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

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

Little Soldier

Restrictions and conviction 
all on the right side of God 
and what happens 
if we don't fit the mold 
if we don't fit 
what we have been told 
march on little soldier 
march on 
take the time to think 
long and hard 
slight of hand 
hidden card 
king of diamonds 
queen of hearts 
heart hearts 
bleeding hearts 
worn reluctantly 
like her crown 
slipping down 
that slope of rational 
and madness 
main vein slice 
weak in the knees 
another attempt 
another failure 
skip to the last page 
and read ahead
and when you get 
to the best part
remember to start
from the beginning again
repetitive action
a minority fraction
societal reaction
march on little soldier
march on... 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Death

So yes, I have hit the wall 
- many times
I've reached down 
in the darkness and found 
the bottom was still 
another 100 feet below me 
and all I can say 
with a hint of ambivalence
"...man what a trip, what a journey..." 

And all the introspective chatter 
and cliches passing thru the test of time 
held with the highest regard phrases 
don't hold an ounce of truth 
when the light at the end of the tunnel 
is a taunting echo of yourself 

Self help mumbo jumbo
new age movement
authors and prophets of old
who keep their secrets 
closely protected 
within their well guarded heart
while all along holding the key 
to their own mysteries 
...yet to be solved

And the passions rise 
when a nerve is struck
over and over again
their truth is well earned 
from their own rock bottom 
bouncing realizations 
when a light bulb moment
goes off the crowd kneels
and we all know it is
just another oxymoron 
but enlightens those in the dark 
without question none the less

Once again I am 
in a free fall 
seeing a lot of familiar faces
along the way
- and yet 
there is still no comfort 
in the masses 
and self pity is as destructive 
as falling on your own 
proverbial sword 
- it's all a ploy 
a way to make sense 
of the inevitable 
to maintain the purity of faith
in the smile of excellence
on your face
that it is sincere 
and not a reflection 
of one foot already planted 
firmly in the ground of fear

And that's not for me
I'm just saying man
that is not my way out 
my ashes will blow 
across the wide open sea
that sweet spot 
where land never 
reaches the eye
- carried by angels 
and when the time is right 
they will kiss me off 
into the wind I'll float
high above what was
once my reality

And in the distance 
a comforting voice 
will be heard 
whispers of welcome 
and a warm hand 
will reach out and touch 
that one remaining particle 
the ultimate human being
...death needs no introduction

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Those Beyond The Age Of Service

I can feel the beat of the drum
that repetitive mesmerizing 
all to familiar vibration 
that pounds deep in the heart
blood pumping adrenaline rush
of those that can not see beyond 
their own insecurities - fears
egos soar high above 
with the wing span - symbolic majestic strength
of an eagle - hawk mentality
never questioning the obvious
never questioning the past
- those beyond the age of service

I remember that vibration, that sensation
the lacking of humanity and compassion
that fills the hearts - of some
the puffing up of their chest with fists pounding 
words spewing free flowing venom - poison 
like the rumbling sound of the earth cracking 
splitting down the middle - jagged edges
swallowing the souls of those in search 
of salvation and redemption 
the sound of those that continue to reject
- those beyond the age of service

I hear the beat of the drum
an all to familiar sound that pounds 
louder and louder - each day 
and there are no lessons learned 
we fall to our knees praying to our particular source of god 
we hold our children close - they are all our children
close to our chest hearts pounding - rhythmic surrender
wounds so deeply ingrained - subconscious prejudice
there is no power of prayer or ranting and raving
that will ever set the record straight 
that will ever clear the slate
posing the same questions - repetitive prompting
war the only acceptable answer  
- for those beyond the age of service

© 2014 TrilbyYates

Heaven, Hell or Brooklyn

Walking beyond the dunes
sea grass slips
between my fingers
The roar of the ocean
calms my nerves
and I remember
how you felt
beneath the waves
The Siren's song whistles
in the night carried
by an ocean breeze;
and every night your memory
brings me to my knees
And I wonder...
Heaven, Hell or Brooklyn - where is love

Gates of Heaven open wide
but I'm lost in Hell's grip
held tight in Hell's grip -
I'm the prom queen that was never crowned
I'm the missing chapter in my own lyrical book
Dylan-esque quality but he choked on my words
how brilliantly absent minded
how brilliantly absurd

Last night I walked into a bar,
not sure if my wounds were covered,
not sure if I'd gone to far
but your blue eyes lit the way
making it easy not to stumble
making it easy to imagine
with a kiss so deep, 
vows never to be broken
and I'm at a loss for words 
and don't know what to say
So now I wonder...
Heaven, Hell or Brooklyn - when is love going to stay

You have that last nail in the coffin look
Not a criminal or a crook
But you stole my heart from me
Pages folded over in the last chapter of my lyrical book
Heaven, Hell or Brooklyn - when is love going to set me free

Maintaining faith hasn't always been kind,
but never mind, 
I fell asleep during the best part
While your eyes look deep into mine
God only knows it's a fresh start
And now I'm wondering
wondering out loud
wondering about Heaven Hell or Brooklyn

Where is the love that's supposed to carry me through
Where is the love that I've been hanging on to
Faith isn't just for the weary,
Faith isn't just for the forgotten
Maybe I shouldn't have spoken so boldly,
maybe I should have kept my mouth shut
but fuck, what have I got to lose 

I'm the prom queen that was never crowned
I'm a missing chapter in my own lyrical book
Dylan-esque quality, but he choked on my words
how brilliantly absent minded
how brilliantly absurd...

Heaven Hell or Brooklyn - where is love now

© 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 

Holy Resemblance

Slight of hand with a side twist of fate 
smoke and mirrors up in a puff vaporize 
shifting grey eyes 
grab a hold of what is near and dear 
only one that gets out alive 
is the Svengali in us all 
with hands thrust deeply
in the back pocket of our neighbors
while holding a knife to the jugular 
serial killers our partners in crime 
sitting at the head of the table
cloth napkin falls to the floor
glances shoot subtle wish
never more never more
you lose either way willing 
or unable 
glass ceilings crack 
at the thought of redemption 
and there is a lack 
of satisfaction when only a few 
have the formula to what's what 
and how to get off without leaving a trace 
and I look to your perfection 
without question or concern
without biblical connection 
like a wide eyed wonder child 
from the hippie-drone era 
non committal paradox
trapped in the four corners 
of our flawless microcosm
cardboard latch key box 
tipping the scales of justice 
we look out with an air of superiority 
our society's majority is made up of a minority
that requires everyone else 
turn the other cheek and trust us 
as if we are the keepers of this world 
pretending that the other side of the moon
bears witness to none
to all that we have to hide 
all that we have done
behind closed doors shades drawn
you recall the sense of being
nothing less than a saboteurs pawn
an impossibility if one believes solely
in a greater power grand source
creator of all that is holy
left handed gun raised firing the final shot
...resembling all that we are not ~

© 2014 TrilbyYates    
 

You Do Not Know Me

I am
a prisoner
of time and space
held within
the boundaries
of a sanctioned
God anointed birth
the law of the land
the law of religion
and unquestioned faith
the law of responsibility
to all those
that have come
before
and after
the psychological
weapons
chains of societal
norms
guilt, shame, selfishness
keeping me here
with one foot
always firmly
planted
in a place of
- non -
in a space
of absence -
conflicting presence
a calming heart beat
without
a detectable pulse
a heart beat
that keeps
the rhythm
and rhyme
with notes
and emotion
linked with
highs and lows
to verbs and nouns
I am
not merely
made up
of a past
and present
potential future
flesh and bone -
I am
emotions
sensations
feelings
vibrations
the wind
or lack of
I am
the unknown
the object
of your
affection
occasional
rejection
sequential reflection
yet you
do not know
me -
...have never known
anything more
than what
I
revealed
concealed
without malice
of  intention
but with
self preservation
adaptation 
innate
guided fate
all that my
limitations
could allow...
the past
moves fast
it becomes
a comfortable chair
that is
intentionally placed
by the hands
of a  
"gentler God"
with a story
how life
is learned
heaven
is earned
in a living room
of comings
and goings
adding this
or that
the past
knows
more
of its present
and future
than the
unpredictability
of life
all
unto its own
they
whom ever
do not know
me
and before
I
venture
off
to that
unparalleled space
of the
unknown
heavenly Grace
you who have grown
and have known
even less
and never
reverberate
or contemplate 
the reasons why...

© 2013 Trilby   
 

Delicately Choreographed Dance

By the end 
of this 
dream life
as we 
glide 
or stumble
from path 
to journey
road block 
or stepping stone
not a macabre 
scheme
in the moment 
unaware
of the transformation 
the information
the lack of overload
double-fisted  
hands of fate 
stride in 
never tipping 
"its" intention
knowing full well
ignorance 
is not a defense 
in the land 
of the law
the freedom
of choice
the unwritten 
page in our 
personal stories...
but is a gift 
from God
at times 
and others 
a curse
you my friend
though you try
I'm sure...
between word 
and song
sip of wine 
catch yourself
letting go
drifting off
across the sound 
can not forget
may not recall 
my name
...out loud 
in an awkward
moment
or
the deepest
color of my eyes
transparent brown
but you will 
in that place
held close 
to the vest
where the heart
protects 
Pandora's box
...we've come to call
dare not open 
except 
on precious occasion
in the privacy 
of your own 
desire 
for a tender 
moment
interlude
set of circumstance
caesura
the harmony 
that was shared
within a breath 
between 
two people 
on a path
that intersected 
not so long ago 
will not
be denied...

