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

Taxi Driver

What to say when a question is posed
Like a bull in a China shop…
The only answer lay dumbfound-ed on the tongue of an exiled wise-ass   
“So, uh what about you, dating yet or uh, anything…?”  
That is how the question game begins
Twisting in the wind via self-preservation, defensiveness… and
A touch of whatthefuck –
One way ticket directly to Hell
Do not pass go or collect two hundred dollars…
Just answer the question and hit the high road, get out of Dodge
A fast train to…no where 
The reply is not as quick witted as a sniper's shot
Answers flying solo on the wrong side of the road
While the stakes are higher still as Park Avenue never crosses Broadway
And the mortgage was lost on a free toss...Dooms Day 1929
Spin the wheel of fortune, on the down beat I can name that tune
Just the slightest hint and charades is no longer much of a challenge
Along with finding the misplaced Shroud of Turin
In a small apartment on the lower side of Tribeca
At a film festival that draws only an exclusive crowd
While a slight echo bounces around the inside of my head
For a writer I find myself at a complete loss for words....
So in my best De Niro I take aim and fire…

“…you talkin to me?” 

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Above The Wires And Tree Line

I live in a little one dimensional upper income coastal town in lower Connecticut. From my second floor bedroom window...sitting high above the wires and tree line, I can look out onto the Saugatuck River that feeds into the Long Island Sound that feeds into the Atlantic Ocean. Life to some, outside of this quaint hamlet, see a slice of heaven, a piece of the American dream - To some, it appears on the surface, a safe haven, untouchable to anyone that lives and breathes below the wires and tree line - just one town over.

I don't blame "God" for the violent acts we commit against one another. I mull them over. I dream about them. I absorb the painful images and find myself tear soaked, questioning my own sense of reality and the powers of the universe. The questions I pose bounce off the white walls of my bedroom; they bounce off the high walls of a predominately white community with or without some sense of consciousness. 

I find myself shaking my head, mimicking the act of shaking a rattle to soothe a child, hoping to fall into a deep dream-able sleep...but no one is sleeping peacefully. 

I shake the cobwebs from my thoughts to clear a path, to find a way, to find a thread, a silver lining that is somehow attached to the last remaining bit of fucking hope and fucking optimism that I can barely manage to hang onto - trying to remain optimistic and loyal to the belief that we are innately a loving species. We don't eat our young or kill our lovers after mating. We don't take our old and our sick and send them out into the wilderness to die alone; we are a compassionate people - aren't we?

I look out above the wires and tree line and wonder how a person could take their fist and beat it into the flesh of another person with such force that the wounds from a single blow, a single moment in time, that split second could spill more than their blood and scar more than their body - but also the soul; altering a life's path and journey for generations to come. 

I look out above the wires and tree line and can't fathom what transpires between a white person and a black person that is so vile and explosive that it shatters a life, a family, a community, a race. And on some abstract level there is an attempt by those to justify away the hatred because of their juxtaposed positions in life and/or the color of someone’s skin.

I look out above the wires and tree line and I'm stupefied by the inequality of one person to another simply because of gender. That some misogynist with a deeply rooted angst or some other self-loathing can and will project their need for control onto an entire species. Treat your children well; the past has the power to send the future into Hell as the wounded child in us leads the way.

I look out above the wires and tree line and on bended knee I pray that the savage senseless murders taking place in the world will stop – stop! Stop because at the end of the day it doesn't matter what God you pray to or what entity you believe in; it is how we live our lives...isn't it? Isn't that what we are judged by when we take our last breath - if we believe in something...or not; but are faithful to that belief?

There are times when I can hear the outrage and the gasps, but I don't hear a solution or feel a softness in a community’s reaction. I don't hear empathy in their voices. I don't see positive actions being taken to change the emotional drain we inflict on a daily basis. 

We cry and we mourn. 

We scream, raising our hands to the heavens in anger each time we hear about a child or woman being abused. 

We march for the sake of our brothers and sisters of color and those that love one another of the same gender. 

We march and parade carrying banners and we light candles; a symbolic memorial for those taken - by friend or foe... 

We place flowers and leave notes scratched in the dirt, soaked in the blood of those we view as somehow less fortunate than we are - those that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those born…over there.

We pray and mourn not privately but under the microscope of social media. 

We continue to share the worst and hide the best and the cameras continue to roll and the questions continue to flow as the interviewer aims for high ratings and recognition; the human aspect is secondary...Emmy glistening in the distance. 

We watch the 6 o'clock news as events are sensationalized – your life in ninety second sound bites and we become more and more desensitized. 

