Lamps

Lamps

Everything is in the pointing I mean this way
and that without one damn for you one damn
Concern for where you were Point over there
so they can see something else A wrench in
the neck Re-direction You do it because you
must And it hurts and you burn and give light
Kick with your tail to get out of that socket
Cause diversions to unscrew yourself Anything
to tell someone you never ever were the lamp
I am the bulb I always have been I am the b…

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Atlanta Nights

Atlanta Nights

The days were nice, too. But the nights.
There is a thing about an Atlanta night.
The moon itself [there in the branches]
keeps you talking until morning's birds
chirp you to sleep.
Trust me. There's always an unfinished
topic to be sewn up, on an Atlanta night.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Fragrant Shampoo

Fragrant Shampoo

It was not one of our nights together.
I kissed her goodbye, breathing perfume.
My thoughts, squintier than my eyes, never
said a word, but the mind did assume --
 
things that are wrong. Deader than bone.
Like broken glass in a certain slant of sun
will ignite what has no heat of its own
suspicion gave vent to the one

question I should have never asked her.
You're seeing someone else? Tell me who.
Wrong sentences altogether. And we were
never the same since. It was shampoo.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Gravitas: A Narrative Pseudo-Poem

Gravitas: A Narrative Pseudo-Poem

In 1990 Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi wrote a book called Flow.
[Subtitled] The Psychology of Optimal Experience.
By "flow" he referred to a state of intense concentration.
Complete absorption with an activity.
The flow state is an ultimate moment of intrinsic motivation.

The ancient Romans spoke of gravitas, meaning weight.
Seriousness and dignity, connoting a depth of personality.
The image is that of a sculptor, engaged in creating.
The clamour of hooves does not cause a chisel to skip.
No marble nostril falls to the ground. No blemish results.

When I think of a modern-day equivalent to these terms
I envision John Mayer performing his song Gravity, live.
He is doing something that never existed pre-moment.
And in such a fashion, it was not imagined, even by him.
A stream that cannot but fall downhill, due to angle.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

The Talking Salmon

The Talking Salmon

What if there was a salmon that could suddenly speak?
Express rather clearly what it was experiencing.
And not salmon plural -- but just one salmon.
The first thing he would realize is that water, the medium itself, is not conducive to the verbalization of anything.
Secondly, he experiences loneliness. Try as he might, every other salmon only notices an uncommon amount of bubbles.
Thirdly, he finds that certain words are not pronounceable. His salmon-lips cannot form them, yet he longs to say them. For instance, he wants to tell other salmon 'This is water' -- and the last word cannot be formed. His brain has evolved beyond his lips. They do not bend, yet.
He swims. He wanders a bit, from the group. The sheer anxiety of knowing something foreign to others bewilders him in that moment. The current is calmer under a large rock, and there he finds himself -- swaying -- struck by an unfathomable thought. 
And yet the words are so clear:
Animals on land.
Never before has such a thing occurred to him. The words have created it. Surely this must be.  Else why would I be thinki…?
The salmon digs his snout into the riverbed, grains of it in his mouth. He scratches onto the stone - images of what he is imagining. And the others swim past, some casting a brief glance, but none really heeding the message. At least for the time being. At least for now. But a few, they do seem to linger a bit longer, before moving upstream.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

I Don't Want To Live Without You

I Don't Want To Live Without You

One thing I do love, is your disdain for clichés.
The trite, simpler words, and repeated phrase
fail terribly when it comes to specifics. Agreed.
I feel the same - so much like borrowing need.

I committed the crime minutes ago, on a street.
You surely saw my eyes well up? It was sweet
to not question me. Those seven words I said? 
They mean to me that without you I'd rather be..

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

The Camel's Back

The Camel's Back

Eyes that could never drink enough sink
to the floor and walls wandering in thirst.
Longing for second thoughts -- each first
one is swallowed in far too much to think.

When it comes to forgiveness - it is there.
That is not even the issue. The sunkissed
months will never be so easily dismissed,
nor problems alter the way they still care.
 
But widening occurs when unparallel rails
begin to consider the spreading distance
favorable. So has it been in this instance.
Two hearts beating upon mutual betrayals.

Oh, two minds silently screeching until raw,
the sparks flying through black in the night.
Indeed, seldom was seen so quiet a fight
and lost chances, last looks -- Last straw.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

When Stars Answer

When Stars Answer

Do you remember the first time I said it?
Calling the heavens to reply for you, we
looked up as a white streak burst across
the night. Falling, laughing, lips, tongues.

And you whispered, Does it hurt, I can't
say the words yet? My mouth was on your
lovely ear -- No. And by the way, that was
not a star but a jagged chunk of flying rock.
 
And then you said it.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Atonement

Atonement

No reins on forgiveness / reeling in or pushing
-- futile. Both. We found ourselves at Argonne
walking and waiting for it to happen, in a field.

How far from the road we were, and alone.
Rounding a copse of trees a factory loomed.
-- smoke. Silence. Nibbling herd of fallow deer.

