Night Bus


ADULTS SWIM HERE

 


“faces of the unending night”

 
A ttractions and repulsions
splendid revulsions
precarious fragility
a mysterious dance
on the razor’s edge
of balanced tolerance
messy romance

relativity’s fabric
tangled taut
in perception’s cloth
so forever caught

reality’s delusion
fantasy’s inclusion
leave no doubt
the inside’s out

the seductive promise
the eternal question
the elusive answer
the sequin’d dancer

the everlasting bastion
of almost truth
in far flung fashion
blessed uncouth
the painted youth

a siren’s call
an ever wondering
a reason why
because it is all
before the fall
the rudely gall

cause of fiction
source of myths
sparks of friction
fountainhead
of superstition
ghastly beautiful
contradiction

this magnificent obscurity
this source of mystery
this illusion you see
is reality to me
and he and she
to us
on the night bus!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

Unpuzzled

… set soar the word, free as a bird …


“Communing with my muse” by: rob kistner © 1985

 
Form does not a poem make
it’s the poet’s task to undertake
to speak to us of marvelous things
igniting the feelings mystery brings

to have mastery of the word
to speak the power to be heard
able to weave words into emotions
to unleash all of our inner notions

to captivate us from the start
to stir within our truest heart
hold us fast in wonder’s trance
coaxing us through a magic dance

but bending words to fit form’s puzzle
locks this poet into a muzzle
it then becomes problem-solving for me
not unbound heartfelt poetry

I want to paint colors that I see
and let those colors mingle free
do I seek specific form — I do not
it’s genuine feeling I‘ve always sought

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Days Of When

This weekend past, I had gotten word that another of my friends had passed. It hit me quite hard. He was one of my oldest friends, in both age and duration. Today I have been staring out the window a lot, watching the November rain, deeply saddened. When I sat down to read Laura’s prompt here, this unfinished draft of a poem came to mind, and began to again stir within. I was moved with the inspiration to complete it, so I’d like to share it. It is certainly more than Laura suggested, but I had to get it out. If it is longer than you care to read, no problem, just skip it — but thanks for visiting.

 

There are days
when fading memory flickers
that I still can feel
the breeze of yesterday
gently stir my soul

wonderful days remembered
of grace and lightness
of friends beloved

those days of … “when”

when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder

when we were certain we’d live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure

when we had only heard the word pandemic
and never imagined it would happen to us

when we believed in our chosen leaders
if not every word, at least their good intent

when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams
and the amazing future stretched before us

those wonderful years of possibility

the years we witnessed
one for the other
as we made vows
to our chosen life mates

raised our children
grew our careers
our families close
through all those years

but that was then
in those days of … when

now I’ve grown old
unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds
of time and fate

my soul is uprooted
by life’s growing madness
I search its blessings
curse its sadness

these are brittle years

I am bent by the yoke of worry
heavy with the weight of loss
frustrated by my lack of wealth
struggling with my fickle health

I am haunted by the ghost of memory
a memory I must now fight hard to keep
through these lonely days
when I think of — when

these empty days
when I think of old friends

how can this void be filled
when those so vital
have near all departed

this world denied
of your wit and wisdom

so much kindness
and love lost
as each — you passed
seems no good lasts

how can this void be filled
when your brilliant lights
have been snuffed out

how…
by not forgetting

I remember you all
I remember you now

and all those days
of all those years
that is how I fill this void

with the seeds of friendship
you planted deep
inside my heart
now filled with sorrow

may they continue growing
even here in my winter’s light
to make me kinder
make me gentler
make me more grateful
before the dark of night
falls hard
and halts my faulted pace

good-bye my friends departed
I see you now
face after face

ever will I tend these seeds
and think of when
there were days of you

as long as embers
of my memory smolder
you are remembered

I will not forget

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Reality

 

As we live more and more in the screens of our myriad electronic devices, and less and less in the face-to-face world, we find it easier and easier to dismiss each other with a swipe or touch of those screens, or an on/off button.

We are living more and more in a conjured world — “cities of our mind”. It is a dangerous, subconscious dehumanization, a subtle devaluation of each other as real. We’re becoming electronic entities we can make appear, or disappear, at whim and will.

We’re bombarded daily by supposition, even blatant scripted lies. We’re frequently immersed in the fantasy worlds of movies, TV, cellphones, and video games. Reality has become fluid — truth’s becoming relative. This leads further to that devaluation of human life. Likewise, I am bombarded, yet I stand on this “truth litmus” — I carefully test it before I ingest it!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Sea of Slumber

 

Exhaustion hangs so heavy
like an achor ‘round my neck
I cannot stand nor straighten
pinned ‘neath enervation’s wreck

no way to lift nor shift this anvil
by which I’m dragged and bound
no energy remains
to tug’n lug this heft around

weary from this strain
of keeping eyelids full at mast
I’ll sink into the sea of slumber
falling falling fast

into the deepest realm of Somnus
my fears and worries drown
dropping into depths of dreams
drifting fathoms fathoms down

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

True Blue

 

The blue is gracefully beautiful
quite stately and well grounded

winds that daily gust and blow
seldom shake this mighty spruce
from its firm grasp of the matter
being strong and broadly rooted

oh to be as nimble and steadfast
when buffeted with challenges

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

* Hope you enjoyed the poem, but as an added arboreal fact — the Douglas Fir has the deeper roots.