We stand solid within the parameters of our societal moral compass but we don't fucking remember what it feels like to truly grieve - to truly feel the loss. 

We see images of mothers and fathers weeping at the loss of a child; and the long lens of the world looking on, dissecting, projecting - we are waiting for a real tear to fall, waiting for a real trembling lip - some sign that what we are watching is real pain and sorrow – 

We don’t recall authenticity, we don’t recognize it any longer. We step back and we don't believe it's sincere. We don't believe they are truly honest in their suffering. We can't believe because we have become skeptical and prejudice. Who is the perpetrator? Who is the victim? 

We question quietly because we have become immune and forgetful - to our own humanity 

And do we even care...

...sitting high above the wires and tree line, I can look out onto the Saugatuck River that feeds into the Long Island Sound that feeds into the Atlantic Ocean. Life to some, outside of this quaint hamlet, see a slice of heaven, a piece of the American dream - To some, it appears on the surface, a safe haven, untouchable to anyone that lives and breathes below the wires and tree line - just one town over.

© 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

Cave Of Darkness

Puzzled by your lacking  -
"...my view from high above 
any empirical consequence
and my simple perception.."
- of integrity 
Your eyes grow wide 
With a glimmer of delight 
As if you have just received 
A gift
An award
Crowned King
Shock value is short lived
And I question myself more now
...not just your inability 
To answer a question in a straight line 
Falling short on creativity 
Or forming full cohesive sentences 
With fact 
Fiction with a flair 
Bending the truth
Pliable words and meanings
Stretching what is 
And what is not 
Some things are black and white
Grey is the new black 
An excuse 
A sounding board to elaborate
One sided dialogue 
Playing out in your mind 
A one man show 
Standing ovation 
Encore
...A fair and reasonable warning 
If you refer to me by - 
My gender, race, ethnicity, faith or faithlessness
Old school slang descriptive expression 
Rather than by 
My given name 
The walls will go up 
My ego will depart
Common sense, gut reaction 
And instinct will take over
I will say it again and again
- Knowledge is a tool not a weapon -
...and it is powerful 
Never wasted even on those 
With a closed mind 
Eyes shut to all that can 
Only be translated or absorbed
Via human reaction or response 
Using a physical description
As a weapon...
A flair for words
- the color of ones skin
- the size of a woman's breasts 
- or ass...
If you choose 
To take that path
"... and I believe it is a choice..."
Your life experience
...most likely 
Will remain shallow 
And you will sadly
Dwell in a cave of darkness ~

© 2014 TrilbyYates

Walking On Shallow Water

Walking on shallow water 
Out in a deep blue sea
Sweeping transparent views
Earth and all its brilliance 
A distant shining light
For the lost and lonely
Draped in silk spun cloth 
Spun the way tales are 
Carefully weaved 
Tight intricate knots 
The High and Mighty 
Swirling poignant scent 
Of blessed incense 
Permeating the air 
Crown of Thorns 
Pressing down
While judgement bleeds
Dripping from generation
To generation with no reprieve 
Rosary beads in hand
Finger tips holding tight
Sensory perception 
Pathway to Heaven
Rosary beads dangle religiously
Sway gently around my neck
Choke back the tears 
Choke back the words
Don't speak of doubt 
Don't ever question
All that I once believed 
Words that I can recite 
With eyes closed
Head bowed down
Drifting off peacefully
A holier than thou sleep
...Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum
Where were you Mary
When I needed you 
A motherless child
Faith in the abstract 
Faith in the disbelief 
That all is not lost 
Or forever forgotten 
Walking on shallow water 
Draped in silk spun cloth 
All in the name 
Of the abstract 
Faith in the disbelief 
That all is not lost 
Or forever forgotten 

As I drift further 
and further out to sea 
repeating over and over
... Ave Marie, gratia plena, Dominus tecum
Ave Marie, gratia plena, Dominus tecum

© 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

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    
 

Twinkling Lights

Warm cup of coffee 
hands wrapped 
tightly around 
over sized thermos
skim latte 
with a dash 
of cinnamon
comfort zone
no way home
thoughts interrupt
warm and reminiscent  
shooting shiver 
from head to toe 
gazing amusement
while black swans glide 
ceremoniously atop 
the biting cold waters 
Saugatuck LIS Atlantic
fed riverbed
elegantly withdrawn
as the world drives by 
stone overpass 
white blanket holiday snow
wind gust grabs a hold
symbolic flags blow
tide seems mid to high 
full moon mesmerizing glow 
not a lonely place 
sitting in the quiet
of all that is before me
Mother Natures 
early morning winter show  
pre-dawn blues
shake rattle and roll
remembering songs
that touch deep into the spirit
and truth seeker soothes the soul
blue notes strung together
twinkling lights from long, long ago
...such a long time ago...


© 2013 Trilby

' Tis The Season

'Tis the season 
for holiday cheer
for some it's
an innate 
time of dread
some glow 
from head to toe
count down 
to that momentous day 
when the path 
of kings 
and gods 
alike 
collided 
a Child born 
a story told 
carrying more 
than  just a few 
die hard 
Old Testament
New Testament
King James 
elegant English 
word stirring
emotion
provoking version
bible toting 
faithful 
from the depths 
of Mother Earth 
places unknown 
but alas capturing 
the hearts 
and imaginations 
generation after generation 
war after war 
century after century 
oppression 
regression 
suppression 
domination 
subjugation 
supremacy
ascendancy
blood shed...
countless numbers 
cherish and pray 
to whom they 
have tenderly named
God Jehovah Yahweh
as their anointed 
and holy one  ~
...yet the battle 
still rages on and on
who are those 
chosen few 
that will eventually 
rise above
the rest
with wings of gold 
and harps strum 
by feathered wings
of baby angels 
we maintain our right 
to walk the path 
of the glorious
with the burden of 
a self proclaimed 
hierarchy  
...attempting
to listen
comprehend
without
a judgmental 
mindset weapon
held tightly 
in hand
I continue
to wonder
in amazement
how one 
maintains
sustains
faith unquestionably... 

Holiday festive gatherings with family and friends Christmas tree and candle light twinkle red blue yellow the smell of evergreen and spice such a magical sight snow flakes if we are fortunate will fall from the sky setting the tone blanketing the world in white symbolic of peace and hope as we wait for the events once again to occur on this the most holy of nights...

© 2013 Trilby 

Nothing More

Death doesn't knock 
before entering 
unexpected guest 
comes to call 
whispers gentle shush 
soft breeze 
leaving just the slightest 
chill on the cheek 
incomplete bargaining 
back and forth 
ready or not 
sometimes 
maybe 
no 
undetermined peacefulness 
awaiting 
off in the distance 
the unknown throws
lovely shadows
on us all
fear not 
what is on 
the other side 
of nothingness 
we wallow 
in our childhood 
often religiously 
prompted rhetoric 
baby angel 
wings playfully 
brush against 
our core 
reminding us 
there is nothing 
to be afraid of
when there is nothing
more... 

© 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

Straight To Hell

This is not the day 
you say 
for jumping off 
the beam 
tallest building bound 
to leave us 
breathless 
and without a cape 
or crown 
nothing special 
will come of it 
wrapped neatly 
in superstition 
and faith
the new testament 
blows dust
while the old told 
a much better tale 
kept the mind engaged 
fire and brimstone 
set the stage
clearing the path 
straight to Hell 
my Dearest Aunti would yell 
...straight to Hell in a hand basket...
or 6 feet under 
in a cool casket
time to steal the thunder
words of wisdom 
won't come cheap  
from the devil
falling peacefully
into endless sleep... 

© 2013 Trilby

Angel Women

you look 
at 
Me 
Us 
Them 
with distaste
that lingers 
and always 
falls away 
with an echoing
vibration
sounds of 
objection 
rejection 
a judgment 
of values 
integrity
who are you 
to place 
the burden 
of your own 
dysfunction 
lacking 
onto 
a generation 
of Angel Women 
with Wings 
of Gold 
that carried us 
from sticks and stones
in the past
to the heights of Grace
for a bright future
who are you 
to not 
question 
but instead
to answer 
with words 
of hate 
debasing slap
that reveals
more about 
you than 
Me 
Us 
Them 
in what 
dark place 
do you roam 
where 
words flow
with ease
severing heart strings
cuntpussyslutwhore 
turning the heat 
of passion 
flames of love
to humiliation
denigrating 
an entire gender

where do you linger
where do you crawl....

© 2013 Trilby

Mid February...2011

Heaven, Hell or Limbo

I don’t know what God
stands before me
and can’t recite the prayers
that slip
through fingers
bead to bead
saints to sinners
Act of Contrition
is a fear factor
while at the end of the day
my indiscretions
are my own
chipping away
at the norms,
man made rules
and regulations
yet my heart holds
what’s true
what is pure
and decent
about humanity
and what surrounds me
day to day

Heaven, Hell or Limbo

© 2011 Trilby 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