Gripping my hand then / a finger to your lips
-- crouching. Both. Our lack of words that day
becoming a roar, an antlered head turned.
 
And as one over a fence they bounded, a fawn
stopping. Looked directly at me / kicked a post.
There, you said -- squeezing my hand. That's it.
 
Walk back to the car different. At one moment.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

Sex

Sex

In the beginning there was an expanse, a firmament.
A void, and it wanted to be against something softer.
This will aid in procreation was neither a before or after
thought. When it comes to thinking, we were haunted.

Forever. By desire. The greatest mystery does not even
call a Creator to the stage. Everything, the very reason
you are reading this, has most to do with one word
-- fourteenth from the top. Survival of the wanted.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

This Meeting

This Meeting

_____ must have expected nearly nothing.
Overlooking what I looked like, she asked me things.
After a fashion, we already knew each other -- but
I had always feared the fleshy part of it all, very much.

How would she react to my… under-stature.
My imposture, my lack of looking or acting my age.
The irreverence I am prone to exhibiting.
I had rehearsed certain anecdotes and mannerisms.

For this meeting, yes, I did. I had been in rehearsal.
She healed me with a story about a horse named Bree.
Her lips moved, and I heard many things, but her eyes
-- her eyes did things to me that made me grow up.

I had never known a horse more clearly. More horsely.
Tasting her skin with every word I leaned into a tornado.
A hurricane of desire. I followed up with a tale of my cat.
By then there was no table between us. I blame her.

I will always fault her for the sudden lack of boundaries.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Much Like A Haunting

Much Like A Haunting

In a bigger-is-better world thirty feet high and twice
as wide turns not enough heads. Tragedies fail
unless off the scale, or involving our dearest. Mice
in a maze we follow what's ahead if it has a tail.

Latest and greatest wins, if no thought is engaged.
Stopping to think only when something is killing
us in our tracks. Stumbling along, the while caged
in a pail -- over the sides, abundance is spilling.

Life itself conspires to tell us that what matters most
in this journey is nearest, closest our wanting.
Says it thirty feet high, and to the extent that we host
such untruth, we perish.  Much like a haunting.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

So Be It

So Be it

If trees dress up in green, and an unclouded sky is blue
you are where you always imagined it best, Pastor Ness.
And you very nearly convince me, heretic that I am.
When Jesus spoke of childlike faith, he wasn't prepared
for how literally you would take him at his word.

Your favourite phrase, "Yes, Amen" means so be it.
You were never the dashboard saint, Clarence.
You were ever and always, the real deal.
So, pray for me, now that you are in the Kingdom.
Be the evidence of what my mind refuses to believe.

If anyone could help me with what I cannot accept
as truth -- so be it. Tap the one to your right hand side:
[whisper] The lad has some hard-thought doubts about it
but he means well, and always has. It might require
something simple, like that bit you wrote in the sand once.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

One Reflection

One Reflection

Neither one of us will ever forget the stream itself.
Thirst will do that to a person. Single-mindedness
following a parched sense of loss. Loss. Moisture.

We drank our heads full, and saw our faces there
scattered. Would we have died without that water?
When everything settled, the question did, as well.

But tonight I am breathing into your ear, realizing--
I saw one reflection when we survived. Not my own.
It took a disaster for me to see who I love the most.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Reading

Reading

You either have it or not, much like vocal ability.
The pulsating love of text, the chemical rush.
The euphoria. Feel of pages, smell of it all.
Endless wonder of next, coupled with who says it best.
You remove a dustjacket -- to see the spine of it.
"X" off certain days on the calendar [local used book sale].
Equate a best vacation with a memorable book.

You either love to read, or have bad memories of school.
Find yourself recalling the exhilaration of an assignment.
Or not. Homework? Involving some quiet time?
Interestingly enough -- this has become my specialty.
A preferred weekend, to be thusly immersed in genius.
Send me to my chamber with a tome. Please.
I put my spine back on, when choosing a bookmark.

You either are innately silent in a library, or are not smart.
Humanity squeezed every ounce of its being onto these shelves.
Shut your gob in that presence, and read something, fool.
If nothing else, re-read the first sentence of this poem.
It may seem at first that I am equating reading with singing.
I am not. A step further friend. 
If you do not read, neither should you speak.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Sleeping

Sleeping

The last time I fell asleep I abandoned myself.
Drifting off to something I do not understand, in the remotest sense.
At a certain point, and only for necessity's sake, an alarm bell
wakened me.
I would have chosen otherwise. No alarm.
I had a good movie going on, and much popcorn in hand.
Thing is, it is not so much this falling asleep business we fear.
It's the awakening.

But what if we skip that part? And just keep sleeping.
I'm not sure if I can really imagine a better scenario.
Mind: I've never been a "morning person".
Maybe you like wrestling the day. Me, I like wrestling sheets!
If someone were to tell me that "keep sleeping" = sadness?
Well, I would argue with that person.
Might even hire a lawyer to do a better job of it.

My cat seems to have a better handle on this.
People. What the the hell do you do when you wake up?
Go to work?
What if you could just continue on in the levels of crazy Awareness
of your dreams. [<-- No question mark. No interrogative].
I vote for the endless LSD trip.

