I have seen the moon haunted by dark nights
And watched lightning vanish into thin air
In the midst of rain gone mad in black skies
It's the thunder I can't stop hearing some days
Like roll calls for dirty deeds done dirt cheap

It's the opera I can't forget after all these years

I've walked a twisting road between lust and guilt
And waited to catch up with hope and desire
Even as I stopped learning to see with new eyes
I hear old cries, and drink the saltwater of sorrow
On the path, that will never cross those past

Sometimes lives tend to avoid tragedy
By just moving on and moving on
To no particular end, for no apparent meaning
All the storms weathered by indifference

By just moving on and moving on
There's no need to do more than manage
All the storms weathered by indifference
Despite the usual sorrows and celebrations

There's no need to do more than manage
When there's nothing to look forward to
Except the usual sorrows and celebrations
Those who keep quiet make the others forget

Yes, there's nothing to look forward to
When ordinary concerns become all consuming
To those who keep quiet and make others forget
There was once an audience for stories here

When ordinary concerns become all consuming
This or no other story will awaken any response
When there is no more audience for such stories
What will happen to our storytellers then?

It is ordinary pities and fears that consume us.
We gather here, but we are also poorer
What will happen to all our storytellers
If beyond our windows we forget a world exists?

We who gather day by day, and grow poorer
As time goes by, drawn by slower and slower horses.
Somewhere beyond our windows shines the world
Of those who managed to avoid this tragedy

And time goes by, drawn by slowing horses
We don't know ourselves know what the end will be.
Of those who managed to avoid this tragedy
People sometimes just go on and on

Especially when they don't care what the end is
And there is no plot in that; it is devoid of drama
There is no audience for such a story
Such lives can only learn to avoid tragedy

Poetry is a full time job

Music has structure, purpose
No stream of random sounds
can ever really make a song
But yet no ordered process
Or even borrowed inspiration
can ever yield a new creation
That will truly live on it's own.

Music like all art has it's rules
Composers use arrangement
create from palettes of tones
a whole new set of patterns
between sound and senses
keeping in view all that works
and all that will not ever work
and somehow create order
out of all this chaos inside
A keen sense of aesthetics
guiding them to make sure
that they will work in concert
to play on realms of emotions
help create a new experience
that will transform the listener
or merely move them inside

Poetry is not wholly removed
from any of these concerns
Poetry isn't just about words
It is not just pure inspiration
It's about whole new feelings
brought into being by marrying
truths in music and meaning
It seeks depths, it surprises
in it's own act of discovery
It gives us a new language
from the ashes of the old
Poetry is born of the urge
to bring about resonance
Or create new dissonance
It seeks to arrange the
strange into familiar ways
or the familiar into strange
Poems are complete worlds
That's when they come alive
within us when we read them
And make us live like moths
being singed alive by a flame
To live, fully live for an instant
Art is the reason for being.

-sr

Dessicated to .... just memories

I want to talk about my first love
Not just talk about her, but remember
her. The way she didn't just turn
people's heads, she made them twirl
like weathervanes on a windy day.

It's that kind of day today. The
beginning of possibilities, where
memories intersect with realities
It was summer when we met. But then
spotlights always turns everything
inside into sunlight and moonshine

That was a time of hunger. When I
wanted to become the lion roaring
for his prey. Yes, I wanted to make
love more than I wanted to romance
And she, wanted me ... more than
anything else

We danced on the waves of our
comingled destinies. And parents
found out that connections were
stronger than disciplinary measures
And yet, we learned that love was
larger than being just a couple

I remember the first moment. When
the proud mysteries were unwrapped
And the slipped off undergarments
grabbed me by the eyes and held
me prisoner. That first touch when
lust melted and all that was left
was a sacred yearning ... for a
moment that could last forever
for ever and ever

Alas, thus began the death of
innocence.

-sr