head
    thrusts up his arms
    straight and stiff
    fists clenched in anger

    clenched so tightly
    nails
    cut into palms
    and bring forth blood

    bloodied hands
    whitened knuckles
    stab at the stars

    he keens and moans
    then begins to wail

    the guttural
    heart-rending wail
    of a man bereft
    soul-gored
    devastated

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2008
    (revision © 2019)

    The artwork above is by: Hera, of Stockholm, Sweden

    __________________

    And So

    “sweet memories of my youth”

     

    And So

    ~

    and so
    I think of her
    and wonder

    what was the fire
    that burned so bright
    and raged so fierce
    as to consume complete

    our essence
    left embered char
    smoldered ashen

    that in its heat
    and fury
    could not sustain

    back I drift
    to fall upon
    the tenderness of youth

    the satin skin
    the comely gaze
    the velvet touch

    a silken voice
    rising
    to lust and longing

    to impatience

    to immortality

    its soulful siren
    so seductive
    the nectar of all forbidden

    the breathless joy
    of sweet innocence

    when the wonder
    stirs to every mystery
    and the spirit lights
    to every spark

    igniting passion’s pyre

    to leave one spent
    in blissful ruin
    at story’s end

    tender memory
    of the throaty whispers
    of promised pleasures
    sweetly secreted
    in her virgin kiss

    and so
    I think of her

    remembering
    with no regret

    savoring the subtle linger
    harbored in my heart
    of the taste
    of her lips

    long ago
    at seventeen

    ~ ~

    “lips lush as cognac
    open softly to kisses
    urgently linger”

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2019)

    ________________

    23749CC2-151F-4BDE-BA62-BC76B9234D39

     
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    Hope

  • For society to have a real chance we need quality education!

    IMG_8584

     
    Last Hope

    ~

    I lift myself quietly
    very quietly
    from beneath the sheets
    soiled with neglect
    soaked with my nightmares

    I am again awake
    from another dark night
    that began with fear
    fear I might not survive
    and ends in sorrow
    realizing I did

    I rise
    make my way carefully
    past the shallow-breathed crumple
    that lay milky-eyed
    in a heap on the floor
    un-moving
    save a twitch of the head

    a head which now harbors demons
    where nocturnal angels of sweet release
    had lain down lush upon it
    in fevered embrace
    lustfully conjured
    by last night’s spoon and lance
    still skewered silver in the soured vein

    this wreckage is my mother

    I stop but for a glance
    verifying life
    then move on head down
    angle to the bathroom
    to the scum-brown bowl
    to wash my face
    lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
    that hangs bare and lonely

    strange eyes
    hold me in the mirror
    broken as my heart

    eyes of knowing
    eyes of sadness

    grief courses through me
    weighing upon my being
    burning into my heart

    I want to cry out
    but there is no one here to hear me
    no hero that can help me

    driven by instinct to survive
    by urgency to flee
    I shudder away the paralyzing despair

    in this dank food-less morning
    in this ruined single room
    in this coat-less chill of predawn
    I gather up my books
    step lightly through the door
    down the damaged stairs
    into the hostile streets
    heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams

    I duck and dodge
    in and out of shadows
    praying to once again avoid the evil
    that lurks and slinks
    among the garbage and graffiti
    of these crumbled bricken’d canyons

    that rolls slow and lethal
    gripping cold blue steel
    in predatory drive-by

    evil
    seductive as a smile
    deadly as a snake

    evil
    which if diligence should fail
    I fear will consume my soul

    deliberately I continue
    until at last I find my way
    to the building
    to the classroom
    to my teacher
    to my desk

    to the only hope
    to which I dare cling

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011
    (revision © 2019)

    ___________________________

    Click to learn more about toad’s social awareness

  • Daredevil’s Dread

     

