Author: Rob Kistner

Awareness Dawns

~ this is an ecstatic poem — written in mindful spontanaity ~

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Ecstatic image “Wisdom of The Ages” by: Autumn Sky

*To watch me read “Awareness Dawns” CLICK HERE

 
We are infinite beings
ever reawaking slowly
from an eternal place

our ultimate coming to “be”
unknown to us as any mystery
as gradually we open to our identity
like the waxing of an eternal moon
evolving to its fullness

our essence forever an enigma

our awareness dawns
like the gradual rising
of a fresh-born sun

the ultimate unveiling
of yet another eternal path
of the infinite many

we feel the substance of our emergence
as it flows effortlessly
into timelessness

it courses through our beings
as our essential lifeblood

as we become
what we have always been

immortal
spiraling upward
to become further
as always

it is in this ever becoming
that we see
we are infinite beings
part of an infinite whole
conscious in this ever-moment
dreaming to sustain the moment
eternally

so move boldly through this plane
be not anchored by expectations
remain ever filled with wonder
always open to the unbelievable
as this thread of the continuum
unfurls
unfolding splendid miracles

may further be it so
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo

*
rob kistner © 2019
revised © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 

~ RELAX ~ OPEN ~ LISTEN ~ FEEL ~ BE ~

Hour of the Beasts

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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 swill 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 altars
of perjured horrors

then the hour of the beasts
is certainly at hand
and the power of wild nature
will rise up to dominate

and we’ll 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 © 2022

Poetry at: eartweal

 

Desolation’s Muse



“I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door.”
Bob Dylan

 
His muse was born in Brooklyn, a daughter of the red way. A political activist when she emerged in the Greenwich Village folk scene. Fate revealed Suze Rotolo to Bob at a folk concert in July 1961. “Cupid’s arrow… hit me in the heart”, he said.

Suze became his mindful muse. Yesteryear’s yarns now paled for Dylan, focusing instead on current social inequities. They moved in together in early 1962. As Bob’s social consciousness grew, so did his fame, and outside pressure on the relationship. It failed to survive an abortion, and Dylan’s affair with Joan Baez. Suze and Dylan ultimately separated in 1964.

Dylan credits Suze with his social consciousness, and his interest in French poet Arthur Rimbaud, and German playwright Bertolt Brecht, both nihilists — who impacted the darkness of his future songwriting. “To her, death is quite romantic. I understand her fascination.”

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 




Following here, Bob’s iconic song sbout death.

Lenoko

 

My soul lived at the light’s edge
that pooled in the night
on the bleak back streets
of the sad brokenhearted

I hid in the anguish
of the loveless who cowered
in the dark nightmare alleys
where true love hides lost

this was my heartscape
black as mid-winter night
a lightless horizon
no seeming glimmer of hope

trusting was toxic
no foothold for real love
relations were carnage
scattered forgotten and cold

’til a beautiful being
eyes brilliant and true
approached from afar
bearing tinder of love

the gentle encounter
was deftly ignited
and patiently kindled
the smolder lovingly stoked

afraid to come forward
I held back from the flame
but your kindness drew me
to the inner-mounting fire

then with passion it roared
its light pierced my blackness
its heat thawed my soul
my cold heart was warmed

you wrapped yourself ‘round me
gazed into my eyes
your kiss soft and serene
was the essence of healing

with you in my life
it was darkness removed
radiant and rising
like starting over

love vital and caring
my spirit renewed
illuminated wholly
by a new dawn of dreams

like two virgins meeting
you mothered new vision
a stand for the truth
a chance to know peace

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 



Brand New You

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.”
Lao Tzu

 

Reversing feeling a failure
requires that one considers
reacting not to insults
resort to embracing praise

restore your ability to
reason in a positive light
reflect on matters of the heart
restimulate your love glow

rehab your social network
reclaim valuable relations
restart your personality
refrain from inane remarks

reframe your core intentions
reset your ultimate goals
reinvigorate your pride
regain your self confidence

resurrect your self image
relax under life’s pressures
reject thinking you’re a fool
rejoice in the brand new you

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Angst & Indignation

This is a “stream of recall” edition of a core poem, I have written in many iterations, many perspectives, since first I wrote the seeds of it as lyrics to a song in 1969.


