•
smothered by big oil
our blue planet is dying
greed’s shadow falls hard
•
future is mortgaged
to petrochemical lust
fatal addiction
•
mankind is drowning
in a flood of fossil fuel
black tide of folly
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
it’s not so much we resent the hungry
no more than do we despise the poor
rather we avoid and dismiss them
with the dull cough of apathy
we find them disturbing and dangerous
they disquiet our comfort
we do not flow with the milk of kindness
our part is more the dark brandy of denial
we do however praise our stars
for their sensitivity toward the downtrodden
it makes the less fortunate more glamorous
and we like the hollywood sparkle it imparts to tragedy
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
• In response to prompt #6 of the newly opened We Write Poems, I find arrogant, manipulative divas to be difficult to tolerate, or to understand…
•
auburn mane with sable streaks
frosted ermine — lush with pride
a bounce and whip, and tiply snap
with each stiletto’d wanton stride
taught hips roll on slender stems
that part in ripples then enmesh
a brushing sigh of stirring heat
toned thighs gliding flesh on flesh
a stare of comely crystal blue
floats above a ruby pout
that takes you in devouring
has its way, then casts you out
tongue tip teases top lip’s edge
like supple paintbrush flowing
a smile to burn and hypnotize
that wraps around you knowing
luscious wench — worldly wise
sleek as steel — tall and strong
swift and cunning, motor running
she might acquiesce, but not for long
poor fool who tastes this lusciousness
is hopelessly addicted
there’s only one word for this life-force
that word, my friend, is — wicked!
• • •
• the first poem is a free verse conceptual perspective on the essence of anger
• the second is a poem I would like to share, which touches the primal anger I felt at the time of the tragic death of my 18-year-old son, Aaron — written shortly after the horrible event
• the third is the pantoum which was directly suggested by this prompt — it is based on a poem I wrote while in the early stages of my grief, also regarding the raw, unfiltered anger I felt, and still feel occasionally, surrounding Aaron’s death
•
love
bruised
crying out
to be understood
so loudly
that it cannot hear
frustrated
that its capacity to feel
is far greater
than its ability to express
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
i remember well the day he died
the searing pain
that fueled my rage
setting fire to the skies
primal power
giving life to sorrowed hatred
sustaining me no food or sleep
while i cursed the cruel heavens
in ringing spite that toppled mountains
and leveled to despair
every mocking face of care
reaching out to touch me
saying how they understood
they sure as hell — did not
or they’d have never gotten near me
they’d have given me vast berth
for all i wanted was to strike them
make them scream
make them hurt
i would have given him my life
with little thought have taken yours
for if my son could no longer live
nor would anyone on this earth
• • •
rob kistner © 1995
•
this cannot be the way his story ends
his youth snuffed out by someone’s mindless deed
this cannot be the horror fate intends
if life you want mine now I do concede
his youth snuffed out by someone’s mindless deed
if debt is owed please I will make amends
if life you want mine now I do concede
hell’s threshold now to where I stand extends
if debt is owed please I will make amends
anger grips me like a poison seed
hell’s threshold now to where I stand extends
my soul ablaze my heart begins to bleed
anger grips me like a poison seed
god your cold and heartless name offends
my soul ablaze my heart begins to bleed
a blackness here within me now distends
god your cold and heartless name offends
hatred of you deep inside does breed
a blackness here within me now distends
upon my very essence it does feed
hatred of you deep inside does breed
cruel god is this the horror you intend
upon my very essence it does feed
this cannot be the way his story ends
please tell me this is not the way his story ends
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
John Wooden has,
on this 4th day of June,
in the year 2010
left this mortal realm
after 99 years
of untiring service
impeccable wisdom
and great love
a man of balance
and spiritual depth
such as John
comes so seldom
it must be seriously considered
that this world
has lost
one of its special angels
and that the warmth
and the stability
of humankind
may in fact
suffer consequence
I shed not a tear
for John
he needs no pity
it is for the rest of us
that I heartily cry
the following
are the immortal words
