So Fly


 
This day
you are free

free to fly
to rise and glide
in buoyed flight

to soar skyward
in sweeping circles

so fly

fly high
on mighty thermals
high above this constant rain
you are no longer earthbound

not a prisoner
of my cold steel cage
nor of my constant sorrow
no longer captive
this day

this day will be soaring
and swooping
and diving

free

giving thanks for your feathers
and hollow bones

I have neither
and I cannot escape
so bird — fly for us both
my heart will soar with you

*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

But Wait

We are not “in charge” of earth — we must learn to be in balance…
or we will become the agents of the apocalypse!


 
As people live more and more “in the screens” of our myriad electronic devices, and less and less in the realtime, “face to face” world — we find it easier and easier to dismiss each other. Takes only a simple swipe or touch of those screens, or an on/off button. We are becoming more and more 2D “virtual”, and less and less 3D “real”. Even evolving 3D screen devices present a surreality. We are living more and more in a conjured world — in cities of our minds.

This ability to instantaneously dismiss, is a dangerous subconscious dehumanization, and in that, a subtle devaluation of each other, as flesh and blood. We have become more or less electronic entities we can have appear and disappear at whim and will. The onslaught of things to attract us and distract us, driven by internet, cable, and dish, via “24/7 streaming” of significant elements of our reality(s), create fewer and fewer “whole” things in which we are substantively grounded. This makes much of our daily “life” ethereal, temporary, avoidable, deletable, and superficial.

We are bombarded daily by unfounded supposition, opinions, dogmas, and blatant scripted lies; as well as immersive presentations of fantasy realities via movies, TV, grandiose advertisement, and video games. This occurs to such a degree that reality has become fluid — perceived truth has become relative. All of this leads further to dehumanization and devaluation of “real” human life.

We face an incredibly volatile situation, perfect for abandonment of a sense of responsibility for the real world, our earth in which we physically live — hence the acceleration of ecological disasters and burgeoning environmental collapse we are now witnessing. It also makes it much easier, through misinformation and subterfuge, for evil, exploitive agendas to take root. Agendas that can develop into very serious real world social exploitation — hence, the growing Trump nightmare, and its related trappings, as well as the other demagogs and dogmas that have begun sprouting forth in society. But wait, where are we now? These are tense, dangerous, and potentially explosive times in which we live. Ours has become an ever more fragile world.

truth has become smoke
reality’s now fluid
life is untethered

when we begin to believe
we have risen to favor
and privilege
above the humble
bloody afterbirth
of our origin

when in our reflection
we see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship to nature
binds us to our center

when our insanity
of magnified human arrogance
so distorts our vision
of the sacred ancient balance

so twists our vision
of our place in
or our inherent responsibility
to protect
the bone-broken reality
of the natural order

when we blatantly begin
to eat our own
while copulating
with false gods
on forsaken gilded altars
of rampant greed
and planetary neglect

celebrating utter disregard
for the sanctity of life
all life

then the hour of extinction
is certainly at hand

and we’ve all become
the hulking mass
of the apocalypse
deserving to be struck down
by the self-inflicted rapier
of raw wild justice

yes we do
yes we definitely do

but wait

before that
I want to be a rocketman

I want to explore the universe
soar off into outer space
way up with the stars and planets
far from this slowly dying place

until then — let’s take a leisure drive
stick our heads out of the windows
wow – those beautiful butterflies
think they know which way the wind blows

we are rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
not certain where we’re goin’

I lost my pearly guitar pic
it’s been missin’ now for hours
I found my favorite baseball mitt
in a field full of wild flowers

but wait, acres of virgin rain forest
more than 200,000 everyday
what d’fuck is it we’re thinkin’
cutting those vital trees away

we keep rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
no idea where we’re goin’

let’s put on a sunny face
let’s not appear that we are dour
let us just laugh off our guilt
while we boogie down for hours

but wait, 630,000 machine guns
are privately owned in the USA
that is a lotta gaw-damned firepower
on the loose here everyday

always rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
where the fuck we think we’re goin’

maybe just to clear my head
I’ll go ’n climb that water tower
wow — I can see a lot from here
like those school kids by the flowers

