Excerpt for Apollo's Flame by Timothy House, available in its entirety at Smashwords

Apollo's Flame

A collection of poetry, prose, and fiction by Timothy J. House

Dedicated to my love of poetry.
Smashwords edition
Copyright 2010 Timothy House



Love Waves


Love is like waves that beam across the air
waves that broadcast from near and far to everywhere


Magically, yet strange, difficult to explain
complex, colorful, yet simple, plain


This beam comes in many shapes and forms, like different colors, red, green, and brown
it transforms to energy, when the right connection comes around


When the connection is made, and we touch
this electric flow between us


We can't explain we just know it's true
I can feel it as my heart is in sync with you


Love is so mysterious yet still it is so, desperately sought out
we search the world over, until it is found


Only the right wave can make us one, yet still two
compatible signals broadcast and received between me, and you



The Lady and the Piano


It was magic, that sound that came from that little piano bar

a duet of one, piano and voice and my sudden rush to get out of the rain came grinding to a halt

I became glued to the window of the piano bar where the music was coming from... longing to see the lady at the piano

the doors were locked and the rain poured down tiny rivers flowed down the street on the river front

But I just stood there fixated upon this beautiful sound resonating

The longing became stronger and deeper as she played away

I called to her but she didn't hear me... lost in the song

I was soaked now and restrained by this wall between us so I just gave up and made my way down Broadway, slowly, until the music faded away

never to return again, but only in my memory, never to forget those sensual voices from the lady and the piano



Just a Hopeless Romantic


They say that a poet is a man who puts a ladder to a star and climbs it while playing the violin

a hopeless romantic and silly dreamer

a man who seeks beauty of that beyond this world

a man who seeks a love beyond this world

one who seeks to be in the middle as Mars and Venus collide

these people are madmen, these poets

who would seek such a thing, who in their right mind would speak of such madness?

who could dream of such false reality?


I can,

I may never grasp the reality of true love

I may never glide through the stars on love's chariot

hell, I can't even play the violin

but I have been accused of being a poet

and I believe in love, whole and in its great glory, perfect in its fallibility

so I care not what you say, if I am a fool then I am a fool

Socrates said, “we are all poets when we are in love”

And I will always be in love, my heart commands nothing less

so I will climb my ladder while playing my violin and climb to my star, the star where I belong with my love

and so it is...I am a hopeless romantic


A poet is a man who puts up a ladder to a star and climbs it while playing a violin."
~Edmond de Goncourt



Superman's on Roids


I just picked up my New York Times and there it is plastered all over the front page


It's the end of the world …

evil has finally won...

Superman took ROIDS!!


Superman is holding a press conference now, on CNN, it's on every screen in Times Square


He says, “I'm sorry Metropolis. I let you all down and now Lois has left me, she said I was a phony!”


People standing in the street shaking their heads saying, “What has the world come to?” But it's not like it's a big surprise he flies, and lifts cars, bends steel, and what about that little trick he does changing in the phone booth? I knew that whole story about being from Krypton was bullshit... but at least he admitted it unlike the Incredible Hulk! Come on Hulk, you turn green and grow these huge muscles! Oh, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry?!? Really?!? Can you say ROID RAGE!?! Yeah you're the definition of roids buddy! What a jackass!


Damn... all my heroes are gone

first it was baseball players, Jose Conseco, then Barry Bonds, Arod, now Mark McGuire came out.


Well, there's always Robin he definitely isn't on roids but it's not like he can do anything, he's the most worthless superhero there is except for maybe Auqaman. I guess I will still have to support Superman roids and all. But maybe not since Lois is single... Hmm, I'm going after her

Screw you Roidman! What are you gonna do since you're not on roids anymore? You can't kick anyone's ass!?!


Come on!



