My Baby Girl

I, in her, see

more of myself

than I would

at this moment

draw her attention

to the facts 

beyond reason

logic or coincidence

that led her

to this door

to her baby flesh

she would ensconce

with her soul

The package of Heaven

she is

became so

the first time

I held

my little girl

Perfection is an occasional anomaly meant to confuse us. A red herring thrown into the matrix that distracts us from actuality. This is a continuum of peculiarities known to us as life. Collectively, from ascensions of mountains to decrescendos of sea sides catalogue jagged paths and obtuse curves in between composing what is our reality. Perfection as we know it does not exist. There is only a totality of which we are each one of its cogs.  

She is, at this moment, 15 years old and is who she shall be. It has been many years since she was first diagnosed with borderline autism. Long past are the meetings with teachers, councilors and pediatricians to map out plans for her special education. There are times when a parent looks at various characteristics of their child's developing personality, then turns to look in a mirror and say 'I know where they get that from.'

I have no doubt that as I watch my daughter grow up that if the term 'autism' were as prevalent in the 1960s as it is today, I certainly would have been branded as such. Over the years, various subjugations of my brain chemistry to altering factors such as yoga, hallucinogenics,

long distance running, lucid dreaming and assorted painfully traumatic and/or rapturously euphoric episodes have done much to change my perception of the world to one that may, at very least, be called, shall we say, unique. 

It is because of this realization about myself is one of the reasons I look at my daughter and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this kid was born to the right daddy. 

At this point in time I would not, for fear of teenage cynicism rearing its ugly head, say to her...

....I see you struggling to make sense of the world, alternating between fixations and oblivion.  Knowing you are different and unsure of what to change and what to let remain or where this set of circumstances roiling between your ears will ultimately lead you. For as long as I am daddy, I will always listen. My ways in the world may not be your ways and we may not always agree. But wherever you go and whatever you do I will always love you and believe it or not, even though I may be a clueless old fart, baby girl, I totally get you.......

My little girl

apple of my universe

lifter of my darkest curse

sweetest baby

to remind me

of my purpose

on this earth

to be your father

destined years

before your birth

to be your protector

guider and dissector

of the travails

that would come your way

not on my watch

until you

could deflect 

the decay

of shards and remnants

meant to do you harm

are on my radar screen

to disembowel and disarm

the parasites meant

to take my girl away

from her brightest tomorrows

I will make fall away

like broken dreams

of sleepless yesterdays 

Amber Rose, you amaze me in so many ways. Not the least of which is how much I love you.

All my love, always and forever,

Max 

Lost Poems

As it is my usual custom during retrogrades of planet Mercury, I review some aspect, documentation or record of my past. This last time I perused some tattered, dog eared notebooks of poetry. There were no dates noted and I really have no idea when I wrote any of this except to say that the three poems that follow are at least 15 years old. This was around the time of the deaths of my parents and the birth of my daughter. It was a time when the circle of life was making itself painfully apparent and the skin covering my nerve endings and heart strings was diaphanously thin. I think I can now look back on that guy who wrote these poems and constantly wondered 'What the hell am I supposed to do now?' and say 'Everything is going to be fine, pal. You are stronger than you know. Now pick up that pen and write your fucking heart out.'

------------------------------------------

I'm not going to write any poetry today

instead just sit in my silence

while flames ooze from every pore

like an angry God at the height of Hades

casting dispersions down from my realm

onto the unsuspecting heads of passersby

who can't read anyway. 

So I'm not going to write any fucking poetry

as if anyone cares if I implode

and scatter my ashes upon the graves

of a million untold songs

verses adrift in a sea of confusion

and admonishments of a million untold loves

Give me one good reason

to put pen to paper and bleed through the tip

Give me one short sighting

of the difference I could make

by sharing this song

that I have never sung

------------------------------

Prayer for a Malignant World

In your eyes you see castles

populated with corpses

as stepping stones of the imperial

Cast in mortar fire

screaming your orgasms

and boundaries that stop 

at the human soul

except to tear it from it's home

I pray for your fortitude and realization

to suffice the indecency of your ways

and courage to turn aface

clocking the decades deceased

and need for retribution

that awaits at the end of a climb

stretched out before

that calls for your footsteps

transpiring in ascendancy

while your name

is accursed in hell. 

-------------------------------------------------

There is a cancer

that rests its head

on a plague

content to lie 

dormant and festering

Distant shouting

heard the bystanders

from beyond the parade

were distracted

by the call

away from the tapping

of finite rhythms

Cascades of our revelry

blew in the wind

like streamers tattered

by violence

Protests of glory

ashamed

of our rapture

by the snarling web

of transcendence

Lessons forgotten

from our last indoctrination

destined to be repeated

in the next

Bravado and cowardice

go hand in hand it seems

lighting the path

of the ignorant

Beams of radiance

flicker through tarnish

paling its glory

before time went astray

misplacing its youth

into the hands of a sinner

No one could blame you

for this deposit

in time for cocks crow

Understand

that I died

when I found you

coiled up in this misery

ready to strike

at the demons and darkness

enshrouding your soul

To me

you appear blameless

Crowning this human

beyond your control

in a rabid display

of affection

you lost the courage

to bear your nude skin

Righteous, heartless, deceased and divine

Play this life out

in a full circle

we come back 

to the start

of this malaise

all over again

this time 

I pray

it begins 

with a light

All my love always,

Max

Sex Dreams

Prelude............

If I could once

be the Moon

lover of stars

caresser of the sky

making indecent proposals 

to Jupiter

bringing healing

to Mars

To rapture and dance

above star lit heavens

known to you as streets

casting pearls into your wine

known to you as oceans

to breathe once divine

into your romances

into the night of your Gods

known to you as lovers

If I could once be the Moon

just once and then no more

I would bedazzle and shine

leaving you in peace

before I made love

to the Sun

These next few poems were inspired by dreams of sparsely clothed intertwining unions with lovers past and those of my imagination in the chambers of night visions and conjunctions conjured from heat infused sleep. 

I had a dream

that we were kissing

my tongue

parted your petals

and our lips

shared a smile

We fell softly

to the earth

where I heard 

you moan

and you

felt me

become stiff

How much I craved

our liaison

in this dream

but chose instead

to open my eyes

for fear

I would never

awake again

trapped forever

in your interior

from midnight 

to midnight 

to midnight

draining me

of all seed

until 

I could

love you 

no more

-----------------------

The house

was one

I knew

from my childhood

Many others

milling around us

oblivious

to our intercourse

in plain view of our

demonstrative passion

I cannot silence

but only in the caress

of your thighs

when you wear

those boots

and naught else

We revel

in anonymous sex

and I want

not one drop

of blood you draw

from my back

licked 

by curious members

of our 

invisible 

audience

The dew

of your pussy

conquers the aridity

of cruel summer

and rains upon

my fevered 

anatomy

and hopelessly 

engorged

headstrong

antenna

endlessly 

searching

for the lost yin

cruelly severed

and discarded

leaving yang

to wither 

and die

resuscitated

and reborn

as I come 

breathlessly

into 

your 

eternal 

mystery

--------------------------------

Tho not here

still you remind me

of last midnight

Even before 

my eyes

arise

I am immersed

in a slumber

unsettled

grinding 

your invisible hips

into the vortex

of pillows and blankets

stirring solitary 

earthquakes

rattling pristine 

china closets

resulting in cascades

of fractured porcelain

across unctuous sunbeams

kissing the chilled 

darkened floor

Finally 

bleeding

thick whiteness 

upon my 

quivering 

skin

tremors

resounding 

and recurring

until

silencing

the air

of this morning

temporarily

my love

Songs of winged minions

take to the sky

proclaiming of heat

emanating from

curtained windows below. 

-----------------------------------

I wake from a dream 

to find you 

gracing my sheets

with your nudity 

concealed only 

by your auburn tresses

and your ripeness

concealed 

by 

nothing

We share 

heated breath

creating friction

drowning

our shared

and starved

wilderness

in a cascade

of sparks

culminating

in rapturous fire

and rain

rain

glorious

fucking

rain

Sweet dreams, dear ones.

All my love, always and forever.

Max

Ode To The Penny I Found Between The Sofa Cushions As I Sat Down To Write This

Worthless penny

not to be glanced at

doing so 

would leave behind

a part of my promised soul

enshrined to efficacy

sworn to move forward

releasing those

no longer of service

But I love 

your shine

copperous magnetism

attracting spheres of Venus

childhood imaginings

and coin collections assembled

by my father and I

slowly configuring

our temples

fortresses against doom

armies of the forgotten

circling wagons

around our children

Stamp collection 

gathered

by my Granddad and I

the one

I tried to sell 

for drug money

no longer useful

to transport our words

around the globe

only 

presenting

stark 

antiquity

to be sold

for peanuts

received by those

to young to know

what to do 

with their money

or too old

to recall why

the Pony Express

were heros

or the unfolding pages

carried such weight

to a lovelorn 

schoolgirl

and the foxhole stranded

soldier

The wartime correspondences

from my one day

father

to my future

mother

when he wrote

'Hello Sweets, It's tough over here'

......much wartime censorship ensued....

...and she responded 

'I love you sweetheart. You are everything wonderful.'

Like you

worthless penny

whose shine

I admire

for the memories

you evoke in me

recalling a time

of my innocence

I was to innocent

to realize

I had relinquished

until it was gone

That night 

and that time

I would commit

over again

until I came

to recognize

I was no longer

shiny like you

and this tarnish

was the beginning

of dying heiroglyphics

gathering amber resin

unlocking the truth

that my soul

was coming to be

and what the fuck

was I going to do

about it

and I felt like you

shiny worthless penny

amongst the cushions

and flotsom

wondering

how the hell

can anyone 

spend me?

or why the hell

would anyone

care to?

As always, all my love, unrelentingly into forever,

Max