Meaning What?

When that happens,

the music,

lyrics take you somewhere,

not even words,

sounds, utterances, setups,

beauty and grace and elegance

all of these catch words,

memory,

when I was seventeen years old and I noticed her,

that lasting beauty a voice so pure

on a piece of vinyl, the radio, in a studio,

just the sheer magnificence of her body

emanating such powerful tones

simple and free

we could all lay back on our pillows

in our bedrooms,

smoke a … or perhaps not,

some people just liked the sound.

When it was all over,

we might recall where we were just minutes before

and all of those notions,

thoughts and contemplative realities

become secondary because she took us

somewhere else if not for a little while

perhaps a long while in our lives

we might reflect upon the power of sound

the beauty of her, sound, vulnerable

real and magnificent in just being that one

voice in the sky singing

‘The Great Gig in The Sky”

Writer’s Block

Funny right?

Nobody ever acknowledges it, just talks about it,

well, reels and reels in panic about just that lacking

inspiration, inability to put anything down,

not a lacking desire, just a slacking fire,

the burning candles are all smoldering inside a tempest

of angst driven loss of

purpose.

For that is why we right ourselves in society,

to be ‘write’ with the stars,

to feel as if every step we take moves us a little further,

closer to that gradual incline toward

satisfaction.

So tonight, as I write, complete and utter bullsh …

well just know before I even laid down a word,

I had nothing, nada, nil inspiration,

I was standing on a block of ice,

damned if it even refused to melt,

provide some imbalance,

a reason to want to, ah, well,

a desire to,

a passion with a need,

to speak,

to talk about it,

or at least … write.

Literature Lineups

There are times when I can’t think

I sit and wonder

Staring at a wall

Hoping for a breakthrough

And waiting, simply pondering

When the next idea

Will settle upon the shelves

~

Filled with books and titles

Years of reading words that

Embody the notions we struggle

To restate, reiterate, renegotiate

Their meaning, purpose, responsibility

Inside the pages there is a story

That winds together formulaic worlds

~

Sometimes we even exist in a chapter

With disconnected characters

Experiencing similar emotions

Outcomes, storylines, thrillers

Meanings that carry a reader

Beyond the initial prologue

Seeking an event with definition

~

Yet now they are part of a display

Meant to indicate our own purpose

Who we are and where we traveled

Virtually within the creases binding

Our lives into quiet identities

Our blank stare allows us to steal

A memory drawing an ideal vision

~

I want to join the lives of the writers

That poured their heart and soul

Into designing the layout and structure

Of the cabinetry that holds my eyes

When I struggle to find new meaning

In my somber release, my solace

Cleverly writing the next chapter