rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
When our life meets fate and time, things get ‘real’ damned quickly.
this being human is……
……………full of contradictions
this being human is……
………………an aweful scourge
this being human is……
………………an awesome gift
this being human is……
………………tears in your eyes
…some of them are joyous…
this being human is……
……………………full of danger
this being human is……
……………………full of wonder
this being human is……
……………………full of pain
this being human is……
……………………full of pleasure
this being human is……
……………………full of promise
this being human is……
…………full of disappoingment
…sometimes full of bullshit…
this being human is……
……………………full of love
this being human is……
……………………full of hate
this being human is……
……………………full of hurry
this being human is……
……………………full of wait
this being human is……
……………………full of highs
this being human is……
……………………full of lows
this being human is……
……………………full of screams
this being human is……
……………………full of dreams
this being human is……
……………………full of songs
this being human is……
……………………being right
this being human is……
……………………being wrong
…sometimes a damned fool…
this being human is……
……………………full of victory
this being human is……
……………………full of defeat
this being human is……
……………………full of friends
this being human is……
……………………full of enemies
this being human is……
……………………full of arriving
this being human is……
……………………full of leaving
…sometimes it’s being lost…
this being human is……
………………the mystery of birth
this being human is……
………………the horror of death
this being human is……
………………the uplifting sunrise
this being human is……
…………the mindblowing sunset
this being human is……
…………the night’s magic moon
this being human is……
…………sometimes a nightmare
this being human is……
…………everything that we dare
this being human is……
……………more than imagined
this being human is……
……sometimes even a miracle
………………but yes………………
this being human is……
…a cornucopia of contradictions
……………………but thankfully
it’s all life, everything we got……
so what TO DO……………………
………………………just keep breathing
Day 9 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021
I lean upon my open hands, cool against my temple, elbows solid on my rumpled jeans. My eyes drooped and closed, aflame with spoiled sleep. My face is slacked, head cocked, tilted to the fore, heavy with confusion. My skull rests upon the finger bones, weighted with indecision, procrastination.
My thoughts, like digits on a dollar slot, spin unsettled in my mind. They neither click nor lock in place, just tumble in a jumble, blurred, out of focus, lost in my mental fog.
Sunken deep on bended knees, I’m perplexed, frustrated by the chaos awhirl in my head. Such immensity, this question, seems no way in. No first step taken here today in solving the mystery of life. But still, I can smile. I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being. Not one to be solved.
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while inside
I cried out
do draw near
stay with me
you are color
you are pure
you are joy
you are free
I am not
I am blank
I am beast
can’t you see
you are warm
I am frigid
I am torn
please don’t flee
you are breath
you are life
am I death’s
finality?
at the edge
of your love
I am either
— dichotomy
without you
there is much
you don’t know
about me
rob kistner © 2021
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you were so innocent, such a gentle, sweet gift
my shattered heart broken, my dreams now must shift
as back through precious memories I lovingly drift
grief tugs hard my heart, lil’ buddy, you’re so missed!
On 3/6/21 I lost lil’ Edgrrr, my forever buddy!
the ebb and flow
the rise and fall
the come and go
of centuries
wave by wave
day by day
pure might incarnate
the power of indifference
the surge of perfect apathy
and I
insignificant
as a grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
helpless in the undertow
and that fringe of froth
on the silken azure blue
rolls in powerfully
then rises up
beckons me
then slides smoothly
down the sloping back
of the ever surging wave
dancing on the deep
reaching to forever
how easily I could slip
into that fathomed realm
down
down
ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much
a noticed sound
absorbed
into the churn
into the roar
without so much
a ripple
to disturb
the steady surf
a subtle crease
irrelevant
invisible
erased
gone
\/
https://youtu.be/K5oAf7bs7_U
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My dad’s gentle nudge, and deep quiet voice, were urging me from under the warm covers. ”Wake up Bobby, I’m going to make breakfast before we go.” After his muffled footsteps, I heard the creak of the iron door, followed by the wooden thunk of fresh-cut kindling being loaded into the fire chamber. Then the scuffing sound of the poker, stirring the bed of red-glowing embers, encouraging them to ignite the fresh logs. There were then soft “phufts” as the lengths of virgin fuel burst to flame.
As the big black stove groaned to full life, I felt the growing heat permeating the cabin. I could hear dad clunking and sliding the bulky iron skillets into place, working by soft lantern glow that clutched at the darkness. Breakfast was coming, signaled by early sizzles of Canadian bacon. I was hungry, and excitedly slid from bed, dreaming of the day of fishing that lay ahead.
