Uplift the dreams of each other
join your hearts with one another
be loving and strong — let truth stand
find the special way you’re needed
hear her outcries — see they’re heeded
when she’s downcast extend your hand
weak kneed insincerity’s gone
brave real action — well past its dawn
we must bring light upon the land
rob kistner © 11/28/24
Poetry at: dVerse
Original digital surreal art: “Fall Feast” by: rob kistner © 11/28/24
Got the turkey on the table
we’ll eat as much as we’re able
and sautéed green beans — man oh man
stuffing is a really big hit
sweet corn – can’t get enough of it
mashed taters made the dinner plan
we’ll wrap it up with punkin’ pie
rich whipped cream piled high as the sky
food porn with good wine — such a fan!
Original digital surreal art: “Pumpkin Custard Cinnamon Chocolate Pie”
by: rob kistner © 11/28/24
*
rob kistner © 11/28/24
Poetry at: dVerse
Original digital surreal art: “Regal Rag Man” by: rob kistner © 11/28/24
Rags-ole-iron, he called out loudly
rags-ole-iron, his cart rolled our road
collecting scraps of post World War II
gathered in a this’n’that recycled load
he had a slow n’steady way about him
from where he came — I never knew
he always seemed quite magical to me
like some enchantment had come true
he was such a mystery to this young boy
tattered mad-hatted wizard from the past
I’d hear his call echo between the houses
I’d rush wonder-filled to watch him pass
his wheels rumbled quietly on the pavement
his piled bounty clicked n’clacked n’clattered
he came out of a dream then into a memory
somehow I felt his regal purpose mattered
time-to-time he still passes in that memory
rumbling down that misty street of long ago
where he came from and to where he went
truly a magical mystery I care never t’know
*
rob kistner © 11/28/24
Poetry at: dVerse
The dual suns
still above the horizon
warm me as I journey
casting the strange landscape
into stark vivid presence
planet Terrius
its orange suns
and black sky
make this alien world
startling
yet fascinating
I embarked at solar midday
senses alive and alert
consumed by the thrill of exploration
heady with anticipation of discovery
given the physical evidence
present on the planet’s surface
of seeming ordered thinking
I had set out today believing
or certainly hoping
I might make first Terrian contact
but it is day’s end
the suns are setting
darkness spreads
over this severe terrain
void of color
early shadows fall across my face
a veiled foreboding settles upon me
there are many shadows here
other shadows
odd shadows
unfamiliar
disturbing specters
that disrupt my nights
disquiet my soul
steal my peace
they come unannounced
almost imperceptible
but no time for worry
there is still far to go
I am eager to move
drawn by the need
to reach my ship
to reach safety
yet here I stand
momentarily motionless
immobile with uncertainty
yet captivated
captivated by the haunting beauty
that is this planet’s rising moon
Astarus
not unlike earth’s
but more harsh
Original digital surreal art: “Astarus — Terrian Moon”
by: rob kistner © 11/26/24
a steel blue glow
with an amber aura
mesmerizing
hypnotizing
I shudder and sober
turn into the evening winds
and venture onward
across this foreign world
again the shadows shift
dull confusion finds me
I lose my pace
draw up in momentary halt
nagging concern engulfs me
panic pierces my solace
bewilderment grips me
unwelcome
it holds me
uncomfortable in my skin
these feelings sweep over me
clouding briefly my purpose
obscuring my destination
finally they waft
across the darkening valley
lies my shuttle craft
my safety
urgently I proceed
but again my mind fogs
I wander
and once more lose focus
an eerie mist
settles like a shroud
every night
there is a moonset
pitch black is coming
coming much too quickly
pitch black is lethal
save for my heated suit
the frightening night noises
unsettling dreams
squander my sleep
I am exhausted
suddenly
an alarm startles
my suit’s battery pack
has failed
my helmet beam
now inoperable
communications dead
suit heater disrupted
cut off
alone
I am in dire trouble
a sense of peril gnaws
builds
paralyzing fear
I have lost all light
oxygen tanks nearly spent
my suit temperature dropping
I fear I’ll loose my way
I will not make it back
before pitch black
consumes me
takes me
alone
here
so far from earth
so far from home
so far
from you
so far
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Sacred Space” by: rob kistner © 5/7/24
Deep
