Poetry and Prose for any season

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

She Eats Hearts and Worlds

In this world life stands still
heartache chokes in for the kill
Sidewalk leaps up to quickly slay
Fools racing all about every day

That pain sets just so damn well
she that strode from the gates of hell
Tarnishing all that gave in love
her sex fits tightly, like a glove

Those nights did so hotly soothe
she the sexy vixen so damn smooth
Always naked and steaming ready to go
no man could resist the sexual show

In her world you gladly die to play
such delights , pure passion every way
Then roofs came loudly crashing down
death came with smiles and no damn frown!

Robert J. Lindley.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

From my good friend and fellow poet Paul Callus,
a Quatern submitted for a newly sponsored contest..

Here he paints war with the weather(constant , torrential rain). A comparison I suspect the rain gave him when he was there long ago.. --Tyr


Rain over Vietnam


There is the calm before the rain
It’s almost silent all around
The clouds expectant in the sky
Foreboding birds are homeward bound.

The soldiers stare at looming clouds
There is the calm before the rain
And yet there’s tension in the air
Will all this waiting be in vain?

They know the feeling well enough
The sun gets left out in the cold
There is the calm before the rain
They have to be prepared and bold.

The sound of planes will soon be heard
Torrential bombs will fall again
But ‘til the heavens burst in floods
There is the calm before the rain.

-----------------------------------------------------------
Inspired by the song “Have you ever seen the rain?”
Sung by Credence Clearwater Revival.
With underlying reference to the Vietnam War.
-----------------------------------------------------------

Rock N' Roll Contest sponsored by Kelly Deschler.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Composed today by request from a poetess at my poetry site.
Posting here first while I mull over any changes that may need to be made..-Tyr





The Birds, They Were So Silent


I raced away early one bright morn,
running in clouds so very fleet
The birds, they were so silent
deathly stiff on a frozen icy sheet

Crossing bridge to glimmering lake
no worries, time was on my side
My charms would do me right
in this was my everlasting pride

I will find my lover's heart
bruised and battered it may be
As sure as life is a sweet fountain
my words shall bring her again unto me

I'll kiss her hands and her pretty feet
she will sway into my loving arms
A vision of pure heavenly delight
again falling for my arrogant charms

Our lives now by guile reunited
time will flow like a raging flood
The Love of My Lusting Desires,
shall live and eat in my blood

Summers shall be our playtime
winters for hot steaming nights
Time will yield to my magic
as my love sees wondrous sights

In the depths of this dream
she shall obey my hot desires
As I step from the dark shadows
to set ablaze her deepest fires

No heartaches , no terrible worries
life and love sets its steady pace
No tears shall ever fall across
the beauty of her loving face

Dancing into my long aching arms
into this sweet dream she shall dwell
No harm will I allow to visit her
as I seal shut the dark Gates of Hell

She will love me all the more
as we step into another golden realm
Sea shall envy her growing beauty
as I sail this ship steady at the helm

The ages crack into this deep mirror
joys are now so viciously denied
She now doubts my deep, slavish love
as my jealousy exposes my darkest pride

When time brings in its destroyer
love may stop cold in its track
I am but a love lost dreamer
thrown down upon my broken back

Yet again, look into my heart's mirror
the dream I made come alive for you
There is such goodness in this fantasy
you my life, your love governs all I do

I stand at this scary precipice
your hand is my greatest want
Love sends its everlasting glory
except when it mercilessly don't

You my darling hold the lasting key
late in this dream time stands still
My desires are as shallow nothings
measured against your true loving will

I raced away early one bright morn,
running in clouds so very fleet
The birds, they were so silent
deathly stiff on a frozen icy sheet

Robert J. Lindley, 11-23-2014

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Hear Me , My Lover, Please Sail On Back

Close the door, put out the cat
a rough ride, are we in for that
Sling the covers off the brass bed
we need no heat we got sex instead

