Floating

Taking your face in my hands.

Kissing you so

slowly

achingly

slowly

tasting your drink on your tongue

sighing

feeling my heartbeat catch

then flutter

then race

nuzzling you

head to head

sighing in your ear

sucking on your earlobe

as if it could ever be a suitable substitute

for anything else

but want

to be sucking you

in any way

need to

need a lot of things about you

keep getting that pit of the stomach feeling

the same one from a rollercoaster

as you crest a hill

and outwit gravity

for a split second

and all your guts float

so I guess I'm saying

you make me feel like I'm floating

Colors of My Friends

Color, tint, and shade

thought, emotion, subtlety

colors of a friend.

Broad sweeping brush stroke

painting pictures of my friends

I need more colors.

One is rich and deep

many layers, mostly blues

subtlety of wit.

Flashes of brilliance

and vulnerability

within the layers.

Blues don't excite me

not usually that is

this one is special.

Something about those

layers where life and love lay

in between those blues.

Desert, mountains, air

the color of a deep breath

fire in a soul.

Bold strokes friend of blue

hide the subtlety of you

and so I love you.

This friend I must paint

quickly for he's seldom still

a kaleidoscope.

Colors tumble round

bright, vibrant, colors moving

showing me so much.

Colors of love, lust

mixed with loss, and pain, and hurt

hope and joy there too.

Colors of friendship

strong, deep, safe, gentle brother

jewel tones for you.

For this friend-purple

one of my favorite hues

fit for gods and kings.

A nobility

graceful gentleness, kind heart

described in this hue.

Mischief is here too

the colors of a deep laugh

shading of a smile.

An honest brush stroke

faithfulness above all else

is painted here too. 

The colors of you

make you so special to me

you make me stronger. 

Some friends I hold tight

afraid of my own shadow

relying on them.

They are gracious, kind

patient when I cling too tight

they teach me to fly.

As I spread my wings

I see the colors of them

have rubbed off on me. 

Many friends are new

many colors still hidden

takes time to see you.

But in each, "Hello"

each glance, word, kiss, and embrace

I see more colors.

As you reveal you

add more color to canvas

my love for you grows.

I immerse myself in you

swirl your colors around me

loving learning you.

And in learning you

I find wisdom about me

painting both of us.

Emotional Amputation

‎​People talk about their heart
Aching for someone.
‎​It's not my heart that aches
‎​It's my skin

‎​To feel him against me--curled around me.
‎​That's what hurts the most
‎​Like phantom pain
‎​After an amputation

‎​As I wake in the morning
‎​I can feel him there
‎​Feel him beside me
Feel him inside me

‎​And then I open my eyes
‎​And the sense of loss is so overwhelming
‎​I start off each day with that kind of pain
‎​And yet, I survive

Dear Friend,

Good morning dear friend,

Re-reading your blog.

And wondering how you are doing now.

Wondering if you understand this gift you have.

Wondering how to help you see.

How to give you happiness?

Wishing you were closer

So that I could hold you quietly

When you doubt yourself so completely.

Wishing you were here, or I there

So that I could show you

All the people you touch everyday.

Wondering if today will be a good day for you

Wondering what I can say to make it happen

Give you all good days.

Good morning dear friend

Just checking in as usual

To tell you I love you.

Searching

This is being republished in its original form. You can read it in a very different form at ChocolateScotch.


Something missing here.

Searching to find what that might be--

Little piece of me.

Sing a song of love

Loves lost and longing for love

Sorrowful sonnet

Measured meters rhyme

Time finding time no meaning

Purposes are nil

Struggle with myself.

Looking for meaning where none.

Pushing aside fear.

Life disappoints me.

When realization hits--

ordinary me.

Special spark snuffed out.

It's brightness it's flame scary.

Better do without.

Time takes prisoners;

you, me, all of us someday.

We don't know better.

This emptiness speaks.

It's voice I don't want to hear.

Hiding from the truth

Pushing it down deep.

A special place created

no one else can see.

What is truth? Really?

If yours and mine are different

How can it be truth?

An absolution

absolutely completely.

What the hell is that?

Speaking in circles

tail chasing tail chasing me.

No one will notice.

Looking deep within

means I must open my eyes.

I don't want to see.