One Man's Trash


I heard him call you names

called you trash and kicked you to the curb


Called you a worthless bitch

good for nothing


But one man's trash is another's treasure

and I think you're a prized jewel


He says you're a dumbass

but I think you're pretty damn smart


Witty, funny, great to talk to

everything I want in a girl


He says you're not that hot

guess he needs some glasses... 'cause you're smokin' hot to me


So he doesn't want you

but I sure do


Take my hand baby

and forget about that asshole


Girls like you don't come along too often

and I'd give everything to be with you


You might be trash to him

but you're priceless to me



Pit in My Stomach


That pit in my stomach

chill down my spine

the memory of your whisper in my ear

that kiss on my lips

your soft hands caressing me


I reach for you and realize you are not there yet I feel you

but you are here...you are like a living ghost and these feelings are really you deep inside my soul

drawing me near to you

when I say I can't get you out of my mind it's because you live deep inside

the piece of your heart that you gave to me

telling me you love me, guiding me back to your arms

giving me that pit in my stomach every time I think of you


From the story Love Notes




When the Rains Came to Nashville


My heart was broken down Nashville way
but not by any woman nor dream, it was when the rains came

The music stopped down Broadway
when the river lost its tame

The same sickening silence as well
from Opryland and its hotel

Its beautiful gardens hidden under muddy waters
vandalizing the beauty beheld by Nashville's sons and daughters

But I won't be broken hearted for long
because I know the spirit of this city is strong

Two days of rain may have postponed the music
but oh yeah... it will be back

You're not going to hold us down
not this town

When the water goes away
we'll be back for brighter days

In the air will be fiddles, guitars, that Nashville sound
throughout the city, Opryland, and downtown


In dedication to Nashville, TN after the 2010 flood



Coffeehouse


I wandered through town

on a rainy spring day


I find a charming coffeehouse

and seek refuge from the stinging raindrops


As I walk in I am enticed by the intoxicating aroma of coffee

it beckons me with no mercy, it's like the call of my lover


I am at home, my home away from home now

I will drink this coffee, this nectar, and lose myself in a book


This poetry in a cup takes me away

it takes away the troubles that haunt me for this moment


The world bustles around me

I am oblivious to it


Lost in another world of reading and coffee

the aroma of coffee and the sweet sound of the coffee grinder comfort me


Others around will speak of politics

or of their date last night


I hear it in the background

but my book takes my imagination for a ride, it takes me away


And the only thing that can break my concentration

is the occasional glance up at the pretty women or bathroom break


Or yes of course a refill

and my final surrender to that cinnamon coffee cake


And as I look up at the clock,

I now realize I have wasted hours away


But, oh well I think, one more coffee and just another chapter

then I will run out in the rain and down the street to the cinema to waste the rest of my day



Ghetto Truck


It really sucks

driving this ghetto truck


Went to the used car lot and got conned

check engine light is always on


Can't shift out of second gear

muffler is so loud I've got ringing in my ear


Had to duct tape the window up

'cause the damn motor is stuck


Gas tank fell off

so did the exhaust


Girls laugh at me when I cruise down the strip

can't get any action driving this piece of shit


Windshield is cracked

front end is all jacked


The dashboard constantly dings

the engine pings


Every day I have to fix something

oh the sadness this thing brings


Damn I'm so sick

of this lame ass piece of shit


It guzzles gas and drains my wallet

this thing is an endless money pit


Damn, it really sucks to be stuck

with this ghetto truck



Angel's Wings


Is it a sin to cut off an angel's wings?

Because I don't want you to fly away

I want you to come back to me when night falls

I want to wake up next to you when morning comes again

I want to share the rest of my life with you

I don't know what I could have possibly done right to deserve you but I know I love you

You love me too

But I know you will fly away to heaven to be with all the other things beautiful

I won't cut off your wings for it would hurt you, but if you must fly away will you carry me with you?



Subway of Dreams

Waiting on that big thing to happen
it seems to have no end

It's like waiting for the subway to take you to dreams
it can take forever or so it seems

So as you sit there in that station shivering and cold
remember that patience is a commodity more valuable than gold

You want that train to be there now
sitting in the cold with that sour frown

That train never comes on time
and it sickens you to watch as the other trains go by

They whisk others off to their destination
but not you, you're still waiting for a chance to bask in the Sun

What if I came by to keep you company
share a smile and a hot cup of coffee

Remind you that that train will be here sometime
it is almost never on time

So I will wait with you until it comes by
we will talk of the weather, of summer, and of apple pie

And when that train comes rolling down the track
I will walk you over and carry your pack

And as I watch you from the other side of the door
You say, " Thank You" and I wink and reply," baby, that's what I'm for"