Let our hands seal this sweet deal
your slay me with that sex appeal
Sexy transparent gown you may now put on
my love as hard as an elephant bone

Your love is my world wrapped in gifts
your smile sings and so uplifts
Longing for you day and hot night
your naked body, O' my, what a sight

The moon cries for your beauty so loud
hiding its paleful light in a shroud
Forests cry out with their dying wood
your body they'd steal if they only could

Across the lake where we first laid
is the spot our love was first made
O' glorious day, flowers at our feet
blessed spot if only we could still meet

So long ago that you sadly sailed away
never knew why you couldn't stay
Some family issue was all I ever knew
such misery the dark day I lost you

I can cry but never dare to forget
that blue dress, how your body it fit
Each memory sends me into heartaching pain
shall I ever hope to see you again

You thats more fair than any flower
as cool as a nice Spring shower
Hair that flows all about your cheeks
we lay naked in bed for all those weeks

Last week I dreamed of your return
my lust kindled and ravagely did burn
Now I hold onto that very slim hope
why the hell didn't we just elope

Brings me back to how you went away
darkness falling on that miserable day
Blues wrapping me in their viselike grip
hell that burst forth as my heart did rip

Hear me , my lover, please sail on back
put our love so sweetly back on track
Then, close the door, put out the cat
a rough ride, yes we are in for that
Sling the covers off our big brass bed
need no heat, we have our hot love instead!

Robert J. Lindley, 11-23-2014

Note- A new poem , written today for a contest but may not enter it
as I have an much older one a bit hotter from back in 1991.
Will have to compare the two with the Sponsor's requirements and decide later.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Sunshine Eats Its Armor


Night is an old fish
deep in a dark sea
racing ever upward,
emerging into light

slow to eat more
yet steady as she goes
ever changing its tails,

seeking life anew
anticipating,
a future never known,

breaking against all
speeding into a mist
longed for by many,
desires on every list

Night is a new fish
racing down to flee
sunshine eats its armor
deep, dark it wants to be

Robert J. Lindley

note: A little free verse tonight(I rarely ever do). Even as I try, poetic rhyme still sneaks in..
like a dog chasing a juicy bone..lol

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Untitled, first half of a collaboration write.
Jake Ponce to write second half.. asked me to lead off so
he could build on it.. -Tyr



Dark travels in such a long life
early days of hungering strife
A child born to fight for it
tasting ton of salt in every spit

Years sinking past like a slow tide
no softness, that one could abide
As years sent life into a dark spin
easy came toughness, pain and sin

Then came love trying its very best
softness, weakness in every test
Blade drawn to parry each thrust
to live on never daring to trust

A weak moment, hell bore on down
life melted, each day a new frown
Love had been accepted with grace
she left without a path to trace

Sad night , the fight no great cause
clocks stopped, universe hit pause
Time yielded no forgiving reprieve
love lost, nothing , nothing to retrieve

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

November Chills Remind Me



As November chill creeps in
I think of June and a friend
Sun beaming so eagerly down
our spot at the edge of town

Silent moments holding me
to a time and her pitiful plea
O' that this day last forever
and my love leave me never

She saw farther than I
the thought made her cry
I thought her so wrong
right she was all along

Clime cooled and so did we
leaves fell from our tree
October faded swiftly away
Parted on a chilly November day

November chills I think of her
so gone, I know not where
Shall June ever come again
will ever I see my friend

Sun shines down upon my Soul
keeping her should have been my goal.

R.J. Lindley 09, 11, 1976


note: Tomorrow will be two weeks and no new writes by me.
That is other than my private writings at home..
Found this in a old poetry book tucked in a chest with
divorce papers from my first wife.
Seemed fitting to present it because , well its November now.

Answer, no never saw her again. She moved away, I lost contact.
Life sent its distractions and the universe spun ever onward..

