Dear Life

Is this the way it's suppose to be?
The way it's supposed to play out?
My mind is telling me one thing...
but time doesn't seem to be on my side
I'm kicking and screaming
being dragged through life
scuff marks on my hands and knees - 
Is this really the way it's going to be?
The way it's supposed to play out?
I'm kicking and screaming,
broken arms and broken legs -
Heart fails and shock sets in
Does it seem to matter much?
Hey I'll tell you what - you can sit on the side line
and watch the show
I'll even supply the popcorn and balloons
a side show with music and a harp player
But, but I promise you,
I'll tell you straight up,
I'm hanging on for dear life
barely hanging on for dear life
Is this really the way it's supposed to be?
The way it's going to play out?
If I had known this long ago
I may have already checked out...
I may have already checked out;
taken that short walk with rocks in my pockets
The cold waters surrounding me,
the cold waters taking me down
kicking and screaming
scuff marks on my hands and knees -
You my friend can sit on the side line
and watch the show;
I'll even supply the popcorn and balloons
a side show with music and a harp player
But, but I promise you my friend,
I'll tell you straight up
I'm hanging on for dear life
...barely hanging on for dear life


© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Blanche DuBois

A dimly lit room
typical bar room glow
Maybe, candles flickering
- couldn't tell you...
mood lighting keeps things soft,
keeps life from appearing
...to harsh as per Blanche DuBois
Music playing something
in the background  -
for ambiance?
Maybe not...
I'm never sure of much
when my focus
is slightly off kilter
Anxiety rises,
pulse generates a buzz
Can you hear it?  
Heart races - I'm a blurred vision to few
Can you see me?
It's stressful being
misunderstood;
naturally
cool and aloof
not cold and pretentious
...it's - it's an art form
It is an outfit,
an accessory...
An ingrained
way of being
A minimalistic disguise;
cloak and dagger,
camouflage sequenced,
hocus pocus,
glittered razzle dazzle,
calling your bluff...take a breath!
Silent scream to god...
For what?
For help?
A shift from a grown
confident woman
to an introverted
shy baby girl...
In high heels - red lipstick
and someone else's clothes  -
It's a mismatched pair of socks,
out of my comfort zone
out of my element
train wreck
no second chances
I need second chances...
Wishes blown
to the universe - fall flat
Wooden Rosary beads - worn thin
This is a new starting point?
A new place to begin?
Some how there remains
and I'm not sure why...
Call it my belief,
call it my naiveté,
call it fucked up...sigh...
Call it what you will...
I know it,
I own it -
Clearly and unquestionably
There is yet another chapter
to be written...
about you and me ~

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Oh The Random-ness Of Thought

Half way between
here there and everywhere 
spark an interest 
douse the flame 
and the Circle Line 
has the second best view 
of a city of sleepwalkers 
daydreamers 
Svengali's and the like 
but man was i wrong 
when i thought i saw 
the span of the greatest bridge 
in the world 
in your eyes 
even though 
i never noticed
if you were looking at me 
or across the room 
i tend to drift away
from time to time
side effects 
of climbing too high 
without a safety net...

© 2014 TrilbyYates


The four universal healing salves:

When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop singing?
When did you stop being enchanted by stories?
When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
Where we have stopped dancing, singing, being enchanted by stories, or finding comfort in silence is where we have experienced the loss of soul.
Dancing, singing, storytelling, and silence are the four universal healing salves.

~ The Four-Fold Way: Walking the Paths of the Warrior, Healer, Teacher and Visionary

White Night Black Stallion

I can see it 
in your eyes 
replaying
like your favorite flick;
...over and over again - 
And all I can hear
is the banging 
of the drum...
and you, you remind me
with a repetitive triple stroke drum roll;
telling me your secrets 
in my sleep
whispered secrets 
in my sleep -
Slipping into my dreams 
warm hands
Egyptian cotton sheets 
cool to the touch... 
White Night, Black Stallion 
braided mane  -
One last mistake is all I ever wanted
One last mistake...
It's like that first time high
you know, like before falling off the cliff
to high up the air is so thin 
can't take a breath - 
it hurts to breathe in,
it's the down side of up,
end zone no one knows;
and no one cares
but you and me
Whispered secrets in my sleep
...don't let go, don't ever let go
but off you went into the wind...
White Night, Black Stallion
braided mane
one last mistake is all I ever wanted
one last mistake
one last mistake 


© 2014 TrilbyYates 

So Many Places We Can Go

Change always comes
and I spend my summers
flying high without a care
I have to 
or I wouldn't survive
so now with a clean slate
baby you look
like someone
I used to know
someone
I used to know
someone
I need to know
and even though
every thought
is black and blue
shaded colors like a bruise 
the center of the universe
holds more for us
it holds more for us -
Lovers come and lovers go
but when they dare reach
deep inside and don't hesitate,
when they feel that bounce back
reflection mirrored image
black and blue
the center of the universe,
yes,
the core of the universe
between me and maybe you...
we have to know
It's worth even those moments
all those moments
when we are on our knees;
bloody sweat soaked t-shirt
tells another story,
wrapped tightly
around the main source
of heartache -
Come on it's an apocalypse,
it's that slippery slope
we've come to know
it's that slippery slope
we've been warned about
Put your arms around me,
and hold me close
close your eyes
kiss me deeper
than we bury our dead,
kiss me until
you reveal your soul -
steal mine if you like
it's yours to own
Put your arms around me,
and hold me close
close your eyes,
close your eyes
there are so many places we can go
there are so many places we can go...