I Say Thank You


When you tell me I'm beautiful I say thank you

not for saying it but because I am beautiful because of you

I am just a flower, in need of water, in need of sunlight in need of love

and you my sweet gardener took care of me like no other could

so thank you, my love, my rock, my gardener



From the story Love Notes



Father Time


Father time is really a thief in the night

turns good times into distant memory without a fight


You can try to hold his hands down, he just keeps ticking away

and before you know it you're old and gray


The days keep getting shorter as they pass

you pray for them to... just last


Hold in a pattern so we can enjoy the moment a little more

give a bit of that youth back to our bodies worn


I just wish you would grant us just a little longer

before our ashes are spread along yonder


Gives us back a few of those days of our youth

when, Father Time, we weren't concerned with you


I was never ready to be finished with being young and beautiful

you made that choice for me and now, thanks to you, I grow gracefully old


Old from days gone by

stolen by Father Time



River of Lost Souls


I watch helplessly as you drift down the river

dead eyes staring back up at me

the river you chose with booze and heroine

I ask myself why I didn't do more

why wasn't my love enough to get you through this screwed-up life

why couldn't you see this river you were taking was drowning you

you just couldn't find happiness in any other way and it took your life

I am hopeless to help and all I can do is watch as you drown in this polluted river

and it is the worst feeling I have ever felt

you wouldn't listen to me

you wouldn't listen to your friends

fought us off when we tried to pull you to safety

so I watch helplessly as you float down the river of lost souls

the river you chose with booze and heroine

and it stole your life away

your pain may be numb but mine has just begun

only half the man I could be without you

you selfish bitch I hate you!

and I love you but I don't understand why you murdered yourself

this hurt will never leave

it will haunt me for the rest of my days even as you float away in the river of lost souls

and it is the worst feeling I have ever felt



A Conversation with Myself


If I could only return

to tell you of your life beyond

to show you the page turned

and all the darkness gone


So, here we are

me talking to myself

trying to reach you, in your world, so far

as you stare at that gun on the shelf


Before you pick that up

let me talk to you/me

I know right now you are down on your luck

but let me tell you what your life can be


You found love and got married many years ago

to a beautiful woman on a sunny day in June

she tells her friends how you saved her, how her life has been lifted to a new plateau

and that her life would be nothing if not filled with you


Did you know she almost gave up on life too?

Then you came along and showed her the love of a man

you brought romance, adventure, made her life new

a love of which she had never known or could even imagine


And what of your son and daughter

they go on to touch and enrich the lives of those around them

both graduate with honors

you meant so much, their dear father


How about your friends, your career?

What about those you inspire?

when your friends needed you, you were always there to lend an ear

you enriched their lives with your passion, your fire


So, now that I've told you of your life to be and the love you will give

will you rob those around you of the joy of you?

and you will steal from your children, they will have no chance to live

your beautiful wife will never find you and she will take her own life too


Again, here we are, just you, me and the gun

speaking of your future

pull that trigger and the pain will be gone

but all will be lost, and those who love you will have a hole in their heart that will last forever


I'm not some ghost from a Charles Dickens novel

just me, in a conversation with my younger self, at the end of my days

hoping those around me now will have my story to tell

and before I pass on, after living a full rich life, I have one more life to save


You, me

The choice is yours

what, will it be?

Your beloved presence, or a world without you, forever torn



If You Called Me Would I Come?


I ponder as I gaze across this hallowed ground

of a July day over a hundred-fifty years ago

of a war that has long passed

in a city called Gettysburg


I journey through Pickett's Run

then up Seminary Ridge

atop Little and Big Round top

a pilgrimage into a different world


And as I traipse across once blood soaked fields

I hold back the tears

as I think of the terrible loss of life

and a country in bitter divide


The cost of freedom

paid for in blood

the musket the bill collector

to gain that freedom for the slaves who had been denied


And after the cannon was silenced and the smoke cleared, Lincoln came

I imagined myself with blue hat and jacket standing there to listen

as he spoke of liberty and freedom

and how it belonged to each man


I wonder if I lived back then

would I fight for the freedom of someone else?

would I risk life and limb?

would I march barefoot with musket in hand?


If you called me would I come?

would I fall for you to be free?

our ancestors did and not just once, many times

and because of this we need not answer today, or do we?


Isn't the greater question for us now: why have we not learned the lessons from those wars of the past?



