they have kept it
the keepers of the secret
and now
with great fortitude of will
to safequard frail truth
they must keep it still
rob kistner © 2019
I suspected this possibility
thankfully
I was prepared for the moment
that moment
that horrific moment
forever dividing then
from now
then
comfortably alone
walking my property line
along the azure waters
of the clear mountain stream
that rolled towards me
crisp and pure
then
in an instant
the startling sound
the strange light
soaring above the douglas firs
that stand proudly
at the river’s edge
sentries for centuries
protecting this northern boundary
of my lands
steady
enduring
supple in the winds
that waft and quicken
breathing life
whispering their secrets
now
two years on
since that ominous moment
the bone chill
the penetrating feeling
of fear
now
I am alone again
but now
quite absolutely
no evidence of survivors
my beloved wife
did not make it
the global communication grid
totally destroyed
too long
since I have seen
another’s eyes
or heard another’s voice
now
I ramble this valley
wade this stream
in my hazmat suit
mumbling quietly
to no one
rations are running out
water
food
I am at the ragged edge
of coherence
of sanity
I cling to the hope
for a sign of life
someday
any life
but they are all gone
every — last — one
gone
can I last
have I that patience
how long can I hold center
how long
until my fragile psyche unravels
if I could just remove this helmet
breathe fresh air again
feel the breeze on my face
while the trees are fine
carcasses are everywhere
animals
fish
birds
insects
I fear the air is toxic
deadly
will it ever be safe
how can I know
wait
what’s this
“Hey, hi little fella!”
rob kistner © 2019
quicksilver moon
readies her night’s course
marksman’s sharp eye’s set
his duty he’ll enforce
marksman locks the horizon
solid in his sight
fires the sunset gun
beckoning forth the night
rob kistner © 2019
“This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“
but there are moments
with eyes closed
I can gaze back
through time’s window
I see my beloved Oregon home
of 25 amazing years
vividly alive this morning
here in my memories…
through my window this day
I see the scurry of creatures
warmed by the Oregon summer
I hear nature
in splendid voice
the chuff
of a tree’d red squirrel
the song
chirp
and trill of birds
chickadee
goldfinch
western bluebird
and others
fly
flutter
and flit
in a flash of orange
a striking northern flicker
momentarily eschewing insects
is peck peck pecking
cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
that spill from our feeder
a red-tailed hawk
calls
from atop a Sitka spruce
swaying
in the crisp blue sky
the muffled belling of a deer
wandering the safety of old-growth
whispers
through the foothills
the distant bark
of a neighbor’s dog
echoing the basin
up along our stream
reminds me
we have friends nearby
my wife’s
gentle laughter
validates the friendship
her tender smile
validates our love
the rustle of leaves
stirred by the breeze
wafting through the valley
smartly punctuated
by the staccato
of conifer cones
that fall
from time to time
wrested free by chickaree
and chipmunk
chattering high in Douglas fir
busy with their forage
wap wap wap
they bounce off our roof
striking the ground
closely followed
by the scamper
of their liberators
crunching their way
to the heart-meat of the cone
the delicacy
that elicits this furious industry
drifting in the window
intoxicating fragrances
cedar
pine
fir
lily
rose
lilac
grasses
loam
and more
a rich
earthy bouquet
caught in my reverie
I breathe in
deeply
to suddenly remember
…I’m not in my Oregon home
I am in my new Seattle home
and it’s filled to overflowing
with family
and love
for a moment
I do not open my eyes
I linger a bit longer
in my beautiful dream
of my Oregon
my heart will forever be there
but we will likely never go back
not until my ashes are spread
high in the Cascade Mountains
on Mt. Hood
across breathtaking Lost Lake
but here
now
on this day
filled with memories
and joy
a solitary tear
falls
rob kistner © 2019
When I saw Amaya’s prompt today for dVerse it put me in touch with a fun poem I wrote in 2007. I had no opinion of astrology, but I decided to get a personal astrological reading back then from Astology.com to support what I originally wrote for this poem. To update the poem, I got another reading today from Astrology Online.