See, hear, think, and feel:

some of the ways we detect

when the world rings true.

Special circumstance

giving old words new meanings.

A strange kind of gift.

Something is lacking:

conviction, dedication

deliberation.

Angels feet touch down.

As they lightly tread reveal

true identity.

What of heaven? Hell?

Did Dante have gift of sight?

Will I see you there?

Blasphemous! Cry some.

Arcane dogma! Chant others.

I know where I stand.

Where? You ask of me.

Why? That's none of your business!

My faith is my own.

A woman's body

Is it hers? Or do you own?

Who gave you this right?

Why when you see me

do you only see my flaws

not my divine gifts?

There is a power

emanating from my soul.

If you look, you'll see.

Belief in your Self

so difficult to master

but necessary.

Ages old wisdom

nestles deep inside your soul.

Open your Self.  See!

To you I bare all

hopes and fears, my secret self.

Will you protect me?

Searching. Searching still.

Coming to terms with answers

that answer nothing.

Smile! Dammit!

Sometimes things are not

what they appear to be and

sometimes they just are

If you close your eyes

and listen with just your heart

you will hear the truth

You have conviction

in listing your shortcomings

what you lack is truth

Relativity

affects many things in life

not my love for you

When you feel the sun

caressing you with her warmth

feel my heart in yours

What the hell do I

need to do to make you smile?

Moon some passing cars?

Hey! Wow! Look at that!

Don't try and say you didn't.

I saw you grinning!

Poetry for a Friend

Sneaking up behind
wrapping arms fiercely around

nuzzling neck nips ear

You're instantly hard

the best form of flattery

is turning you on

As much as I want

your body, your mind, your heart

intrigue me much more

Tell me your stories

tell me your craziest dream

that's what real friends do

There's a place inside

the very center of me

where there's room for you

You won't be alone

all I hold dear have a space

hearts have no boundaries

We may write fiction

but the truth is in the words

spoken between friends

If I Sent You a Message

If I sent you
A message
Every time I thought of you
Your inbox
Would overflow
I send this message
In the stead of
Untold millions
Of sweet little thoughts
Of you, my Love.
That you may see
In front of you in words
That which I hope you feel
Every second of every day
My love for you.
If I could touch you
I would pull you into me
Wrap your body and soul
Within me and mine
Holding you forever
This distance is too great
For any physical touch
So my thoughts will have to do
for now
Always thinking of you

Harrisburg Flood of 2011

The mighty, sleeping giantess

awoke today;

stretched her liquid arms

reached out with many fingers

and embraced the world around her.

Success Guest Posts Wanted

Back on June 7th I got one of my hair-brained ideas; I decided to ask for guest posts on the subjects of Art, Creativity, and/or Inspiration. In addition to putting out the post and a few tweets, I sent out direct messages inviting creative folks I knew to participate.

The resulting posts went up on a new site called ChocolateScotch.com. As of today, there are 63 guest posts on those topics. They range from an audio response to a sonnet, to a fictionalized account of me searching for thoughts on creativity inside the mind of a friend. And while I think the possibilities for posts about art, creativity, and/or inspiration are endless, I've decided to move on and give you a new topic: success.

So tell me what "success" means to you. What is it? How do you define it? Is it lasting? Fleeting? Elusive? Possible? How do you know when you are successful? What constitutes success for you? Work? Fame? Family? Money? And, once you define it, how long till that definition changes?

You can send your thoughts (along with a short bio if you are new to Chocolate Scotch as a contributor) to DyedBrightHere (at) gmail (dot) com.

Thunder Rumbling

Thunder rumbling
in the not-too-far-and-getting-closer-every-second distance.
Long, low rumbles
vibrate through my soul;
growling like my lover.

Tension building,
waiting for the flash,
waiting for the release.
The promise of a pounding rain
rumbling from your lips.

My tears will fall first.
The pain of missing you
so complete
the thought of riding out a storm without your strength
more than I can bear.

The air around me stills,
nature gathers herself.
Breaths collected and held.
A lover's embrace
shelter enough through any storm.

Thirsty from want and wanting.
Torrential downpour painful, bruising;
wetness pounding life back in,
removing need.
Relief complete in the quiet after the storm.

