Lady Stardust

In the midst of a moonlit avenue,

You and I stumbled jovially across the pavement,

Giggling at each other’s absurd motions

Only to both tumble backwards.

With the evening’s beer still fresh on my lips,

I took a reckless dive at a kiss

But to my surprise you reacted with oblivious indifference,  

As if my gesture was forgettable as an irksome breeze.

Instead, you reclined comfortably on the cement,

Letting your rippling hair flow in the caressing starlight,

And marveled at the celestial luminescence above us;

A million petite crystals dancing over our heads.

“One day you will find me waltzing with the stars,”

You said, rocking your head back and forth as if

Mystical ballroom music were playing in your mind.

“And I’ll shine like a lantern in the night sky.”

Perhaps it was a alcohol conjured vision,

But I could have sworn the pearls of your eyes

Glowed as the words glided off of your lips,

Ascending into the midnight space.

I may have never known your name,

Or from where you came,

But I know your final destination.

When a shooting star streaks through space

Dabbing the night in a silvery melody,

I’d like to think that it is you,

Waltzing in ecstasy across the moonlit sky.

Cleopatra

Bellowing trumpets call the palace to order and servants,

Dressed from head to toe in exquisite lace,

Promptly wave their lush palmetto leaves while the Pharaoh

Ambles domineeringly down the marble corridor.

Though the floor rattles at the cries of enemy soldiers

Penetrating the once impregnable palace walls,  

The mighty Cleopatra, exuberant in both beauty and intelligence,

Maintains a powerful, dignified forbearance.

Immune to cowardly apprehension petrifying those surrounding her,

The Pharaoh relies on only her brooding heart to guide her.  

Though her once opulent eyes scorch in melancholy,

They look onward toward the cynosure of her existence.

Clad in dense armor, Mark Antony clasps his sword resiliently,

Pacing nervously back and forth throughout his room  

At the thought of the danger soon to overtake him.

His breath hangs heavy on the seaside air.

But Antony’s complexion brightens at the sight of alluring lover,

And he releases his guard and opens his arms as she approaches.

Shouting erupts from the neighboring corridor

Though neither he nor Cleopatra discern the enveloping chaos.

As Roman soldiers zealously round the corner and overtake the lovers,  

Waving their weapons high in hopes of slaughter,  

The couple’s lips merge together as one,

Producing an everlasting bond that no sword could sever.

The Train Rumbles On

A whistle’s roar irrupts the snoozing wind as
A train rumbles out of the station
Like a bull unleashed in an arena.

Its sound bangs a frightened man’s eardrum;
Invoking the baseline of Death’s melancholy tune
Coalesced with hums of a mellow funeral organ.

The man tugs at his knots with great earnest
But he cannot separate the unyielding embrace
Of the rope and the railroad tracks.

Sounds of the whistle creep closer and
The sound of Death’s tune grows louder.
The fragile ground shakes in anticipation.

With his back taut against the tracks,
The man faces no alternative but to
Release a perturbed scream.

But his cries are silenced under
The cover of Death’s chilling song.
Despite the commotion, the train rumbles on. 

Midnight Scientist

Laboratory lights sizzle

In the presence of the

Midnight scientist.

Irate tinsels of electricity

Strike his apparatus,

And coerce the limp,

naked corpse outstretched

On his table

Back to life.

Contrary to the scientist’s

Great expectations,

The corpse wails at the

Discovery of his renaissance.

In a vehement tantrum,

He thrusts test tubes and beakers

Left and right,

Each shattering and leaving

Chromatic, flammable residues

On the sensitive floor.

“You FOOL. Do you not understand

That you have deprived me of HEAVEN

And its splendorous elation?  

Do you not realize that you have wrestled me

From the benevolence of the angels

Only to reacquaint me with the

Wickedness of the earth?

No crime is greater than this cursed

Life you have bestowed upon me.”

“But Charles, I loved you like a brother!”

The laboratory lights sizzle

In the presence of

Smoke and inferno.

The walls recede into powder,

And blanket the deceased.

Both mangled corpses,

Reduced to smoldering bones,

Lie solidified with arms reaching

Toward Heaven

With jarring smiles on their faces.

Out Of Time

As I sauntered nostalgically through the desolate,

Lackluster hallways of my school for the final time,

Passing tattered lockers,

Somnolent classrooms,

And long forgotten bits of paper

Impotently grazing on the grimy floor,

Not a sound could be heard,

And yet,

Whispers of days past

Echoed through my mind.

Much to my astonishment,

You emerged from a corner,

Clad in scarlet from head to toe.

As you approached me,

Your luscious brown hair

Draped elegantly over your shoulders,

And your admiral eyes twinkled of

Confidence and composure.

And when those crystalline eyes caught mine,

The world around me morphed into a

Murky, gray blur.

My heart palpitated as you gracefully

Extended your hand toward mine.

But when I found the strength within me

To unite our fingertips,

The taciturn air suddenly erupted

With cacophony.

Students burst from within their captivity,

giddily racing from out of classrooms

Into summer vacation’s open arms.

In the midst of the fray,

They carried you away,

And out the door you went,

Disappearing like the rest.

How unfortunate it is

That the days were too short

And hesitation rendered me impotent

For much too long.

How wonderful it would be to feel

Your hand in mine.

But alas,

I’m out of time.

Beauty In The Black

Oh how difficult it is

To find beauty in the black.

