macblaze.ca

Please, what would you have me dream of,
If you were mistress of all my dreams?
One with nature, a peaceful life,
Of mountains lakes and cool blue streams?
Would you have me dream: soft clouds, white
Dancing floating infinite blue?
Always changing, dancing in the light
Endless, countless variations.
Or would you hold me with your love?
Curled safe in the warmth of passions.
The rays of you heart about me,
Shielding my soul form cruel cold pains.
Drift afloat on a green-blue sea
Or gently rest a calm blue space,
An ethereal room imagined,
In these dreams I could find a place
If you could fill my sleep soothed mind,
With images: you by my side,
And our arms and minds intertwined.
Please what would you have me dream of,
If you were mistress of all my dreams?
All that I would wish to dream of
Is to open my eyes to you.

 

Typewritten (on my old apple IIC). This one almost has something going for it.

I awaken —> her face, eyes of
                 innocence
I sleep —> her warmth
         The union of body and spirit
                 in her,
The experience of being wrapped
         in living warmth
                 of love
                 of passion
This morning I awoke to a new beauty
This morn I awoke to true beauty
         A new feeling, explosive
                         zesty
                         giddy
                         gleeful
                         indomitable joy
         In her, —
I awoke.

The first of 2 poems found on a handwritten sheet.

Hear her
Her art,
Hear with ears;
Her heat
Her love.

He a Hart
He hears her art,
Hear from her heart.

Hear me
hear a heart,
“I love you.”

For L — obviously, labeled “In fun”

Sitting on purple seats bolted to a purple sea
Watching an olive figure against a cement & chalkboard wall.
I listen to humorous wisdom
          to imaginative delights
I thought of words I would like to write
          of words I can say.
I thought: thank-you
          it was more than just a thought — it was a feeling —
          it was a huge engulfing powerful wave of truth;
I knew I had to thank you
          in some way
          to let you know what you have done for me
          how much you have done for me.
Sitting on purple seats beside you — I knew
I knew: that you had set me free
          26 years of life; of struggle
          My mother taught me to be free
                    to be what I wanted, she opened doors
          The world taught me to control
                    to fit in; to keep the door chained
          26 years I strived to express myself
          To free my soul and fit in
          To be accepted, to strike out
                    To make my mark — But
          What if they didn’t like my mark
                    too small, too cliché, too black, too white
                    What then?
Sitting on a purple seat in a purple sea staring at wise olive green
It came to me — I knew — You had set me free
                    What I write is me — I like it.
                    What I draw is me — I made it.
                    What I say is me — it reflects me.
          It’s not for you — although I give it freely
          It’s not for them — although I’ll gladly share
          I do what I do because I want to do.
          I’ve always wanted to do.
                    I’ve yearned
                    I’ve ached
                    I’ve prayed & begged
          But I’ve always been afraid
Sitting on a purple reality staring at olive truthes
It came to me —> I must thank you
                    I must express the inexpressible joy
                    I must tell you the unspeakable truth
                    I have to share with you the unspoken feelings
Thank you: for setting me free
                    for believing in me
                    for the tender lies, the blinded truthes
                    for the smiles and glows, the caresses and touches
Because of you I am learning myself, discovering myself
                    defining & aligning myself.
I set pen to paper —> the first step
                    it matters less about success or failure
                    did Emily worry about rejection; I suppose
                    but see the result.
                    I always wanted to create, to express beauty
                    to share the love & humor in a cold & granite world
                    But I needed approval from that granite
                    I needed blood from that stone
The pain of your music, Beethoven’s genius, Barishnakov,
Michelangelo, Allison’s vice: these things made me ache,
made me yearn —> made me crawl down into cold clammy
                    stony damp caves of suffocation darkness and
                    inexorable doubt.
You have set me free, my feet remain in the
          cool dark mud still, pulling upwards slowly
          sliding back into the safe coolness
Back and Forth
          I set pen to paper: the elusive, impossible first step.
                    The next rung, the new hurdle, the challenge
          Still remains.
                    But I face it — I’ve started
                    Good or bad — happy or sad
                              it no longer matters — I’m free
I wish to climb that tall forbidden hill
          to pierce its mist shrouded slopes
          to emerge triumphant at its summit
          to see clearly ant to be one
I fear this fallacy, I see the contradiction inits success
          Yet I no longer suffer under the oppressive weight
          of that fear
                    I no longer labor under that overwhelming angst
          that paralyzes and leaves you to be sun dried and wind blown
You have set me free
          How: i can only ask
                    i do not know
Thank you — these thoughts slid into my mind, engulfed my reality
                    permeated my truth — redefined my self view
I have always been what I am,
Now I am closer to knowing what that is.