in this primeval wood
secreted among the old-growth
nestles a sacred forest clearing
soft filtered sunlight
falls golden
gently through the canopy
let us go
walk with me my friend
but let us be quiet
let us listen
to the voices of nature
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: dVerse
Far if not near
if there not here
one is not
without the other
so is up to down
and on to off
in to out
as hard to soft
it’s good or bad
happy sad
young or old
if hot not cold
it’s stop to go
either yes or no
as is likewise
fast to slow
dark and light
as in day and night
the quintessential
he and she
it is the two
defines the dance
opposites aren’t chance
they’re a matter of balance
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
He had such a great laugh
and talent 100 fold
he was a keyboard wizard
who conjured hard won magic
on a daily basis
riding persistent sentry
over his mighty
sleeping white dragon
keeping it at bay
protecting himself
and loved ones
from its ravaging fire
the white dragon had held him captive
for over seven years
having overtaken him one day
in a careless moment of weakness
when this wizard had been foolish
and let down his guard
but the brave wizard
Sir DaVied as he was known
had again found his courage
and fought back the white dragon
driving it into submission
difficult and tentative as it was
sadly though
the cunning dragon
would not be held down
and in a moment
when the wizard’s vigilence
had sadly waned
the white dragon pulled Sir DaVied
once more under his evil spell
on this fateful day
the wizard’s infectious laughter
had become infected lunacy
his beautiful dreams
had again become dread
as the nightmares returned
the evil white dragon
imprisoned the wizard
in its dark and haunted lair
it was reported
Sir DaVied’s rants
could be clearly heard
above the bustle
of the homeward privileged
that passed unaware
of the wizard’s dilemma
the battle had raged long
coarse rants and ramblings
rose from the rancid shadows
until in final desperation
fetid hands lit the fateful fire
that brought to boil
the white magic potion
of the wizard’s deliverance
he’d slipped the cold steel
into the froth of sweet promise
still warm with transformation
and drew the white magic potion
into the glassen’d vessel
of ultimate escape
tied and tapped into submission
distraught from battle
this magical musical wizard
impaled his demons
with the white dragon’s dagger
hoping the potion
would drive back the monster
saving himself yet again
but not this time
no deliverance this time
the cunning white dragon
broke down the wizard’s defense
and claimed the brave wizard
as silver-white sleep
carried him away
the wizard was gone
gone on his silver steed
for his final ride
to the realm of no return
now the wizard’s castle
is in abandoned disarray
no lights to stave off darkness
the piano is broken-keyed
caked with time and neglect
no more does the wizard
descend the marble stairs
and glide back
the black lacquered bench
nor lay hands
on the polished ivory
to control the mighty Steinway
no more does he confidently caress
and coax those keys to his commands
no more do the beautiful strains
of the gold-framed
spiral-string soundboard
waft tenderly up the staircase
nor ring gently
in the empty atrium
no — the wizard DaVied
has passed
but in my soul
in my heart
his spirit
his music
(((echoes on…)))
Photograph by Romain Thiery
*
rob kistner © 2021
revision © 2024
Poetry at: Sunday Muse
Poetry at: dVerse
When the most diabolical
believe they have risen above
the blood, the shit, the afterbirth
of their human origin
when in their reflection
they see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship of nature
binds them to their center
nor founds them in the
fevered fumbling fury
of the frightened flesh parade
in which they lock step
flailing for survival
when their insanity of arrogance
so distorts their vision of history
of time
of the ancient
of the sweating
bone-broken reality
of human swill and wallow
through which they likewise trudge
shiny shoes or no
when they blatantly begin
to eat their own
while copulating with false gods
on forsaken gilded altars
of greed
of megalomania
of perjured horrors
then the hour of the beast
is certainly at hand
and the terror of the dragon nature
will rise up
in unbridled evil
attempting to impose
to dominate
if we do not slay this dragon
we will all become
the hulking mass
of the apocalypse
deserving to be struck down
and our fool’s hearts