I posted today’s reading at the bottom of this post. I blended info from this current reading into this revision of my original poem. I hope you enjoy this!
a lover of freedom
all tethers rejected
all constraints are broken through
I am strong of will
firmly resolute
none dictate what I should do
my mind is my own
not some follower
my path mine only to pursue
my life is unique
it’s of my construct
its purpose is mine to construe
tradition is shunned
my life’s avant-garde
the leading edge never taboo
I’ve an artist’s spirit
and a writer’s voice
my soul’s palette is multi-hue
I am just and fair
quite compassionate
open minded to all that’s new
I am sensitive
with an inventive mind
a philosopher’s vision too
tech is my friend
and the natural world
from both of these I take my cue
my intuitive sense
gives me future vision
to raise the world a notch or two
this all must be real
it has all been revealed
Astrology.com said it’s true
…Astrology Online did too
rob kistner © 2007
revision © 2019
My birthday is February 18th.
I am a pure cusp child born exactly between February 15th – 21st.
This is my reading today on: Astrology Online.
* As an Aquarius/Pisces you are selfless and spiritual, often strongly intuitive and receptive to the collective unconscious.
* You reflect the dual nature of life, reality and non reality, consciousness and the unconscious. You represent consciousness through the flowing of ideas. You work hard to bring your ideas to fruition, stubbornly refusing to give up your causes.
* You are peace loving and friendly, and are the chameleon of the Zodiac, receptive to the needs of others but sometimes getting lost yourself.
* You tend to be strongly spiritual (not necessarily religious) and artistic. You are idealistic, but sometimes your dreams are vague and impractical.
* When reality intrudes, you can become pessimistic or lethargic, but you are very adaptive and broad-minded, so you can rework your ideals when necessary.
* You are tolerant and open-minded, but tend to stick to your beliefs. You are compassionate, sensitive, imaginative and sympathetic to the feelings of others. You tend to be romantic and sentimental, but you may give in to escapism.
* You are devoted to your goals, but you can be disorganized or procrastinate when faced with difficulties.
* Your intellect makes you logical and self-confident, but it may also makes you aloof from people around you.
* You are original, offbeat and even eccentric, but you are also rather bored by detail. Reformist and experimental, you may seem cold toward people who don’t share your intellectual orientation to life.
* You may become withdrawn if your emotions are abused too often.
* You are multitalented, both in scientific and creative endeavors.
* You are unique and rebellious, and are driven to change the world. However, you can be shy, quiet and sometimes elusive, refusing to show your true self.
* You are modest, thoughtful, and display remarkable musical talent. Freedom is important to you, and you are often driven to help others become free, as well.
* You alleviate your emotional stress through contact with others and exercise.
* Your great strength is in your visionary nature and your compassion. You will likely take the world to the next level; and make others see things in a new light. Your ability to break the rules and help others reach their fullest potential make you a most understanding individual.
Aeropachydermicide: recklessly causing the death of someone or something by actions that result from the foolish belief that one is so smart and powerful that one can make an elephant fly.
we fantasized we had dominion
that we understood the vast unknown
could control the raw chaotic
that we had figured out the why
so we delved into dark science
with no regard for frail nature
flailed our way across the planet
belched our leavings into our sky
we so bought into our egos
that we perceived ourselves as gods
that we were capable of anything
perhaps make the elephant to fly
but we humans lost sight of balance
did not comprehend our place
as only one of precious many
we let the tipping point slip by
now we wonder what will happen
to our misbegotten dream
stare through disbelieving tears
as we watch it slowly die
rob kistner © 10/3/11
revised © 2019
but soon I will see you
in the carrion half-light
of this black caisson
this funeral hearse
unworthy scavenger
as you cluster in a murder
to ravage
to defile the entity
drawn in this caisson
but you cannot
the living presence it bore