 

Why?

 

Falling into a tangle
of vague thoughts
almost-remembering’s
and near answers

slipping my grasp
tumbling jumbled
it careens away

down blind alleys
bouncing off suppositions
dodging conjecture
tripping over tongue tips

until hitting the wall

damnit!

just why
did I
come in here?

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Love’s Captive

Happy Halloween! This is a dark, haunting piece.


artist of both images: Natalia Drepina

 

Do you think
you’re not still my slave
since digging yourself
from that earthen grave

since you sullied
your delicate hands
clawing up and out
of my bottom lands

do you think
you’re safe

think perhaps
that I don’t know
where you are
as you come and go

do you think
that I don’t feel you
with my every breath
that I don’t breathe you
really – don’t you

do you think at all
foolish girl

anytime I want you
you are mine

anytime

you know I love you
you love me too
with a love uncommon
you know you do

don’t you

you are mine
it’s true

forever

you are not free
your every move
is known to me
your every thought
is mine to see

every fear
mine to trigger

you will not know
whence I may come
I am the shadow
you are running from

the stranger hidden
across the street
the sudden sound
that startles you
from your sleep

so cling mindlessly
to your false hope
as ‘round your slender neck
I slip my rope

you think I’m mad
well that may be
but that’s too bad

for you
not me

you pray
they catch me
we’ll see
won’t we

your nightmare is
I’ll not be caught
your dream’s come true
for I will naught

you hope I make
a big mistake
dare a close call
risk my downfall

foolish girl
there is no risk

for I am brilliant
wicked cunning
you’ve felt my power
is it not stunning

does my magnificence
make you afraid
knowing ‘cross your neck
I may slide my blade

as I’m creeping quiet
from behind
to steal your life
as I am so inclined

as terror shivers
up and down
your spine
remember always

you — are — mine

having read this letter
that Gwen had received
just this afternoon
handed to her personally
by a courier
I knew I had to stop
this mad maniac

this beast
had recently kidnapped her
even buried her alive

thankfully
the police and I
rescued her
but then today
came this letter

the demon
had included a key
and a note

think your boyfriend
can find me
alone
I really doubt it
but the truth’s unknown

so just for fun
let’s try and see
here’s the address
where I will be

tell him to come alone
or I will hunt
and kill you both
like the helpless fools
I have always known
you are

at sunset
I am gone Gwen
and I know
you will miss me

embracing this insane challenge
I have found the house
an old mansion by the docks
once owned by a shipping magnate

the key doesn’t work the front door
but going around to the back
I find stairs to a storm cellar

the key opens the door
at the bottom
of the broken stone stairs

the door opens
on a long dark hall

if I am being watched
I must move quickly
through this light
that pools incrementally
in this pungent
segmented hallway

there should be some safety
in the shadows
that linger tight
to the cold walls

I press myself
against the damp irregular surfaces
of the stacked fieldstone
that comprise
this eerie chiseled passage

I pause briefly
between each puddle of light
until I reach the last

I halt

nothing in my sane being
wants this dire mission
but I love my Gwen
and she is being threatened
so this deed falls to me

creeping stealthily forward
like a shade on the dank wall
I move cautiously closer
to what appears to be
a huge steel door

my heart pounding
my diaphram starved for breath
I feel I may pass out

suddenly
a noise
immediately behind
instantly paralyzes me

trembling
I turn
no one there

hushed
I listen intently

no other sounds
save the blood
pulsing as a roar
in my ears

I begin to move
but again
I hear it

panicked
I jerk my head around
and see the source of the noise

moisture
collecting on the stone ceiling
gathers overhead
into sagging condensation

it then releases
as a weighty droplet
splattering on the floor
just behind me
with a sharp startling slap

I relax a bit
enough to again draw
tensioned breath

several more careful steps
and I place my hand
on the cold metal handle
of the immense door

I clutch it firmly
fearing if I lose my grip
I will lose my nerve
but slowly
quiet as I can
I begin to turn it

I feel the resistance
of set-in rust
as my mind races
and my blood pressure soars
being overcome by the magnitude
of what might come next