~ at Columbus & Broadway, SF – the beat cathedral ~
 
To watch me read Angst & Indignation: CLICK HERE

 
W hen night fell on bohemia
the streets were set ablaze
an acid-infused haze
city lights
turned to black lights
and strobe lights
tie-dyed in psychedelia
when night fell on bohemia

jack and neal were on the road
ridin’ with the fire-whores
of angst and indignation
mental fornication
emotional elation
combustin’ carnal fireballs
goin’ flowin’ with it all
when night fell on bohemia

allen was howl’n
pal’n with corso
still long’n for peter

groin deep
in the brain-drug carnival
fantasy flesh festival
hunter was fearful
loathing the big strip
ridin’ the snow trip
bemused by it all
best he could recall
when night fell on bohemia

bill stood stark naked
lunchin’ with the devil
stinkin’ and disheveled
jelly-rollin’ in a demon’s fire
vein poppin’ on a live wire
when night fell on bohemia

gary headed for cold mountain
to watch it all
to the 11th hour
from his lofty perch
on sourdough tower
rip rappin’ and zen tappin’
hot jazz was hap’nin
while electric bob
went subterranean

when night fell on bohemia
ken gathered up the faithful
made merry on the magic bus
party trippin’ for all of us
day-glow’n infamy
rocket fueled by owsley
and ran off to the future
like mad-capped pranksters

to take it all
a lil’ further


Robertson ~ McClure ~ Dylan ~ Ginsberg

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 




https://youtu.be/4gK1ZeBW438





__________

This below is the original song I wrote in ‘69, loosely about Ken Kesey and the Merry Panksters. I used them as a milepost to represent the transition from the beat poets of the 50’s to the rock poets of the 60’s. My lyrics for this song became the seed inspiration for a number of iterations of related poems I wrote, including the one above.

BOHEMIAN MIDNIGHT
lyrics: Rob Kistner
music: Jay Wormus

night’s fallen on bohemia
the white rabbit’s on the loose
our minds are fine’ly set ablaze
at last our voice is raised
acid’s opened up new ways
it’s a san-fran song of love

larry’s big beat city lights
now day-glow’n new black lights
and mind blow’n strobe’n lights
dreams tie-dyed in psychedelia
night has fallen on bohemia
the white rabbit’s on the loose

make’n merry on the magic bus
mind trippin’ party plus
we’re rock’n further into infamy
rocket fueled by oz-el-ly
it’s midnight in bohemia
the white rabbit’s on the loose

man it’s midnight in bohemia
the white rabbit’s on the loose

GUITAR SOLO

make’n merry on the magic bus
expandin’ minds — truth’s stimulus
to look beyond just what we see
feeling love and being free
clock’s struck midnight in bohemia
the white rabbit’s on the loose

(repeat to end over guitar improv)
it’s midnight in bohemia
the white rabbit’s on the loose

© 1969


Ken Kesey & the Merry Prankstres

Promises

 

Love by the streetlight
on a starry autumn night
when carnal dreams ignite

smoldering as our urgent embraces
hot as our stolen kisses
as forever as our lover’s promises
in that distant
sizzling
nubile midnight…

…sweet ghosts of my youth
tracked me down tonight

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Further

 