We are not frozen
isolated in a prism 
variegation
memories sojourn
we are a 
delicately 
choreographed dance... 

© 2013 Trilby  

Red Balloon

Hiding 
from the quiet 
stillness 
that comes 
from hanging low 
off the grid 
moonlight shoots 
rays of sadness 
into my veins 
slow drip 
enthusiastic recollection 
skipping stones 
across the Sound 
echos 
back at you baby 
there is no time 
quite like now 
yesterday 
is layered in a haze 
and tomorrow 
holds promises 
like a sieve 
pessimistic anti Christ 
shatters 
optimistic hopes 
for a glance 
backward into the fog 
clarity is a dream state 
that follows me 
around 
like a red balloon 
without translation ~

© 2013 Trilby

Waiting

Darkest of the night 
when spoken
simple words
...my love the light 
lands perfectly
you have 
the face 
of an angel 
saving grace 
and all that we were taught 
in stained glass cathedrals 
ceilings reaching out 
grabbing hold 
of the heavens 
with windows that bleed
holiest of waters
pouring
onto the faithless 
color soothes the soul 
sinners and not 
bead readers 
in silent prayer 
words strung together 
signs of the Cross 
we have yet to bear 
the son, his, or her name
guiding the way 
bring us to our knees 
thankful for what we have
finally found 
and now as walls 
crumble around me 
piece by tiny piece 
my life is quietly
dismantled 
and only those 
that watch 
from high above 
can bring it all 
to an end 
while waiting has never
been a virtue
I ponder and question
I wait and wonder
counting the stars 
waiting for a peaceful 
slumber...that does not come...waiting...

© 2013 Trilby

Unawakened Knowledge

Is this life
set in stone?
A book 
or song
with words
events
that take 
twists and turns 
allowing fleeting 
moments 
of joy 
to tempt
the stars
fate
yet to slip 
from sweet lips 
to tears 
of sorrow...
When did life 
become less 
than something 
to cherish
but rather
dread...
When did
the light of another 
day
take a turn
from a blessing
to a curse
carrying with it 
the weight 
of the world?
Somehow 
someway 
born into 
an unawakened
knowledge
yet to learn
to experience...
Wishing
to be born 
in another era 
a flapper girl
with feathers 
and wings 
that would 
sustain
silver dreams 
on moon beams
to places yet 
to be discovered...
When music 
was coming of age 
and notes 
had not yet been played
that followed 
one another 
a brilliant vibration
on spaces 
in between
held with anticipation
bated breath
and whispering humbleness (Shakespeare)
What was new
What was next
Oh yes such sweet 
silence...
The power of song 
The power of words
Creative imaginations
burst into flames 
of purest delight
Stones unturned
Flowers anticipation
to be inhaled
looked upon
in awe!
The first kiss
on the cheek
of a new child,
life with its ephemeral
glimpses of joy...

 ...when did I come to know
that this is not where 
I should be
...and yet here I am 
again and again....

© 2013 Trilby

I Dream Of You

I dream of you...(softly)
I dream of you...(tearfully)
dream of you...(whisper)
I dream about you...(loudly)
I dream about you...(tearfully)
I scream for you...(scream)
I SCREAM...(anger)
SCREAM to the heavens...(pissed off)
CLENCHED FISTS to the heavens...(without fear)
I SCREAM FOR YOU...(hysterically)
I SCREAM FOR ANSWERS...(pleading)
I scream without reply...(reluctantly)
I cry for you, weep uncontrollably for you...(sorrowfully)
I ache, my heart aches...(painfully)
I curse the heavens...(sparks fly)
I curse the angels, god, day, night...(fuck)
I curse the existence of this life...(fuck)
I fall to my knees and beg for you...(pleading)
I beg without ego or pride...(alone)
I beg for you...(relentlessly)
I linger...(hopefully)
I linger with one foot in the past...(mournfully)
I linger with peace in my heart in the past...(joyfully)
I hang on the edges with one foot in the present...(letting go)
I hang on the edges...one foot in the present...(surrendering)

I dream of you...love(softly)
I dream of you...love(tearfully)
dream of you...love(whisper)

I ask...for you...I reach for you...i reach



© 2013 Trilby

Baby's Breath

Baby's breath 
tiny petals 
white love 
drips 
down weary 
cheeks 
yellow and
red lights 
glimmer 
in the dark
sterile halls
Hippocratic Oath
prevails
shifting tides 
turn thoughts 
lack of conviction
comes into question 
whispered words 
of God and Mary 
secret prayers said 
in silence
bended knee
head bowed
to the almighty
beads slip through 
fingers to faith 
in good time
answers come 
to those that wait ...

© 2013 Trilby

4th of July 2011

Fisherman's Walk

All the battles
that rage around us
hands of the clock
never stop and we
step forward
with the hope and promise
that what we believe
to be true
is coming from a higher power
and not just the back pocket
of some man with a plan
and a fetish for fame and fortune –
or what ever else is twisted
around our fate.
We walk the walk
and talk the talk
bury our children
from generation
to generation
draped in a flag
of one nation under God –
while we praise and hail Mary
giving us the power of choice.
For whom the bell tolls
is a question we won’t ask
because it cannot be un-rung
each name is etched in stone.
And Einstein said,
“…insanity is doing the same thing
over and over expecting different results…”

Do you feel free yet?


© 2011 Trilby Yates

Rainy Days of Fall...

Looming above
Reminiscent of a frown
Slowly forming on the brow
Of an angry God
Rain streams down
On a Universe that has questions
Always wondering why
Weeping Seraphs
Can’t find the appropriate answers
To send those on the edge
Of Faith
Thunder claps
Continuous applause
Waiting…
For the moment of an ovation or
Request for an encore…
Wrapped in blankets from the past
A cozy place to spend a day
Recalling smiles
Lovemaking…
When the world seemed so gray
We would find comfort in the drama
Safe in one another’s arms
Enjoying the show in a self created Heaven
A place that lingers on and on
While I sip my coffee sitting on the window sill
Watching the world spin by
Angel’s tears flow like a fine wine
Into crystal glasses that mesmerize
Each sip turns the world into a gradual blur
Helping…make sense of nothing…

© 2008 Pamela Yates

Poems for Jerry II

Letting Go

Cautious laughter,
light hearted diversion,
sunshine and ocean breeze
beauty beyond my senses
I stare out at all the magnificence
sincerity surrounds me
I feel thankful to have the sight to see
the sensation to feel the cold Atlantic spray upon my face
I begin to appreciate submission,
gradually my shoulders relax
instinctively I lean my head
resting gently on your shoulder
the waves crash against the rocky shore
standing in the ripples of a solitary moment
guilt grabs hold of my heart
a painful reminder
like a dagger piercing a point in time
I stand alone
the tears fall from a poignant place
just for an instant
grief took leave
but was not prepared
to completely let go…

Questionable Faith

Deals with God
promises made
to anyone
with the power
or some higher source
that stands out from all the others
with a touch of Grace and Humility
that soars toward the Heavens
never a mystery to the Grand Schemer
or Motley Crew
who kneel at the feet of the One
only to ponder the questions
that have no prospect for
an arrow that is shot
in a straight line
landing off center
on the left side of the curve
but I still can’t make sense
of everything that has happened
late in the night when all is calm
my sobbing is silenced
by the tears that stifle
all the Faith I once held
in that special zone for Saints and Sinners
with sweet incense smoke rising
but never reaching those places
we’ve all imagined
once our Destination
has been reached and
we ascend into the
right hand of a Kinder
and Gentler
“God”…

Sailor’s Warning

Another day comes to a close
I dread the darkness
but as comfort grows
I surrender to the inevitable
only to have the morning light
rattle my emotions
the cloak of protection
slowly fades into shades of grey
the sun sneaks up on me
with a spotlight intensity full of promises lost
anticipation colors muted echo as a sailor cautions,
red sky at night sailors delight,
red sky in the morning sailors take warning…

WORDS

Spirituality, religion, theology, mysticism, holiness,
Belief, creed, conviction,
Divinity
Sanctity, piety, godliness, saintliness, consecration, devoutness, devotion, purity
Blessedness, inviolability, sacredness
Piousness, goodness, principle, trust, credence
Confidence, acceptance, credibility, authority
Sincerity, integrity, earnestness
Fervor, passion, zeal, vehemence, ardor
Genuineness, honesty, authenticity
Legitimacy, validity, realism, accuracy
Loyalty, commitment, dedication
Blind faith, follow the leader, unquestionable, unanswerable
Take my word for it…unsubstantiated fact… Faith

Faith is to believe what you do not yet see; the reward for this faith is to see what you believe. -- Saint Augustine

© 2008 Pamela Viscomi Yates