Not That Kid

Making gum wrapper chains  
snap pop New York kid shuffle
innocence was a game 
we never intended to play 
it was always like blowing smoke 
into the wind
choking on the fumes 
brown paper bag huffing
the last boat has sailed
and it doesn't matter any more
because the kid can't swim anyway 
and the Atlantic waters will chill to the bone
especially when you are floating - far far from home
and as the kid wanders and wonders 
about all the cracks in the pavement
and the footsteps that slide and shuffle - late in the night
all she recalls is the pop pop pop
and the rattle of a snake
reminiscent of an old western 1950s flick 
when only the bad guy wore black
and we all know the only snakes in the city 
wear haute couture suits
carrying pens of gold to seal deals 
that wreak havoc on the masses
and it doesn't matter where you stand - or if you stand at all
the view is the same city by city
country by country
power hungry fat cats 
belly protruding finger licking - scoping out the dessert tray
and when the fog doesn't lift quick
and it gets too thick where they sleep
the pie in the sky top floor will flip 
and shift from exclusive to tenement
and guess who is moving
where the air is clear and clean?
suddenly the eye level view 
becomes a treasured source - of pride and privilege
certainly not the kid from the block 
the kid that played Motown 
and danced in the streets
falling in love with the boy from upstate
a first kiss slow dance warm hands 
not the 2nd generation kid 
whose eyes haven't gentrified 
turning brown into blue
or a name with too many letters 
simplifying it to Joe or Sue
No, not that kid
Not that kid 
The kid we all were 
Or the kid we all knew...

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Christmas Songs

Tis the season, yes, tis the season
for joy, strength, purity of heart, purity of faith
unity in family, friends old and new
sharing and giving unconditional love
...yet there is a distance in the feel
of the Christmas songs 
- at least for me
a detached sense of how blessed
we are all supposed to be
when the world is exploding
walls going up, fear and hate soaring
the eagles fly high - the eagle flies alone
and the baby's cry and a child's scream
mother, father, sister, brother
running into harms way instead of into the arms
of someone familiar, someone who shares - the same bloodline
maybe they are not hiding on my street
or bleeding in my city but there is a haunting howl
that penetrates and scars the purity of a holy night
and there is no sleep or restful place in my home
the sounds are loud, the sounds are clear,
deafeningly loud and crystal clear
the cry is there for all to hear - where do I belong
and what if we don't, what if we tune out
turn up the volume on Christmas songs
drowning out the cries; what if we choose
to remain detached - and distant
wrapped in the warmth, wrapped in the safety
of our own homes; not knowing where I belong
what if we choose to close our hearts,
and block the sounds that are drowning out - the Christmas songs

© 2015 TrilbyYates

The Boys

Early morning, a few blinking street lights 
off in the distance 
Red flashing color slices its way through the darkness; 
"...stop don't rush the day has not dawned yet..." 
Perfection in, just bitter enough coffee 
with a dash of cinnamon - aroma therapy 
a sentimental tapping into a holiday season 
that has always resonated peace and good will 
I wonder what Francois drinks as the sun rises over the city of lights 
How strong the coffee is that slip between the lips 
of Vladimir as he saddles up for his A.M. ride photo op in-style
Or Bashar as he reads the daily obits 
sipping some strange brew, pondering what else is there is to do 
- rattle sabers background white noise 
I wonder, briefly, if Rivlin and Benjamin break bread 
while gathering stones 
And if Mamoud stays in bed a moment longer to clear his head 
before the first one is thrown
Does Barack grab a cup of joe while on the go
kissing his girls as he rushes to the daily debriefing 
And what if anything starts the day for Hassan and Mahmoud 
when a figure head is only recognized in the palace 
paper to pen and a pot of Persian tea simmers ever so slowly...