of a great and profoundly humble man
gather close
and hear
•
a mentor is someone
who can give correction
without causing resentment
ability is a poor man’s wealth
adversity is the state
in which man
most easily becomes
acquainted with himself
being especially free of admirers then
be more concerned
with your character
than your reputation
because your character
is what you really are
while your reputation
is merely what others
think you are
be prepared
and be honest
it is amazing
how much can be accomplished
if no one cares
who gets the credit
although there is no progress
without change
not all change is progress
consider the rights of others
before your own feelings
and the feelings of others
before your own rights
do not let what you cannot do
interfere with what you can do
don’t measure yourself
by what you have accomplished
but by what you should have accomplished
with your ability
failure is not fatal
but failure to change
might be
ability may get you to the top
but it takes character
to keep you there
listen
if you want to be heard
never make excuses
your friends don’t need them
and your foes won’t believe them
failing to plan
is planning to fail
if you don’t have time
to do it right
when will you have time
to do it over
there is nothing stronger
than gentleness
the true test
of a man’s character
is what he does
when no one is watching
if you’re not making mistakes
then you’re not doing anything
I’m positive that a doer
makes mistakes
it isn’t what you do
but how you do it
it’s not so important
who starts the game
but who finishes it
don’t let yesterday
take up too much of today
make every day
your masterpiece
it’s the little details
that are vital
little things
make big things happen
it’s what you learn
after you know it all
that counts
players with fight
never lose a game
they just run out of time
material possessions
winning scores
and great reputations
are meaningless
in the eyes of the lord
because he knows
what we really are
and that is all that matters
never mistake activity
for achievement
success comes from knowing
that you did your best
to become the best
that you are capable
of becoming
success is never final
failure is never fatal
It’s courage that counts
success
is peace of mind
which is a direct result
of self-satisfaction
in knowing
you did your best
to become the best
you are capable
of becoming
talent is god given
be humble
fame is man-given
be grateful
conceit is self-given
be careful
the main ingredient
of stardom
is the rest of the team
the worst thing
about new books
is that they keep us
from reading the old ones
there are many things
that are essential
to arriving
at true peace of mind
and one of the most important
is faith
which cannot be acquired
without prayer
things turn out best
for the people
who make the best
of the way things turn out
what you are
as a person
is far more important
that what you are
as a basketball player
young people need models
not critics
you can’t let praise
or criticism
get to you
It’s a weakness
to get caught up
in either one
you can’t live
a perfect day
without doing something
for someone
who will never
be able
to repay you
• • •
words by: John Wooden 1910 – 2010
opening by: rob kistner © 2010
• In response to prompt #5 of the newly opened We Write Poems, this is a surrealistic poem I created using a technique of creative omission called erasure. I am generally not a fan of fashioning a poem to or from a form or device — but this was interesting. The original poem I “mined” was entitled “Pointed Roofs”, by Dorothy Miller Richardson. You might find it interesting to compare Dorothy’s piece with my finished piece…
•
plentiful
the long faces
the girls
numerous
brought the sense of misery
the girls
nervous
were part of the remuneration
the very first
eve
playing a melody
swollen
her fingers weak
unexpectedly stiffened
her trembling hands
dreadful
she stood
angry
stupid people
had made her play
her discomfiture forgotten
she simply poked the piano
almost unrecognizable
she played with burning eyes
thumping
and thumping again
she played afresh
laughed into the air
back to the wall
behind the piano
• • •
…the painting above is entitled “HOMAGE for GILLES CARLE”, by: Estelle St-Pierre…
~
wolf moon hangs heavy
in the damp night sky
I feel its powerful tug
bulbous moist pearl
rolling in a cold chromium fog
forging my steely urges
hardening my unspeakable needs
wet slivers of cloud
smear themselves across its face
irregular
dappling my perverse metamorphosis
translucent sacks of moonbeams
glide the blue black sky
breathing
the hoarse breath of the beast
festers a howl
rumbling deep in my throat
in the heavens
glassine billowing pillows
oozing
soaked with midnight
stars float and spark
glinting
dripping
shivering
as I shudder
in dread of this witching hour
engorged with unearthly power
frozen splintered crystal tips
diamond chips
pinprick rips in blackened space
piercing
white hot
my ungodly eyes
seared with bloodlust
probing
hunting
stars wink and wane
and glisten
shattered bits of silvered light
snapping here then not
behind the ghostly white vapor
that slithers through the firmament
I slink the midnight mists
eternally cursed
driven by a horrible hunger
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
abominations of nocturne
in this sorrowing hour
to lay bare your soul
in periled introspection
in grief of secrets
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2010
•
you were my truest friend
my steady rock of safety
my captain of escape
you were always there
the amazing man of magic
the hero of the weak
defender of the helpless
my always gentle friend
when the footsteps in the hall
woke me in the night
I would feel you tug my hand
and under we would go
through the secret passage
you kept beneath my bed
to the waiting viking ships
and off to fight the dragons
in the land of snow and castles
carved from clear blue ice
in our robes of fur
we struck with swords of gold
you were very brave
in the face of fear
I knew you would appear
never laughing at my tears
when the grating metal rasp
of door latch in the dark
would bolt me from my sleep
you would have the horses ready
we would thunder off to dry gulch
to wrangle up our posse
save the townfolk from the bad guys
and return when all was calm
you were very swift
in a snap you would arrive
in time to get me out alive
helping me survive
below the ocean we would dive
in your crystal submarine
down to the coral world
marveling at the creatures
we would leave the sub
to swim among the wonders
to dart and spin and float
far from pain and worry
you were very smart
my midnight flight arranger
to rocket us from danger
far from the evil stranger
we would soar to venus
in your silver ship
or to some distant star
and do battle with space monsters
and when they all were slain
we would fly the milky way
circle all the planets
thankful to be weightless
no matter how afraid
I knew that you would find me
knew you’d never judge me
I knew how much you loved me
knew you’d have me back by day break
with the dark night far behind us
and the warmth of welcomed sun
would once again embrace us
the midnight footsteps now are quiet
the ships and rockets sailed away
no more trouble comes to dry gulch
the crystal sub now long in dry dock
I’m not sure I ever thanked you
perhaps took your love for granted
without you I’d never have made it
I never will forget you
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
there is some safety in the shadows
that linger tight
to the arch walls
so I bolt
through the full moon’s glow
that seeps silvered through the windows
I press myself
against the damp irregular surfaces
that are the stacked-stone
boundary breaks
of this eerie chiseled passage
I pause at each
until I reach the last
I halt
sliding two fingers
of my right hand
into the small pocket of my waistcoat
to confirm that it is still there
I feel the cool brass
of the oddly carved key
relief seasons my trepidation
nothing in my being
wants this dire mission
to which I am shackled
but it is only my hand
on the inscripted dagger
gripped tightly in my left
that can bring an end
to my uncle’s unholy
reign of horror
I am the last surviving member
of our cursed bloodline
so the brutal deed
falls to me
creeping stealthily forward
like a shade on the dank wall
I move cautiously closer
to the iron-laden
dense wood door
of his sleeping chamber
my heart pounding
my diaphram starved for breath
I feel I may pass out
but still I pursue
the evil incarnate
that lies
locked away
in undead repose
suddenly
a noise
immediately behind me
it echoes through these catacombs
pierces my taut raw nerves
and instantly paralyzes me
trembling
I turn
no one there
hushed
I listen intently
no other sounds
save the blood
pulsing as a roar
in my ears
I begin to move
but again
I hear it
panicked
I jerk my head around
and see
in this frozen moment
my stressed mind deduces
the source of the noise
moisture
collecting on the stone ceiling
gathers overhead
into sagging condensation
it released
as a weighty droplet
splattering on the floor
just behind me
with a sharp startling slap
I relax a bit
enough to again draw
tensioned breath
several more labored
careful steps
and I place my hand
gently on the wrought handle
of the immense door
transferring the lethal dagger
to my quivering right hand
I reach
steadily as possible
into my pocket
and withdraw the strange key
it is unnaturally heavy
and seems to emanate
an unearthly energy
I clutch it firmly
fearing if I lose my grip
I will lose my nerve
I guide the key
into the slot
of the ornate handle plate
seating it fully
slowly I begin to turn it
I feel the resistance
as the key’s teeth
engage with the bolt
and begin to grudgingly
draw it from its secure well
just before I have fully retracted it
I pause
my mind racing
blood pressure soaring
overcome by the magnitude
of what I am about to do
no turning back now
this must be done
and I must do it
but I am terrified
still I hesitate
attempting to gain
my much needed composure
I slow my heartbeat
steady my breathing
steel my resolve
and turn the key
its final quarter inch
the lock clicks
the handle releases
and the door unseats inwardly
this is it
fate has dealt the deck
I am prisoner
in this horrible game
I swing the door open
ever so gradually
and step in
toward my destiny…
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
bones against the cruel clay
of an arid barren mind
bones spilled from soul boxes
in which I’d desperately collected
the scarred and damaged pieces
of my broken dreams
dreams now parched and withered
dried brittle in the coarse winds
of my dire confusion
their promises scratched and raspy
slowly slipping unintelligible
into the chaos and cacophony
of the crows in fallow fields
• • •
• • •
• • •
to sidle in uncertainty
into the chafing
cutting light
head bowed
spirit crushed
tensed for flight
emerging
visible again
though barely
poised to recoil
from any sudden emotion
long now in hiding
stowed away in sorrow
fragile as a newborn bird
unsteady as a fawn
just as frightened
as unsure
my wounded soul
took refuge in aloneness
dug in
resolved to disappear
become invisible
perhaps to die
the weight of life too great
simple breaths
a considered labor
but still I drew them
hesitantly
long I lay
shallow breathing
unwashed
unfed
resigned to simply vanish
from this hopeless realm
despaired I would never find
a reason to go on
yet slowly I emerge
but please
no impulsive expectations
permit me slow and careful evolution
from my chrysalis of anguish
let me find my way
back into the light
from my place of hiding
offer only patience
and safe distance
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes
I see wan faces of unsmiling lips
their void curves denounce this night
yet unseen
is the gossamer curtain’s fall
that defines their soul’s duality
the divergent reality
through which truth stumbles blind
to move in the world rough as a rope
taut as every promise made
frayed as wisdom
leaned in whispered from behind
grab at time like dropped money
I might learn something tonight
if someone will release the light
so I can shine like a child
who likes ice cream most of all
this child reads old mens’ minds
and notices the shoes
the belts all made of leather
I feel a shiver of sad imbalance
a confliction in my soul
so I will watch the shoes
and practice non-attachment
because I can
but pieces of me
stick to whoever gets too close
you may have seen me
silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January
howling with the frozen moon
then moon and I
sneak through fate’s construct
among cages of studs & trusses we run
from room to imaginary room
the whole world close enough to touch
we eat a midnight lunch of damaged bread
seasoned by caution and foreign lands
with onion’d thoughts layered deep
show mercy
peel back the layers
peel me away thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul
I hope I am not ugly in your sight
these thoughts become too heavy to hold
to tough to chew or swallow
my thoughts
bone-white lies of morality plays
open for you to peek
hope they are not ugly in your sight
hope they do not make you weep
as you peel back all the layers
onion’d thought layers
held fast and firm
like a carapace
to which I’m stitched and welded
and can no more leave than you can truly enter
they tie me down sometimes
but sometimes barely so
inescapable optimism in my bare-bones grin
flashes in the brittle moonlight
a stranger comes to where I sit
to see
his stare blinds the stars from my eyes
behind his fey smile
his radar dreams scan the forgotten creases
the clandestine getaways in my mind
standing over
he peers down with probing gaze
one of us
will learn a thing or two this night
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
____________________________________________
…an edited re-write of an earlier draft…
•
like the disembodied
hands of Neptune
reaching from a rocky confine
breaking surface
into the watery realm
seeking
grasping
needing
but entombed
in a glassened globe
a crystal cage
cruelly shut away
from that which is most desired
contact
connection
prisoner
in brutal isolation
banished
even from the lesser gods
condemned eternally
to never know
the redemption of touch
• • •
•
I am the sad little clown
with the frowning face
the round red nose
and the great big tear
this meek facade
and silly sham
belie the horror
that I engineer
life’s dealt me cold
my hand is slack
not a queen
no king nor ace
the violence
that dwells within
is masked behind
my woeful face
no one suspects
the evil soul
that festers deep
in this funny fool
they know not
the monster in me
the gentle sheen
conceals the cruel
they don’t realize
a broken heart
a ruined life
makes one quite mad
they simply see
the pitiful
and painted face
that looks so sad
the shaggy coat
the baggy pants
the red suspenders
the big white glove
they do not know
it hides the hand
that choked the life
and killed their love
town after town
state after state
bodies mount
in the circus’ wake
in the dead of night
at the dark of moon
in frenzied fever
each life I take
each beautiful
each innocent
each unaware
that they would die
there will be more
on the road ahead
one for every tear
you made me cry
when the circus comes
and the tents go up
the people cheer
in each sleepy town
‘cause in their ignorance
what they don’t know
who’s really come
is the killer clown
• • •
In the spirit of the 1st prompt on the newly re-opened Writer’s Island, I retrieved this message from my imaginary bottle, unrolled, then read it — this is what it said:
Seamen brave and strong as we
There’s a truth that we all learn
When brave and strong men go to sea
Tis not certain they’ll return
___________________________
October 23rd, 1997
This may be the last few hours of my life. I feel compelled to take this paper and pen and chronicle my end – to feel I did not die in vain… in faith that someone may find this.
I penned the brief sea chant you see at the top, because it continues to turn over and over in my head.
I have no radio or communications devices. They were all destroyed. I have no way of getting a message out — save this crude method.
How I hope that someone will find this. The address of my family and their phone number is on the back. Please, whoever may discover this – see that it gets to my family. Thank you so very much!
I’m the only one left. Carey was killed in the crash, and Gill succumbed to his mortal wounds last night. I rolled his body into the ocean to satisfy the sharks, and keep them at bay for a bit longer.
They’ve circled through the night — it’s the third night they returned. They get bolder each time – the largest has lost all fear. He’s bumped me several times in the last couple of hours. He’s taunting, he knows I’m nearing my end.
When the attack comes, and come it will very soon — it will be vicious and final. I’m certain I will not survive it, but I’m reasonably confident it will be over quickly. At least three of the most aggressive circling are great whites – large enough to finish a man in a few quick rips.
I’m so very weary; I almost wish it would just happen. The uncertainty of waiting is getting to be too much… I’m exhausted… I’m ready.
This was to be our last run up from Cuba. So many uneventful trips… I think we grew careless. We’d broken out a couple bottles of the contraband Varadero and lit up a couple of the Cohibas to celebrate this last trip. I never ceased to be amazed how much money we were making smuggling in illegal Cuban Rum and Cigars… just unbelievable.
We were literally flying over the wave tops in our custom 32′ Donzi race-hull speeder. We weren’t full open, but we were doing 70 knots on the calm seas — the 1,000 horses purrin’ like a kitten.
We were too caught up in the booze and stogies to notice the sleeper cross-wave until it caught us sideways at mid-hull and snapped this cigarette boat like a twig – it just exploded out from under us.
One minute I am in a speeding boat with my two best friends skimmin’ the waves – the next minute we’re in the water, with just a piece of the aft hull in tact. The rest was splintered flotsam and jetsam. Our cargo, what wasn’t destroyed, or on the bottom of the deep blue — floated and bobbed in their wooden cases like square corks.
Carey was dead, Gill critically wounded, and I – just dazed. I dragged Gill and I up onto the small fragment of the Donzi that was still afloat, where Gill eventually died. Carey had floated away. The sharks found him in less than an hour. They finished him in a turbulent frenzy.
Before the end comes I want to say my farewells to my family. Ironically, I’m going to seal this message in one of the Varadero Rum bottles. It was smuggling this shit that got Carey and Gill killed – and soon I as well.
Kathy, my sweet wife, you’ve been the love of my life – patient, understanding… you make me so happy, though I don’t show it all the time. I get caught up in the fog of life’s distractions — buried in my pride and insecurity.
But alone out here, under the warm Atlantic sun, a calm has settled over me. I’m filled with peace, and a joy that is my love for you! I see with great clarity how much you mean to me as my wife. My emotions are overwhelming me. I see how remarkable our relationship is.
So, my love, when I’m gone, please see these words as a place you can visit and be nurtured. A private, wonderful place you can go, to know these treasures that have always been in my heart. I will be there – close your eyes and you will feel me there, and my love.
And my darling daughter Jennifer — after all these years, you have never lost your magic. Like a brilliant sorceress, with one word, you can cast your spell, and put me in a wonderful dream. Your magic word is, “Daddy!†You say this as you smile deeply into my eyes — “Daddy!†I melt.
I will always be your daddy and you will forever be my little girl, my firstborn, my beautiful daughter! Thinking of you here, now, tears fill my eyes.
You make certain you don’t settle in life for anyone who doesn’t love, respect, and appreciate you as much as I do, as your family does.
You make sure you introduce any guy you may fall for to mom, and to your brother. If they don’t approve, you listen closely to their reasons why. Do not compromise your integrity — ever!
Your father loves you Jen… I love you dearly.
And Justin, my son — my baby… ours is a tough relationship, tough love, no room for timid. It is so easy for me to see your faults, and poke at them — for there in you go I. We are so very much alike it scares me.
Your imperfections glare at me because I possess them all, every one of them within me — and more. Photos of me from my past, uncanny, they might as well be you.
But it’s where we are not alike that your miracle begins.
You are smarter than I ever was. You care for people, honestly. You face life with strength and courage. I just marvel at you – I really do! You have accomplished so much already in your life – and you’ve just begun.
We argue at times, but my love for you is deep son… my pride is lasting. It’s impossible with these words, to tell you what you mean to me. But every word for love and pride – I feel in my heart for you!
I know you will miss me, and probably feel lost and angry at first – but you will recover quickly, I know you will. I know how intelligent and strong willed you are.
Please take care of your mother, and Jenny. They will need your strength, just as you will need their nurturing.
I love you Jus, and I know you love me — I always have known. We are father and son. inseparable forever — remember that!
And Aaron, I find myself thinking so much about you. I’m looking at your picture in my wallet. It’s my favorite picture of you, son — the one I cherish most since your passing.
It is the simple snapshot, taken at the airport, upon your return from having run the New York City Marathon.
You have a gentle, triumphant smile. Your eyes are beaming behind the “cool†shades you have on. Your jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness, bag thrown carefree over your shoulder, and your medal hangs proudly around your strong neck.
You are 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 was run, your bag was packed, and your reward was in your hand. You now fly my sweet angel – fly!
Dad will be there soon. I can’t wait to throw my arms around you. I have missed you so very much, my gentle giant – but I’m coming.
Kathy, Jenny, Justin – I don’t want you to cry for this old man too long. I am not afraid out here right now. I feel Aaron with me, so very close – and soon he and I will see each other again.
We will both wait for each of you guys to finish your business down here on earth – then we will all be together. But take your time and enjoy all there is in life.
Don’t be too upset with wayward old me. I might have been a smuggler, but I never hurt anyone – and I loved you all from the bottom of my heart.
I only have two pieces of paper, so this message must come quickly to an end. I really am not frightened. With my last breaths and energy I will be hugging you all, squeezing you tightly – and kissing you all good-bye.
I love you; please know that – I love you all so much!
Kathy, go see Warren. He has a key for you. Then go see Grace, she has an address for you. Finally see Barry, he has a box number for you. They don’t know about each other.
Use these things together and you will be comfortable for the rest of your life.
When you trim the Christmas tree each year, think of me as you hang the Father Christmas ornament. You know it is my favorite.
Good-bye… until we are all together again!