but wait, 229 school shootings
337 victims have sadly died
when you send your children off to schoolg
no guarantee they’ll come back alive

the horror’s rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
the solution is not known

hey — where’s that sunny funny face
maybe if we all join in a song
perhaps sing a song of make-believe
we can smile as we sing along

but wait, our planet’s becoming a garbage dump
ton n’a half of trash gets tossed away
by every man woman and child
each year in the US of A

we’re ‘bout to blow it blow it blow it
nearly no place left to throw it

oh sure — the world has begun to flood
the part that’s not — is burning
but hell — there ain’t no climate change
just ignore all that we’re learning

let’s just pretend that all is well
these g’damned masks are irritating
these stupid lockdowns are real hell
but wait, global plague just keeps mutating

the bug is changin’ changin’ changin’
daily life keeps rearrangin’

let’s forget these world problems
most are probably spread by hacks
let’s drive through for some fast food
I’ll have a coupala’ Big Macs

but wait 14 million children
under the tender age of five
starve each day here on this planet
fighting hard to stay alive

but we keep glut’n glut’n glut’n
and we ain’t sharin’ nutt’n

man — this is hard to take
like everybody’s gone insane
sometimes I’d like to fly away
just escape all of this pain

oh shit — my hair is all messed up
guess it’s time to go back home
but time has proven to be relative
many friends and relatives are gone

people dyin’ dyin’ dyin’
those left behind just can’t stop cryin’

close that open window please
my apathy’s blowin’ away
interplanetary travel has begun
perhaps I will launch someday

maybe out there I can just forget
how truly badly we fucked up
even though we had the warning signs
we refused to drink the bitter cup

we pretended it was gonna be alright
that surely others would handle it
but wait — we “were” the fuckin’ others
and we never cleaned up our shit

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

Poetry Pantry at: Poets & Storytellers

 






The Question


 

T he lover’s join for Hades’ night
at the dying of season’s light
as this spent year wanes
Ceres searches in vane

will life’s cycles reprise
a fertile new year again arise
will the power of the light’s rebirth
bring Persephone’s bounty again to earth

…STAY TUNED…

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

”A Lover’s Question” – Loggins & Messina

Broiled!

…my memories from years ago, living in the Ohio River Valley…

 

F inding it best to breathe more slowly in this August heat, I inhale haltingly. I can almost feel my nostrils singed by scalded air, nearly too hot and thick to breathe. The heat is suffocating. In my need for oxygen, I cautiously fill my lunges, baking them with each sustaining breath. This broiling oven is difficult to endure.

My skin weeps, ablaze in this inferno. I feel salted droplets baste my neck, trace their way irritatingly down my spine, to puddle in the small of my back, saturating the waistband of my running shorts. They collect in the hollow of my chest, hesitant in its fire breathing. Infuriatingly, they soak my shirt.

Annoying beads of sweat, bloom and seep, from beneath the smother of hair, now just a matted soak atop my head. They ooze their way, down the fevered slope of my forehead, into my eyes — and sting! Endeavoring to transform my beard into a salty bog, they cling bitter in my mustache, impossible not to taste.

Be damned you glaring sphere! You crackle in this steaming sky, bearing down rude and relentless, heartlessly imposing, sapping my energy. Nothing will be accomplished this day, my motivation is expired. Exhaustion permeates this humid midday. My thoughts feel sticky, my synapses overheated. Can I last until the quenching Autumn rain? Questions evaporate in this blistering August heat, desires vaporize, even dreams are scorched!

life rolls on slowly
simmering here in august
even my mind sweats

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

…Rhythm of the Heat — Peter Gabriel…

Wrapped

…this is 100% certifiable fiction…


 
I try knot to be
so wrapped up in gardening
but it’s grabbed my heart
what’s a country boy to do
I just can’t escape the soil

my wife’s stopped vining
gardening’s got her heart too
brought her down to earth
she’s learned to leaf me alone
her tied up with tending ours

 
*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry Pantry at: Poets & Storytellers

Poetry Inspired by Ecological Change: Earthweal

 