I slow my heartbeat
steady my breathing
steel my resolve
and turn my wrist harder

the handle releases
and the door unseats inwardly

I swing the door open
ever so gradually
and step in

suddenly
I’m blinded by light
assaulted by sound

“Love Is Not Enough”
Nine Inch Nails
at 120 dB

then
silence

across the room
a giant screen

as my eyes recover
I see on the screen
a cellphone video image
it’s a live capture
of the apartment I’d left
just an hour ago
where Gwen and I live

there on the screen
my love
bound to a chair
a coarse rope
knotted around her neck
as a dark figure hovers
just behind her

then
from out of the silence
stupid boy
you’ve taken the bait
you are there
and I am here
and now it’s simply
just too late

the ominous shaded figure
then pulls the rope
more tightly
around my love’s throat

you will never again
look into each others eyes
I’m sharing with my Gwen
a wonderful surprise
then tonight
she dies

as he turns
from the camera
he looks down
directly at his captive

the screen goes black
the room falls dark
then clearly
I hear

foolish girl
you’ve always known
you – are – mine


mine alone!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

Trick’r Treat

 

It’s nightfall
the darkness now descends
the hand of grief extends
terror is knocking at the door

it’s nightfall
words of horror stain my lips
sweetness slips through my fingertips
and scatters ‘cross the floor

it’s nightfall
the shadows stoke my fears
a voice of dread rings in my ears
I am broken evermore

it’s nightfall
dark waves of misery
are rising like the sea
I am stranded on the shore

it’s nightfall
would I were alone
confusion grips me to the bone
horror chills me to my core

it’s nightfall
again you call my name
I’m about to go insane
I just can’t take it anymore

it’s nightfall
“yes dear! I can hear you”
your nagging drives me crazy
so tired of your calling me lazy

it’s nightfall
“certainly dear! I know your feet are sore
I’ll pick the candy up off the floor
I’m happy to answer the” g’damned “door!”

it’s nightfall
before the sun rises tomorrow
I’ll end my pain and sorrow
going to end that nagging

forevermore!
 

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

~ SHORT VERSION ~

~ NIGHTMARE ON MY STREET ~

~ FULL VERSION ~

Gone Grey


 

Another morning, he sighs, as he sits, sipping his steeped motivation. Quietly, he begins peeling away the fog that layers his mind, residue of another fitful night. He is somber, but pleased to be awake, to be alive, grateful for the peace and the quiet of early morning — fleeting though it is.

His thoughts begin to un-blend, gathering in a cohesive palette of emotions. They catch his notice this morning, as they slowly sort, into what he perceives, as the colors of mood — moods he recognizes all too well.

He sees the dark ebony of anger, the shades of purple that are pain. Here is the violet of regret, and the sorrowful blues. But here too, are gentle peaceful greens, golden joy, and laughter’s bright amber. And, ahh yes, love’s deep ruby red, and the hot scarlet of passion!

As he muses, reflections on his mortality creep in, unwelcomed. They shoulder in coldly, crowding his reverie, reminding him of his advanced age, and acutely failing health. Pondering his plight he curses his fate. He feels himself struggling beneath the weight of uncertainty. A riot of emotions overcome him.

He seeks clarity, so he retreats to his typewriter, his tool of expression, his canvas for poetry. As outside, saffrons and corals stir into dawn, he sits at his desk, brings his fingers to the keys, and begins painting — deep indigo.

I do not fear death
I fear the loss of color
were it all gone grey

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Fashion Forward

 

What’s that you say
you’ve not seen me around
well see
I just got back in town
went for a trip
quite far away
but now
I plan to settle down

I brought back
some new friends
friends I find dear
though some folks
well
they react with fear
my new friends
may appear
a little strange
they’re just not
well
not from around here

I see you smirking
at my suit
it includes the hat
and the gloves to boot
it really helps
should I grow weightless
but around here
I guess
that point is moot

it keeps UV rays
off my bald cranium
and it’s made
of strong-as-steel
titanium
it makes me invisible
to radar
and impervious
to uranium

I wear it now
almost everyplace
the reflection
helps conceal my face
when raining
it keeps me very dry
and there’s a jet pack
if I choose to race

so please
don’t make fun
of my wardrobe
it’s perfect
for someone on the go
it’s fireproof
if you’re grilling out
and in the dark of night
it glows

so
here’s a little tip
I’ll share with you
I don’t worry
about all the ballyhoo
let folks stare
and shake their head
because I know
my fashion sense
is way way ahead

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

Our Love Story

 
Life’s so lonely — I am so blue
is there no way we can renew
our lovelife

I feel so hopeless time to time
so pitiful — truth is that I’m
still lovestruck

I did not always treat you right
please forgive me and reignite
your lovelight

our love song has not all been sung
please don’t abandon me among
the lovelorn

all this time we’ve been so happy
let’s find a way again to be
those lovebirds

I want you to see me again
to again be reflected in
your love-eyes

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

The Spaceman

 
Wow — it is so hard to believe
that it’s finally time to leave
the spaceport

last night I nearly opted out
lying in bed thinking about
this spaceflight

I am nervous — I’m telling you
I fear at blast off I might poo
my spacesuit

but it’s damned cool that of this crew
I am the one who gets to do
the spacewalk

is this to me a dream come true
yes — if they keep me tethered to
the spacecraft

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse