Music Time

I fell in love with a boy
who held music in his hands
like a fragile thought
that could easily slip away
it filled his heart
like there was never
enough time
for all the notes to play
making his chest ache
the way mine did
every time he kissed
my finger tips
we would make love
on the music room floor
while searching for inspiration
knowing it was only
moments away
nothing seemed beyond our reach
so we would wait
and watch the sunrise
slowly coming up and over the city streets
there is such beauty in the breaking of dawn
hitting high notes within the perfection
of a continuous and endless line
listening closely until we couldn't - dance any more
...remember my name - he'd say
I would look deep into his eyes
while strumming my guitar
never missing a note
his face etched in the most cherished
place in my mind and we both knew
I was his and he was mine
we would be forever - connected in music time

© 2014 TrilbyYates

Red Vinyl

Static New York accents float
With abrasive intent throughout the diner -
Burnt smoky bacon thick cut it with a knife
Smell fills the air
Bouncing off cracked 
Half-assed some kind of repair 
Duct tapped red vinyl booth seats 
Screaming 1950's decor reminiscent of happier days
Attaching its vibration to anyone that happens to be
An unfortunate victim of being in the wrong place 
At the wrong time - syndrome 
You slide into position and begin tapping 
A methodical rendition of Bo Diddle
On any adamant object that is slightly stationary 
Always reaching its full potential of
...fucking annoying as hell... 
While the Juke Box hungers for another quarter
Never noticing the grimace expression 
on the waitress's Onedrinkandsmoketomany dog-eared complexion
Temples pulsating thoughts deliberate
If only we could read her mind
My money's on...just another asshole...
And you keep trying to make her smile
Pulling the pencil from behind her left ear 
Eyes glazed over lack of luster
"...what'll ya have Mac?"
- the big hand goes around...tick, tick...
Snapping gum between cynical questions
Same old answers day after day
"One more cup of Joe for the road..."
Just another...dumbassedstupidfucking reply
Overloaded waitress brain freeze -


© 2014 TrilbyYates

Goddess Of Delight

New York City's
Side walk 
Grey scale rush
Crowded void
400,000 strong
Zip-locked masses
Shoulders bump
Causing discomfort 
And souls bounce
Woman wrapped 
In Belief garb 
Floats in a mystical fog
Feet don't seem
To touch the ground
Too close for comfort 
One might say 
One might have 
A sense of push back 
Automatic reaction 
Too close for comfort 
Eyes crystal clear 
Orbs tell a story
Accent-ed words 
Mingle with the scent 
Reminiscent incense 
Throwback memory lapse
She reaches out
Touches my hand
"...please put your name in the book..."
Improvised words
With good intention
I can not hide 
The puzzled expression 
Mystified suggestion
Cloaking my face 
For solitary protection
Small gold emblem
Placed into my pocket 
- Work Smoothly Lifetime Peace
Torn folded page
Handwritten name
Scratched in vein
For reassurance
For salvation
For दान Dāna - donation
Soaking blood red beads 
Slipped around my wrist
In the holiest of exchange 
Warmest thoughts
And well wishes 
- from the Goddess Of Delight 