…inch by inch, row by row, John sings he’s gonna “grow his own”…


…John’s wife now helps tend their inch by inch, row by row…

 

Seacide

…the moment of ultimate lonliness…


 
She walks to the sea by her home
as the bright golden sunshine shown
slips into the sea all alone
heart cold as stone — heart cold as stone

all alone with her fractured dreams
tears glistening in the sun’s beams
she’s been pushed beyond her extremes
no more she screams — no more she screams

so silently she swims away
on this beautiful summer day
she’s got nothing much left to say
she just can’t stay — she just can’t stay

she has cried and cried and denied
the horrible lies they implied
distraught — she slipped under the tide
said no goodbye – fragile she died

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 



Suicide hotline: 800-273-8255
Crisis Text Line: text HOME to 741-741
Someone loves you.
Seek till you find them, then tell them you love them!

 

Heartbeat

April 14th 2017, at 2:00 AM, while in Evergreen Hospital, Kirkland WA, recovering from heart surgery — my heart stopped beating. I was saved by the efforts of their Code Blue team. That morning, a pacemaker was implanted in my heart. I began this poem not long after that, and finally finished it for this prompt.



 
Now at 74, I am no longer young
and I’ve become a little angry
temper’s short — health is shot
and my heart beat stopped last night

fortunately — right place right time
in the hospital following surgery
fate’s given me another chance
guess I had better get it right

I’ve borrowed bought and sold
lived in lotsa’ shades of grey
I damn near leveraged my soul
just to play this fleeting game

I have not always been so kind
played a little fast and loose
spent so much time chasing fortune
too much time pursuing fame

I pray I’ll not end up an old man
gazing lonely out my window
trying hard just to remember
exactly how long it has rained

not sitting silent by the fire
deeply mired in consternation
wondering if all that I have lost
was worth what it was I gained

what I gained is more than gold
probably more than I deserve
I have been given a precious gift
the love of a daughter and two sons

the miracle of a gorgeous grandson
the warmth of a loving family
I have so many lives to cherish
my heart beats strong for every one

 
*
rob kistner © 2021

~< My deepest gratitude to the Code Blue team at Evergreen! >~

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

 

Turbulent Indifference

Proverb: “silence can speak volumes”

ADBB7658-9F91-43C6-A0A7-0BBCC777003F
“Unmask” by: Maxence

…are we really happy here with this lonely game we play
looking for words to say…
Leon Russell

 

O utside
the evening breeze
freshens

copper windchimes
hanging from the eaves
ring from time to time

inside
we sit with dinner
and complacency

there is little resonance

meal finished
we clear the table
unspeaking

task done
we part quietly

me
to my desk
to write

you
to your chair
to read

outside
sunset
softly shades
the side deck

tubular bells
quietly chime
in gathering twilight

inside
soft shadows
blanket subtle activity

outside
a wakening wind
greets day’s end

chimes
vigorously keep pace

inside
turbulent indifference
veils your face

as I write
I wonder

are we happy
are you happy
16 years my junior

if we are
why is it
we do not say

do we mask with silence
to hide

to hide the vulnerable face
of love

or to hide the emptiness
the lonliness

how dangerously foolish
this emotional masquerade

should I speak
rouse you
from your pulp and plot

should I
lift my mask

should we both
before our love
slips silently away

but what to say
what can mute hearts
share

what is there
to say

perhaps
it’s all been said
so I go to bed

I hear the car door
as you drive
into the night

outside
tuned copper
chimes in darkness

inside
silence
rings aloud

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Written and performed by Leon Russell

————————-<~ § ~>-———————-

Sting, with Portland OR’s Chriss Botti on trumpet

Porcelain Tear

…dedicated to all children who have died in fire…

 

T here is great peace
night-wandering
these slumbering mountains

spellbinding
these vast forests
asleep with moon dreams

gently coaxed
by midnight breezes
sterling ripples glint
atop moonlit
crystal clear
glacial cut lakes

their chill
cerulean depths
hold me enchanted

ancient secrets
whispered by these waters
echo hauntingly
in the old growth treetops
stirring to flight
a great white owl

these pristine mountains
take my breath
unspoiled natural beauty
stretching beyond eye’s reach

night zephyrs
wafting high
through conifer boughs
release a heady intoxicant

moonlight drifts down
dreamlike
setting aglow
the forest’s canopy
pierced by silver’d beams

a sky of stars
dance diamond-like
on the mirroring lakes

unleashing the serene
and the sacred
of this place — so unique

but this night
there also stirs the sorrow
of careless human arrogance

C21F248E-1463-4DE3-952F-CE0D0D75099F

these night breezes
are unbreathable
whipped by rolling flames
to blistering winds
choked with soot

the rivers black
strangled with char
as wild fires rage
and wildlife screams
scattering in panic

terrified

as life is consumed
all life

will there ever be
cries enough
to be heard

midst smoldering debris
a horrifying discovery

the burnt head
of a child’s doll
the child lost
in the blackened devastion

like a cruel omen
a tear trickles down
the smoke stained doll’s cheek

my heart breaks
deeply I weep

will there ever
be tears enough
to again cleanse pure
this defiled paradise

 
*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers


 

Life On Earth

This is a pair of poems I offer for your consideration for today’s (July 22nd) OLN – Live. they deal with two my views of life on earth. Read one, or both, and comment, should you wish, under the one(s) you’ve read. I will be reading “The City” today.

NOTE: the comments below here are closed.


Read — “The City” HERE

-——-< * >———

Read — “Rocketman” HERE

 

THANK YOU ~ ENJOY!

*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

Rocketman

…Overcoming the cold of Mars may be easier than the stupidity of Earth…


 
Oh I want to be a rocketman
and soar off into outer space
way up with the stars and planets
far from this slowly dying place

until — let’s take a leisure drive
stick our heads out the windows
look at those beautiful butterflies
do they know which way the wind blows

we are rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
not certain where we’re goin’

I lost my pearly guitar pic
it’s been missin’ now for hours
I found my favorite baseball mitt
in a field full of wild flowers

acres of virgin rain forest
more than 200,000 everyday
what d’fuck is it we’re thinkin’
cutting those vital trees away

we keep rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
no idea where we’re goin’

let’s put on a sunny face
let’s not appear that we are dour
Thalia — help us laugh off our guilt
while we boogie down in the shower

630,000 machine guns
are privately owned in the USA
that is a lotta gaw-damned firepower
on the loose here everyday

ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha

maybe just to clear my head
I’ll go ’n climb that water tower
wow — I can see a lot from here
like those school kids by the flowers

229 school shootings
337 victims have sadly died
when you send your children off to schoolg
no guarantee they’ll come back alive

the horror’s rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
the solution is not known

hey — where’s that sunny funny face
maybe if we all join in a song
perhaps sing a song of make-believe
Euterpe — please play as we sing along

our planet’s becoming a garbage dump
ton n’a half of trash tossed away
by every man woman and child
each year in the US of A

ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha

oh sure — the world has begun to flood
the part that’s not — is burning
but hell — there ain’t no climate change
just ignore all that we’re learning

let’s just pretend that all is well
these g’damned masks are irritating
these stupid lockdowns are real hell
but global plague just keeps mutating

Melpoméne please — this is hard to take
like everybody’s gone insane
sometimes I’d like to fly away
just escape all of this pain

oh shit — my hair is all messed up
guess it’s time to go back home
but time has proven to be relative
many friends and relatives are gone

close that open window please
my apathy’s blowin’ away
when interplanetary trips begin
Urania — launch me on that day

soon I will be flown flown flown
into outer space I’m goin’
Mars is my new home
g’bye — so long

OLÉ!

*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Say Wha’

…I’m a little crazy with frustration…


 
Let’s take a leisure Sunday cruise
stick our heads out of the windows
look at those beautiful butterflies
do they know which way the wind blows

we are rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
not certain where we’re goin’

I lost my pearly guitar pic
it’s been missin’ now for hours
I found my favorite baseball mitt
in a field full of wild flowers

acres of virgin rain forest
more than 200,000 everyday
what d’fuck is it we’re thinkin’
cutting those vital trees away

we keep rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
no idea where we’re goin’

let’s put on a sunny face
let’s not appear we’re dour
we’ll wash away the smudge of guilt
while we boogie down in my shower

630,000 machine guns
are privately owned in the USA
that is a lotta gaw-damned firepower
on the loose here everyday

ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha

maybe just to clear my head
I’ll go ’n climb that water tower
wow — I can see a lot from here
like those school kids by the flowers

229 school shootings
337 victims have sadly died
when you send your children off to school
no guarantee they’ll come back alive

the horror’s rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
the solution is not known

hey — where’s that sunny funny face
maybe if we all join in a song
perhaps sing a song of freedom
get the world to sing along

ya’bet’cha — ya’bet’cha
oh hell yes — ya’bet’cha

oh sure — the world’s begun to flood
the part that’s not — is burning
the world’s plague continues mutating
but hey — at least the earth keeps turning

it’s getting very hard to deal with
like everybody has gone insane
sometimes I’d like to fly away
just leave behind this pain

oh shit — I really messed my hair
guess it’s time to go back home
time it seems is relative
my friends and relatives are gone

wind up that open window please
my apathy’s blowin’ away
when interplanetary trips begin
I’m off to mars that very day

soon I will be flown flown flown
into outer space I’m goin’
g’bye — so long

OLÉ!

*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

 


This City



 
This city is in my blood
this city
that vibrates
with the rush and chaos
of synapse and sinew

this city
that vibrates
with the hum of networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
often the we can
beyond the reach
of should we

this city
teeming
with college’d clones
like-patterned minds
that surge with ambition
that submit to the agendas
good or bad
dreaming of early retirement
fearing an early death

this city
bedecked in stainless
and stone
poured
erected
glassen’d

this city
ablaze in halogen
aglow in neon
awash in tears
of the poor

this city
its haughty monoliths
of varying shape
differing size
flanked in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
blink and beep
that ring buzz belch hiss
— and stink

this city
that intimidates
in cold and calculated majesty

this city that amazes
this city that abuses

this city is in my blood

but it does not
hold my soul

no
it does not offer solace
to my human core

that seeks the folded petal’s mystery
that marvels at the smallness
of a changing frond

at the tart-sweet scent’d
gnarled bark
of mighty conifer monoliths
thrusting ever skyward

or the magic
of a budding branch

this city
does not touch my spirit
soothed by wind and water
thrilled by song of birds
or the swoop of hawks

this city
does not spark my wonder
stirred by the yelp
or bark
or bleat
of beasts

this city
cannot reach my soul
that needs to see a salmon’s trek
the open sky
the roll of unobstructed clouds
see the fall of stars

this city
has nothing for my soul
that needs to hear the crack of thunder
resound for miles across the plane
then off the mountain’s face

that needs the fresh embrace of rain
the crisp and quiet drift of snow
the hues and sway of living fields

this city
leaves my spirit cold
that needs to watch the orchard
blossom and bloom to fruit
see forests
thick beyond horizons
or feel the lift of cresting surf

no
this city
does not satisfy my need
to know the evolving natural wonders
that inspire
that swell my soul
that resonate my heart

this city is in my blood
but it does not hold my soul

and so I look beyond
for my tomorrow

*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

 




The Can


 

Still it sits
atop the bench
by our garden wall
just where she left it

how many lilies
has it nourished
how many daisies
lilacs
roses
how many morning glories

it dispenses
its life giving waters
so gracefully in her hand

a delicate hand
gentle in its loving touch

gentle in its task
of planting
gentle in its tend

but rugged on any weeds
threatening her garden

she
the giver of life
the guardian
of her realm

but she could not stop
all that threatened
and I had not
her gift of giving life
oh would I had

so there
just where she left it
on the garden bench

still

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Queenie


 

I’m a bad-ass babe
mean not cruel
a little bit crazy
but no ones fool

I roll with a finger-snap
juke-jive strut
don’t mess with me
if ya’ know what’s what

I’m smoooooth
as a dry martini
name is Liz
but call me Queenie

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse