So Good

• Here is a bit of lighthearted noir tongue-in-cheek…

So Good

•

do not take this as precocious
but in business I’m ferocious

I wheel the deal with an artist’s feel
I rip the meat down to the bone

if I do say so – I’m incredible
so good, I’m almost edible

brains and brawn, I’m bright as the dawn
I’m on my game and in the zone

unyielding in a meeting
I administer a beating

I kill their will, I’m king of the hill
my demeanor is cold as stone

I am hungry and I’m ruthless
while the others all seem toothless

they hop, then drop, it’s me at the top
yes at the top I stand alone

at the top

I am

alone

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

Outragesauras

Outragesauras

•

beware the outragesauras

gluttonous drive-time dinosaurs

dreaded treaded behemoths
that bully across the face of our crippled planet
devouring resources
like a herd of metallic mastodons

a relentless forage of fragile fossil fuel
to suck dry the paleozoic nectar
300 million years in the making

a fraction of that in the plunder

they spew forth poisonous discharge
fouling the atmosphere
pummeling our frail ecosystem

shoving earth closer
ever closer
to the brink of no return
to satisfy toxic arrogance

extinction’s revenge

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

cartoon by: mike baldwin

• discover other dinosaurs at readwritepoem

The Light

 

 

The Light

•

even the smallest light
of wisdom
burning in the pitch black
of ignorance
casts its glow far-reaching

• • •
__________________________

•

the pitch black
of ignorance
succumbs
to the simplest
light of wisdom

• • •
__________________________

•

(haiku)

one can penetrate
the pitch black of ignorance
wisdom is the light

• • •
__________________________

•

(haiku)

lightless ignorance
cannot vanquish absolute
seek the light of truth

• • •
__________________________

•

(haiku)

lightless ignorance
does not rise impregnable
wisdom’s light will pierce

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

Shattered

 

 

Shattered

•

I come upon a man
standing by the road
looking sad

heavy box
in his arms
held close

he stares
expressionless
into my eyes

his gaze stops me
fixes me in place

his face is tired
and drawn
etched in worry

when at last I move
I draw near

close enough to see
this sullen man
is me

he extends his arms
that clutch the heavy box

he beckons me retrieve
this container he protects

filled with apprehension
I reach
and grasp the case

lift it cautiously

lay it at my feet

it slowly opens
to reveal
its strange contents

seven shattered dreams

struck mute
I gaze in wonder

confused
yet captivated
I inquire
of the nature
of the ruin
I behold

these are yours
the stranger says

broken by your hand

once
they each were shared
with one
who trusted you

each bond
you did betray
without a passing thought

abandoned carelessly

now the burden of this box
is mine beyond the grave

the stranger’s eyes
intensely sad
begin to pool
as he continues

it was on a road like this
that it was passed to me

I have carried it too long

I am weary from the load

now you must bend and lift
and clutch it to your breast
to struggle with its weight

until you pass it on

a tear
now softly glistens
on the stranger’s cheek

someday
a man will come
over that horizon

he will stop
and stare
transfixed by your presence

you will charge him with this chest

then he will lift
and carry
as I do

in a cycle of forever

for he too
will be you

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

_____________________

composite above entitled: “Box Of Dreams” – by: rob kistner © 2008
_____________________

• • •

 

Dark Self

 

 

Dark Self

•

hidden from the light of day
another me resides
though keeping to the shadows
a saving grace abides

a darkling essence
scarred and damaged
begotten in another life
another place and time

it is an anger manifest
righteous and so long suppressed
that could not find effective voice
to save my ruined innocence

silent when I had no name
for what I did not comprehend
the woeful time when youthful trust
was betrayed in ways insidious

sadly was this torment done
by the hand of the entrusted one
concealed from blind society
to perpetrate such vile deeds

in this fire of perversity
my molten other self was forged
hammered on my hardened soul
tempered by survival’s hand

to rise and fight the abject fear
cradled within my broken heart
to lift from me my veil of sorrow
and so restore my peace of mind

to stir and wake my sacred rage
and instill my will to live
thus reclaim my rightful pride
to finally stand and say – no more

my shadow self did save my life
in doing so turned me to stone
I did not like what I’d become
I’d sacrificed integrity

I turned away from my dark self
refused its further influence
set about the trying task
of recapturing my dignity

not so easily subdued
this shadow calls when I am weak
so now I live with watchful eye

vigilant – yet thankful

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

_____________________

collage above entitled: “Dark Self” – by: rob kistner © 2008
_____________________

• • •

Morning Gold

 

 

Morning Gold

•

across the meadow

last night’s dew clings
fondly to the old-growth

wrapped in crystalline embrace
it adorns the stately cedars
as if diamonds
that sparkle in the morning sun

a splendor befitting their beauty

this Sprring day begins bright and crisp

bird songs lilt
carried on a breeze

I see you afar
approaching on the path
backlit by sunrise
your hair golden in dawn’s glow

lover beholding beloved
I sit
warmed in daybreak’s window
with tea and fascination

I watch you
as you stop to rest

in this moment
my love spills over
floods ‘round me
until I am consumed

your lips sculpt a smile

I’m swept away on passion’s tide

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

click below to hear Morning Gold

 

Bad Weather

 

 

Bad Weather

•

you blew in like a typhoon
a hurricane of love
your kisses hot as lightning
striking from above

your passion was a tempest
I was swept up in its force
but now the winds have died
this storm has run its course

my thoughts are grey and cloudy
my eyes are steady rain
my heart’s caught in a cold front
bad weather’s bringing pain

yes, the warm winds will return
as will the clear blue skies
but my frozen heart will ever yearn
for the sun-fire of your eyes