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Author: Prose of Edgar Allen Poe , Type: Prose

Intensos rigidam in frontem ascendere canos
Passus erat
Lucan

--a bristly bore.

Translation


"LET us hurry to the walls," said Abel-Phittim to Buzi-Ben-Levi and Simeon the Pharisee, on the tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the year of the world three thousand nine hundred and forty-one- "let us hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of Benjamin, which is in the city of David, and overlooking the camp of the uncircumcised; for it is the last hour of the fourth watch, being sunrise; and the idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey, should be awaiting us with the lambs for the sacrifices."
Simeon, Abel-Phittim, and Buzi-Ben-Levi, were the Gizbarim, or sub-collectors of the offering, in the holy city of Jerusalem.
"Verily," replied the Pharisee, "let us hasten: for this generosity in the heathen is unwonted; and fickle-mindedness has ever been an attribute of the worshippers of Baal."
"That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is as true as the Pentateuch," said Buzi-Ben-Levi, "but that is only towards the people of Adonai. When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved wanting to their own interests? Methinks it is no great stretch of generosity to allow us lambs for the altar of the Lord, receiving in lieu thereof thirty silver shekels per head!"
"Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi," replied Abel-Phittim, "that the Roman Pompey, who is now impiously besieging the city of the Most High, has no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus purchased for the altar, to the sustenance of the body, rather than of the spirit."
"Now, by the five corners of my beard!" shouted the Pharisee, who belonged to the sect called The Dashers (that little knot of saints whose manner of dashing and lacerating the feet against the pavement was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees- a stumbling-block to less gifted perambulators)- "by the five corners of that beard which, as a priest, I am forbidden to shave!- have we lived to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous upstart of Rome shall accuse us of appropriating to the appetites of the flesh the most holy and consecrated elements? Have we lived to see the day when-"
"Let us not question the motives of the Philistine," interrupted Abel-Phittim, "for to-day we profit for the first time by his avarice or by his generosity, but rather let us hurry to the ramparts, lest offerings should be wanting for that altar whose fire the rains of heaven cannot extinguish, and whose pillars of smoke no tempest can turn aside."
That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarin now hastened, and which bore the name of its architect, King David, was esteemed the most strongly fortified district of Jerusalem; being situated upon the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here, a broad, deep, circumvallatory trench, hewn from the solid rock, was defended by a wall of great strength erected upon its inner edge. This wall was adorned, at regular interspaces, by square towers of white marble; the lowest sixty, and the highest one hundred and twenty cubits in height. But, in the vicinity of the gate of Benjamin, the wall arose by no means from the margin of the fosse. On the contrary, between the level of the ditch and the basement of the rampart, sprang up a perpendicular cliff of two hundred and fifty cubits, forming part of the precipitous Mount Moriah. So that when Simeon and his associates arrived on the summit of the tower called Adoni-Bezek- the loftiest of all the turrets around about Jerusalem, and the usual place of conference with the besieging army- they looked down upon the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling by many feet that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and, by several, that of the temple of Belus.
"Verily," sighed the Pharisee, as he peered dizzly over the precipice, "the uncircumcised are as the sands by the seashore- as the locusts in the wilderness! The valley of The King hath become the valley of Adommin."
"And yet," added Ben-Levi, "thou canst not point me out a Philistine- no, not one- from Aleph to Tau- from the wilderness to the battlements- who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!"
"Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!" here shouted a Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough voice, which appeared to issue from the regions of Pluto- "lower away the basket with the accursed coin which it has broken the jaw of a noble Roman to pronounce! Is it thus you evince your gratitude to our master Pompeius, who, in his condescension, has thought fit to listen to your idolatrous importunities? The god Phoebus, who is a true god, has been charioted for an hour- and were you not to be on the ramparts by sunrise? Aedepol! do you think that we, the conquerors of the world, have nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls of every kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth? Lower away! I say- and see that your trumpery be bright in color and just in weight!"
"El Elohim!" ejaculated the Pharisee, as the discordant tones of the centurion rattled up the crags of the precipice, and fainted away against the temple- "El Elohim!- who is the God Phoebus?- whom doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi! who art read in the laws of the Gentiles, and hast sojourned among them who dabble with the Teraphim!- is it Nergal of whom the idolater speaketh?- or Ashimah?- or- Nibhaz?- or Tartak?- or Adramalech?- or Anamalech?- or Succoth-Benith?- or Dragon?- or Belial?- or Baal-Perith?- or Baal-Peor?- or Baal-Zebub?"
"Verily it is neither- but beware how thou lettest the rope slip too rapidly through thy fingers; for should the wicker-work chance to hang on the projection of yonder crag, there will be a woful outpouring of the holy things of the sanctuary."
By the assistance of some rudely constructed machinery, the heavily laden basket was now carefully lowered down among the multitude; and, from the giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen gathering confusedly round it; but owing to the vast height and the prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their operations could be obtained.
Half an hour had already elapsed.
"We shall be too late!" sighed the Pharisee, as at the expiration of this period, he looked over into the abyss- "we shall be too late! we shall be turned out of office by the Katholim."
"No more," responded Abel-Phittim,- "no more shall we feast upon the fat of the land- no longer shall our beards be odorous with frankincense- our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple."
"Raca!" swore Ben-Levi, "Raca! do they mean to defraud us of the purchase money? or, Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of the tabernacle?
"They have given the signal at last!" cried the Pharisee- "they have given the signal at last!- pull away, Abel-Phittim!- and thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi, pull away!- for verily the Philistines have either still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts to place therein a beast of good weight!" And the Gizbarim pulled away, while their burthen swung heavily upwards through the still increasing mist.