I think about things like this 
as I linger over the perfection in 
just bitter enough coffee with a dash of cinnamon - aroma therapy 
a sentimental tapping into a holiday season 
that has always resonated peace and good will

© 2015 TrilbyYates

My Lovers Gone

There is a story, 
it is my own 
It fills all the spaces and lines 
that lead in and around 
the deepest and most shallow 
- like a wading pool, or sandbar - water up to my knees 
floating sensation into the abyss of joyfulness 
- all part of my mind 
Energy free form soaring, bounding rhetoric 
leaving an indiscriminate mark of solace 
etched in a monogram of initials 
- for all of those I have loved 
Freeing words trickle out ever so slowly,
with no sense of urgency
but, as a delicate pearl of wisdom 
flowing freedom with the knowing 
of an ocean bed, comfort in its path 
More than okay with its journey - and its destination 
Carving a path that will change with each season,
with each tide pulled by the moon light, beckoning
like my lovers gone and I will continue on and on...

- floating sensation into the abyss of joyfulness...
like my lovers gone, and I will continue on and on

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Push The Beat

Oh man, man its a drop the straw from your mouth
head shaking spasm flash back to a past better left alone - moment
But anyway, remember, do you remember when I fell in love
and you didn't know what to do so you fell on your sword
- it only took that first drop of blood like a sign from the heavens above
that I was already in love with love and maybe not so much with you
And it really never made sense but felt damn good at the time
Right or wrong no one truly knows and yeah, I still don't sleep at night

You were like a kid in a candy shop; me, well I was the femme fatale 
wearing dark glasses, the shop keeper in a magic cape 
flying around throwing spells and fairy dust;
and when I turned the corner to take a deep introspective breath
you were stealing the baked goods and inventory 
- my heart shattered on the floor like splintered glass 
from a treasured past commonality you and me

So now when you want to share and reminisce; sing songs from the past
you should remember I like to slow things down and push the beat to a grind
Juke box four songs for a dime at least that's how I remember it, so...

Your arms felt good around my waist and if I close my eyes
dim the lights I can recall how it felt with my fingers
gently entwined through the strands your hair
and you would pull me close and take what little I had left
We laughed late into the night and never locked the doors

When you would leave I'd watch from the back seat
swearing that would be the last time and cursing the stars
as they fell from the sky for their brilliance and yours
...until you would throw stones at my window; revved up again

Could have been a jump start from story book romance cheap novels
bought and sold at Perry's Five and Dime other side of the track
and your fascination with folded pages in your father's Playboy mag
hidden in the laundry basket secret sleuth nothings lost 
when you're on the prowl

So now when you want to share and reminisce; sing songs from the past
you should remember I like to slow things down and push the beat to a grind
Juke box four songs for a dime at least that's how I remember it, so...

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Depression

Shades drawn closed 
darkness blankets 
every corner of the room 
shadows become one 
flattened and obscure 
off in the distance 
are muted sounds
a whistling tea pot 
hopefully someone 
will attend to its needs 
wrapped gingerly within 
solitary seclusion and doubt 
...insecurity has become 
a knife held to my throat 
by my own hand 
widow's lasting garb 
fits like a second skin 
forming tightly around 
my waist and chest
heart beats out of necessity 
blood flows like an encore 
I hide within the day to day 
smiles and conversation 
secretly counting the seconds 
to when I might feel 
somewhat alive again 
it comes and goes 
velvet waves washing over
and a twisting churning knot 
tightens in my chest 
familiar hand reaching deep
fingers entwined
a death grip crippling
sleep comes a timely relief 
if only temporary 
ghosts and dream screams 
flutter quietly about
softly stroking my cheek
cold and damp to touch
until I rise and begin again 
praying for resolve and relief

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Someone Is Shouting Jihad

Clear Parisian sky 
a sweet night 
to live and die 
without purpose
or validation of intent
but a twist of fate 
walking down 
the Champs Elysees 
and in my heart 
there is a love song 
and bright city lights
and what is that 
I heard you say 
not in a soft whisper 
but accusatory verbiage
and solitary sob
someone is shouting Jihad
you have a cause 
but you have no home 
you hide, linger and roam 
and wander in obscurity 
blanketed chatter code 
distant and detached
from the pulse 
of the universe 
you were born 
to cherish and to hold
loyal to a higher source 
fantasy wild illusion 
of what may be waiting 
for your brothers
on the other side
there is no solution
there is no pride
stained in blood and flesh 
your stairway to heaven
is a fiery inferno 
leading not to the purity 
of innocent virgins 
as you have been told
but as a venomous snake 
you will find only darkness 
not shadow or light 
nor colors bright 
but an abyss 
of nothingness 
we create what we are
someone is shouting Jihad... 

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Chris Matthews Throw Me A Life Line

Heard the words steam roller blow out
walking on a branch already broken
and the monsters of men want to challenge the path
I have already chosen - what's a non gender bender supposed to do?
And, and I look to you as a knight in shining armor
- and the villain on the tracks
But anyway that's my stuff, my story and I tell it well 
- if you stand still long enough to listen
I will maintain a glass half full mentality throughout most of the day
no need to tell me to keep the faith 
brighter days are coming soon
brighter days are on the way
and I'm still carrying my lackings around with an intense sense of pride
committed to never letting them go like the lovely lessons learned 
and bridges never burned, something my mum said a long time ago
…I digress, perdonatemi la mai famiglia
I'll continue to ride the wave when the oceans have dried
just close my eyes and recall the vision of the mighty Poseidon
and the sounds of water rushing against the tide
a wake up call just in case you missed the metaphor 
it's all right here in the third eye my own personal treasure 
reflections from the other side
when sand, sea and lies collide 
and it hasn't rained since the climate change naysayers 
spit directly into the wind
So I'm out here trying to find an umbrella 
but I'll settle for one rational thread that will give me a pass 
on what was written and believed to have been said 
or the misinterpretation of everyones fate
and I've always been told it's never too late - to ask for help

Chris Matthews throw me a life line
you are the only one that can pull the nation in
when everyone else relies on the bend in the road
or the guy in the hat who will cast the first stone
who boldly claims to have lived without sin
and the Svengali's are telling us - now, never, sink or swim

And all I can do is think about you and that's gotta count for something

Chris Matthews throw me a life line
you are the only one that can make the nation grin
when everyone else relies on the bend in the road
or the guy in the hat who casts the first stone
who boldly claims to have lived without sin
and the Svengali's are telling us - now, never, sink or swim

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Carrying Our Secrets

It's just a round-about way 
of saying nothing with meaning 
...or true intent vibrate
In the distance I can hear the song
There is a dullness in the roar,
and when the dust is kicked up
and no one settles in,
bullets will be a blazing - glory
It really won't matter what pocket 
you carry your version of Jesus in 
Left or right handed manipulator 
fly's solo wing span reaches out 
and grabs the core of your heart;
grabs you deep until there isn't 
anything left to sink your fingers into
And the teacup you hold 
so poetically drops to the floor 
tiny splinters of perfection 
splash across glistening translucent tile
Rolling thunder drifts out and off the shore;
far, far away and dissipates into an abyss 
of all that was kept on the down low
When truth and deception were 
as close as Siamese twins 
attached by the purity of their genitals 
A symbolic way to keep the other honest 
keeping the faith and straight forward thinking
What remains to be seen or felt 
when the lid is slowly lifted off the cardboard box 
perforated illusion creases rippling score
from Heaven and Hell releases all the pain 
and a self serving glory - to its own demise 
And the Angel's wings will flutter compulsively 
and fly against the destruction of ancient lore,
while seductive smoke and fiery cinder carrying our secrets 
out to the depths of a cold and everlasting sea


© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Mother Nature Is Kind

Tree branches bend 
and shuffle 
an old soft shoe 
saw dust on the floor scat 
to the seductive blow 
of the wind 
the strength and force 
of Mother Nature 
the female mother 
Queen of Rag 
Queen Bee 
stings like a bitch 
stings with venom 
and a cure to sooth
the wretched soul
a force to reckon with 
a force female in nature 
female unshakable force 
softness rests around her eyes 
the creases are love and light 
not to be mistaken 
for innocence or naivete 
but a genuine openness 
warmth to touch 
to settle into
to rest in arms and heart 
wide accepting unquestionable devotion  
no time for judgement 
no time to put salt in the wound
no time to wound the wounded

The tree branches bend 
and shuffle
old soft shoe 
saw dust on the floor scat
to the seductive blow
of the wind
- Mother Nature is kind.

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

My Brother

Your father is not mine
My mother is yours
We grew up in the same house
Your eyes are blue
Mine brown
We shared the same dreams
and nightmares
You carried yours
As a concealed weapon
hidden
Mine on my sleeve
A rebel flag
fully exposed
You ran with the wind at your back
chasing the demons away
I sailed with the wind in my face
as if being chased by the demons
You moved west
out of your comfort zone
I moved back east
where I felt at home
We both left the past behind
Never looking back
but never letting go
...I think of you often my brother

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Umbrella Of The 2nd Amendment

It all seems very 
inconsequential 
relevant to only a few
in the moment
perception wrapped 
in a bloody cloth 
carried around 
in a shoulder bag 
right side of the cause 
and you will weep 
for your neighbor 
kiss the ground 
you stand on
thankful your home
remains in tact
people in glass houses 
shouldn't throw stones
stray bullets with an agenda 
manifesto magnifico 
wont change your mind 
one dimensional devotee
in the name of all that is divine 
father, son, and holy ghost
while Mother Mary works
her magic in disguise  
old school way of thinking 
solid, stead fast and free
but when the winds shift
a quick turning of the tide
and you find yourself
kneeling at the feet 
of the forgiven
soulful and sanctimonious
your child's heart pounding 
hands trembling
looking deep into
innocent eyes 
pupils dilated clear and wide 
do you whisper softly 
I promise everything will be OK
I promise everything will be fine
we are protected and gun dependent
under the umbrella of the 2nd amendment?

© 2015 TrilbyYates
 

Comedy Is In The Tragic

A cast of characters parade and dance with delight
Sabotage the plot skewed view of how the story could go
Should go but didn't...or did it?
Questions from the observer, birds eye view
Critics words strewn about from an avant garde status
Wrapped in the warm glow of stained glass 
Yet frigid to an intruders touch
Red, blue, yellow, green sunlight splashes of color
Altering the image, altering the direction 
Of the one true artist
Pliable to our own will 
- but not with the purity of a creative source
Not with the purity of the creative intention 
- more or less a reactionary split
When the casting call went out the Princess and Vagabond stroll
Consideration to one and all - equal opportunity G.O.D. employer
But the villain wears an uncanny disguise
And Beelzebub as we now recognize - The comedy is in the tragic
The comedy is in the things we can't see
And you won't marry me because I am you
…and that is against your faith 
You can't touch me because your reflection burns
So you watch and wait...smoldering sizzle
While our child drowns in the vast public view
And no one was watching - do you believe me?
Now and then we cop a plea, we plead the fifth
And hold the Constitution up 
Because it can't stand on its own
To an immoral high standard, higher than this life we cherish
Higher than each breath we take, exhale slowly
It only hurts the first time
This life as we now know it is not for the faint of heart
Made up of a multitude of choices 
and of ones own choosing
And if not of your choosing
But because of circumstance or a feedback loop
Remember somehow - it will always bring you home 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Red Dress And No Shoes

You want a happy ending just like everyone does
but that isn't always the way the story goes
when it's a page turner and the punch line at the end
leaves you empty handed and a bit  more aloof
words fall flat and I'm left in your silence

...and I'm standing at the corner flower shop
wearing a red dress and no shoes
and I can't remember why I came here
and can't remember how to get home

It has been a long time since we crossed paths
and sometimes it's the length of time
that soothes the wounds and heals broken dreams
not a heart bending string broken absence of emotion
spending too much time on my own - too much time alone

...and I'm standing at the corner flower shop
wearing a red dress and no shoes
and I can't remember why I came here
and I can't remember how to get home

Doesn't really matter that much
when all that passes for good looks is a cheap imitation
my lack of sentiment my short falls and my limitations
victims need an advocate and I need a priest
nothing can touch me when I'm standing this high on the wall
and nothing can catch me when I lose my footing and begin to fall