Loneliness, a carping vulture,

Hovers domineeringly over my shoulder

Like a judge presiding over a defendant,

Pecking at my skull ardently as if to call

The sleeping phantasms of my mind to order.  

What I am guilty of I cannot say,

Yet I am encapsulated by a dungeon

Where darkness engulfs me like a clammy sleep,

Rendering me senseless and numb.

In presence of my agony, the cynical bird

Assumes the role of conqueror,

Flapping its wings forcefully, walloping the gelid air

Right and left throughout the cell,  

Beleaguering my skin

And rattling my bones.

Oh how I long to extinguish this perpetual anguish.

Though on a rare occurrence,

A ribbon of sunshine stealthy slides

Through a crevice in the

Blistered board suffocating my window.

I rejoice,

Coddling it’s mellow benevolence.

But the light is retrieved by the bird’s

Watchful eyes.

It spreads its wings,

Swoops before my eyes,

And extinguishes the light,

Fueling the frigid, black

Night.

Oh how difficult it is

To find beauty in the black.

Living For A Memory

The unofficial sequel to my last poem, “Where The Sunlight Meets The Sea.” I originally intended for the girl in this story to be the lover of the speaker in the aforementioned piece, but I realized afterwards that, depending on your interpretation, she very well could be the speaker herself. I’ll leave that up for you, the reader, to decide. 

***

At the collision of day and night,

When twilight torches the sleepy sky,

Dying sunlight reclines over the horizon,

And demure darkness

Daintily descends,

She waits.

During evenings like these,

She journeys to the beach

And surveys the sea, 

Eloping with the elements,

Exposing her skin and soul

To wandering winds. 

As she stands there,

Vulnerable and pristine,

The tide tickles her toes

And she giggles at the call of

Whispering waves.

The fading sunlight flickers goodnight,

Dancing on the sea surface.

And then she remembers.

She is living for a memory;

Dying to fulfill a dream.

At night’s true nativity,

A latent force harvests

Emotions from within.

She extends her arms and

Alacrity overtakes her

In the form of a smile.

A tempest rushes through her,

Pitching her very being from within,

And conflating her spirit with the sea.

Together with the endearing waters,

She is complete;

She is free.

Where The Sunlight Meets The Sea

Someday you’ll find me
Where the sunlight meets the sea,
Waiting patiently for you.
My spirit will be scattered across the surface,
Riding bobbing, bellicose waves,
And gasping for a nostalgic whiff of
Honeyed oxygen.

Know that my soul will be
Immanent in the rising of the tide.
While my wide liquidity hands 
Slither across the sand,
Fervently longing
To catch a memory,
I will reach out to you.

Lastly,
When you hear the roar of the waves
Beleaguering brawny rocks on the shore
Know that it is me
Crying out for you,
Yearning to relive
The serene moment when
We watched sunlight kiss ripples
Effusing through tender waters.

For you, I’ll be content to
Languor in transit,
Bound between Heaven and Earth,
Engulfed by sunlight and the sea,
Until we may ascend together,
Limitlessly.

I'll Follow The (California) Sun

Moments in life melt like icicles;
For every tick of the clock,
A droplet a liquid plummets
From the chin of the ice.
Tick tock
Pitter patter
Splash.

How quickly the seasons change.
The last gasps of winter have been muffled
By the mellifluous singing of the birds.
As I look out my window,
Blades of grass protrude from the ground
Like hopeful little hands reaching toward the sun.
Rambunctious squirrels scurry through the bushes
While the wafting leaves on the trees,
Prompted by a susurrous breeze,
Affably greet
Spring’s sweet felicity.

Along with the changing of the seasons
Comes the end of one of life's many stages.
I find myself immersed in the twilight of my childhood;
That icicle is waning,
Now reduced to nothing but a stub. 
Graduation is right around the corner.

Though I’d been aware that my life
Would change for quite a while,
I nevertheless remained in denial
Of an auspicious tomorrow.
But the sight of spring’s exuberance
Renders hope within me;
Maybe change is within reach.
Perhaps soon I can break out of my shell
And blossom
Like the world outside of my window.

And so, once the season changes,
Onward I will go,
Westward bound!
To San Francisco Bay, 
Like many fortune seekers before me.
The rising 
Of the California sun will
Liquefy the last of this dying,
Cantankerous icicle,
And hopefully
Thaw my frozen dreams. 

And maybe then,
After years of acquiescence,
Will I finally find it within me to
Bloom.

Unforgivable

Are there sins

So vile and invidious

That they should be deemed

Unforgivable?

Should the ability

To forgive and forget

Be considered a virtue

Or a trait of naiveté?

Many men and women

Of good moral standing,

Blinded by the inferno of

A single moment,

Impetuously tiptoe across the line

Between right and wrong

Only to have their toes

Scorched the embers

That pave the wrong side.

Each of us possess burn marks,

Some more than others,

Because the heat on the other side

Can sometimes be too alluring

To resist.

Even the best of us occasionally

Flirt with the flames.

Should one who submits to penance,

Vows to live a more righteous life

And entreats the world for forgiveness,

Be denied hope for a future nonetheless?

Why loathe a person,

Rather than embrace them in their quest to rectify their wrong?

Aren’t those who deepen the already scorching scars

No different than the flames themselves? 

Is there really such thing as

unforgivable? 

Inspired by a column by Sam Mellinger of The Kansas City Star