Me Too


image by Zelko Nedic

Me Too

•

why do you find me dog
why will you not let me be
you belonged to her

but she is gone

you know this is so
don’t you dog

I see it in your eyes
the sadness there
sadness I recognize

the sorrow
pressing in
as these night winds stir
darkness pressing in

but she’s gone boy
lost into the lightless realm
beyond this chill encircling me

you shiver
you feel it too
don’t you boy

but I’ve no emotion here
save grief
as is buried
in your worried whimpering

I’ve no good comfort here
but come
come here boy
that’s a good dog

I know
I know
me too boy

oh gawd
me too

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

• this piece inspired by this visual prompt at Magpie Tales

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

Gone

…to loved ones missed, now sadly departed…

Gone

•

after the clutter of leaving
after the hurry of goodbye
after sweet anticipation faded away

after no more embraces
after the laughter was memory
after the sadness collected day upon day

after the spaces fell empty
after the familiar grew distant
after our time together had become the past

after the taste of regret
after the loneliness mounted
after sands in the glass spilled away much too fast

I did not think it would be this quiet
I did not think it would seem so far
no I did not know it could be so quiet
nor did I know how this silence would scar

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

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

Book of Days

 

Book of Days

•

in the book of days
clearly it is written
your time for moving on
beyond the reach of yesterday

in this book of days
so too is it written
clearly mine grow short
my grasp loosens on tomorrow

our miles apart grow greater
our time together lessens
as you pursue the future
I slip further in the past

and per the book of days
this is the way of nature
the son becomes the father
the father bows away

yet stands this father’s dream
would that this space between
but vanish with this pain
of bittersweet farewell

that the book somehow rewritten
would bend both time and space
and my days once more
stretch full to your horizon

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• written for my son Justin upon his moving away

Wonder

 

Wonder

•

to grow up
is to chase off
our innocence
our naïve belief
in the world as a beautiful place
to harden against the magic
of our childhood dreams

but if by chance
we can cling to just one
perhaps we can hold on
to our precious sense of wonder

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• photo: “Alice in Wonderland” by Yuki Valentine

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

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?”

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

 

Disappearing

 

Disappearing

•

I now move in the world unseen
I am transparent
a fading glimpse
caught in the darkened corner
of an ever dimming eye

where once I blocked the sun
I am but a shadow
moving between shadows
at the edge of light
without form

once a voice
that thundered ‘cross the distance
called all near to listen
in doing so was heard
now hardly just a whisper

my footsteps
shook the ground in passing
now leave but faint a trace
barely form and then are gone
as if I am no longer here

yet here I am
worn thin and weary
not strength to hold the hands of time
not sound to bid a fair goodbye
quickly disappearing

dissolving into the dust of age
gone before I’ve left

• • •

rob kistner © 2011



The Revenant, 1949, Andrew Wyeth

• linked at Magpie Tales

Vanished

 

Vanished

•

and he saw them leaving
and he opened his mouth in farewell
but only dust escaped

and broken dreams

and a spoiled promise
from long ago
left too long on the shelf

so he raised his hand
to gesture a wave
but he was rigid
and could not

and they did not hear him
and they did not see him

for he had already vanished

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Junebug

 

Junebug

•

how impertinent
moth and junebug

what’s with all this buzzing chatter
you’re bump and thump and all a’clatter
worrying with the frontporch light
steaming on this august night
such racket over a minor matter

while here below you
my heart breaks in silence

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales and OSI