I Will Survive

I still feel you
Next to me
Against me
Inside me
Arms encircling
I still hear you
Whispering to me
Telling me your thoughts
Your dreams
That you love me
Memories
Etched into my mind
Into my soul
That will exist
Through all time
Feelings
Of love
And loss
Of finding what was meant to be
And not being able to keep it
Knowing
That even dreams
And hopes
Can't make the impossible
Possible
Wishing
For more dignity
While dying
And more strength
As I am crushed
Understanding
That love hurts
That laughter heals
That anger is a preventable disease
And that I will survive

In Answer to Those

In answer to those
who would ask why
I vent things here
that many would choose to keep to themselves
out of embarrassment
or shame
because to admit to them
is to be terminally flawed
when I let these things out
I say
I am not ashamed
of myself
and my imperfections
I remove the poison
that has been my marriage
my life
from my psyche
and the storm
that is my thoughts
swirling
quiets just a little bit more
and eventually
I can sleep

Purple Globulous Green

Purple globulous green
Goo
Fighting astride
The dragon
Of death
She laughs
And sings
Songs of delirium
As she struggles
On
Rich language
Poor facts
Timeless, ageless
Synonymous
With death
Fractal geometry
Numeric metaphore
Tilting
Spinning
No sense insense
Wisdom and magic
Accompany her
As she rages
Against the machine
Aloft
Incantations
Thrown out
Defeating
The sun
And herself
Situation and approximations
Of help
And condolences
The purple unicorn
Sneers

Insomnia

A couple of years ago
I saw a doctor
Or so he purported
About my insomnia
Or how I yawned in the dark
Fitfully tossing and turning
Then bleary-eyed in the day
Forced myself to stay awake
He suggested activities
That might quiet
The freight train
chugging in my skull
Things like reading
And knitting were mentioned
Lovely, peaceful, quiet activities
Unless, like me, you just so happen
To do both of those things
An odd mix, to be sure
As your jobs (not your day job)
But job, nonetheless.
When I pointed this out to him
He was at a loss for suggestions
Of ways to turn off my brain
so, insomnia, it is.

Finally I Sleep

Spiralling down low
To that place that I go to
When I'm exhausted
When every muscle aches
And the darkness overwhelms
Time is meaningless
There is a stillness
Clawing at me, sharp fingered
But my thoughts escape
They hummingbird wing
Swirling around in the dark
Eddies of my thoughts
The rest of me drained
Bloodless, empty carcass, mine
Harvested. Empty.
I feel you with me
Coming to me in the dark
My lover, my friend
Frenzied, beating wings
Calm and still, safe in your nest
Head tucked under wing
Safe in the darkness
Sheltered in your loving arms
Finally, I sleep

Max Bell

My dear friend, Max Bell, suffered terribly from COPD. He lived somewhere on the Northern Left Coast and we never met face-to-face. He could be a cantankerous bastard but I understood why. He made me think. He made me laugh. He made me smile. And, I loved him dearly.

He had a pet hedgehog. That alone made him remarkably special to me. But beyond the simple things, he believed in fairness, equality, common decency, all of those things that would make the world a much better place.

This morning I received an email from him with the subject line, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."--Dr. Seuss. It was a simple message signed by his mom:

Max is no more. He left this planet last Saturday quietly without pain or fear.
In place of a memorial please hug someone or vote democratic. Either would please him.

He contributed an essay to The Creativity Blog Project that will run on August 1st. Even his bio made me laugh when I read it and I still smile every time I see it.

Max Bell is just a guy with a hedgehog, a computer, and an internet connection.

Thank you, Max, for making my life just a little bit brighter just by knowing you. I am so very happy that you are finally free from the pain you endured with such grace and so very, very sad that I can't talk to you anymore.

Love Trumps All

I see the world in colors
Rhythms, cadence, music
Light
Nothing is just black and white
And love trumps all.

Suddenly Intense

Suddenly intense
A thunderstorm crashes through
I miss you, dammit.

This space for rent:

THIS

SPACE

FOR

RENT

Not really, but I might as well since I'm not keeping my creative content here. My draft count for this site is currently at 95. I wonder if I can get the drafts to outnumber the posts before I put everything back up again on some as yet undetermined date in the too far future.