When Stars Come Crashing Down


When stars come crashing down it's quite a sight

it leaves a hole in your heart ten miles wide


It's over now, no more good times to be had

I'm left to my own means, teary-eyed and sad


You won't be beside me on the boardwalk

you're not here at our favorite restaurant


Tonight is not filled with romance

and the hallways are not filled with our laughs


Just the echoes of my sobering

staring down at blurry visions of a diamond ring



Captains


Oh Captain! My Captain!
I call to thee again


Too many ships are lost at sea
destinations lost, have we


The Captain’s honor so greatly cherished,
has nearly become vanished


So now I look to your guidance, as we knew of long ago
for you, in times of turmoil before, steered the ship home


Oh Captain! My Captain! I call with desperate tone
show us your honor that was known so long ago


Captains be captains
for it is great honor to inspire man


Fathers be fathers
for it is great honor to guide son and daughter


Husbands be husbands and wives be wives
love and cherish, for example will change others lives


Oh Captain! My Captain, where has our honor gone?
will our great vessel withdraw?


Give us the vision to see beyond our greed
for it has stabbed us and now we bleed


Let us see again that honor is not just a good feeling, but a way of life
to live each day with honor is what we must strive


Help us to see the world around us
help us give a hand to those lost


Oh Captain! My Captain to whom do I call?
it is you, dear citizens, be one, but remember all



Language of Love


Je T'aime
Te Quiero

S'agapo

I don't know what language you speak
but I do know I am mesmerized by your beauty

I don't know how to speak to you but... I know I want you

so as you walk toward me I see the glitter in your eyes
love at first sight

I can't understand you but, somehow... I know my destiny is with you
and all I want to do is tell you I love you

Nothing I do here makes any sense as I kiss you so passionately
but then again, what about love really ever makes sense


From the story Love Notes



Full Moon Tonight


Our passion growing deeper as we drift into the night

the shape of your body in the pale moonlight


I breathe the sweet scent of your perfume

the splendor of your presence fills the room


I kiss you from head to feet

in your loving desire is where I feast


Whispering sweet charms into your ear

as I pull you near


I caress my hands across your skin

let passionate lovemaking begin


Your body held tight to mine

higher to the heavens we'll climb


The full Moon shines it's light on us tonight

I'll hold you all night long so tight


Pale light on your soft brown hair

I promise in the morning, when you wake, I'll always be there


From the story Love Notes



A Greek Tragedy


I seem to be the last one on the list, the list of love

Cupid's stupid list of who loves whom

it seems he forgot about me

and maybe it's because I was hitting on his favorite nymph

or maybe it's because my muse is so demanding of me, demanding I only write of love and not feel it

or maybe it's because I didn't take Tiger Woods' advice

well there's a reason he's called Tiger after all

he stole some arrows from Cupid and suggested I do the same

I stole one from Tiger just to try it out

I shot myself by accident while trying to load the bow and spent the day panting and falling for every woman on the street

then I saw her, oh my! Yeah, HER! I walked faster as she walked across the street and smack! I walked right into a window

damn, love hurts... or lack of it I should say

I picked up my teeth from the floor as the potion wore off

she came over anyway and said, “You're pathetic!”

I said, “Damn you're cold baby!”

she then said, “Shut up loser, get lost”
well there's always the nymphs

come on Cupid why don't you hook me up with one of them?



Boulevard of Broken Dreams


Mama told me not to go chasing dreams

'cause I'll end up on the boulevard of broken dreams


Teacher told me I didn't have the means

to make it to the street of dreams


Boss man told me there's no future in dreams

I wasn't good enough to be part of that scene


but I didn't listen....


I learned quickly that you can't make it to your dreams

unless you walk on the boulevard of broken dreams


You can't get there by way of easy street

it doesn't connect to the street of dreams


Not to live there was the key

on the boulevard of broken dreams


You will find the people there are mean

those who live on the boulevard of broken dreams


Don't let them steer you away until you've seen

the street of dreams


But be sure to look around because it is short, this street

when you're finally on the street of dreams





Snuggle

It's zero degrees outside, I'm frozen
and this weather I'm loathing

I come to see you perched on my favorite chair
you say, “won't you come and hold me, run your fingers through my hair”

How I love the feel of your body clutched to mine
one look in your eyes and I know everything is fine

Now that I'm in your arms I forget about the cold and snow
and I don't want to ever let this feeling go



Whiskey on a Heartache


I came down to Beale to see you but all I got was heartache and a bottle of whiskey

she told me there was another and threw my flowers in my face

ripped up all my poems and told me to go away

all I could say was I am happy for you but there's nothing for me

at least the girl next door felt sorry for me and gave me a bottle of whiskey

This whiskey goes down hard like your cold words

I long for your soft touch but the only comfort I have now is whiskey on a heartache