...and I'm standing at the corner flower shop
wearing a red dress and no shoes
and I can't remember why I came here
and I can't remember how to get home
I spend too much time in the shadows
I spend too much time alone
and I'm standing at the corner flower shop…

© 2015 TrilbyYates

I Am A Visitor

I’m not a gender bender 

or person of color - societal descriptive norm

I have little faith 

shy of fairy tales and Mother Nature

There are few left 

in my blood line 

…yet I am relatively not alone

And there are days 

when the sun 

comes up 

and I don’t rise - to the occasion 

Night falls 

and sleep 

is a reluctant guest 

I am a visitor 

in a world of strangers 

and you may never 

know my real name 

My true calling 

has been my only truth 

my only companion 

in the solitude of creativity 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Any Storm

Morning coffee steam rises 
I sleep alone… 
- another friday night 
Dream scape 
background track sea breeze  

My mind is like a wave 

Ocean tide draws back 
Captured vast seamless horizon 
helps calm unsettled nerves 
and swaying motion at bay 

Wrapped in a fog blanket 
There's warmth in the next line 
…words don't always fall 
so neatly into place 
There is never a plan for rhythm 
There is never a plan for rhyme 

Let the path lead where it may 
and the wind will surely fill my sails 
- and I will take on any storm… 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

House The Demons

He smiles, kicks back - relax...do you want a drink beautiful?
Flattery falls from his lips, diamonds of perfection
His fingers glide through his long silver hair, he's in his comfort zone
He can hold his own in a crowd of young bombers
Slow like a cat on the prowl he gets up stretches across the room - purr
His Italian leather couch oozes sex appeal NYC loft high above 
Reality is a custom bar marble slab sous chef prep 
My usual neurotic reply is like opening an old sacred love letter  
Gingerly with reluctance and insecurity, caution is first mate 
Handing me a glass - his fingers touch mine, lingering  
An intentional moment his eyes remain warm and clear
Leading the way to cheap talk and romantic reminiscing 
He says he gave up the spirits years ago but couldn't give up the ghosts
High times buzz by right side blur discarded memories - post regret
Salvage a few and letting go of the others - doesn't pay to house the demons
Fade out background dark side of the room strikes a cord
Strikes a nerve and chatter is on the vine - we step back in time
Quote of the day his mind leaves the room and he slips away -
"…I remember when the drinking age was 18 and Uncle Sam took all the boys away…"

© 2015 TrilbyYates

God Is Not Dead

Words quietly spoken
Words floating in the night
Billowing halo warped wrap around
words spoken quietly
God is dead
God is dead
- Faith is a belief not based on proof 
Faith is a tapestry silk and satin 
weaving through 
heart into soul
head into heart
Not tangible to touch
but a magical sensation 
weaving through heart into spirit
Rattling about so stable so very unshakable
- unbreakable  
Questionable in my dreams
Rattling about broken at times
Rosary beads slip from my hands
I sink to bended knee
unlike other faiths standing on equal ground
I sink to bended knee humbled
Questionable in my dreams
I woke wrapped in a cloud
wrapped in billowing halo warped wrap around
I said the words
I spoke out loud 
God is not dead 
God is not dead 
I said softly words whispered 
in the darkness of the night 
Words heard echoing bounce
Words spoken tongue tied
yet understood Tower of Babble
There is wisdom in the story
There is peace and confidence 
in the questioning of my faith 
My lack of belief has been 
a distant abstraction 
My lack of faith has been
at times a painful reaction
But in this fog hovering in the night
I was solid 
I was touched
I said it out loud
God is not dead 
God is not dead
I lay back falling into a deep sleep
wrapped in a cloud I began to weep 
And as the sails began to fill
and move slowly across the bay
I remembered the story
of choice and free will -

The vision brought tears to my heart
tears to my eyes and I cried at the image 
and the knowledge
I am wisdom
I am wise 
God is not dead
God is not dead

The vision brought tears to my heart
tears to my eyes and I cried at the image
and the knowledge
I am wisdom
I am wise
God is not dead
God is not dead

