Lunatic or Lover

Lunatic or Lover
This wasn’t just dress rehearsal
For the person I’d become.
Sure, the intensity might flee?
Idle it stood, rich and intense, the vision,
I can still see it.
We were in the park, on the Air Force base;
She, a child my age, brown long hair in strings, clinging to her tears
A memory, nearly fresh, some 35 years later.
Her anguish teased out of her, ravaged by thugs-boys,
I could almost taste the salt of her tears,
And in my silence, I could hear so much noise.
To have said and done nothing still feels like my fault.
They wrestled the thick-lensed glasses from her face
And threw them over the 8 foot rusted chain link fence.
My own stomach sick with helplessness.
Words, in my innocence, did not come,
But a lesson of regret did.
Impulsivity is my folly to this day, wild like drums.
I’ll swirl on tiptoe until the music in me comes.
Allows me never again to act the sheepish mute.
Old memories of raw life can morph into something resolute;
Poems perhaps.
I walk through it all, finding it, finding something,
Lifting my face to the sky as if it will answer.
Hearing what my gut tells me, which is both truth and grace.
Even now I cannot sit quietly,
Only the lunatic or lover can be so affected.
I still feel the soft downy whiteness of his quilt,
Wishing he’d pick me, He’ll never know.
But awaking in a morning basked in sun and guilt
Is like a shot of whisky in coffee, it’s just wrong.
If he were dog, I knew, I’d only ever be a flea
Even before a first sip of champagne, I had worth,
It was simply unmatched to his,
Because I’d once failed.
I chose not to be the lover but the lunatic
I’d forever choose to run with bells on,
Rampant and barefoot
Down the alleyways of “sin”???????????????????????????????

Part Brilliant Part Behmoth

For Robin Williams, Amy Whinehouse, Phillip Seymour Hoffman….if you knew this would you have?

To say that you were
my top three
where inspiration peaks,
you had me for tea;
You indulged on the level
of a velvetty, chocolate torte,
you laughed and winked
at my every retort,
you indulged my every synapse
albeit recklessly,
You understood the dangerous way
the endorphins leak free,
like my worst hours
of a drinking spree,
you left me weary and abandoned
like a lover’s last fling,
you filled me with abatement
wanting of a ring,
If I’d dropped your publicist a letter
fruited with my favorite scent
would you have realized then
all that’d you’d meant?
We were cut erratically,
sewn, perhaps of the same wildly patterned cloth
Same, coarsely hemmed seams
part brilliant, part behemoth?