 

Written after a poetry reading by the great Al Purdy. Its is amazing to look back from 2019 and realize that while I have  torn down the walls many times, they reform again, and my efforts result only in slowly making them less of an obstacle.

In the land west of Nod, the flesh of Gaia lies torn
Penetrated by bearers of succulence,
Here is found forbidden fruit, in this fertile garden,
Beauty incarnate, the seeds of truth wait.
But softness of its skin, ripe, tender,
It waits to be consumed

Solus he enters, name-giver man
The red ripeness of this seed beckons, pulls
It shows the reflection of his self, a passageway to his truth
An offer of fulfillment, purity untouched
Untouchable, by tradition, by God’s Law, forbidden

Alas Darwin dictates to primate man
Animal curiosity rules, conceit persuades
Desire dominate, manipulates, justifies
To reach out … to caress … to Know
To Possess.
The I that is Mankind is engendered
         The I that wants,
         The inherent vice that taunts
It is the hidden flaw, the denied reality
The final argument against omniscient omnipotence
Generating Greed, Covetousness, Envy, Lust
A wind rustled the leaves of perfection
Eden no longer awaits.
A beast has burst from the loins of man
To be his only true offspring.
The passion feeds it, its hunger grows,

Laden, the bough nods down, His arm extends
To caress the cool flesh of knowledge
Yes, to know All, to Truly know, to Possess
To own.

—NO—

Wind whispers down through the leaves
—No, man cannot take, it is for others to give—
Lust flows from fingertips to fruit, flesh unites
In unity man divides, passion consumes, fear divides
The Eternal Conflict is born.
The contact is lost, the seed still inviolate
The truth of flesh will, for a space yet remain out of his grasp
Yet the truth remains, the hunger feeds, growing strong

East of Eden the tender skin of the earth once more erupts,
A tainted meat now awaits,
Raw and bloody, this newly rent flesh harbours the seed
The truth of man’s love will metamorphose here
Chaos and confusion reign, simplicity is lost,
Now true beauty lies hidden beneath many layers,
Reality springs forth; man’s existence is at last defined

**

A serpent smiles, the smile of true knowledge
The juice of the truth on his lips
The flesh of the fruit peacefully awaits
For fulfillment, for the fall of woman
For Man had already fallen.

 

Written for and submitted to an English Club journal (and rejected).

The long ivory,
cool, smooth;
soft, inviting
To reach out,
to feel the warm skin,
to gently bring her
to me to her,
I desire
     I long
        it becomes
The focus of my soul exists
in that curve flowing up,
drawing my eyes, my desire,
down to more curves, caresses;
The cool heat, the velvet ivory, the cooled passion
Once again – the desire:
impossible fulfillment,
     I rest, consumed.

Date unknown (late 80s?)

Two masks collide in the darkness.
Each is seeking it truth,
But observing only their realness.
Boredom and Loneliness sharing…there’s no fruit.
Two lawyers defining their arenas.
Unhindered by the other’s reality.
They interact independently.

The chance meeting, exchanging of tales,
Observing policies of the herd.
Despising the rituals, they strive not to fail.
Detesting each other, they won’t understand what they’ve heard.
So the deep pools lie unexplored,
Overflowing and empty. A meeting of gods.
Each was truth itself. Two walls collided.

The parallels separate, their functions performed.
Wandering the hazy infinite,
The encounters are endless, all are scorned.
Searching eternally of the Keys.
Hope stands always in the shadows ahead.
A magnet for our souls,
A curse for our minds.

Jan 29-31, 1987

Do I know where I’m
going to? Do I like
what life is showing
me? Do I Know?

Truth

Always hidden from yourself
And rapidly covered if it shows through
It’s presence denotes true wealth,
But most bid it ado.

As if God has decreed,
You cannot know yourself.
Still the soul fills with greed
And we seek with great stealth (annotate Yuch!)

With studies of psyche
And fledgling sciences we strive,
To understand the light.
We know it’s there, we’re alive.

It governs the life
And excites the mind
Truth is as a wife,
It’s there, but not mine

January 8, 1987—title added

amidst the troubled turmoil of modern days,
lies the lovely anguish of modern nights.
The pain of failure, the emptiness of accomplishment,
the joy of love, the fulfillment of partnerships

the opposites of life do pay,
they bring the joy of all fights.
Your inner emotions come forth,
then strip away to show the forbidden sights

January 30, 1985

 

The third poem written on this day. I have no idea who I was dating, but she sounds wonderful…