theminstrelscitadel

Colors. No Colors.

Posted on August 25, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

Surely I don’t need to expound… Just follow the sounds and let

the words punctuate both your brain and the page.

Reds.

Greens.

(Red, White and Blue.)

Black.

Brown.

Yellow.

White.

We attribute so much to colors, don’t we?

And yet, none of it matters. When our bodies are slotted

into those 6 foot rectangles the only thing left

will be the lid of a box and memories

like ghosts that haunt the living.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged brain, colors, commentary, contemplation, ghosts, graves, memories, poetry, prose, sound | 2 Comments

Phil Collins – Another Day In Paradise

Posted on August 24, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

Music: from the lips of the creator to your ears. Say something beautiful. Say something that makes a difference.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged homelessness, music, phil collins, think, video | Comments Off

Back In Under

Posted on August 23, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

The repetition of screeching

to a halt but slamming into old familiar walls. I keep

searching beyond curtains and grey matter, wading

through muck and marrow, colliding with mammals

whose mouths are ribbon striped dusty caverns,

exquisitely shaped by wind water time. I can look

in the mirror but I am afraid

to close my eyelids. My eyes roll

back

under

take

a frightening look

inside.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged caverns, commentary, contemplation, curtains, eyes, grey matter, halt, mammals, marrow, mirror, poetry, prose, repetition, time, walls, water, wind | Comments Off

It Doesn’t Matter

Posted on August 22, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

Does my human value decrease because I have

only 14 Facebook friends? Do I need 1,400 before my words

make a difference to someone?

My heart still beats amongst the multitudes, My eyes still see and send

a message to that cerebral part of me.

It doesn’t matter if you “Like” me or not. I will still exist

and those dark clouds bending the shape

of the moon will still thrill me.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged commentary, contemplation, dark clouds, decreas, difference, human, moon, poetry, prose, value | Comments Off

What I really love

Posted on August 22, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

I recently got on LinkedIn and added a Summary and an Interests section.

What I really wanted to put on there was this:

Love the sound of bells chiming, rain, dogs playing and kittens meowing.
Love the smell of flowers in the Spring, rain (again), fallen leaves & snow.
Love to look at children playing, storms blowing in & birds bobbing their heads.
Love the taste of good chocolate, a rich, deep, smooth Stout, a peppery Bourbon, fresh Yellowtail tuna and NY Cheesecake.
Love to feel my bare feet on the ground, my arm around my honey, the cool air of Autumn against my face, and snowflakes on my tongue.

Good grief, do I really have to WORK??? There’s so much sensory living to be done!!!!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Autumn, bells, children, commentary, contemplation, dogs, flowers, kittens, leaves, love, playing, poetry, prose, rain, sensation, sight, snow, sound, taste | 2 Comments

The Gazelle and the Moody River

Posted on August 18, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

She had hair the color of Rye Whiskey and her eyes were moody rivers

fortified by storms. He was a gazelle in a clown suit with a tempest on his knee.

He bounded in, she rose up and together with all their baggage

they made three. Somehow somewhere sometime his love

became a mallet but she never learned to lay very still. She would poke

at him with splinters from the bottom of the bowl, and he would drink

her up, he would vomit her out, but he could never swallow her whole. The beatings

weren’t the main bother, it was the distance between

her and reality that cut the wires and gave her the scars. The sense that she

was both the island and the vortex, the focus of the pupil in

the iris of his scorn.

When she died he went to her funeral. Did he know

his love

had helped bend the coffin lid?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged beatings, clown, coffin, commentary, contemplation, funeral, poetry, prose, storms, tempest, violence, whiskey | Comments Off

Too Clever To Be Caught

Posted on August 18, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

I yield, she is a formidable foe. Her slender hands proffer

a paper crown for the brow of my spinning silly head.

I often find her lurking in crowded rooms where sinister social circles giggle and hiss.

I spy her bearing down on me from the ceiling as I lay, hopeful

for sleep, in the quiet of my bed. She strangles me

in silence and hammers at my heart, careful not to leave a bruise.

I get pinned to a white washed wall and then splattered like bad art. I want to send her

soaring through the gaseous thin atmosphere, revel

in seeing her disappear. Too clever to be caught

she hides in my tear ducts, my adrenal glands, and in the drumming

inside my ears. She has been with me

all of my life.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged adrenaline, bad art, bruise, commentary, contemplation, foe, lurking, poetry, prose, quiet, silence, sinister, sleep, social, tears | 2 Comments

Omnipotent Need (and its screaming)

Posted on August 17, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

The sorrow always comes

in your leaving and the rage

comes when I have you

yet life

still

is an empty damp box

on someone’s doorstep. That stripped

and stained mattress

of yours and the garbage that glares

at me from the floor… I am

trying to breathe

through omnipotent need but something

is crashing around me.

I cannot hold on

to wriggling things

that laugh and are too loud

as they go.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged breathe, commentary, contemplation, laugh, life, omnipotent, poetry, prose, rage, sorrow | 2 Comments

others might see

Posted on August 13, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

In the glaring light of day we parcel out upon the world

our blame and condemnations, our envy and frustrations,

our Herculean efforts to be strong. In the deepest shadows

of night we offer to God our hopes and fears, our weakness

and tears, our overwhelming yearning to belong.

Perhaps we should let our tears fall in the bare and burdened

sunlight so that others might see and understand. Look our demons

in the eye, show them how our angels cry and place

our naked longing into someone’s open hand.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged angels, blame, commentary, contemplation, envy, fear, God, Herculean, hopes, light, nature, poetry, prose, shadows, sunlight, tears, world, yearning | 2 Comments

yearning

Posted on August 13, 2013 by theminstrelscitadel

My heart, fragile as a laser carved eggshell, still beats.

Beautiful, i know it is, yet taken for granted and only appreciated

when it pounds against my chest

or breaks.

Why must I live this life I have chosen, indeed

why have I chosen this life?

I see

fresh faced young women traveling the world

potent young men with women at their feet

children wild and fearless, bounding, leaping, laughing.

Have I grown so long that I have lost my awe and wonder?

Have I lived so long that tears supply the rivers and question marks

punctuate the universe where answers once filled space?

I don’t want to yearn; I want to live. I want

to color the stars so far outside of the lines that Time

and Space become mine forever. Life

is to be lived, not dreamed about.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged children, commentary, contemplation, heart, life, men, poetry, prose, question marks, rivers, space, stars, time, universe, women | Comments Off

theminstrelscitadel

Colors. No Colors.

Phil Collins – Another Day In Paradise

Back In Under

It Doesn’t Matter

What I really love

The Gazelle and the Moody River

Omnipotent Need (and its screaming)

others might see

yearning

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