The fog of time
rolled ‘cross the lands
a languid chill
dense with memory

twilight
having receded
moonlight
shoulders its way
through the shrouded recall

a veiled vision
unfolds

the gnarled shape
of leaf-dead trees
with their spindly
spiked branches
thrust skyward
to twist and bend
in swaying tangle

muffled deep
within this wooded reach
an imperceptible drone
of seeming voices
rise

a dark entangled chant

a disembodied presence
speaks

this night
you will experience
memories of glory
memories of beauty
memories of strength
memories of a homeland
memories of your proud people

powerful memories
sacred memories
of bles’sed miracles
conjured by strong
deft hands

these memories
were left here
with the trees
with the land
with your blood
by your ancestors

so reach
embrace these memories
but go further still

lift your dreams
in a united vision

elevate your minds
to know
to embrace knowledge
to realize your truth

raise your voices
as in a single
sustained cry

stand proud
unwavering
honor these memories

stride forth
heads raised
grab your future
your destiny
and make further memories
your own memories

richer
and greater
than even these

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 



Cascadius

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Very deep in the ancient wood
secreted among the old-growth
nestles a serene forest clearing
/// \\\
soft filtered sunlight falls in rays
gently through the green canopy
enwraps golden the sacred space
/// \\\
a breeze stirs quietly overhead
rustling brightly in the treetops
whispering of nature’s memories
/// \\\
a downed Douglas Fir slumbers
snug centuries in its moss blanket
wrapped in earth’s final embrace
/// \\\
beyond to the left a hidden path
breaks subtly through the trees
offers a glimpse of rushing blue
/// \\\
the voice of falling water calls to me through the opening
I approach drawn hypnotically by unquenchable curiosity
there before me a powerful river urgently bounds and rolls
then it disappears over the horizon as though into forever
/// \\\
as I come closer I see the current of this tenacious stream
has with patience cut deep into this great rock of the earth
freeing itself to spill over – folding in misty layered curtains
into a roiling azure pool then over again to course further
/// \\\
I marvel so at the power at the beauty at the determination
of this relentless river ever sculpting this majestic artwork
tumbling timelessly in crystal clarity over boulder and falls
ever onward — spurred by a need to join all earth waters
/// \\\
time is suspended
the world’s in splendid balance
a perfect moment
\\\ ///

*
rob kistner — final posting © 2022
rob kistner — first edit © 2020
rob kistner — first publish © 2017

Poetry at: dVerse

Jimi’s waterfall song


Beautiful Paradox

“Nature has no principles — makes no distinction between good and evil.
The fool thinks he is wise, but the wise man knows he can also be a fool.”
Anatole France

 

Yes — I said please don’t touch
go away and just leave me be
while inside I was crying out
please draw near — stay with me

you are light — you are pure
you are joy — you are free
I am not — I am the darkness
I am enraged — I am a beast

but in my fury and manic chaos
you reached out calmly — touched me
quieted my anger — quelled my fear
in your brightness you helped me see

like the good needs the bad
like happiness needs the sad
there’s only up if there is down
who’d know a smile without a frown

like day needs the night
like shore defines the sea
like light needs the darkness
there’s only cold if there is heat

it requires two different notes
to blend pure for harmony
we can never be only one
that is a fool’s fallacy

like the yin and the yang
like any wise philosophy
we exist only together
I’m in you — you’re in me

this is the depth
this is the weight
this is the meaning
this is the sacred mystery

how can one thing
yet both things be
this is the beautiful paradox
this is the way of balance — verily

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

 

This has nothing to do with the poem, but if you want to spend an incredible 90 minutes with Joni — I cordially invite you to do so.

Anticipation


 
S eptember, the gateway to autumn here in the Pacific Northwest, is a warm and pleasant time of anticipation. It finds nature awaiting its period of recovery and renewal. The flowering plants have dropped, or are dropping their petals. The grasses and brush, gone late-summer golden, anticipate the approaching nurturing rains. Mighty evergreens pause, and deciduous trees, catching afire in their September splendor, soon will shed their leaves — all then going dormant to rest. The vast Northwest forests will be entering a period of rejuvenation. September sees this realm in its full glory.

September embraces the lush vineyards, and berry thickets, that roam the fertile rolling hills, heavy with grape and berry, making ready for the harvest, when this wine country comes alive with industry. The apple, peach and pear orchards are laden with the final fruits of the season, so September picking is busy gathering this sweet bounty.

