Distant Drummer

Tiny pearls of wisdom
worn like a thorny crown
fall delicately
and lay in contrast
against tanned skin
of a woman's breast;
who once held
a passion for love
in the palm of her hand
As a sea breeze 
dances around her,
her precious soul floats
along the widows walk
without intent
Subtleties of a moment
captured like 
a ship in a bottle;
slight slip of sand
beneath her bare feet
Yet, she can still hear
the music in the wind
as it carries her heart
to that distant drummer
and hope is always there,
always on the up beat… 

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Small Boy Tender

Small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

That could melt butter

 - in his mouth

While dripping sweet 

Saccharine like words 

Of lies and deceit 

One push 

Slight of hand 

Reaches out 
To be held 

 - poor little sister

Cracked skull

Echoed cries 
and life 

...swing in the balance

Baby dolls
 - toy guns 

Put away 
For safe keeping

Time capsule 

Records sealed 
To protect 
“innocence”

Carefully wrapped

In newsprint 
from 1965

Is no longer 
A figment 

Of Freud’s imagination

While sharing 
The mid night oil 

With the likes 
of Jean Piaget

A child’s dream

…small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

Our love fans 
the flame
Desire fuels 
the fire 

We have a slow 
Dance of our own

Following the rhythm 

Of a distant 
...drummer

And I’m tearful 

When old photos 

seem to fade

Yet your words 
Move through me 

Like the hum 
Of a warm guitar

With the harp blower 
 - vibrating

There is not a breath 
taken...between us

As he holds onto 
That infamous note 

Like a one hit wonder

A precious soul
Small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

Careful not to 
rush the beat

Reminiscent 
of a frantic lover

Maintaining 
the perfection 

- of our love song
Small boy tender child 

Wide brown eyes 
With an angelic smile… 

That could melt butter

 - in his mouth

While dripping sweet 

Saccharine like words 

Of lies and deceit ~ 

© 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

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 

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