is greater than you
your gluttonness lust
might pick the meat clean
pick the bones dry
but this being
has lived well beyond this muscle
beyond this sinew tendon and bone
these were its limits
now it is set free
so help yourself brother crow
sister raven
birds of black
help yourself
this essence has gone beyond
far beyond
to become infinite
pure thought
unbound energy
what you pick apart
is the afterimage
of a mortal
now eternal
so take your fill crow
have your way raven
fat black bird — do your best
engorge the glorious
then be gone
scatter
and far off
this caisson has delivered its miracle
ab hoc unum solum
rob kistner © 2019
to ignore it
to abuse it
to mistreat it
to misuse it
to mishandle it at every turn
no way am I deserving
yet over and over
you lay it at my feet
to protect each step
on life’s harsh road
time after time
you wrap it round me
as shelter
from sorrow’s storm
again and again
it nurtures and sustains me
on my journey through
the wastelands of the lonely
this light
this precious treasure
no way do I deserve
but forever will I cherish
your soul gift
of selfless love
would I could give you
such a gift in return
it would be my purest
my most unselfish gift
a gift golden as the sun
tied in a tinsel of stars
to nurture you always
to keep you radiant
my most precious gift
of a love supreme
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 7
(- REDUX 2019 -)
gray now shines
from a balding head
filled with scarlet embers
memories still burn
a fired spirit
too deep for coddled mortals
to fully fathom
red is real
red is legend
his tales of pain
of injustice
the lore of the big muddy
his eyes
earthy brown
turbulent as that river
his stare
a deep current
impossible to escape
you’re swept away
his voice
a tempered edge
honed by blues
broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
smooth as beale street bourbon
the cf martin
swings from a leathered neck
on a tattered strap
stretched and shaped
by the heft of sorrow
poured into the soundhole
marked and scarred
by years of burden
of witness
its character and patina
bear testament
to a genuine soul
cracked and seasoned hands
reach with suffered care
to wrap the fingerboard
in love
callused digits
yellowed by habit
depress taut strands
no longer catgut
blood and bone
grip
connect
sculpting emotions
true life
ensnared in sitka spruce
and spiraled steel
knowing strains rise
chords of loss
rhythmic stomp
stinging verse
of broken promise
failed love
of dirt field
cruel street
back alley
of harsh wisdom
resonate to fill this space
to break my heart
to steal my soul
swept away
and so
I think of her
and wonder
what was the fire
that burned so bright
and raged so fierce
as to consume complete
our essence
left embered char
smoldered ashen
that in its heat
and fury
could not sustain
back I drift
to fall upon
the tenderness of youth
the satin skin
the comely gaze
the velvet touch
a silken voice
rising
to lust and longing
to impatience
to immortality
its soulful siren
so seductive
the nectar of all forbidden
the breathless joy
of sweet innocence
when the wonder
stirs to every mystery
and the spirit lights
to every spark
igniting passion’s pyre
to leave one spent
in blissful ruin
at story’s end
tender memory
of the throaty whispers
of promised pleasures
sweetly secreted
in her virgin kiss
and so
I think of her
remembering
with no regret
savoring the subtle linger
harbored in my heart
of the taste
of her lips
long ago
at seventeen
~ ~
“lips lush as cognac
open softly to kisses
urgently linger”
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2019)
________________
all those years ago
in the time of dangers
they were placed in secret
as a silent beacon
in that deepest night
waiting for the day
when the shadowed world
would waken from the nightmare
shed its narrow petty ways
and embrace the way of light
stacked by those of vision
blessed in hope and courage
one upon the other
like knowledge upon learning
these standing stones of peace
hear them call across the ages
and beckon us to rise
to step into the future
to envision a new dream
to let fear and hatred cease
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 1/22/19)
These sculptures are called cairns. A cairn is a human-made balanced stack of stones. The word cairn comes from the Scottish Gaelic: càrn. Cairns have been, and still are used for a broad variety of purposes, from prehistoric times to the present. They are stacked as landmarks, direction finders, memorials, and also spiritual reasons, among other purposes.