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

One Step, Two Step

"Walking down Canal street,
one step, two step
knocking every door
one step, two step couldn't find a whore ..."
Double Dutch
jump rope rhymes
play that beat baby
keep the rhythm
keep the time...
And I know you know
I still have your drum set
and play louder 
and harder everyday
just to prove a point
of least resistance
it's a doable existence
I often wonder
what would you think
what would you say - if anything at all
No question there is still life
in this spirit of mine
even though the game changed
I feel - this is a new sensation -
like a fish out of water - at times
I have always been a fast learner
with little frustration
I own the right to travel the road
with the wind in my face
and there isn't a trace
of regret or remorse
And a rhythm I learned on the street
R&B soulful sound
is in my blood so profound
a flowing beat
that never lets
the inner self stop moving
the temperature rises 
I feel the heat
I'll bang away 
bang until the light of day
sticks to skins
cymbals vibrate
all that reminiscing
won't go to waste  - you taught me well
And you of all people
knew I always had a thing
for drummer boys - still do
now with eyes wide
and an open soul
every note counts
like the steps of AA
Rosary in hand
I continue to pray - to whom I don't know - 
And although my only addiction
is a desire for truth and happiness
with many a detour along the way - I admit
I breathe for lessons still to be lived and to be learned
and oh so many bridges never to be burned - that would be such a waste
So as I play and drift far, far way
as if there is this magical place...and I believe there is
The music holds for me - like a lover
in a different way
as words are my weapon of choice
but in this zone
it is a master of its own
space and time slip away
and all night long I play and play... 

© 2014 TrilbyYates 




 

Twilight Internet Star Crossed Lovers

Alternative time 
burn out 
and insecurities soar 
like the wounded angel 
I once was.
Flying too close
to the sun 
a virtue in disguise  -
And there was 
a moment of ease 
and a desire 
to lean in closer 
than allowed;
to take finger tips 
to your lips 
and hush 
the secrets away.
A kiss that could 
have been 
a once in a lifetime
passion between 
strangers...
A missed opportunity?
We may never know -
But wishful thinking 
and hope continues
to smolder
so very slowly 
I close my eyes
look deeply into yours
and see all that 
I will ever need to know
...twilight internet 
star crossed lovers -

© 2014 TrilbyYates 

Beach Boys

Hot steamy summer day...not a cloud in the sky; brilliant blue dome of color - a slight breeze floats by on the up beat of a song dancing through the air; off in the distance sailboats lean, lean, lean stretching canvas and rails dip in the salty sea - flashback summer sweat dripping kisses...glorious sight makes my heart race.

Beach scene high tide, scent of coconut oil is like a time chaser – burst of images black and white, Kodachrome edited memories. Families, babies, teens, college kids, Gran and Pop - fill the sandy shoreline with souvenir beach towels and beach chairs; radiant red, seafaring blue and lemon yellow umbrellas adorn the landscape making up an amazing painters pallet. Aroma therapy and visual overload - in this surrounding I am thrilled to be alive!

Strategically placing myself on the fringes – a space between me and the masses. A buffer from all the chatter and one on one contact - my comfort zone just left of everything and nothing - with one foot hanging over the edge; acting as an anchor keeping me from wandering to far out in an endless sea. A beach day to listen to music - drifting away on notes and combinations of words; all stirring emotions and pushing fantasies for later creative use – deep breath in/exhale - blow. Moments of "shear poetry".

A group of three “t’ween” boys invade my peripheral vision and my solitude. Soft images flurry past, intense energy…carrying plastic beach shovels – with definite intentions. There were no words exchanged, an innate plan was brewing and clearly understood by all participants.

As much as I tried to ignore this group of adolescent males, (they reminded me of boys from my past) it was impossible...I was captivated by the "boys club" dance - and felt privy after so many years being on the outside secretly looking in, never understanding what made them tick and now I had a clear up front view - camouflaging myself behind a pair of sunglasses instead of my naiveté . 

Quickly personalities started to pop...the shy one, the leader, the funny boy - these roles seemed set in stone, not interchangeable. Each knew their character and played it uncomfortably well. Pigeon holed for a moment in time.

I sat back, shades on, ear-buds in and observed with delight!

The boys started to dig a hole in the sand, within 30 minutes it was clearly going to be a very large hole. Occasionally a group of "t' ween" girls would slowly walk past; seemingly ignoring the boys...a little flip of their hair, arms linked and giggles...boys reacting, doing boy things - they jumped in the 4' deep hole, threw sand at each other, swore and laughed and dug faster as if they were just injected with high levels of testosterone.

The girls circled around several times, swishing their feet into the sand, hips swaying overly exaggerated this way and that as they walked by. Flirtatious glances exchanged, occasional eye contact and then the uncontrollable bursts of blushing red covered cheeks were a dead give away. A vision of pure innocent seduction; beach boys from long ago...summer in the city. Motown playing and dancing on the sidewalks - sweet delicious memories.

Off in the distance songs from the concession stand began to play summer songs, the hit list...Heatwave, Under The Boardwalk, Girl From Ipanema, In The Summer Time...on and on drum beat, finger snapping melodies swept me away finally into a deep sleep...

© 2014 TrilbyYates