I have to switch genre now, I can only write the blues since you've stolen my romantic voice

I see all the pretty women walk by, but all I can think of is you and how you hurt me

so since I can't move on I'll just go back to my hotel room and listen to the blues fill the air from the street below and pour some whiskey on this heartache



Easy Like Sunday Morning


Easy like Sunday morning? So Lionel Richie said

6:00 AM and I'm hungover, awoken by the steady annoying screech of that bird outside my window

and as that damn thing screeches and chirps away all happy, my life comes crashing back to reality

I wake to an empty bed

and all the failed relationships show in the wrinkles on my face this morning

all the promotions I was passed over

and all the pieces of music that lay on the floor, my ticket to the big time that never happened

that bottle of Captain couldn't take all that away, it couldn't make me feel like I was somebody

it seems that when the medicine wears off the broken heart from all my failures remains

and each throb in my aching head is like the crash of a cymbal reminding me of what a loser I am


That's not even the real tragedy here

It's the fact that I am lying awake right now!

If I could have slept maybe the medicine would have worked

arghhhh, I want to choke that bird

I can hear the old hags that are running off to church with their gossip of the slut in B-9

I can hear them as they laugh in the hallway.


As the birds fly away and the hags make their way to church I drift back to this utopia called sleep

all my depressing life drifts away

but then the alarm screams;

just like my mother use to do when I was a sleepy teenager, a scream that could put the fear of God into you! GET UP!

as I jumped out of bed and smacked the snooze button I realize it's still Sunday 9:00 AM

WHY AM I GETTING UP?!?

So in a moment of anger the alarm clock goes flying across the room and all my failures seemed to crash against that wall just like that clock

too bad my hangover can't do the same

Easy like Sunday morning my ass!

THIS IS EASY?!?

I need to quit drinking Saturday night!



Whispers of 9-11


Can you hear the whispers from back on Nine Eleven?
the day 4 swords created so much devastation


Do you hear the cries from New York?
can you feel the kisses from loved ones, on this day, never returned from work?


Can you hear the sound of steel, and glass as it breaks?
do you remember the debris falling, just like snow flakes


Do you remember me? I was in the towers that plunged to the ground
just one of the many, that will never be found


Can you hear the footsteps in Washington?
rushing to the fractured side, of the Pentagon


Can you hear the famous words of a hero?
let's roll


Can you hear their voices, as they take the plane down?
away from the target, crashing it into the ground


Just a plain field in the Pennsylvania hills
where all these new soldiers were to be killed


Many a hero were made that day
like all the firemen that passed away


So came the terrorists that stabbed our hearts
and in the middle of New York City lies the scar


So this day is upon us once again
do we remember those voices that carry across the wind


Those whispers that crash through our souls as loud as thunder
as loud as those 4 planes and all that they plundered


What do these whispers say to us
don't give in, move on, we must


But never forget what has happened here
don't forget our pain, and tears



From this yesterday gone by
the day 4 swords pierced the heart of a nation, from the sky


Hear these whispers in the wind
the voices from back on nine-eleven



On a Small Stretch of Pennsylvania Land


So it was to be on this small stretch of Pennsylvania land

where so much history would be made

from the days before the United States

to days of modern history

the seven years war began it all

with a fight over the Monongahela and Allegheny

then came the fight for independence

and the first Continental Congress in Philadelphia

the challenge of Valley Forge that led to the greatest victory

then came the days of the Civil War

and Gettysburg stood in the way of a march toward the capitol

and one last scar would be made in the mountains on September 11 2001 from a plane crash hijacked by terrorists

Penn's woods have persevered through centuries of war

and she has an everlasting place in the heart of a great nation



Calling Out to You


Your pretty face stays on my mind

the words to say to you I can't find


I know in my heart it's meant to be

you are my dream girl, my one and only


I lie awake and think of you every night

yet when I look you in the eye I'm filled with fright


I know you don't wish me any pain

this fear of you I can't quite explain


I don't want to go on wishing what I might have had

and live my life depressed and sad


I'm calling to you my girl so sweet

say you want to share your life with me



Uncle Scam

Every fifteenth of April
we all get a big thrill

Uncle Scam rips us off
hard earned money lost

Only to find it goes to waste
in my mouth it leaves a bad taste

Must be nice not to have to pay bills like Uncle Scam does
just add it to the debt, who cares if it goes up

