Laughing

…here’s in keeping with my ‘dark’ fantasy that all clowns have bizarre, perhaps criminal pasts…

Laughing

•

gaze upon me
if you will
my countenance crafted
to fool
and thrill

I’ve spent years in greasepaint
fear
and sorrow
I rue the past
I dread tomorrow

they call me laughing bob

it wasn’t intentional
you see

I only wanted her to hear me
to know my heart

but her laughter
her hollow
taunting laughter
her laughter wouldn’t stop

it wouldn’t
and I needed her to hear me
to understand how I felt

but the laughing
and laughing
the incessant laughing
I simply couldn’t have the laughing

so I made it stop

now I hide behind this painted smile
now everyone is laughing
and laughing

but I no longer hear

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

• this piece inspired by this visual prompt at Magpie Tales

The Hour of the Beast

 

The Hour of the Beast

•

when the most capable
believe they have risen above
the mucus, the shit, the afterbirth
of their 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 time
of the ancient
of the sweating
bone-broken reality
of human will 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 alters
of perjured horrors

then the hour of the beast
is certainly at hand

and we’ve all become
the hulking mass
of the apocalypse
deserving to be struck down

and our black hearts
torn out and severed
by the self-inflicted rapier
of raw wild justice
and our husks immolated
on the pyre of banished
abandoned truth

that moment
is near

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

Golden Lady

 

Golden Lady

•

golden lady in sensuous silk
a beauty sure to mesmerize
sculpted by a master’s hand
so seductive as to scandalize

a stare of comely crystal blue
floats above a ruby pout
spellbound by her magic eyes
she holds your soul with no way out

her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
like a supple paintbrush flowing
her smile will fire and hypnotize
then wrap around you knowing

you are now her helpless captive
quite hopelessly addicted
in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
is she an angel — or is she wicked

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

____________

image by Bert Stern

This Night

…as you read this Christmas poem, with its taste of bittersweetness, see it not in a dark light — but rather, embrace it as a tale of a long-awaited journey, to be with the one beloved…


digital collage entitled: “Christmas Tear” – by: rob kistner © 2011

 

This Night

•

brushed my shoulder on this morning’s train
then at the market it was there again

while in line to get my breakfast tea
from our favorite table it beckoned me

walking through the festive mall
saw it amble past then out of sight
I swear I saw it fleeting fall
upon the gifts I did not wrap this night

upon the tree I did not decorate
the greeting cards I did not write
in frail voice I chastise fate
no carols to sing upon this night

this season I see it everywhere
the shadow of your love
elusive as a shopper’s smile
caught up in the crush and shove

but soon I’ll catch and hold it close
warmly to my breast
it will sweetly fill my heart
lay soft with me this midnight rest

for it returns this night each year
the same night you went away
in dreams you kiss away each tear
touch my lips that beg you stay

taken from my life in sleep
gone without a last goodbye
as we dreamed at midnight deep
each year I weep and wonder why

but this year I’ll not awaken blue
in the end an easy thing to do

this night I’ll make our dreams come true
this midnight deep – I will come to you

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

poem inspired by visual prompt below

• linked at Magpie Tales

The Dimming

 

The Dimming

•

here is the change

the forgetting

the slipping away
into the haze of memory

the frustration
of no longer being able
and still
the burning longing to…
remember

and you
dimming in this fog
midst the times we have cherished
the places we have loved
fading beyond reach

an ever-mounting loneliness
like so many vacant seats

empty

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Silent

 

Silent

•

do you hear the autumn wind
stirring in the branches

do you hear the leaves rustle

do you hear my breath
whispering your name

do you hear my heart beat

do you hear my tears fall

or is it silent

silent as the light-less realm
that hauntingly engulfs my soul

silent as that night
when apples spilled
on the broken stair
where rail eluded
your grasping hand

silent as your futile cry
when no voice came
to grace your lips

tender lips
that parted gently
to hold my kiss

lips

that will not know again
sweet fruit

nor love

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

poem & image above inspired by visual prompt below

• linked at Magpie Tales

Hope

 

Hope

•

I lift myself quietly
very quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
soaked with my nightmares

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 desk

to the only hope
to which I dare cling

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

this poem inspired by image below

• linked at Magpie Tales

• also linked at d’Verse

Silence – two reflections

These two poetic reflections are unrelated, beyond their focus on silence. The first reflection here considers what it is to fall into the deepening silence of old age. The second reflection looks at the silence that causes, and also results from repression…

 

1ST REFLECTION

Endings

•

shrouded by evening in waning october
as autumn tumbles towards winter
is to know the losing of the light
the ever growing darkness
the advance of the cold
the time of endings
death’s due vigil
deep silence

how do I abide this season

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

2ND REFLECTION

Silenced

•

escape was an improbability
as was understanding
opinions regarding outcome
ignored altogether
fate sealed with no discourse
executed with an air of entitlement

when one has no arms to flail
no fists to clench
no fingers to point
gestures of dissent are sorely limited
rights easily wrest away
freedom falls beyond grasp

inevitable
when one has no voice

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

poem “Silenced” inspired by image below

• linked at Magpie Tales

King of Sunrise

 

King of Sunrise

•

on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned by the waters of earth

it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of mother sea

this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

me and the first edition
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news

I read
occasionally glimpse the screen
grow troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious

in this moment
the tv drones
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare distracted

the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this world

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Aeropachydermicide

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.