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

_____________________

collage above entitled: “Bad Weather” – by: rob kistner © 2008
_____________________

• • •

 

Remembered

 

 

Remembered

•

leaning comfortably
into the curves

wind whipping
through our long hair

we wind our way
into the mountains

into the evening

alive
with 2-wheeled freedom

on the open road

not counting days
not keeping track
just being – free

we glide

feet up
knees tucked

captivated
by the thrill
of the throttle

we rocket

dive from light to shadow
to resurface once more
in the light

again and again

as the sun reveals itself
from time to time

warming us
from between peaks

as it begins to settle
behind the western slope
of the Rockies

four friends

four adventurers

fresh on the heels
of the summer of love

dedicated
to a critical mission

spread the peace
share the love
save our sanity

and above all else
keep the party rolling

we’ve thrown off
the structured mantle of life

to venture
into the random

the unknown

to embrace
the magnificent perfection
of living in
and for
the moment

•

it’s nearly four decades
since those days of freedom

memories have cooled
grown hazy

I take license in their recall
grateful they remain at all

I’m blessed by their refrain
no matter how faint

my days are not so light now

I’m rooted in responsibility

balancing the blessings
and the burdens
of life

sometimes bent
by the yoke of worry

made heavy
by the weight of loss

yet
occasionally

I still feel
the gentle breeze of freedom
stir

as I stand
feet firmly planted

braced against
the changing winds of time
and fate

tonight

adrift in the eternal now
awash in recollection

I smile within
warmed by remembered times
with beloved friends

those days of wonder

falling deeper in reverie’s embrace
I can almost feel that wind
on my face

tossing once more
my youthful mane

almost hear the laughter

see the glow
on the faces of three friends

now far away

I whisper a promise
to my awakened spirit

someday

before it is too late

I will again
pick my feet up

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

The Legend

…this is a bit of retro-melodrama written just for fun…

___________________________

he never quit on his dream, or his humanity

 

The Legend

•

permit me to share the legend
of the man who rocked the world
luminescent — larger than life
his bold banner of fame unfurled

with confidence he took each stage
flashed his skills with pride and power
his celebrity rocketed skyward
enormous talent, in his finest hour

a humble tempering childhood
helped him hone his mythic dream
a bright young man with wicked ‘chops’
he could make his guitars scream

his glory spread round the globe
renown and fortune grew unbound
like a rampant roaring wildfire
nothing it seemed would take him down

but terror struck while touring England
unleashing panic, fear & strife
bombs tore through the concert hall
to save his fans — he risk his life

the first blast ripped the back wall
mike in hand, he stood firm and fast
directing the people to safety
they all escaped — now he was last

it was horror in high definition
TV broadcast the heartbreaking sight
a question hung heavy over the chaos
did their hero meet death tonight

the sad truth was the top news story
the brave mega-star had died
all the world was seen to mourn
at candle vigils the people cried

so permit me to share this legend
of this remarkably brave young man
who, possessed of wealth and fame
truly never forgot the fan

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

…photo-collage entitled ‘Hero”, by: rob kistner

Nocturne

 

A brooding full moon, in image, verse, and spoken word

Author’s note: this piece does not expose a secret, but instead, it deals with the weight and burden of keeping dark disturbing secrets buried away.

 

 

Nocturne

•

hawk moon hangs heavy
in the damp night sky

bulbous moist pearl
rolling
in a cold chromium fog

wet slivers of cloud
smear themselves
across its face

irregular

like translucent sacks
of moonbeams

breathing

glassine billowing pillows
oozing

soaked with midnight

stars float and spark
glinting
dripping
shivering

frozen splintered crystal tips
diamond chips
pinprick rips
in blackened space

they wink and wane
and flutter
shattered bits of silvered light

snapping here then not

behind the ghostly white
vapor that slithers
through the firmament

the world devoid of color
aglow in sterling grey
a negative of day

thick and chilled

filled with the sound
of stalking after-dark things

nocturne

the sorrowing hour
to lay bare your soul
in pale introspection

in grief of secrets

• • •

rob kistner © 2007

 

To hear poem read by author, click here:

 

The Strike



The Strike

•

warm
familiar
comfortable in my palm
my fingers wrap natural cork
index raised
gauging line tension

precision brings the willow’d shaft
high above my shoulder
flexing expectantly

a flick of my wrist
and the rod arcs forward
increasing the pressure
on my fingertip
as it bends ahead
urgently
seeking release

then
a careful pluck
like a string
on a guitar

it is launched

the ultralight lure
golden at line’s end
sails silent
into the squinting summer sun

with a subtle plick
the barbless hunter disappears
slipping ‘neath the sparkle
of the undulating steam

seductively
I retrieve the bait
with quickening pulse
eagerly visualizing
anticipating the strike

patience draws the offering
alluringly
dancing ever nearer

I long for the sharp
powerful tug

for the slender thread
unreeled before me
to rise
and dart away
in a sliver of silver spray

for my heart to jump
as a proud trout
breaks water
victim to my seduction

in this moment
mind focused
breath steady
senses heightened
awaiting sudden contact

I reflect

there is a simple truth in fishing
as in life

the thrill of possibility
can be as rich
as the reward

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

• photorendering entitled “The Strike” by: rob kistner © 2008