torn out and severed
by the self-inflicted rapier
of raw ignorance
of lethal indifference
and our empty husks
immolated
on the pyre of gullibility
in the flames of banished
abandoned truth
and cowardice
the decision turns
the direction is poised
that moment is here
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: dVerse
it paints the strange landscape
in a vivid foreign luminescence
since the Brin arrived
placed their electro-sun in orbit
and terraformed earth
this has become a startling alien world
the Brin are a beautiful species
but ruthlessly predatory
most of humanity
has been captured or killed
I am a surviving fugitive
hiding in an ancient fallout shelter
I embarked at midday
senses alive and alert
hoping I would make contact
with other fugitive humans
survivors of the invasion
they exist
I’ve observed evidence
but it is day’s end
the Brin sun is slowly setting
moonlight will soon bathe
this exotic terrain
our moon still orbits
compatible with their terraforming
early shadows fall across my face
a foreboding settles upon me
there are many shadows now
odd shadows
disturbing specters
that disrupt my nights
disquiet my soul
steal my peace
they come unannounced
almost imperceptible
but no time for worry
there is still far to go
yet here I still stand
captivated
by the haunting
yet terrifying beauty
that is our altered planet
I shudder and sober
turn into the evening breeze
and venture onward
immersed in the eerie blue glow
of the now dimming Brin sun
I am eager to move
drawn by the need to reach my shelter
to reach safety
there are other shelters
so I continue my search
for others still alive
as is now my daily routine
which includes hunting for fuel
used to heat and cook
I burn a pulpy Brin plant
which they call Griscalka
now plentiful on earth
I hunt the Masocca
a Brin wild animal
which I discovered is edible
I scrounge for water
unfortunately not plentiful
but it is part of the Brin ecosystem
in this moment
exhausted
feelings of loss sweep over me
clouding briefly my focus
then they waft
I see across the darkening valley
my shelter
my safety
I’m caught
by a thought
our ancient ancestors
built these fallout shelters
to protect human life
but they never imagined
it would be the remaining few
of all humanity
they’d protect
from predatory extraterrestrials
rob kistner © 2019u
Original digital surreal art: “Brin Mothership” by: rob kistner © 11/18/24
Original digital surreal art: “Brin Troop Assault Vehicle” by: rob kistner © 11/18/24
Original digital surreal art: “Terraformer Venicle” by: rob kistner © 11/18/24
Original digital surreal art: “Rapid Ship to Surface Shuttle” by: rob kistner © 11/18/24
TO POSSIBLY BE CONTINUED…
This poem was my way of allowing earth, with outside help from the Brin, to strike back and wake we humans up to how we have mistreated our mother Gia. I took my vision of this piece much further in my mind. In the scenario I had imagined, this was several hundred years in the future and there had been a second phase of higher tech shelters built and concealed worldwide, around the year 2100, in response to another wave of significant global conflict, among the people of earth — long before there was even any awareness of the Brin, or that any other extraterrestrials existed. So if the few survivors of the Brin invasion made it to the shelters around the globe — then it would depend on how well the world fared against the Brin. I haven’t yet thought what the number of human survivors might be though. Remember, a number of survivors have been captured and enslaved by the Brin, so there is a potential of more humans escaping into the landscape as well. I would say a total of 20-25% of the world population survived the initial Brin onslaught. Some now imprisoned, some now on the run as fugitives around the globe — not sure right now how those two groups would break down in number. Also, here is a critical point impacting the taking of this story forward. The human communication grid on the earth’s surface is destroyed. However, there is still one communication satellite remaining in orbit, there’s just no way to link to it. Or, might that be painstakingly possible, with major effort by the right faction of fugitives (maybe even some Brin sympathizers)? Hmmmm… One final fact perhaps to consider — the Brin may have enemies out in the universe, capable of space travel. — — Anyway… That is the likely overall situation in which this story could continue?