I am again awake
from another dark night
that began with fear
fear I might not survive
and ends in sorrow
realizing I did
I rise
make my way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed
in a heap on the floor
un-moving
save a twitch of the head
a head which now harbors demons
where nocturnal angels of sweet release
had lain down lush upon it
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver in the soured vein
this wreckage is my mother
I stop but for a glance
verifying life
then move on head down
angle to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash my face
lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely
strange eyes
hold me in the mirror
broken as my heart
eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
grief courses through me
weighing upon my being
burning into my heart
I want to cry out
but there is no one here to hear me
no hero that can help me
driven by instinct to survive
by urgency to flee
I shudder away the paralyzing despair
in this dank food-less morning
in this ruined single room
in this coat-less chill of predawn
I gather up my books
step lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets
heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams
I duck and dodge
in and out of shadows
praying to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled bricken’d canyons
that rolls slow and lethal
gripping cold blue steel
in predatory drive-by
evil
seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake
evil
which if diligence should fail
I fear will consume my soul
deliberately I continue
until at last I find my way
to the building
to the classroom
to my teacher
to my desk
to the only hope
to which I dare cling
~
straplened ankles fragile turned
stiletto’d rise
on carpet soft
emblazened vixen
forward bent
availed so boldly
flush with craving
graceful face
brazen aglow
comely raised and tilted back
my fingers tangled in your hair
lifting firm
yet luscious slow
swept away in lustful swoon
forearms rest on velvet sheets
eyes aflame in sapphire need
blatant in your fetched seduction
Hedone’s daughter lush with Spring
smouldering
in golden light
that folds upon you soft as satin
‘cross nape of neck
arched silk desire
down glistening back
that tempting tapers
to the tender
warm and sultry
wonderland for fingertips
to touch
and tease
and tantalize
to explore
your quivering body
soul-addictive
luscious
grand
divinely-pleasing sculpted vessel
brought forth by Aphrodite’s hand
virgin fruit swells full and ripe
flesh silhouette to hypnotize
enticing in the candle’s flicker
fondled by my hungry eyes
they stroke and tweak
the blossomed berries
that burst
engorged with passion’s heat
that taunt my tongue to twirl ’round
my teeth to nip in playful tug
draw to my lips
now lewdly moist
to take
and taste in eager suckle
willful hands
of pleasured probing
wrap slender waist
then slowly slide
‘cross pleading hips
of sensuous rise
to fall into erotic folds
molded from the charms of Venus
’round dual swells of burning myth
that writhe
atop two lathen’d stems
long and lithe
as liquid love
turned by pleasure’s gloried angels
tempered in a sacred fire
stretched taut
raised high on tips of toes
proud
defined
and goddess buff
enough to make one
want to stuff
to thrust and thrust
in randy lust
’til passion’s seed
has turned to dust
and wanton
carnal
flames
are snuffed
spring’s sweet madness
full rebuffed
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2018)
_____________________
Bloody Sue
~
Gather close so you might hear
A tale of terror, a tale of fear
Of a vigilante from beyond the grave
Only justice did this spirit crave
You may choose to doubt my word
But know damned well this all occurred
A vengeful maiden dressed in red
7 men lured, 7 men dead
7 men drawn to this comely miss
7 souls lost to her lethal kiss
A modern legend is Bloody Sue
Her deeds of terror are bold and true
Was she from hell or heaven’s gate
It’s certain her victims earned their fate
The first, the banker, a crooked man
Stole dreams of others with his evil plan
To own the world, to possess the lot
Now all that’s his is a dead man’s plot
Found with coins choked down his throat
Clutched in his hand a bloody note
“You greedy bastards, this could be you
Remember well!”, signed Bloody Sue
The second, the lawyer, a prideful sort
Lied and cheated to win in court
And bragged of his dishonest way
Until violence marked his final day
Found one morning with bashed-in head
A bloody gavel lay on his bed
“Bludgeoned here for his lies and scandal!”
Read Sue’s note, wrapped ’round the handle
The third, the bishop, a man of lust
Molested innocent’s, betrayed their trust
Kept a journal of his lurid deeds
A trophy to all his prurient needs
Found on his pulpit with a bloody lap
His private parts in his bishop’s cap
“Beware vile predators throughout this land!”
Sue had carved in the bishop’s hand
Fourth was the baker, a gluttoness fool
Treated his workers horribly cruel
Paid wages that left an empty plate
While he gorged himself – he ate and ate
One day at the bakery’s opening hour
He was found dead in a vat of flour
Across the vat, bold and big,
In chocolate icing, Sue wrote “pig!”
Then the lazy chief of the town’s police
Unsolved cases filled his valise
Crime and violence everywhere
While he snoozed in his office chair
One day shots rang loud and clear
Sue riddled the chief from ear to ear
“Get another chief, get this damned work done!”