Breakfast behind us, I shivered, smiling through the damp darkness of the Ontario predawn, as we stepped carefully, by the light and hiss of the Coleman lanterns, down to the dock, where dad’s fishing boat waited. My fingers tingled to the metallic cold of the aluminum hull, as I climbed aboard. I was already bundled as a bear, but over that still went the life jacket, in the event of a tumble into the freezing water, still rippling under the morning moon.
My heart soared as I heard my dad tugging on the starter rope, bringing the Evinrude to spark then roar, readying it to propel us into the dawn that would soon slowly roll over the chop-water. I lovingly gripped the cork handle of my favorite pole, as I felt the mist of hull-spray light on my cheeks. Another slight shiver brought me further awake, but not from the chill — this one was glorious anticipation. I loved fishing with dad!
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a glaring hallucination
a pulsing passion play
of a polarized reality
dual worlds
close enough to touch
but too far apart to engage
through which truth
stumbles blind
beyond reach
or reason
or connection with either
walking as wraiths
through fevered empty streets
moving in these worlds
captive to the bone-white lies of both
implicit in their toxic grins
of inflexible conformity
lethal tradition
revered in mindless trance
change
shackled to the stone of fear
with a grip rough as rope
change
bound at the shadowed edge
of dark and light
plague and cure
repression and justice
ignorance and knowledge
change
bruised
disillusioned
but possible
so beckon the dawn
summon the morn
there is far to go
and much to learn
rising from this dark night
someone needs first
release the light
perhaps torchbearers emerge
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This poem is inspired by two lines, the end couplet, which I had scribbled down in 2009, in my volume of writing notes. I rediscovered them this winter, and wanted to use them since. This is the time. I do not remember if they are mine.
my gaze held fast
until there was nothing
just the rising sun
that segued our tender night
to the promise of another
but promises
are so frail and fleeting
like the brittle leaves of autumn
like tears of joy
like the taste of you
sweet on my lips
if you are lucky
you will carry one night with you
~ ~ ~
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the slag-shattered
glass of the future
moves frail and slow
through the arc of the ages
who’ve waited and watched
at the waning of truth
‘neath the brittled moon
of deliberate ancients
a fractured orb
that revolves in the void
of the others that see
what we knew to be
ever the voice of the lost
in plaintive cries
to the light of the dawning
that heralds the word
of this time that’s upon us
I am the bud and the blossom
I am the late-falling leaf
I am the arc fulfilled
of the here and the now
to hold us firm in the fire
of visions and longing
for what we were
and for all that we are to be
here in our heart
of this moment eternal
that seeks to flee
like a squandered teardrop
forever away from
our failing grasp
hold fast
NOTE: italicized lines are from Paul Dunbar’s “The Paradox”.
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spend more time trashin’
than I do replyin’
the shit keeps comin’
it’s so damned tryin’
scams and porno
just on and on
fuckin’ frustrating
keeps up — I’m gone
I wanna write poetry
not fight stupidity
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fiercely knowing — worldly wise
sleek as steel — tall and strong
swift and cunning — motor running
she might let you in, but not for long
her soul is free — she’ll not be caged
no mortal man will keep her tied
her spirit a prrr-fect beast enraged
she’s crushed all those who’ve ever tried
poor fool who craves this comely goddess
is hopelessly addicted
there’s only one word for this life-force
that word, my friend, is — wicked!
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it’s
my
birth day
february 18th
the date
of the month
I was born
74 years ago
so — wha’cha’ thinkin’?
happy — birth — day
well
not if you’d been there
I was an “undesired”
an inconvenient child
a discard
to be thrown away
though I was healthy
had all my fingers
all my toes
and lungs of a tenor
no matter
I was labeled — MISTAKE!
misbegotten
unfortunate
a problem
ultimately
to be left behind
alone
abandonned
so
I was placed
in a cold metal orphanage crib
frequently
with others
like me
in a big
sparse
cold room
overseen
by strange
grey-habit’d
amorphous figures
I had been tried
convicted
sentenced
for my early life
to know confusion
know shame
know the sorrow
of the unwanted
without ever
seein’
my accusers
we’d won the big war
over there
in here
my battle had just begun
and for the next few years
struggle I did
but some of that’s
for another story
which does include a hero
here I was
condemned
guilty only
of the crime
of inconvenience
so
today
it is my birth day
some
happy / birth / day —- huh?
well
apparently not for all
who were present that day
happy birthday?
hmmm…
lotsa ole friends have passed away
COVID-19’s running astray
normal life is on delay
the world’s nerves are in a fray
but hey
as for me today
I’m doin’ — OK!
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