We’ve watched golden fire clouds, hanging in the bright cerulean skies, here over the azure seas of our Toluras home. We have walked to anointment here, on the sacred Path of Captured Light. We’ve seen the copper leaves of the Parmus fronds, flashing from our Indigo Mountains, in the crisp crystal Gemin mists.
We have strolled quietly, hand in hand, in the lush emerald meadows of Telma, sharing its golden Angel Fruit, 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.
We have beheld exquisite beauty in our rich, full life — but none so breathtaking, my love, as your eyes tonight. Now fate deems I must go. If you find yourself lonely, missing me, look into the night sky. The eternal splendor it holds is our everlasting love.
*
rob kistner © 11/18/24
Poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Storm Tossed” by: rob kistner © 11/14/23
~ A SEA SHANTY ~
—< § >—
Loved my life — yet life felt empty
was then I looked the water’s way
a racing sailor’s life for me
a solo skiff to set me free
a schooner for a crewing day
a racing sailor’s life for me
I sailed with speed to victory
this racing life blew me away
a racing sailor’s life for me
sometimes the sea roared angrily
sometimes a peaceful rocking sway
a racing sailor’s life for me
I raced no fear relentlessly
and lived my dream life ev’ry’day
a racing sailor’s life for me
weather harsh or weather kindly
in gratitude I’d always pray
a racing sailor’s life for me
the oceans roll and trade winds blow
I now ride heaven’s ebb and flow
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: dVerse
Southern Cross — a constellation used for navigation in the southern oceans.
Fiddler’s Green — a sailor’s heaven for those lost at sea.
MY INSPIRATIONS FOR THIS PIECE: “ i imagine that yes is the only living thing and i imagine that hope is the only stopping place.” — e e cummings
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Fragile & Vulnerable” by: rob kistner © 11/12/23
Making a gaudy show of leaving
hoping she would turn and stop him
walking out the door – he’s hoping
always looking back and hoping
wondering her change o’season
hoping it would matter to her
hoping that an empty place
would open in her heart
that only he could fill
he’s hurt and fragile
hoping his leaving
left such a void
hoping deeply
ever hoping
a lost leaf
blowing
away
sad
so
§
as
a lone
brittle leaf
lost n’stranded on
life’s hardened highway
can be so easily crushed
by apathy’s traffic
so sadly hope
can too
be
but so too can be the surprising power of hope ~ if one strives !
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Oh Horrors” by: rob kistner © 11/8/24
What the…
how’d this happen again
the fascist megalomaniac’s back
spewing his racist
misogynistic
shit
he ain’t morally fit
the jerk-wad’s a criminal
his message ain’t subliminal
it’s right there in your face
he’s a damned disgrace
the 3%’s in luck
rest’o’us…
we’re fucked!
*
rob kistner © 2024
Poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Cruel Sun” by: rob kistner © 2/15/24
Vivid
in this waking dream
this nightmare
I see shapes of faces
scabbed unsmiling lips
their void curve
denounce this time
they’re escaping the scald
fleeing the cruel sun
as fate is dancin’
broken in the moonlight
the victimized
yet unseen
blackened and charred
by the agenda
of this abomination
this cruel sun
they bemoan
their soul’s duality
realizing
the divergent reality
through which
their truth
stumbles blind
to move in the world
rough as a rope
taut as every false promise made
frayed as feigned wisdom
leaned in
whispered from behind
obscured by the backhand
I reach
to grab at time
like dropped money
ever more precious
doing so
I feel the shiver
the sad imbalance
it’s a confliction
in the omnisoul
in my soul
so
I’ll practice non-attachment
because I can
knowing
I must
in this time
and observe
the lonely lost
who’ve trapped their truth
in dreams
locked in a wired cage
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Caged Dreams”
by: rob kistner © 2/15/24
wholly removed
indifferent
but still
pieces of me
of my sorrow
stick to them
to whomever
gets too close
you may have seen me
sobbing
silhouetted against the sky
that coldest night in November
cowering
under the frozen moon
then that moon and I
sought to escape
running down corridors of time
from genuine memory
through illusion
hiding from the devious
cruel sun
the whole world
close enough to touch
