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Saturday, September 10, 2016

We are the Feelers

We are the feelers
The healers
The empaths

Pain is power
Of Understanding

Care & Compassion
Our Weapons
Of Love

We feel til it hurts
We care til it cuts

Then Love Explodes

Showering Light
Piercing Darkness

Healing hatred Holy.

Monday, July 4, 2016

When You Stare in the Fire

When you stare in the fire
Your aura changes
From playful mischief
To ancestral wisdom.

When you stare in the fire
Your soul emerges
Claiming a birthright
No other can touch.

Your essence of Spirit
Speaks to my soul
Mastering a language
No other can speak.

When you stare in the fire
You draw me in
Hold me close
And keep me safe.

When you stare in the fire
My heart beats with yours
And finally I'm exactly
Where I want to be.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

I know

I know you are afraid
Cuz I am too

I know you hurt inside
Cuz I do too

But the only thing to fear
Is fear itself

This is what you tell me
To help myself

So where do we go
From here?

How do we face that fear
We have?

We stumble in the dark
But hold on tight

We call each other's name
Throughout the night

No matter how far
We have to go

No matter how rough
Is this road

We never have to be


Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Keepers of the Night - Chapter 4

This is Chapter 4 in an ongoing series titled, "Keepers of the Night."  If you missed Chapters 1-3, you may find them here:
Chapter 4
          Stepping inside the door, Joe suddenly understood why these seats were so damned expensive.  Plush velvet chairs arranged in cozy sets of two dotted the area in front of him, while a well-stocked wet bar stood off to one side, attended by a sharply dressed butler who stood waiting for his next orders, as patient and attentively as one might expect of an attendant for royalty or the extremely wealthy.

            While taking in everything in front of him, and thinking that he should send for Jillian to join him, one of the overstuffed velvet chairs near the balcony's edge turned towards him to reveal a richly dressed woman in an exquisite silver evening gown with opera gloves that looked to be from the 1940's.  She smiled at him as she chuckled softly, saying huskily, “A little new to the top drawer, are you dear?  Why don't you have a seat and make yourself comfortable?” She gestured toward the seat across from her, and several diamond bangle bracelets danced on her gloved arm, sending showers of sparkling color floating through the air in front of him.

            After loosening his necktie, Joe handed his suit coat and Josh's present to the attending butler, then made himself comfortable in the proffered velvet chair.  Leaning back and allowing himself to relax for the first time that evening, he closed his eyes and let out a long exhaling sigh, releasing all of the tension and frustration from his entire day and evening in one fell swoop.  As he did so, the memories of what happened earlier in the day came flooding back to him.

On his way out the door to Josh's concert, one of the senior partners had called Joe into his office with some very bad news.  After 12 years of loyal service, he was now going to be unemployed.

“Joe, business has been bad for some time now.  The economy has wiped out most of our clients' assets and eliminated their need for our services.  All your hard work with our top clients has enabled us to keep you on longer than the rest, but the partners and I have decided to cut our losses before it gets any worse.  Effective tomorrow morning, we will close our doors for good.”  He got up from his desk, laid his hand on Joe's shoulder and said, “I'm sorry Joe,” then walked out.

            Opening his eyes again, he saw the mystery woman staring back at him, studying him as intently as if he were going to suddenly disappear at any moment and she would have to recreate him from memory.  It was an unsettling yet curious phenomenon, and after all that he had already been through this evening, Joe decided to go with the flow and see what happened.  After all, the evening couldn’t get any stranger than it already had.

            As soon as this thought completed itself in Joe’s head, a waiter in a crisp white waistcoat, sharply pressed black pants, and pristine white gloves appeared beside him, placing a small leather case on the cocktail table that separated his chair from the mystery woman’s chair.  “Compliments of the Madame, sir,” the waiter said with a slight bow, gesturing to the mystery woman and then turning back to his wheeled cart nearby, stocked with all manner of beverage accoutrements. 

            As the waiter prepared the ice bucket and glasses, Joe picked up the small leather case with a quizzical look on his face.  The front of the case was embossed with two pieces of sterling silver, one in the shape of a stag’s head and the other a square which read, “The Dalmore 1974.”  Intrigued, Joe opened the case and was astonished to find a glass bottle inside with matching silver embossed pieces and filled with a dark amber liquid.  The label on the neck read, “The Dalmore, Matusalem Sherry Finesse, Single Highland Malt Scotch Whiskey.” 

            Letting out a slow whistle from his lips, Joe stared at the bottle in his hands.  This was not just any scotch; this was single malt highland scotch that had been bottled in the very same year that he was born!  Turning the bottle around in his hands, Joe studied the amber liquid as it glowed in the light and thought back to the very first time he'd been introduced to single malt highland scotch.

He was 23 years old and had just joined the firm.  The senior partner had called him into his office to congratulate him on being accepted as their new junior accountant.  Sitting on the man's desk was a square crystal decanter, surrounded by matching crystal glasses.  Popping the top off of the decanter, he poured a small glass for each of them, and handed one to Joe.  “Son,” he said congenially, “there are few things in life as enjoyable as a good scotch.  The best scotch is always from the highlands, and always single malt.  The rest have to be served over ice.”  He then winked at Joe, chuckled loudly, and toasted to their mutual success.

            The clinking of ice cubes in a nearby glass stirred Joe from his reverie and he turned to the source of the noise.  The waiter was dutifully placing ice in each glass, preparing them to receive the scotch from the bottle in Joe's hand.  Stopping his action with a hand on the waiter's arm, Joe said, “No, no ice for this scotch.  This is far too great a whiskey to be marred by ice.  We will drink this straight.”

            Bowing slightly as he moved to remove the glasses, the waiter discreetly glanced at Madame, saw her nod in assent, and said, “Very good, sir,” then returned both ice-filled glasses to the wheeled cart.  Bringing out fresh glasses, he set those down upon the cocktail table and removed the ice bucket.  Upon the waiter's return, Joe handed him the bottle to open and sat up in the velvet chair, his attentions now fully upon the enigmatic woman who sat across from him watching all of this wordlessly, as she studied him and his actions.

            “So,” said Joe inquiringly, looking at the woman straight in her eyes, “to what do I owe the honor of such a fine scotch this evening?”

Thursday, June 2, 2016

The Noise in My Head

The noise in my head
Won't stop long enough
To let the words in.


Have to
Need to

Ding dong
Neighbor calling

Knock knock
Worry calling

Gotta go
Gotta run
Ain't nobody
Got time for fun.

I pick up my pen
The World stops

To play

What fanciful words
Shall visit us today?

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Dear Perpetually Pissed Off People

Pernicious perspicacity
Proselytized petulantly
Progressive progress.

Pigheaded poppycock
(Palliative painkiller)
Pursuit of peace.

Persnickety perfectionism
Practiced penultimately
Principled personhood.

Passive people
Purposefully programmed
Populous permutation.

Powerful people
Perpetuate peace
Palpable prognostication.

Friday, May 27, 2016

Finding My Voice

I went to a writing class on Wednesday evening and, as is usual for such a class, I came away with some fun work that I probably would never have come up with on my own.

One of the assignments was thus:

Write a 10 line poem, using a proverb, adage, or familiar saying, and include five of the following words:

Cliff  -   Needle  -   Voice  -   Whir  -   Blackberry  -  Cloud  -  Mother  -  Lick.

Using those instructions, here is what I came up with - which turned out more insightful than I had planned, but then my favorite ones always do.

Finding My Voice
Was a needle
In a haystack
Clouded by whirs
Of a Mother tongue
To keep my mouth shut.
Upending this sagacity
Took courage and commitment
With a splash of rebel yell.