    Daredevil’s Dread

    ~

    to be shot from a cannon
    into the cool night air
    is really no big deal

    to face a barrage
    of flying knives
    isn’t really that unreal

    to leap through the fire
    of a flaming hoop
    the warmth is kind’a nice

    jumping giant chasms
    on two-wheeled fury
    sure – let’s do it twice

    to be blown up
    in a speeding car
    sort’a turns me on

    falling 20-story
    from a skyscraper
    I’m up over and gone

    riding upside down
    on an airplane wing
    it’s the only way to fly

    the high trapeze
    without a net
    I wouldn’t bat an eye

    buried alive
    in a padlocked tomb
    count 10 and I’ll cheat death

    chained in steel
    tossed in the sea
    no need to hold my breath



    the sphere of fear
    the dome of doom
    the bungee-cord freefall

    to walk blazing coals
    swallow deadly swords
    no sweat — I’ve done them all

    almost nothing scares
    this bold daredevil
    I am very proud to say

    save the single thing
    of which I’m terrified

    to give my heart away



    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revised © 2018)

    ____________________________________

  • top 2 photos: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus
  • bottom photo: source unknown
  • What If (redux)

    06AF1F25-C53C-4D07-8CB5-B4C807317FEA

     
    What If…

    ~

    …I’d held you close
    close enough
    to feel your heart
    beat one with mine.

    wrapped you tight
    in a healing warmth

    kissed away your loss

    whispered my soul
    into your empty spirit

    took your fear
    in loving hands
    hurled it far far
    into yesterday

    stirred the dieing embers
    of trust
    to reignite a flame of faith

    embraced your spark of life

    help you nurture it
    in safe shelter
    ’til vital yet again
    feeling strength surge
    a core power awaken

    so you would not
    extinguish it
    ever again

    what if

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2007
    (revision © 2018)

    Hedone’s Daughter

  • WARNING! For adult readers only!
  •  

    loves-serenade

     

    Hedone’s Daughter

    ~

    radiant vision silken skinned
    translucent alabaster blaze
    torrid as a teen’s temptation
    leaned low
    here before me
    yearning

    straplened ankles fragile turned
    stiletto’d rise
    on carpet soft
    emblazened vixen
    forward bent
    availed so boldly
    flush with craving

    graceful face
    brazen aglow
    comely raised and tilted back
    my fingers tangled in your hair
    lifting firm
    yet luscious slow

    swept away in lustful swoon
    forearms rest on velvet sheets
    eyes aflame in sapphire need
    blatant in your fetched seduction

    Hedone’s daughter lush with Spring
    smouldering
    in golden light
    that folds upon you soft as satin
    ‘cross nape of neck
    arched silk desire

    down glistening back
    that tempting tapers
    to the tender
    warm and sultry
    wonderland for fingertips
    to touch
    and tease
    and tantalize

    to explore
    your quivering body
    soul-addictive
    luscious
    grand
    divinely-pleasing sculpted vessel
    brought forth by Aphrodite’s hand

    virgin fruit swells full and ripe
    flesh silhouette to hypnotize
    enticing in the candle’s flicker
    fondled by my hungry eyes

    they stroke and tweak
    the blossomed berries
    that burst
    engorged with passion’s heat

    that taunt my tongue to twirl ’round
    my teeth to nip in playful tug
    draw to my lips
    now lewdly moist
    to take
    and taste in eager suckle

    willful hands
    of pleasured probing
    wrap slender waist
    then slowly slide
    ‘cross pleading hips
    of sensuous rise
    to fall into erotic folds
    molded from the charms of Venus

    ’round dual swells of burning myth
    that writhe
    atop two lathen’d stems
    long and lithe
    as liquid love
    turned by pleasure’s gloried angels
    tempered in a sacred fire

    stretched taut
    raised high on tips of toes
    proud
    defined
    and goddess buff

    enough to make one
    want to stuff
    to thrust and thrust
    in randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust

    and wanton
    carnal
    flames
    are snuffed

    spring’s sweet madness
    full rebuffed

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2018)

    _____________________

  • candle photo entitled “Lovers” by: Bolshevixen
  • photographer of couple embracing unknown
  • Click to read more dVerse poems of desire