Poetry

Here are some rough sketches of poems that I am working on.  Feel free to leave constructive criticism; Let me know what you think! Be gentle! :-)

A Human Etude:
who are we when we run.
when we chase and chide our severed “selves?”

torn.

seeking solace, we pry into pigment’s cracks and crevices,
fissures and failures, to find an “us” that will never look back.
A hue. never made up. Something,
You.

We flee from fear,
Dashing between flashing glares
hidden in music’s masks,
sifting
through gnashing smiles,
seeking solace, in other worlds.
But our fright sparks friction,
we fight for an “us” that laughs and snickers,
watching our futile ferocity
in mockery.

who are we when we comb our diffuse tone’s corners.
Tearing at fractured frames, Our sweet song quickly silenced,
our selves’ screams
gone unheard.

A Human Study

We bend and break, cowering under the meaning of hollow spaces. Hallowed history traps and towers above;
a tradition that ties us together and tears us apart.

But,

A music unlocks us; hijacked by technology’s touches, Music: A brief light flickering through synthetic filter:
digital diamonds gleam,
we escape,
our fast faces thrust themselves up,
our quivering inner ear sympathetic to shimmering rays’ bending beam

for a time.

We still fold and tremble under time’s watch,
under a single question;
“What is next, beyond this realm’s reach?”

But this light lifts us,

for a time.

(lost in love with synthetic scripture,
rewired,
our circuits circle the souls we know nothing of, hollow,
our tangled present lying bereft

and Vacant.)

1. Gone…

We live,

Listening.

Ears perked,

We hear a world,

at play and free,

Bristling with love, hate,

and those things

that will be,

or won’t.

though

We live,

Partitioned.

Our dance and song

captured by incessant culture;

cut up and tattered,

Our ears inhale a silent single air.

Our chests rise,

We exhale and sing a single siren dream. Sound, sense, and seed

sail in on one breath

and get gone with the next

gone with the next

and the next…

—————————————————

A Drop of Wind

Wring out oil from old vein’s rage,

Seep that pang, with staff page.

Pour from pore to drip down fingertip.

Ripped skin burns, oil slips from grip.

Ring Wring Ring Wring Out.

————————————————–

“To Feel: Counted-”

Too good to be true?

Two bads don’t make a left

turn at a light that stops

Wrong.

Three goods outweigh the thought of a single pain that takes wrath on the night.

Right?

Wrong…too bad, this is the real deal, more truth than lie, some things hidden but everything tied:

Together.

Translucent love affair:

One skin separating two distant chambers;

Heart’s beat trembling

Fear’s thin membrane wall.

Three two one too thee.

To thee,

My night light.

My next heart neighbor,

My truth and good and

LOVE.

—————————————-

Trim your Thoughts,

Snip your Senses,

Inter Images in Mind,

and maybe

those seeds will sink to the bottom of your heart

and grow

into branches of your every moment’s

choice,

to drop new,

more beautiful,

Strange Fruit

into a culture’s vast, undergrown garden.

———————————————–

This Body

Posted on: March 14th, 2010 by cjstewart 3 Comments

Bones, Bones, Bones.

Blood flows through knotted veins

weaving around organs and

sends life pulsating through arteries.

Breath stretches, expands, bends

and squeezes between rib cage

closets.  Wind sends chills of life

down backbones and out of flared

nostrils to meet the world.

———————-

Bones, Bones, Bones.

Heart pumps, pulses, pushes and pulls

life, sent to the far corners of

this body.  The delivery made to toes

arrives just as the package makes way

from the brain.

Sizzles of electricity jolt down

nerves to arch across feet through

knees, up and out of fingers, and

into action.

———————-

Bones, Bones, Bones.

The frame of this mechanism, this

body, this archway, this entrance, this

home, this dungeon. Bones, Bones, Bones,

keep standing, hold up the flesh, hold up

the mind, and hold up the spirit: above ground

and above water.  These i-beams hold down

the fort of imagination and possibility to create

a space for action, a space of physical bounds

and mental freedom, a space with which

to realize the impossible.

———————-

Bones, Bones, Bones.

Etude #2

Posted on: March 10th, 2010 by cjstewart 21 Comments

Is it there?

or here?

Ghosts of matter

Floating in the breeze

of Light.

Swirls of the most minute particles

glittering before my eyes.

translucent transcendance

and invisible silence.

Etude #1

Posted on: March 8th, 2010 by cjstewart 46 Comments

Splashes!

on blue canvas

dripping, cool lines

of silver and aqua,

breathing ice into

lively strokes of

splotted explosions

And…

Posted on: March 8th, 2010 by cjstewart 39 Comments

Lights, colors, tingles, and…

Harmonies vibrating, graced

with every touch and…

———————-

Musical bodies resonating

with each other,

Graceful bodies dancing

with each other,

Expressive bodies singing

with each other, being

with each other, holding

each other, and…

———————-

Fireworks, Explosions, balls and spheres

of feeling

with every touch, and…

and…

———————-

For lack of more we lay

silent, still, secluded, alone and…

wanting more with every touch.

always more, more, and…

———————-

(The fireworks are anticipated,

The music has been paused,

The Song and Dance interupted.

But Love cannot be caused.)

———————-

(Afraid we lay still.

Afraid we lay secluded.

Afraid we lay waiting silently, alone.)

for more and…

Life of an Idea

Posted on: March 8th, 2010 by cjstewart 3 Comments

A beacon,

shining,

rising,

from the distance to

strike my senses like a

flash of

silent

fire.

———————-

An Image of

wholeness.

An Image of

function.

A place to call for and

to be.

———————-

A flash of nothing

melts back into itself,

dripping down the slope of space into

that well, that lake, that

abyss called the

source.

Melt Away

Posted on: March 8th, 2010 by cjstewart 2 Comments

kiss a soft flake of death,

as it floats and drifts,

from the Heavens and through the body

to rest on the soul.

———————-

Hug the fire

the searing, white hot

energy. The nothingness

burning all that embraces it

until quietly snuffed.

———————-

As corpses love decomposition,

the breaking down, the melting away,

Love deconstruction:

a proximity to inevitable peace,

a drifting, a burning, a crumbling into that final rest.

Hope

Posted on: March 8th, 2010 by cjstewart 1 Comment

is gone.

Heavy, hot, humid,

restraints on the soul.

———————

is gone?

Possibility, strength, wind,

the will to go on!

———————-

The will to create,

love,

enjoy,

inspire.

Will it?

Will it!

———————-

Is Will.