While the politicians line their pockets green
we need an honest man to clean

The house of Uncle Scam
to get us out of this jam



This poem was written in the early 90s and is still relevant today as it has been all along




Masterpiece


On this night I sit here alone

and ponder of how to write a masterpiece of a poem


I think of rhythm and rhyme

how to make the next witty line


Should I make them cry or laugh

as I ponder away, the page stays empty and time passes


I pace back and forth, I can't decide

but that's the problem I soon realize


Just let it happen

It's like falling in love, you can't force it, just let the words flow from your pen


The fire of my heart and mind set the pages I write ablaze

and spark my reader's imagination, each word coming alive on the page


But yet I still worry, this is my heart and soul, if they hate it, so will they hate me?

I begin to pace again my mind filled with worry


But this is the curse of being creative

and fear is no way to live


Just write what your heart commands, step back and take a leap of faith, close your eyes to see

it's worth the risk, for being a writer lets you be truly free


Is this poem a masterpiece or a piece of trash?

will it soon be forgotten or forever will it last?


That answer belongs to each reader



Playing the Blues


I'm playing the blues

'cause I lost you


But I'm not alone

yeah, I've got my saxophone


My sax sounds smooth and she can also scream

and you... you don't do a damn thing


That's okay baby I don't need you, I've got my saxophone

and with this sweet sound I always feel at home


Just going to play me a blues song

relax and forget that you're gone



Lioness on the Prowl


There's a lioness on the prowl

she wants me

I can run, but she will surely catch me

I can hide but my scent will betray me


She can sense the lust as it pours out of me

and drools in anticipation of her prize

our hearts beating in unison

beating with this animal instinct


My lioness does not call me

nor wait for my call

she attacks and takes that which belongs to her

I am powerless to refuse


Her powerful eyes see right through me

and every inch of her body begs for my touch

her soft skin like silk

she slowly, softly, lovely approaches


She throws her prey to the ground

kissing me just like she would devour a meal

she pounces on me

taking me to heights of ecstasy never felt before


As my beautiful lioness walks away

licking her lips

I am left with her scent upon me

and her breath now my own


The lines on my back

and the bites on my neck

are like artwork

finer than a Picasso


As I lie here

watching her walk away in all her glory

all I can do is beg for her return

to make love to me as only she can



Love Potion #9


I was hangin down in Caroline

when I heard this song about Love Potion #9


I went to liquor store to get Aphrodite's wine

a little drink they call Love Potion #9


And went to my baby's house down on the state line

with a little Love Potion #9


I gave her a shot, cause even I look fine

after a shot of Love Potion #9


And oh yeah baby your golden skin shines

after I poured on a little Love Potion #9


I said baby, you ain't never had some love like mine

along with a little Love Potion #9


I'm gonna rub you all over and send shivers down your spine

me and this Love Potion #9


You know we are gonna have a good time

making love and drinking some of this Love Potion #9


When I left she said come around whenever you want, I'll never decline

just make sure you bring some of that Love Potion #9



Like a Fine Wine


Many years ago we came together

we thought we would be together forever


But young love often fades

and as our lives called us, we went our separate ways


Our love a fine wine to be savored another time, it must be aged, it wasn't ready yet

yet still you lingered in my heart, I would never forget


It was you who gave me a voice so many years ago

and that voice still screams aloud today, you must know


Then darkness fell upon us, neither knowing of the pain each other was in

but then, we came together again


You were the butterfly, beautiful and delicate

it was as though the stars aligned, it was fate


I was the lost soul, cold and without love

and you came and gave me that which I was void of


And as I hold you in my arms

I feel we are safe from that darkness and all its harm


I just want to give you the world on a silver platter

piece back together your heart that is shattered


I will pull you from the darkness and place in the sky, with the stars to shine

gaze into your big green eyes, kiss your soft lips, I know you're mine


Caress your beautiful face

as you smile I pull close and escape into your sweet embrace


Together, my butterfly, I will rise with you and fly with you each day

the fire and passion of our love will light our way


Two stars that forever shine

and may we now forever savor our love, this fine wine



Extra-Terrestrial Relays


Who am I?