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Sail Away With Me

Waves caress port side
leaning to the left
filling the sails 
with a new 
direction
unknown
last breath
secrets from the other side – 
Whispering angels 
hovering above
- let him exhale one more time…
But I know prayers 
are rarely answered 
and coincidences 
never ring true
And songs blow by
haunting tunes 
of love and sorrow
I hear it in the wind
“…sail away with me honey, hold my heart in your hands, sail away with me honey, sail away with me now…” 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Shifting Blame Shifting Time

Shifting time, shifting blame
an overly exposed place to be
Like an old black and white film
silence in the dramatic - pronunciation
classification weakened domination
of thought and word daydreams soothing 
It is a beautifully worn white albatross
hanging with ease from your neck - you never take it off
...moved quietly with your tender touch
to the deepest part of my lost heart
Take the time to search it out
and walk gingerly through my shadow
Walk carefree and with ease
the vision is deep - the vision is wide
Please be careful not to disrupt my solitude
shifting blame, shifting time
It has been years to my amazement
I sometimes count them in my sleep 
the way I hear the second hand moving
similar calming of counting sheep
Wishing I could somehow forget
forget the sound of your heavenly name
Wishing if only time could stand still
and everything that stood still - would remain the same
When you are alone in those private moments
a soft wind will blow tousling your hair about
A spray from the ocean will come across the bow
and your thoughts will be taken from here to there
And when the day begins to fade 
turning into that peaceful space of gray
The sun slipping off to the west 
and the moon begins to rise
I'll stand on my side of the Sound
and play back every word you ever said
Every word etched in memorial stone 
skipping lost seashells across the bay
and continue to wonder shifting time shifting blame
- what the fuck happened to you anyway... 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Burn Out Blues And Bust

Organic moon light heart pounding brilliance 
bursting from the seams
slipping from the sidewalls of a passion pit
Fumbling for the remote control
flip the switch from brilliance to boredom... 
And some where out there is the second coming 
of my redemption
The second coming of a new day 
with promise and intention
Lasting longer than a flash in the pan 
lime light first blush of love
Smiling from ear to ear Cheshire cat grin 
that gives nothing away
But a clear image of a pure ecstatic inner 
love lust glow

Because I know some things 
are worth waiting for 
even if the odds are in favor 
of burn out blues and bust

But I'm a romantic at heart 
bleeding from old wounds
and the side effects of too many 
sleepless nights
Wandering around my apartment as if 
the secret to a loving life
is hidden in the slow pace of walking 
from room to room
The creek in the floorboard is a sure sign 
I'm not alone
That a brighter day awaits right outside my door

Because I know some things 
are worth waiting for 
even if the odds are in favor 
of burn out blues and bust 


© 2015 TrilbyYates

Hudson Line Blows

So we go out to this bar
Saturday night sure thing
Down on the west side 
Of the infamous Hudson River
Blonde bombshell with crew
and dark haired mystery woman 
Tapan Zee to the north 
GWB to the south 
Across the river a whistle 
On the Hudson Line blows smoke 
While flying by everyone waves 
As if they are floating on liquid gold 
And I'm feeling lost 
In my old haunting ground
Like I've never been here before 
A stranger in familiar surroundings 
Out of my comfort zone 
Out of my element
A fish out of water
Square peg 
...in a round hole
Oblio  
And it's not a far stretch 
Of the imagination 
Culture shock and reminiscing 
Don't always go hand in hand 
Sipping wine through a straw
Cheap fragrant masculine cologne
Fills the air loud bass beat roll
Burns my senses to the core
Vinny and Frankie commonality 
Thick in the middle as age creeps up 
- but no one seems to notices 
By the time last call fades 
Off into the mist
I don't know where I belong any more 
Stepping out on all sides
Everything feels heavy handed 
Tossing snake eyes coming up double 
Maybe it's a fine time 
To play the hand that has been dealt 
And fade off into the horizon 
On a fast sailing vessel 
...Hells Gate with out warning

© 2015 TrilbyYates