© 2014 TrilbyYates

Walk The Streets Of Tribeca

I walk the streets 
where you used to live, 
the city you thrived in
The city you fell in love with, 
the city that set you free;
while at the same time crippling you - 
taking away any sense of coherency
But, you, you were alright, 
you were a shining star
you were on fire, 
the pretty boy 
with the moody green eyes, 
the seductive faraway stare
You lived in the city 
that pulled you over the edge 
Submerging you into darkness,
driving you to cut deeper 
until your art bled 
into oblivion 
Your creative energy dripped 
like an intravenous 
main lining junkie;
scores strewn across the floor 
Your best work,
your brilliance blinds 
The toll -
twenty years 
of your precious life, 
twenty years 
of a collective genius 
I walk the streets 
where you used to live, 
the city you played in, 
wishing I had known you then -
The clubs that filled 
with locals 
1970-something 
vagabonds 
creative types;
the abstract overly talented 
movers and shakers -
to the point of their own absurdity,
just to catch a glimpse 
of your vibrancy -
bringing out the lacking 
in their own luster 
You were 
one of a kind, 
a rare find 
Unique in a time 
of originality 
An artist to your core,
and yet between all the lines 
praise, paranoia and deception 
the purity of your soul 
was lost on most 
and stolen from you 
before you understood 
what it meant to have a life;
only to let life have you - 
Twenty years you said, 
twenty years and it had to end
There was joy in your eyes 
as they took you away,
a sense of peace 
We didn't realize 
our last kiss 
was an unknown 
...farewell 
Finally, twenty years lost
and finally you had it all
And in that finality,
in a moment,
in an instant,
you were gone...
I walk the streets 
in the city you loved
I walk the streets of Tribeca,
imagine running into you  -
Our eyes would meet,
on some magical level
there is a glimmer of recognition
You would smile only slightly
then turn away 
I'd write my name
on a piece of paper 
and slip it into your pocket
as you brush past  -
looking back
knowing you will find it
and fall in love with me 
...someday

© 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

Train Ride

                                                     Metro North ~ photo by TYates
Long train ride
NYC to CT
eyes close 
images sharpen 
and the senses 
seem unusually high 
and maybe 
it was the way 
you kissed me 
or the way your hand 
was gently placed 
in the lowest part 
of my back 
pulling me close 
swaying to the music 
dancing has never felt 
so seductive 
brushing my hair 
off my neck 
whispered words 
the rhythm 
soothing 
from the top 
of the crystalline 
mountain 
to the fiery depths 
of hell 
a moment in time 
holds tenderly 
perfection in memories
if nothing is accidental 
all has purpose and intent 
lessons lived 
and lessons learned 
explanations not needed 
when two ships 
in the night 
pass
and yet
remain connected -

...the conductor walks by, click, click...next stop Westport, walk two cars forward and watch your step... 

© 2013 Trilby 

Shift ~ April 2011

Chasing Rainbows and Butterflies

A life time spent
chasing rainbows
and butterflies
a day late
and something short
cherry blossoms
are in bloom
and they say
the air is fresher
south of
the Jersey shoreline
where life never
hits below
the belt
and love floats
in a pool
of wide eyed
innocence
no matter how
time passes you by…
but my heart
hangs in the balance
with a New York
city beat
even though
there is no place
I call home
without the ties
that bind
blood isn’t always
thicker than water
and the roots
of my youth
never took hold
with the presence
of an old soul
by invitation only
yet I never had the
slightest inkling
to reply
a pattern
following me
like a loyal playmate,
lover or friend
a formality
I couldn’t own
as time holds the key
To more fly-by adventures
and uncertainty
love flutters about
a clear vision
kept at arms length…someday, yes someday you will be mine ~

© 2011 Trilby Yates

Leaving Winter Behind...

The Highline NYC 2011

Old Neighborhood

Looking back,
Taking the first step forward,
Inhaling the old neighborhood
Deep breath...sigh...
Visual memories are like photographs
Some make me laugh,
Some move me to tears
While others tug at the heart strings
Slight smile turn the corners of my mouth…
Thought about you and
The way you would lie,
For a free smoke or a dime
Paper tigers and fireflies…
Led us down a potpourri of alleyways,
To the innocence of youths
Beautiful indiscretions
Turquoise eyes glowing in neon nights,
Making love in the back seat
Of abandon cars,
West Side Highway,
Or floating down Riverside…
I noticed you out of the corner of my left eye,
Still riding life on the flip side…
Reading postcards from another time

Looking back ~

Patty G lived in Apt. 2 B…
Anthony on the 9th floor,
Fire escape was a long way down…
Endless after midnight~
We shared the loss of our virginity,
And who’s who doing the 10th Ave shuffle…
Never quite making the grade,
But always a good time along the way~
Mrs. Vignetto chattered in Italian
As Mrs. Eisenberg would politely nod
Common bond Mothers united
As their son’s marched off to war
Your side, my side not much in between
Life in the 60's
Bitter sweet and indifferent -

© 2011 Trilby Yates