Month: August 2006

the Quiet

Upon reflection, I am not sure if I like this poem. At times, I connect with it, at others I find it overdone and maudlin at best.

Our writing tells us where we are; the style of this poetry reminds me of what I used to write in high school. Not exactly the same, but it feels similiar.

What does that say about where I am now?

—

In some quiet
resting place
beside a tired road
amid the temple’s tilt and ruins low.
I laid my head to wander

I dreamt thereof the fairer sex,
her curving smile, her tender breast
and guided there
by wicker hands
she laid my head to rest.

Cradled ‘gainst a marble thigh
my gaze on crests of stone
her garden built,
in giant’s pride
were crafted of her bone.

Long I lingered in her place
‘fore stirring myself anew
my hands were roughed
in granite’s touch
and kissed by morning dew

Now, I dream of her in downy repose
her winter sighs
her summer’s cloak,
her secrets hidden by man’s unknowing tread
and here, too, the weeds
where once I laid my head.

I dream of her and all is well.
a colding sorrow, tomorrow’s hell.
ask me not to love again.

When is a Kiss Just a Kiss?

Sometimes I dream of a kiss.

—

D’jaevle lowers his head to draw your lower lip into his mouth.

Katelin closes her eyes tightly, kissing you back more intensely, hungrily, her tongue searching for yours, not even realizing anything else but your lips and your kiss. She breathes out slowly.

D’jaevle smiles, but it is hidden against your skin as he slowly traces a line of small kisses along the front of your throat.

Katelin moans and presses close to you, lost in your kisses, not paying attention to anything but that.

D’jaevle draws back just slightly, his voice soft, “When was the last time you felt this?”

Katelin says, “Oh……too long ago…”

Dancing, Dancing

I wish I could dance.

I will let you in on one my guilty pleasures. “So You Think You Can Dance”*. I didn’t think this would be a show I would enjoy, but between watching the pasa doble and the zombie-inspired dance that opened a recent episode* – well, I have become a fan. But this isn’t about a reality television show. It is about dancing itself.

Dancing can be highly ritualized. It can be free-flowing and organic. But no matter the form, the expression is the same – sex and violence, love and hate, separation and discovery; the fall and the redemption.

We respond to dancing the way we respond to music. Where a good book may leave a lasting impression, dancing gets under the skin the moment you are part of it.

Watching someone dancing makes me want to get dirty. Dancing is the way sex is meant to be.

—

* To see this, go to www.waderobson.com, click on ‘so you think you can dance’ at the top, and then select ‘ramalama’.

Pole Dancing Friend of Mine

I have a friend who has been going through a rather tricky time of late. Summer, which should be a time of freedom and relaxation for her, has been just the opposite.

Several years ago I wrote a small poem for SB’s birthday, which I am going to share (because who doesn’t enjoy a bit of cheesy sentimental poetry now and again?).

—

she whose pole dancing deserves a show of it’s own
who can vogue with the best,
even when dancing alone,

whose Rook playing skills
aren’t bad, I’ll admit,
but with glances aside,
improve quite a bit.

whose remarks always remain without malice or spite,
who acts like a drunken sailor when kept up at night,
who is a card carrying member of the Stark-haters club,
and a future purveyor of my friend-inclusive pub,

this woman I speak of, for those who are slow,
is a friend among friends,
and one I’m grateful to know.

Newton’s First Law

Sometimes when I am driving on a cool summer night, my window rolled down so I can thread the air with my fingers while listening to a mix of Leonard Cohen, Ella Fitzgerald, and Holly Cole, I want to just slide past my exit and keep on driving…

—

NE likes to tell this story about me. A few years ago, I told all my friends I was getting out of town for the weekend – my plan was to get in my car, drive southward, and see how far I could get. I gave myself a good three or four days to go and come back.

I got as far a Virginia Beach – a six to seven hour drive from where I live. It was dusk when I arrived, and being November, the area was pretty much deserted. I found a nice beach hotel and checked into a room with a view and a jacuzzi.

I went to the room and started the jacuzzi, setting it to ‘hot as hell’. I took a look at the last vestiges of a sunset, grabbed a book, and spent the next three hours reading in water hot enough to melt the words from each page.

The next morning I spent some time wandering the empty beach, watching the ocean waves take the sand and studying the odd person who, like me, was standing on the beach in the winter. I cruised the closed ocean stores trying to find a tattoo parlor that might, by some miracle, be open. I had no luck with that, but the drive, in the quiet still of an empty city, was oddly comforting.

Around noon I packed up and headed home.

—

During a recent conversation with Magdelena, I was reminded of something. It’s never been about the destination for me, but about the journey. I like to complete my goals because leaving too many things undone can become a habit – but I never start my way towards something because I need what is at the end of it.

NE likes to tease me that I only got a state away on my ‘big trip to nowhere’. But I never intended to go some place. I just wanted to go away.

M for Hire

I had a bit of an epiphany at the lake house this year. It was about how I relate to women I want.

Although I am quite comfortable in my appearance, it isn’t my looks that win them over.

Although I am well off, it isn’t my wealth that wins them over.

Although I have some authority where I work and in my life, it isn’t my power that wins them over.

My success is in a different area entirely. It derives from my abilitiy to make certain desires, fantasies, come true.

Fantasies are not like dreams. Dreams are often not meant to be attained (at least, not attained as we imagine them). Dreams are the silken ribbons that unravel, their destinations inspire idle day-dreams. Their paths promise moments of happiness. Their end-results are often not quite as perfect as we imagined.

Fantasies are different. Fantasies are the darker half of dreams; they are the hungers and wishes we barely admit to ourselves (not out of the fear that they may be considered silly, as in the case of dreams, but because they harbor truths about ourselves that may be too hard to look away from once fully embraced).

Fulfilling a fantasy may lead to disappointment – or it may succeed beyond our most twisted expectations. Both results are ones to fear.

And I? I have come to realize that I am adept at bringing these fantasies to the surface. I have enough space within me to acknowledge them without judgment, enough compassion to understand them, and enough steel and cruelty to bring them to life. I can cultivate them, define them. Make them felt. Make them speak. Make them real.

I offer more than the chance of fulfillment.

I promise to lead you there.

Take you apart.

And watch you come back for more.

Price of Vigilance

The worst kind of traffic isn’t Stop and Go. It’s stop!…go, go, go… stop!…go, go, go… stop!

It’s like playing Red Light, Green Light on the freeway. Not nearly as much fun as it was in my backyard as a kid.

—

What if true joy is only born in experiencing new things? What if our sense of wonder and our ability to feel true happiness are tied inexonerably together?

It would do a lot to explain why the older we are, the more experienced we become, the more difficult it is to hold onto those moments of joy. Those who manage to maintain their connection to their sense of innocence and wonder are the happiest amongst us.

The rest of us must work harder to find those moments. Or perhaps that is the wrong approach; it isn’t that we need to work harder in general – that might actually have the opposite affect, pushing happiness away rather than bringing it closer. We just have to be more vigilant. We have to be aware.

Life is in the experiencing.

—

Off to the lake house, will be gone until next Sunday.

Behave yourselves while I’m gone; don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.