 

Aeropachydermicide

•

somewhere between our petrochemical insanity
and our reckless dance with fractured atoms
we believed we were the miracle
and it all went seriously awry

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 © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

_________________________

AN ADDITIONAL POEM FOR YOUR CONSIDERTION:


“Why Raven?”

Why Raven?

 

Why Raven?

•

there stands a raven in the rain
liquid-black as molten coal
beside a woman
besot and broken
thoughts so black and molten
outstretched in her anguish
ravin’ in the rain

raven in the rain
why is it that you stand here
so very soaked and sullen
beside this woman so besot
so broken and bereft
heart so black and shattered
ravin’ in the rain

has her ravin’ called you forth
do you feel kinship in her blackness
does it bind you common thread
is there a faint scent of death
carried on her plaintive breath
she outcast and shunned
so like your thankless plight

picking ‘mongst the carnage
rooting in the road-kill
the writhing crawling carcass rot
left the spoiled — not the spoils
this is your lot is it not
to consume the left-for-dead
the world’s lost decay

raven in the rain
are you here to feast today

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Images – a ten year vigil

…lest we ever forget

 

 

 

Images


•

images

unreal
unfathomable images

the graceful glide
engulfed by the spire
in a roar of golden orange

horribly beautiful

perversely mesmerizing

obscene
devastating images

torrents of humanity
raining down

desperation their only escape

masses of humanity
racing
to outrun the unbelievable

praying
to be delivered from the inconceivable

traumatic images

shrines of free commerce
consumed
by the unbearable weight
of their fragile significance
plummeting to earth
in a cloud of self-destruction

heartbreaking images

screaming
dazed
terrified souls
consumed
by the unbearable weight of the moment

staggering onward
to outdistance the surging roll
of all-engulfing
pulverized aftermath

courageous images

battered
determined
tireless heroes

those who were called
who served unselfishly

some
who gave the ultimate service

haunting images

color
gender
ethnicity
wiped away
from the ashen-grey faces
of the traumatized throngs

now just masks of calamity

all made equal
by horror and grief

one nation
under siege
inconsolable
with tragedy and sorrow
for all

unforgettable images
burned into our hearts

• • •

rob kistner © 9/11/09

 

Clown

 

Clown

•

I’m the sad little clown with the frowning face
the round red nose and the great big tear
this meek facade and silly sham
belie the horror that I engineer

life’s dealt me cold my hand is slack
not one queen no king nor ace
so violence now dwells in me
masked behind my woeful face

no one suspects the evil soul
that festers deep in this funny fool
they know not the monster here
my gentle sheen conceals the cruel

they don’t realize a broken heart
a ruined life makes one quite mad
they simply see the pitiful
the painted face that looks so sad

the shaggy coat the baggy pants
the red suspenders the big white glove
they do not know it hides the hand
that choked the life from the one they love

town after town state after state
bodies mount in the circus’ wake
in the dead of night at the dark of moon
in frenzied fever each life I take

each beautiful each innocent
each unaware that they would die
there will be more on the road ahead
one for every tear you made me cry

when the circus comes and the tents go up
the people cheer in each sleepy town
because the poor fools just don’t know
who’s really come is the killer clown

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

_____________________

for two more tales of murder written in dark rhyme click “more”

The Mask

 

The Mask

•

when donned the mask
the transformation
smoulders forth the other

the fantasy
on wings of dreams

she is she
and too
the other

unleashed at light of passion’s moon
manifest at your request
sustained this night
at her delight

she is your isis
she is your venus
she is your every longing loosed

she brings everything in life you miss
bestowed with aphrodite’s kiss
but as you burn you should know this
beneath the mask waits a dark abyss

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Sea Song

• this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

 

Sea Song

•

sad she comes
everyday
to these empty shores
on wings of memory
to serenade this sea

a song of longing
bowed on strings
of a broken heart
mournful for the one
lost to these silent fathoms

her tears
steady as the mists
relentless swept away
by these cold
indifferent waves

only they
know where her lover lies
so everyday she comes
taunted by these tides
to seek their mystery

and every night
darkness falls
chill upon this deep

her forlorn refrain
shatters in the moonlight
the sea holding cruel tight
to its precious secret

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

_________________________

TWO OTHER RECENT POEMS:


“And So”


“The Sync”