September sees wild nature exhale deeply, at peace in its final moments of calm and relaxation, preparing for the bustle and flux of autumn. Streams, whose water levels have dropped considerably, will come to new life when autumn rains begin to replenish their flow. Sockeye and Chinook salmon start their run upstream to begin their spawn. Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout,
as well as numerous other species become active as waters rise and cool. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; the varied and plentiful wildlife of our region are near to begin preparation for their unique winter rituals.

Warm September relaxes, preparing to step through autumn’s portal. Soon this realm will begin to cool, slowly nudged into winter, a peaceful time of full rest and restoration here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as the season of sky-water soon will arrive to quench nature’s thirst, and revivify her energies. In the meantime, September stretches, gathering its strength.

summer takes its leave
autumn steps boldly forward
september watches


*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at: dVerse

 



This Child

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed, those who are homeless snd are not sheltered” — Dwight D. Eisenhower


Photo by Gregory Colbert

 

Born in dead of winter
under a darkling moon
at the waning of hearts

a bewildered child
conceived in chaos
lacking heritage
in freefall of fear

searching for foothold
to climb from this fate

abandoned
nomad of the streets
longing for clarity
for a sense of identity

hungry for love
to fill an empty soul
hungry for food
to fill an empty
aching belly

sorrow wells deep

yet
hope endures
in an innocent heart

though enwrapped in sadness
the light of dreams
always holds flame
even if but a flicker

see this child
weighted with the burden
of cruel abandonment
heavy of heart
felled by hungers

see this child

this child
this day
dreams of flying

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 


Illuminus

“Faith calls, to question who I am, when neither myth, nor man. Say not what you were, but what you are. A scarcity of miracles we’ve found.” — King Crimson

“See the Light” by Giulio Bernardi
 
There is a quiet golden
in this evening as it settles
unequaled in its beauty
by even that of precious metals

it embraces vesper’s hour
with a subtle gentle heat
beams through the gilded window
falls ever gently at my feet

it ignites beatific magic
as if prayers are being heard
paints the world in amber splendor
one feels miracles being stirred

blessed by the radiance of the sun
this holy moment catches fire
my frail heart’s a kindled tinder
aflame in sacred love’s desire

wrapped in an inner mounting flame
I’m filled with passion’s yearning
my captive soul now full ablaze
for the truth my heart is burning

before I am but all consumed
please let it not be the abyss
for if I am to be consumed
I pray it be by hallowed bliss

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

~ Now, performed by the man that wrote the masterpiece… ~

Indubitably


~ Marriage – society’s way to prevent us fighting with strangers ~

 

I ponder confusing observations
that portend unexplained reality
which exist belying understanding
one being certainly — matrimony

two people surrender independence
to practice exclusive codependence
then regret embracing monogamy
to only envision autonomy

I question logical humanity
it appears unquestioned insanity

*
rob kistner © 2022

Spicy poetry at: dVerse

 



https://youtu.be/-6zyo6XX6eM

*and just for fun, up next — a lil’bit’a marital buzz-kill truth…

Dangerous


“Beauty is power — a smile is its sword.” – John Wray

 

Golden’d ginger
that falls in flows
as waves of luster
breaking full over
satin soft shoulders
sensuously scented
in a sweet vanilla
to cascade beyond

eyes a pale shade
of saffron petals
that sparkle amethyst
in gentle moonlight
shadowed softly
a subtle cinnamon
quiet seduction
with no escape

lips a pouted sheen
of rich paprika
full and inviting
a temptress smile
that begs a kiss
yet warns of danger
pure cognac sipped
as hard to resist

pardon me please
but if I stare
it’s just so rare
to encounter beauty
of such perfection
your classic face
divinely sculpted
Venus’s reflection

you so mesmerize
captivate and tantalize
spellbind and hypnotize
such a scintillating
blend of visual spices
true temptation’s recipe
it’s then I realize

this is love
no hope for me

*
rob kistner © 2022

Spicy poetry at: dVerse