Said the note from Sue, found by the gun
The office gossip, and his jealous way
Spread lies and rumors on the phone all day
His envy the ruin of many good names
Destroying lives with his vicious games
Sue used his phone to strangle him
And left a voice mail dire and grim
“To all who ruin a reputation
You too will die from strangulation!”
Last… the radio talk-show host
Spreading propaganda, coast to coast
Pawn of a racist politician
Thought he was above suspicion
Electrocuted on his live broadcast
Sue dealt justice hard and fast
She was heard to say as hot sparks flew
“Beware you haters, I’ll fry you too!”
So that’s the story of Bloody Sue
Believe it or not, that’s up to you
A brutal beauty in scarlet cape
From her vengeful hands there’s no escape
She will draw from you your final breath
If she marks you with her kiss of death
Some say a ghost who haunts this earth
Others claim an angel, of heavenly birth
But all agree there’s one thing true
If you’re a son-of-a-bitch,
She’ll come for you
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2008
__________
collage at top: “Scarlett Lady”by: rob kistner © 2008
A MURDER MYSTERY
I’ve always been fascinated by who-done-it’s and classic horror stories, so I was inspired to write this piece with a ‘retro’ gothic feel.
Lyle, the socially awkward, seemingly milquetoast villain of this tale has a ‘killer’ obsession. A shy, mild-mannered church organist; he is ‘changed’ into a murdering menace — by loneliness and rejection.
BE WARNED: This poem, and the collage I created to accompany it, are both a bit graphic — in a noir-tongue-in-cheek sort of way.
I invite you to enjoy, “Reaper Groom”.
collage above entitled: “Thief of Hearts” — by: rob kistner © 2008
___________
Reaper Groom
~
dressed in cape of velvet black
he seemed to vanish from our sight
but then we saw him double back
he would not escape tonight
elusive as a demon’s shadow
ghost-like — he could disappear
but no more, this scourge of sorrow
finally, we were drawing near
surround and capture, was the plan
the hounds had tracked him to this place
this had to be our wanted man
though none had seen his evil face
we were sworn to bring him down
bloodthirsty was this man — and cruel
he’d caused such horror in our town
if he escaped, we’d look the fool
the target of our townsfolk’s hate
he must be caught this beast of doom
he’d killed so many brides to date
we knew him as the “Reaper Groom”
he took the lives of countless bride
murdered them by dark of night
once betrothed they couldn’t hide
death was sure to be their plight
marriage took an awful blow
as one by one our maidens fled
our bachelors’ ire began to grow
there were no wives to share their bed
this had to stop — no maids for men
it wasn’t natural, wasn’t right
this curse would never be again
it would end, right here, tonight
we had him cornered in our net
he’d not escape our clutch this time
he owed this town an awful debt
he’d pay quite dearly for his crime
we closed in slowly, with great care
we’d make sure he couldn’t run
we deftly caught him in our snare
and gathered round him, every one
we took him roughly in this place
and chained him to a stony block
and brought a torch to light his face
then gasped, and staggered back in shock
this couldn’t be, not this poor fool
this shy man of timid smile
we sought a monstrous evil ghoul
this was bashful lonely Lyle
Lyle played organ every Sunday
and lead the hymns, as we would sing
our fiend escaped, we’d get him one day
and when we did, for sure he’d swing
it wasn’t Lyle, it was another
Lyle was not the type, you see
Lyle lived with his aging mother
so we’d set lonely Lyle free
but Lyle spoke up in quiet voice
don’t turn me lose, please, I forbid it
you see you really have no choice
cause I’m your man, that’s right, I did it
I killed these maidens everyone
I’ve charged this town a heavy toll
but my spree is over, I won’t run
this weigh’s too heavy on my soul
sentenced to hanging at his trial
Lyle was shortly going to die
looking sadly stern at Lyle
the judge inquired of him why
had he slain all this beauty
made so many families cry
he felt an answer was his duty
so this was Lyle’s cold reply
for many years I’d been denied
until my soul was heavy laden
god knows how often I had tried
to win the love of a fair young maiden
I was so consumed with bitter grief
that, though I’ve caused much pain and strife
this was my only true relief
to take from them their tender life
as mama’s words rang in my head
I’d cut out their precious part
there’s more than one way, mama said
to steal a lovely lady’s heart
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2008