So when I die? Please omit the part in your eulogies where
you lament the cessation of my constant struggle with life.
I'm sleeping.
I'm quite sure I've never been happier.

- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Fire

Fire

Amazing how our analogies change with time
while time itself refuses all such metamorphosis.
In the early days of our love I thought you a fire.
Now, decades on -- you turn dear -- to water.

I was shamed at first, to think such thoughts.
Finding myself more often than not seeing eyes
deep and clear as a mountain stream, answering.
No. A lake, where the bottom is seen from the top.

None of the blaze is gone, but a desire to drink
seems to replace the need to consume.
Perhaps I matured into what you already knew.
Nothing that burns would exist, but for water.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Salinger

Salinger

It's not like the guy wrote 105 books or something.
[Who does?]
Yet just tonight, via a friend and would-be lover
I realized that of all novelists, I want to hear more
from this guy.

A posthumous, as-yet-undiscovered manuscript
would do the trick. Hell, I'd settle for bedside notes.
Scribblings.

What really knocks me out is that a man as reticent
and reclusive as J.D. was, can yet hold me in thrall:
-- ever wanting.
 
Thing is, what he gave us was so good.
You want to call him on the phone and just ask:
Why? Are you holden out? Are you?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

300 Othello Avenue

300 Othello Avenue

Perhaps every university campus has a similar thing.
An edifice, a place where everything nightly happens.

Even a compass would be confused, chilly, quivering.
All directions pointing to that table that defies NEWS.

-- where we sat or lay upon it in the kitchen laughing.
Kitchen. Who cooked there? Not a living soul. But ate.

Cried. Hugged. "Studied" quote unquote, snow falling
on a driveway that only dreamed of holding a vehicle.

Simple times and ideals -- sleepy alarm clocks ringing.
Wine and beer in a cellar, and decades to learn things.

Just tonight I walked past, and scratched my bald spot
thinking -- I've never experienced such euphoria since.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Respect

Respect

I eschew cliches, so forget opposites attract.
Let us not wink, you were the one for me.
Even magnets come together, properly faced.
We are more than good polarization, tonight.

Unpredictable -- this love like roses growing.
I feel like I am drinking in the sun with you.
Let me offer an explanation that begins with r.
Ending in t, and far better than the word right.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Revelation

Revelation

Never mind the Bible's conclusion -- same title.
He watched for the slightest twitch of an eyebrow.
Waiting for rejection, listening to the breathing.
Any slight change could indicate a grave problem.

Takes time for an appropriate response or otherwise.
Expecting tears, he met with dryness and silence.
Never a good sign, either thing.  Still, he would wait.
A man on all fours in an unlit cave, naked.

The coffee, done it's gurgling down, was finished.
She poured two cups, and set them on the table.
Sliding one towards him she lingered, eyes shut.
Her hand said what no words could. I will stay here.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Trouble?

Trouble?

Lottery winnings can kill a person.
Booze. Smoking. Random sex, or
walking in the middle of the street.
Loss of control, what is it, but danger.

People told me you were trouble
with a capital Don't Go There.
Old and foolish, I saw something else.
Maybe the pilgrim soul in you, sailing.

Definitely more than perfume.
More like the reason I want to smell it.
Not so much the abyss, but the entire
inclination to jump into it.

When you spoke of your loves, I was
transfixed by the zero men mentioned.
In my most audacious moment of life
I felt, somehow, I could speak to you.

And I did, like a lottery winner, I did.
Drinking, breathing, walking star-eyed
through the middle of you, since --
Learning. No one else knows anything.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

An Otter

An Otter

Creeping quietly enough you could have seen it, too.
I went through a very severe period of depression.
A chemical imbalance, this was the diagnosis.

Looking for a cliff high enough, I stumbled on a stream.
The poets do it this way -- that was my actual thought.
Much water in the lungs, this will surely work.

Should I disrobe first? That note I left on the fridge.
For a moment I wondered if I said everything necessary.
My shirt on a branch, snapped it -- CRACK --

A ripple in the water startled me, an otter looking up.
It quit with the fussing on its belly, and peered at me.
Then, diving away, I felt waves rush against my chest.

A chemical imbalance, this was the diagnosis.
I went through a very severe period of depression.
Creeping quietly enough you could have seen it, too.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Issues

Issues

When you mentioned that you had a few
I admit, my first thought was magazines.
Followed by random bleeding.

But to find out it was about me all along?
Darling -- I would have instantly renewed
my subscription to Modern Mindreader.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Sans Suffering

Sans Suffering

When a young boy shoots a robin
[as they all do] via slingshot
there is an unthought thought amok.
It's all about death sans suffering.
He thinks it, approaching his quarry.

There he finds much squirming.
A beak saying nothing, but distended.
Legs a'kick, entrails exposed.
Much death delayed.
Beaucoup de morte a retarde.

And I say to you that if in that moment
the lad does not throw the weaponry from his body
he shall find it a hard thing indeed
to become a man.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --