(bastard’s lament)
•
undesired
discarded
thrown away
though whole
sound
and useful
no matter
labeled mistake
misbegotten
unfortunate
shown the back
outside
looking in
left behind
alone
by the side
of life’s road
to endure
the harsh weather
of abandonment
tried
convicted
sentenced for life
to suffer confusion
shame
the sorrow
of the unwanted
condemned
guilty only
of the crime
of inconvenience
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
(a poetic quadratych)
•
The Secret
what I said was
don’t touch
go away
leave me be
while inside
I cried out
draw near
stay with me
you are light
you are pure
you are joy
you are free
I am not
I am dark
I am beast
can’t you see
without you
there is much
you don’t know
about me
The Revelation
I lived at the light’s edge
that pooled in the night
on the bleak back streets
of the sad brokenhearted
I hid in the anguish
of the loveless who cowered
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten
I fed on the grief
of the mourners who wailed
for their horrific loss
in the ruins of death
this was my heartscape
black as mid-winter night
a lightless horizon
no glimmer of hope
trusting was toxic
no foothold for love
relations were carnage
scattered lifeless and cold
The Change
’til a beautiful being
eyes brilliant and true
approached from afar
bearing tinder of love
the graceful arrangement
was deftly ignited
and patiently tended
the fire gently stoked
afraid to come forward
I held outside the glow
but your kindness drew me
we stood by the blaze
with passion it roared
its light pierced my blackness
its heat thawed my soul
my cold heart was warmed
The Miracle
you wrapped yourself ‘round me
gazed into my eyes
your kiss soft and serene
was the essence of healing
with you in my life
I am darkness removed
soaring and weightless
radiant and rising
vital and caring
my spirit’s renewed
illuminated wholly
by a new dawn of dreams
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
rise up
clad in colors of a joyful life
rebuke the strife
tilt against convention
the prevailing norm
is a toxic storm
buck the winds of rebuff
ignore the false contention
stare down the face of ridicule
if buffeted by cruel
condemnation
shun the foolish
sadly blown off course
by the brutish force
of blind conformation
be not inclined to fear
nor falter
choose instead
to quell their mindless dread
and so to alter
the contradiction
which grips their head
stay one’s ground
leaning hard on raw conviction
wait the weight
until one’s strength is found
be anchored bold
and deeply hold
to the true and genuine
until your patience spent
revives again
do not resent
remain flexible
to withstand the blows
resisting those
who would see you swayed
and lowly bent
who would see
your spirit broken
for so to savor
instead
raise high your head
don’t ever waver
be never rigid
brittle
prone to break
do not forsake
your heart song
eschew the wayward
noisy throng
breakthrough
wisdom is a supple soul
struck through
by true enlightenment
pierced clean and strong
by wonder
bleeding tolerance
and promise
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
version 1
I taste you like a peach
sweet juice trickles to my chin
I bite you like an Apple
your crisp laughter fills my ears
I devour you like a strawberry
tart and succulent on my tongue
I drink you like thick nectar
you flow rich into my soul
I desire you completely
longing to be fulfilled
I consume you wholly
flushed with wanton pleasure
____
version 2
my mouth on you
soft
like a peach
you glisten
trickle from my lips
I bite you
sweet
like an apple
your hushed breath
staccato crisp
you taste
tart as a strawberry
succulent
as love’s nectar
a delicious
wanton pleasure
____
rob kistner © 2010
it is my coursing vital
stirs my spirit
steels my resolve
drives me on
into the fray
emboldened
“to thine own selfâ€
resonates
the chambers
of my soul
sweet
as the song
of angels
if one is not
author
of the life
one lives
it is
plagiarized
and its essence
forged
it is my pen
scribes my epitaph
the spark
must be authentic
or the fire
arson
the flame
that burns within
is mine
do not expect
I will ignite
for you
or blaze
to your vision
you are not
my flint
do not attempt
to chart
my course
I search
my own
horizon
do not
contain me
I live
outside
do not
seek me
on the surface
I break deep
below
the negative
do not
summon me
to your queue
yours is not
my grid
or file
you are not
my piper
this
I know
I stand in line
for no one
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…a short story of intrigue…
•
“What do you mean Taylor,†Gwen inquired, the strain obvious in her weary voice. “Who exactly is going to confront Dylan… and why?â€
Her voice trailed off to an exasperated whisper. The why was not so much a question, as an exhalation of confused frustration. She seemed to know the answer was much too complicated to address at this hour, and she was too spent, physically and emotionally, to want to hear it.
Gwen turned away from Taylor, head lowered. Her arms fell limp at her side, fingers splayed. She was trying her best to process what Taylor was saying, to understand him – to understand the recent events that had brought her to this place in time… trying to make sense of anything. Her head was spinning, and she could feel the fatigue deep in her bones.
She dropped back onto the sofa, half sitting, half lying down – an exhausted slouch. She felt paralyzed, thoughts racing through her mind – fragmented, disconnected thoughts. If only she could clear her head. She was in trouble.
Continue reading The Box
______________
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I had this incomplete 3-year-old draft of my poem “True Work” (loosely inspired by Gary Snyder’s “Real Work”). I had wanted, for some time, to edit it into a piece, with which I would be more satisfied. The above listed prompt inspired me to create a suite of poetry, threaded together by the phrase: true work. My focus for this suite being humanity, which was the crux of the “True Work” draft I already had. The digital rendering I created of the hand holding the world helped me finish my vision of this poetry suite.
the first test – no result
I try a second
then a third
on and on
day after day
long hours in the lab
the formula must be perfect
only perfect will save lives
drywall must be flush
and plumb
also square and seamless
meticulously
I set each sheet
with the level and the bob
then pause
to wipe my sweating brow
I curse the clay
do battle with fatigue
I coax my muse
to commit to form
the first draft of my vision
to then modify
and remold
until the ultimate creation
these are elements of the work I do
or did
or may yet do
and I am you
and you are me
and we are all together
in this endeavor of our daily life
but this is not our true work
to bend to lift someone in need
to help carry their burden
until they again stand steady
to seek the components of peace
to formulate the dialog
that fosters understanding
to measure well tolerance
to stand squarely flush
with truth and level justice
to visualize universal love
to create the enduring model
for a free and vital world
this — is our true work
so little done
so much to do
* * *
If Only
____
stressed beyond limits
earth’s fragile balance falters
but this can be changed
her future is in our hands
if only we do true work
* * *
Endeavor
____
abstain from false pride
prayer does not a halo make
that requires true work
____
rob kistner © 2010
* photorendering above entitled “In Our Hands”
by: rob kistner © 2010
•
slow
satisfying
soak
serenely steamy
soft supple skin
salaciously slathered
shaved smooth
satin-silky
seductive scent
subtly spread
sensuous strokes
sliding
stimulating
stirring sighs
shivers
savoring
so
so
so slippery
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
years spun wild as a top
around faster ever faster
life layering its patina
etched deeply in my face
suddenly no longer young
now looking back from 63
I’ve known triumph I’ve known tragedy
they’ve marked me both the same
I’ve borrowed bought and sold
strayed through several shades of grey
but have I leveraged my soul
just to play the fleeting game
I pray I will not be an old man
gazing lonely out my window
trying to remember
exactly how long it has rained
not sitting silent by the fire
lost in contemplation
wondering if all I lost
was worth what it was I gained
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
it sits
still
atop the corner
of our garden wall
just where she left it
how many lilies
did it nourish
how many fuscia
lilac
rose
and morning glory
did it quench
it dispensed its
life giving waters
so gracefully
in her hand
such a delicate hand
gentle in its task
of planting new growth
but rugged on the weeds
that threatened her beloved garden
she was the giver of life
and the guardian
of her realm
but she could not
stop all that threatened
and I had not
her gift of life giving
and so it rests
atop the wall
no longer is it lifted
by her tender
hand of nurture
that hand now
is still
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
icy round
the wolf’n eye
soft and round
the riding breast
roundness
in the grande dame’s fear
a circle round
the blood moon’s crest
there are lies
within that circled moon
that surround
this cruel charade
they gather
and collect the tears
‘til midnight’s debt
is fully paid
‘til innocence
is found to want
and purity
so deep defiled
that cold and soulless
lupen eyes
will cleave the sweet
in red and wild
and all that once
was tender
will on this night
turn beastly raw
and guilted
hearts be locked away
to deny at dawn’s light
the truth they saw
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
you cannot abuse my trust
you will not cramp my love
with hatred
never shall you
defile my dream
I am your mirror
the light
that fills your dark void
the found for your lost
the hope for your despair
the grace for your sin
I am your neutral
blanking your negative
expelling it
from the realm of joy
it cannot sustain
I watch
as it withers
and fades
away
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
yesterday is money spent
a corner turned
the choice that’s made
the tear that’s shed
the sentence spoken
the breath exhaled
the fuel consumed
it’s burned to ash
today is influence
momentum moving
the raindrop falling
hands on the wheel
the river flowing
the voice that’s singing
it’s face to face
it’s real time
tomorrow is the land of dreams
it’s the great unknown
the wheel of fate
it’s the far horizon
the dawn approaching
the planted seed
has no guarantee
yet it’s full of promise
• • •
Continuum Redux
•
yesterday was once today
today likewise was once tomorrow
tomorrow will be yesterday
but first it must become today
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
no life without love
like a tree without blossoms
barren and fruitless
• • •
…in response to the 13th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island, I offer a piece I wrote inspired by Joni Michell’s album entitled “Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter”. Embedded in this work is the title of every track that appears on that album / also for prompt #126 ‘Angel’ at One Single Impression…
I am your brood
sired by your seed
bloodied
from your womb
whisper
in a scorching breath
tell me about
the tenth world
taunt me
in scalded apparition
tell me how
to get to dreamland
to cotton avenue
on a hot off night
back street in jericho
tell me of the fires
on paprika plains
that consumed your souls
in flames of hunger
to lust
for immortality
made you dance
at midnight
wrapped in
the silky veils of ardor
on prurient
smoldered embers
I want to go
I am ready
an inferno burns
inside me
desire rages strong
to ride the bliss of sin
son of concupiscence
I am
your son
your lifeblood
courses through me
hammers in my temples
sets my heart ablaze
impassioned
I wil prowl
the shadow’d haunts
of jericho
the dark places
of the tenth world
following your ghosts
seeking
don jaun’s reckless daughter
my scarlet jezebel
my nocturne angel
to take me
in a fever
to whirl me ‘round
to burn me down
to ash
to scatter me
by moonlight
forever
in the winds
of memory
on those plains
of ardor
• • •
rob kistner © 2010