kissing over café bars
you wipe lipstick from
my lips with your thumb
leaning over
hungry for more
you chide and say
just a taste because
patience is important
even in the dream
Author: michael raven
kissing over café bars
Photo by Doug Greenman on Unsplash seek no
settle to stone and
quit with the roam
seek no, seek no more
to take axe to axel
to stop up the ramble
seek no, seek no more
follow low water
flow dark home
seek no, seek no morestormy passings wet
Photo by Kevin Hessey on Unsplash of crash the rainbows in
the undergrey at raining
with the undone angry
sitting thresholds linger
stormy passings wet
my granite sharp face
—in need of a shave might
the added phrase be—
yet, soon comes our clover
the clover carves thunder
in the laying down weFever
Photo by Brett Wharton on Unsplash A fever of climbing, each foot thorned on ossified remains of the other selves of his, those forgotten parts laying wasteshattered on this hill of broken dreams.
Cut hands, his own slivered bones shredding flesh to ribbons as he crawls his pile of human debris. Sunlight at the center, high above, mocking. It is not obtainable, but he has his own Sisyphus path, and that path involves the play of light and shadow with his burden being self — something far more weighty than stone.
A blink away of bloodstained sweat, he looks away from the improbissble past placed there in the fore. There is no sense in entertaining goals. Goals imply a chance at success. Success brings hope. Hope? No.
Right arm right foot left arm left foot, shudderdream quakes and shakes, and involuntary scream. But still, he carries his leadself up, an empty skull of his staring from the hill. All the whispers shout encouragements, but he cannot remain still to gather them in.
Half-Penny Thoughts | 24jun25
Photo by Bradyn Shock on Unsplash Every once in a while I find myself cruising comfortable on the highway of life, so I take off my seatbelt and kick back in the convertible as it hugs the curves of the road and I think to myself, “Wow. It’s been a pretty smooth drive lately and I think—”
Then there is an unexpected road bump that sends me flying out of the convertible, and all my motivation to “git ‘er done” (because, you know, I’m feeling the groove of life’s tunes) evaporates like a fart in a strong breeze. All that’s left is me wondering if I can at least stick the landing and not soil myself in the process.
I tell you, there are days that I miss being an underpaid barista in a no-name espresso bar, cranking out some of the best damned shots that anyone can find in town (even if they can’t find this no-name espresso bar). Ahh, to have that self-esteem back. Wouldn’t that be grand?
Instead, consulting: The job where every task has a potential hidden pitfall…
If you have worked both professional and blue collar jobs, which do you have a better relationship with? If the matter of income were moot (“you won the lottery!”), which would you choose?
memories and souvenirs
Photo by Dylan Whoriskey on Unsplash winnowed of wind
we shed our chaff
over long seas to carry
our selves to elsewhen
even midnights fade
when woven of windsong
where our souls
do dare go at wilds
take a souvenir if
that you must to recall
but, as such, memories
are nothing at allRevisiting Syd
Since last week, I’m been very much in a Barrett mood.
It’s been a while since I last listened to Madcap Laughs and Barrett, and I was only slightly surprised to see that they had been pulled from my streaming service. It seems like albums are chronically coming and going, especially when they are from acts “across the pond” [Syd Barrett joins Jesus and Mary Chain for albums I can’t listen to… at the moment]. Without super-simple access to Syd’s solo albums, I opted for Pink Floyd’s Piper at the Gates of Dawn album to tide me me over until I could either pull up my MP3s or find time to find a quality upload of the complete albums up on YouTube for me.
Listening with “fresh ears”, it strikes me just how much Syd indirectly and directly influenced some of my tastes in music.
(more…)halcyon days
Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash those halcyon days
we slipped beneath
wrapped in wave
and calm, in the before of
those days we summered
tangled in locust drone
in high elms lagging
speaking softly in
summer fade with
our ghostselves in haze
waiting for to begin
