Poems to a Muse; 2002-2004

THE MUSE.
So I am to think of her
In wasted lust.
I am allowed to be with her
in only those times
when it amuses her.

Is this what she meant?

Amuse?

It does have comic potential.

COLD BITES
Cold bites hard
as I search for another
step in the crusted ice
excuse for a Russian city sidewalk

I pull my summer hat down
across my soft foreign face
and continue onward to
imagined scenes of needed
affection.

And when at last the warm
red tavern light brings me to her.
The cold again finds me
in her casual disdain.

For I did not sit at her table.

BEAUTY OF YOURS
I do not know from where your beauty comes, Muse.

In the sensual grace of you.
in your full lips sculptured face

or in your eyes deep in meaning and
sadness.

I only know it has rolled across me
in endless waves from the moment
my drunken eyes found focus on you.

This beauty of yours.

SUMMER AIR
I can hardly breath..
It is not the Russian summer
endless warm spring
unimaginable in mere artic days past.
It is life as I never knew I would live again.

With every smile my heart stops
if only for a second
(I am easy ..not stupid.)

They are all so young, so beautiful.
I would have them all..
even if they would not have me.

But that they would even smile
and more.
that they would even bother
to break my heart.

It makes me sigh with pleasure
In the summer air.

HEART FELT THINKING
I can almost see you
thinking your way to things
only your heart should feel.

So is it logic then,
that will bring you to me?

Oh I think not.

That you would find you and me
a rational thought
is farther than even my silly heart
can go with a straight face.

Well perhaps sympathy, then.

Have I shown you my wounded soul?

SO IT GOES
So it goes,
As I stagger through my life

thinking I could have her
but it is kindness
I inspire,
not passion.

respect
not love
or anything close.

But she breaths desire in me
with her every sigh.

As I stagger through my life
so it goes.

MUSE 1
Does it bring comfort
to your damaged heart
and stricken ego?

Knowing that I lust for you.?
That I pander to your whims?
That I would follow you where ever you wish me to?
That I tell you of your beauty, of your intelligence?

It is my gift to you....

But treasure it, Muse...
I have paid much for it, this gift.

In damaged heart
and stricken ego.

I only wonder who will bring me comfort
and gifts.

THE STRIPER
The sex of her is full
as her breast touches my lips
in mere illusion.

TIKI JOE
There are days
and many nights
when I wish I was

Tiki Joe

and I could hang around you
whenever you put me on.

SAVAGE POEMS
Not tonight, muse.

I love your smile too much,

I need your smile too much,

to leave it fading on savage poems.

SAVAGE POEMS INSISTED
To feed your boredom, then
you would have me rip this
tender heart apart.

And let you see this humiliation,
this pain that has left me
screaming your damnation
across my aching need of you.

Be careful, sweet Muse
what you ask of me.

You may just get it,
my savage poem.

And find me with no passion left
to feed your empty life.

MUSE MOROSE
Oh well. Muse, it could be worse.
If your life seems boring?
Try living.

If your days run together
like gathering leaves
hiding from winters to come?
Try living.

If tomorrows lose themselves
in endless yesterdays?
Try living.

But take my word, Muse,
it could be worse.

Living can hurt.

THAT KIND OF NIGHT
I would not be sure it happened,
it was that kind of night.

But the softness of your lips lingered long after the tequila gave up it's hold on me.

So it must have.

But Muse what also lingers were the words you spoke.,..
Mixed feelings you have no foreign words for..
Feelings that I did not really want to know anyway.

But your lips, Muse... I will hold this gift close to me.

I will NOT pass it off to drunken excess.
So don't tell me it was.

I will NOT hear the truth of it.
So don't tell it to me.

I would rather feel them on me..

When nights grow cold and lonely
and I lie sleepless
thinking of a world
Of what could have been..
And what would have been..
...
And might still be.

STUPID
Stupid.

I use that word a lot lately.

It fits somehow..,

How I love.
Who I love.
How I fuck.
Who I fuck
How I live.
Who I live for.
How I lie
Who I lie to.

Stupid.
It fits like OJ's glove should have.

MUSE IN PAIN
I cannot guess,
but it was someone.

Not me.

What I would give to hurt you so.

To touch you so.

RECOVERY COMES SLOW
Where did it go?

That sweet proud anger
which left me strong and quiet,
as you grew petulant and strident
against my strange defiance.

You found yourself in puzzling need,
of the world as it should be.
with order in the universe,
and me in absorbed lust
trailing behind every sigh you breath.

But it could not last.
And in embarrassed contrition,
I sought your half smile
forgiveness for the would be
loneliness I touched you with.
So briefly.

Where did it go?
I want it so.

DRUNK AGAIN
I feel Russian tonight.

EASIER
It is easier now,
I can breath.

I feel my life
going in new directions.

Your silence helps.

Like the drunk offered
just one taste,
I cannot resist even
your murmured words.

And your silence speaks
in a deafening roar of
your own changes,
perhaps of your own
happiness or maybe
even your own awareness
of the depth of my mania.

So here it is, for you
the last words from
the depths of my scarred
and scared heart

Thank you for being.

I have felt when I believed
I could feel no longer.

I have found words thought
lost in my ancient youth.

I have sung again
in pain,
in contemplation
in love.

These are gifts I will
hold close and carry
with me.

And in your own days to come
let the memory of me

remind you of your worth.

LIES
Max says you do not lie very well.
He may be right.
But, it is enough that you believe it.

So, you just say nothing when
You would want to lie.

You stay quiet, deep in thoughts
You will not share.

I can feel them, sometimes, your thoughts, your truth.
When you only allow my touch, but do not respond to it.
When you wonder what it is you are doing with your life.
When you ponder the “deal” that brought you to me.
When you stare across the room at me in disbelief.

And when I feel those thoughts? Those would be lies?

I close my eyes and hold my breath and let the feelings pass through me.
I remember your smile.
I remember you pulling my hand to your breast.
I remember your fingers touching me in tenderness.
I remember your lips warm against mine.

And I know this is also your truth.
Because you do not lie very well.

JOURNEY.
I have come a long way to be here, My Muse.

All I have done,
all I have seen,
all I have felt
all I have loved
all I have lost.

It has brought me to you, now.

How foolish I was for many years…

To think my journey had no destination.