yet distant
distracted
past false truth
past illusion
past hypocrisy
past monomaniacal delusion
heaped and layered
thick and deep
oh please
peel back
these poisoned layers
peel them away
to clear the way
for a clean
quivering soul
uncertain
but imbued with
curiosity for possibility
because these stale
cutting thoughts
infect my thoughts
making them too pressing
too heavy to hold
or chew
or swallow
or lug
in this massive bag
of regret
my thoughts
my madness
spawned in the bone-white lies
of morality plays
immorality plays
mortality plays
I will play a dirge
sing a bittersweet song
as we come together
as we join
to peel back
all these noxious layers
these brackish
thought
layers
held fast and firm
by this oppressive
cruel sun
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Oh Horrors”
by: rob kistner © 11/8/24
seared into my soul
by that caustic smile
that baboonish grin
that devious faux smile
that sours to bitter
in the brittle grey
that settles
like a shroud
through the overcast
in these dark days
a brandished
weaponized smile
a lethal smile
his radar eyes
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in our minds
squelching our truth
standing over
he looks down
icy eye’d
he sees my scabbed lips
cracked and dry
“cruel sun gotcha”
he smirks
with lethal contempt
let us all cry out
“no more”
let us rip away
this venom
this lethal virus
this heartless evil
so that a new dawn
a new sun will rise
spread its light
and warm our hearts
with the radiance of rebirth
let enlightenment rain
let love pour down
drown this cruel sun
and rekindle the flame of hope
or perhaps a brave savior
wielding the lightning
to solve this blight
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Flame of Hope”
by: rob kistner © 2/15/24
*
rob kistner © 2021-2024
Poetry at: dVerse
A dramatic shift in how conflicts now unfold has successfully occurred. Rather than relying on traditional military might, nations and groups now effectively leverage the power of information, ideas, and technology to shape public opinion, influence political outcomes, and create division. This type of conflict—often described as “information warfare”—involves the strategic use of propaganda, misinformation, and blatant lies, supported by clever cyber tactics to undermine traditionally strong societies from within.
In an interconnected world where people get their information online, the battle for hearts and minds now takes place in virtual spaces. Cyber attacks, disinformation campaigns, and the manipulation of social media to stir mistrust and dread, while disrupting economies, weakening trust in institutions, and sowing discord among citizens. These tools are as powerful as, if not more so than, physical weapons, especially when they influence the very fabric of a society’s beliefs and values. World War III is upon us, being waged with weapons more devious and destructive than military. WAKE UP!
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Low Altitude Space-Glider” by: rob kistner © 11/5/24
Joy rises
over the earth today
as the thermals
‘neath my wings
lift them to soaring
it’s off into space
my dreams I’m exploring
lifting me aloft
in free floating flight
my spirit’s alive
in this sacred delight
left to my heart’s abandon
my destination random
I hear the earth’s whisper
the breeze’s sigh
they say
this is how it feels to fly
the soft sounds waft
lilting into the sky
I’m lifting
drifting
as high
and far
as thermals will permit
my searching soul
eager to submit
as I feel the winds
take me
soaring high
into a brilliant sky
leaving the clouds
far below
like ever rolling
pillow‘d snow
until all I hear
murmuring in my ear
is the voice
of the breeze
and the song
in my soul
watching the world
bend away
over the infinite horizon
I see life
from a new perspective
seeking clarity
my new-found objective
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Child’s Flight’o’Fancy”
by: rob kistner © 11/5/24
my dream since a child
to soar the blue heaven’s wild
that my young prayer be heard
to fly like a bird
now is when
I at last begin
the revealing journey
far out and deep in
swept up
and away
in ever-climbing rise
ascending today
with wide open eyes
high above this world of ours
the tiny blue planet
among the vast stars
into low altitude
outer-space
a child’s smile
upon my face
silently upward
as joy rises
*
rob kistner © 2024
More Poetry at: d’Verse