I am the one who spoke of Extra-Terrestrial relays

radio waves that are broadcast from Earth and reflect off satellites that are held in orbit 22,000 miles in space in Geostationary orbit.

we can communicate with the world


So you have called me a fool, a helpless dreamer

you said it couldn't be done, but I... I didn't listen to you

you laughed and mocked, but I ignored you


There were those who didn't laugh and mock

there were those who created

and on July 10th 1962, those Alien waves broadcast the voice of Walter Cronkite to the continent of Europe

they heard the call of the Chicago Cubs playing the Philadelphia Phillies

something taken for granted in our fast paced world today of 1000 channels, internet, and cellphones.

You can do so many things, but that data has to travel from somewhere


And we stand in awe at such a great mind today, looking back we can see the genius foresight

who am I? I am Aurthur C. Clarke. I am the author of over 100 books and the satellite belt is named after me

who exactly are you again Mr. Naysayer? Oh that's right nobody knows your name

so, who is the fool now!?!


In Dedication to the great inventor and author Arthur C, Clarke 1917-2008

Arthur C. Clarke inspired a lot of minds as writers and inventors with his incredible vision and imagination.



What Music Means to Me

Music, what is it?
just some vibrations, sound waves;
creating melodies, harmonies and rhythm
all tied together with craft and wit

Music makes us cry, it makes us scream, like when our favorite song comes on the radio, “Hell Yeah,” we scream and turn up the volume, sing to the steering wheel and bob back and forth to the rhythm
it inspires us to dance, to cheer
it picks us up when we are down
it inspires us to love and feeds the passion for the one we love
it inspires us to triumph over our tragedies
it inspires us stand up to those who would oppress us;
like the nations held under the boot of another nation, an anthem made the country of Finland rise up and stand up to those who held them down and they overthrew that tyrant, even though this anthem was banned;

the authorities knew the power of music
we sing for those lost, friends and family, heroes passed on
we use song to praise our God
we use music to describe the world around us
music is our friend, and life would be boring without it

It is the piano
the strum of the guitar
the beat of the drum and the lively clatter of percussion
the sound of the sax, as sweet as brown sugar
the smooth sound of the horn, the trombone
the mystic sound of the strings, violins, cellos
the flute, calming and beautiful
the organ with its roar as loud as thunder

the call of the bugle, and the majestic hail of the trumpet
the voice, the oldest instrument of all

Just as unique as each instrument are the song writers, composers and the performers
the great ones become one with the music, it flows through them, they can feel each note, each chord, each rhythm
they communicate their love, their fears, sadness, glory, pain and triumph in their own way
they let their passion flow through their music
without passion, there is nothing, just notes, to feel the music is a must

Of all this;
there would be no hail of the trumpet, no harmony, no love song, if not for those who teach
though the song, the passion, is deep inside every musician, that passion must be let out, that musician must learn technique, theory
each musician must grow confidence in their craft, sometimes they need a push
sometimes, they need a hand to pick them up after they fall, and a pat on the back after the audition that went bad, like when you come to the climax of a piece and hit a wrong note, then again it was your dear teacher who told you to play through that mistake, to continue like it never happened and that's why you win the part
every musician needs someone to give them a spark, to light their fire of passion
they need a teacher to give them a shove

So...

let the trumpet call
let the voice carry through the wind
let the women dance and the men jam
give me Jazz
give me the Blues
give me Classical

give me Country
give me Rock and Roll

Give us the answer, you say
what is music?
music drives our soul
music... inspires us to live


In Dedication to Samuel W. Mayes my high school band director and a teacher who taught me not only theory but how to feel music and use it as a form of communication. I was able to use what I have learned from music and apply it to poetry, storytelling, and photography as well.



The 9th


We lie together on the couch as the music plays

Dvorák's 9th


You in my arms snug

and as we lie together my mind drifts off to a dream mode


I dream of us in a chariot taken back to a different time

to when this symphony was new


We dance through the moonlit night to the Largo

you, in your ball dress and moonlit hair, spinning so gracefully


In the heart of New York City we dance

and absorb the fire of this New World Symphony


And when our time here is done

I tip my hat to this great composer and we cast away on our chariot


We are off to conquer the world

just the two of us


You will fall asleep as you always do when we travel

and I will carry you to bed when we arrive back home


And as the Allegro plays

it reminds me of my burning passion for you


Its fire that is to celebrate something of great importance, this new world

tonight it celebrates something of great importance, our love



Whitman Park


It is near silent in this Brooklyn park


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(Pages 1-33 show above.)