"Booshoh he!"- as, at the conclusion of an hour, some object at the extremity of the rope became indistinctly visible- "Booshoh he!" was the exclamation which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi.
"Booshoh he!- for shame!- it is a ram from the thickets of Engedi, and as rugged as the valley of Jehosaphat!"
"It is a firstling of the flock," said Abel-Phittim, "I know him by the bleating of his lips, and the innocent folding of his limbs. His eyes are more beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral, and his flesh is like the honey of Hebron."
"It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan," said the Pharisee, "the heathen have dealt wonderfully with us!- let us raise up our voices in a psalm!- let us give thanks on the shawm and on the psaltery- on the harp and on the huggab- on the cythern and on the sackbutt"
It was not until the basket had arrived within a few feet of the Gizbarium, that a low grunt betrayed to their perception a hog of no common size.
"Now El Emanu!" slowly, and with upturned eyes ejaculated the trio, as, letting go their hold, the emancipated porker tumbled headlong among the Philistines, "El Emanu!- God be with us- it is the unutterable flesh!"

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Every Dog Starts As A Surly Cur


Earth seeds its own laments
worn shepherds in torn tents
Sheep living in deep sleep
a tramp never earns his keep

Lone tree shades bare ground
hare rests but not the hound
Path sets so many hideous traps
children need more long naps

Adults seek much more pleasure
ignoring love's greatest treasure
Always more power grows deeper mad
selfish desires fertilize the bad

Earth bears its bitter fruit
dog puppies, so soft and cute
Man races he knows not where
every dog starts as a surly cur

Robert J. Lindley... 2014

Remnants from an unfinished poem below , the year was 1977.
No recollection of writing it or what the specific subject matter
was--most likely a bad relationship that effected my writing
that night--drank a lot back then.. too much..

Shades of pain , deepen my muse
her touches I quite happily use
She that burns intensely my brain
drink, drink in her frothy rain
Cut her deeply to feel the bleed
she moans as it sings in her need.....

Thoughts eat into this tired brain
hell with this lonesome strain
Cut her up this very dark night
enjoy, enjoy the blood in this light....

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Just finished this new contest poem. Contest requirements forced me to limit it to just these few lines(20). --Tyr

A Christmas Snow
(Snowy Childhood Delights)


Snow covered the land and every rooftop
blasts of glowing white never going to stop
Cold gusts moved the white flurries all about
kids looking out the windows began to shout

Please, please , let us go out to play
O' mother it is a truly wonderful day
I promise to wear a heavy coat and hat
outside is where the white heaven is at

Soon yards where full of girls and boys
round snow balls were new and great toys
Snowmen soon joined the happy little gangs
Sadly warming was needed from the frozen pangs

Inside the sight was of wondrous glee
as hot chocolate warmed each little tree
With more snow falling came shouts of joy
pure delight in every little girl and boy

Out they ran all in uniform, perfect time
shouts of joy were as beautiful rhyme
Snow played its spiritual, ordained blessing
a fantastic day, each child was confessing


Robert J. Lindley, 11-28-2014

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Shield of Achilles

W. H. Auden, 1907 - 1973

She looked over his shoulder
For vines and olive trees,
Marble well-governed cities
And ships upon untamed seas,
But there on the shining metal
His hands had put instead
An artificial wilderness
And a sky like lead.

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.

Out of the air a voice without a face
Proved by statistics that some cause was just
In tones as dry and level as the place:
No one was cheered and nothing was discussed;
Column by column in a cloud of dust
They marched away enduring a belief
Whose logic brought them, somewhere else, to grief.

She looked over his shoulder
For ritual pieties,
White flower-garlanded heifers,
Libation and sacrifice,
But there on the shining metal
Where the altar should have been,
She saw by his flickering forge-light
Quite another scene.

Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot
Where bored officials lounged (one cracked a joke)
And sentries sweated for the day was hot:
A crowd of ordinary decent folk
Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke
As three pale figures were led forth and bound
To three posts driven upright in the ground.

The mass and majesty of this world, all
That carries weight and always weighs the same
Lay in the hands of others; they were small
And could not hope for help and no help came:
What their foes like to do was done, their shame
Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride
And died as men before their bodies died.

She looked over his shoulder
For athletes at their games,
Men and women in a dance
Moving their sweet limbs
Quick, quick, to music,
But there on the shining shield
His hands had set no dancing-floor
But a weed-choked field.

A ragged urchin, aimless and alone,
Loitered about that vacancy; a bird
Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone:
That girls are raped, that two boys knife a third,
Were axioms to him, who’d never heard
Of any world where promises were kept,
Or one could weep because another wept.

The thin-lipped armorer,
Hephaestos, hobbled away,
Thetis of the shining breasts
Cried out in dismay
At what the god had wrought
To please her son, the strong
Iron-hearted man-slaying Achilles
Who would not live long.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Her Hair, Flows So Pleasantly Wild


Her hair , was flowing so pleasantly wild
she beautiful mother of our child
Her perfume had that sexy, soothing scent
I pray , with her my life will be spent

Her voice, sends in me those special chills
adore her curves that give me such hot thrills
Time, with her is always my greatest treasure
pray for more, all that God will measure

Her skin is smooth, slightly ever so tan
as she holds me as her only forever man
A walk that starts my loving heart to race
so hotly sexy yet still full of heavenly grace

Her love, eternity could never send any better
a blessing gifted, how did I ever get her

Robert J. Lindley 11-30-2014

note: A sonnet dedicated to my beautiful and loving wife..
Mother of our son and the kind of wife every decent man
longs for. Just ten more days until our tenth wedding
anniversary..
I am thus blessed..

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

When I think of the tyrant we have now pressing us under a newly formed yoke I think of these two great writes...
First by Rudyard Kipling and second one by Philip Freneau.


Cold Iron

Gold is for the mistress -- silver for the maid --
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of them all."

So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- shall be master of you all!"

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron -- Cold Iron -- was master of it all!

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)
"What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?"
"Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all."

Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown --
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.
"As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"

Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
"Here is Bread and here is Wine -- sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron -- Cold Iron -- can be master of men all!"

He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread,
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,
Show Iron -- Cold Iron -- to be master of men all."

"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason -- I redeem thy fall --
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"

Crowns are for the valiant -- sceptres for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"


Rudyard Kipling
-------------------------------------------------------

Eutaw Springs


At Eutaw Springs the valiant died;
Their limbs with dust are covered o'er;
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;
How many heroes are no more!

If in this wreck of ruin, they
Can yet be thought to claim a tear,
O smite thy gentle breast, and say
The friends of freedom slumber here!

Thou, who shalt trace this bloody plain,
If goodness rules thy generous breast,
Sigh for the wasted rural reign;
Sigh for the shepherds sunk to rest!

Stranger, their humble groves adorn;
You too may fall, and ask a tear:
'Tis not the beauty of the morn
That proves the evening shall be clear.

They saw their injured country's woe,
The flaming town, the wasted field;
Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;
They took the spear--but left the shield.

Led by thy conquering standards, Greene,
The Britons they compelled to fly:
None distant viewed the fatal plain,
None grieved in such a cause to die--

But, like the Parthian, famed of old,
Who, flying, still their arrows threw,
These routed Britons, full as bold,
Retreated, and retreating slew.

Now rest in peace, our patriot band;
Though far from nature's limits thrown,
We trust they find a happier land,
A bright Phoebus of their own.

Philip Freneau
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I hope the reader can make the same connectiion that I did. --Tyr

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

A Single Soul Cries Out

Across this barren lake my ghost did sail
lost and heading straight into another hell
Behind remnants of a dark and wayward past
treasures stored that shall never last

Sunny skies ever looking down upon me
joined by those memories my soul sought to flee
No wind to send my ghost sailing right along
on the shore images of a faceless throng

So far ahead a welcoming white, sandy beach
forever racing farther and farther from my reach
No deeds to perform to gain my deep reprieve
only memories of those I so easily did deceive

Within this lonely lake a single Soul cries out
forgive me , forgive me , in a wailing shout!

Robert Lindley

note: Once a man raced about all alone,
stumbled upon a rolling stone,
fell into a headlong dismay,
gathered the courage to just pray,

Words that did by faith then atone,
soon the condemnation was forever gone..

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

Myself, Armed Only With A Dying Flame


Dark travels in such a long life
early days of hungering strife
A child born to fight for it
tasting ton of salt in every spit


Lost on pathways that breathe my aches
Prod me restless as I sever the chase
Between day and night and promises I made
To myself, armed only with a dying flame


Days sinking past like a slow tide
no softness, that one could abide
As years sent life into a dark spin
easy came toughness, pain and sin


I have seen more than I ever could
Branches of bitterness carved deeply in wood
Wandering eyes dismissed them as facades of a man
Who fell victim to the ride as the years fell down


Is there saving grace if I stop at none
I may have foreseen it all but I doubted I’d come
To terms with myself and make me turn around
From the edge of this cliff and fade away void of sound


Then came love trying its very best
softness, weakness in every test
Blade drawn to parry each thrust
to live on never daring to trust


Swiftly gone like a bygone air
I may be nothing more than despair’s heir
Constricted by premises that haunt every corner
Shutting my eyes will mean absolute surrender


A weak moment, hell bore on down
life melted, each day a new frown
Love had been accepted with grace
she left without a path to trace


Sad night , the fight no great cause
clocks stopped, universe hit pause
Time yielded no forgiving reprieve
love lost, nothing , nothing to retrieve


I was again left to remain
I have but myself to blame
When the rain comes to ease the pain
I know I’ll be whispering your name

12-3-2014

Collaboration write, Robert Lindley and my very talented friend and poet, Jake Ponce.
Here is hoping that you may enjoy this humble team effort .
Has been my great honor to write with my friend Jake!