A Slight Breeze
that slight breeze blows
caressing my skin
and in an instant
I dream
you touch me.

©ACG

16 June 2014

Mid-day Poem

Dreams that woke me
like fresh rust
cutting through
three o'clock in the morning
harsh as a knife
through darkness and flesh
into my heart
leaving a tepid scar
now send me fleeing
running towards them
yearning
for their cruel embrace.

 

©ACG

24 May 2014

Love's hanging heavy now
but still
cleaner than my heart;
crisp
like burnt toast.

© ACG

02 May 2014

 

Yesterday I wept
under the weeping willow
silent tears descending
as rustling Spring breezes
caught her leaves so lightly
waving farewell ~

she wept for me.

 

©ACG

28 April 2014



 

Letting Go 

You can see the darkness

in my eyes and smile

a haunting sorrow shadows me

on the long and lonely miles 

Riding down these back roads

past rivers, farms, and fields

running from hard memories

and all the pain I feel 

These shadows ride on with me

they keep me company

if I can't learn to let them go

I never will be free

I never will be free 

Trees blur by so quickly

like the ghosts of my mistakes

the rhythm of each passing mile

beats out every heartache 

I've ridden with these ghosts so long

their nearness seems so sweet

like the whisper of a summer's day

or a promise I thought I'd keep 

These shadows ride on with me

they keep me company

if I can't learn to let them go

I never will be free

I never will be free 

The road keeps rising up ahead

and the sun keeps shining down

I'm trying hard to let you go

when I feel you all around 

You're like these ghosts that ride with me

you're like those haunting trees

if I ride on and never stop

can I leave those memories 

 These shadows ride on with me

they keep me company

if I can learn to let them go

maybe now I can be free

maybe now I can be free 

 

© ACG
27 February 2014

 

The Echo Of Your Homeless Heart

(No More Sad Reveries)

 

Looking through my lonely heart

into the sad reveries

an empty road behind me darkens

and once again

I'm chasing the echo

of your homeless heart

~ the echo of your homeless heart ~ 

Past that ancient battleground

where broken hearts lie scattered

the bleeding scarred remains

decay of yesterday

back against a wall of time

lives the echo

of your homeless heart 

I'm chasing the echo

of your homeless heart.

 

© ACG
21 February 2014

 

Don't Tell Me

 

Hey, you!

Over there, across the room,

yes, YOU.

I see you.

 

Don't tell me

of your boredom

~ there's nothing to do ~

or of your dismay

at Life's dismal details

unending;

 

Don't tell me of your gray salesman's days

when the spark leaves

and no one returns your calls;

Don't tell me

when your career slides away

in a rush of flooding waters

leaving you to find

a different shore;

 

Don't tell me of your everlasting

anger thrown out at the world

and the mean people

who've crossed your path;

Don't tell me

 the horrors and evil and the trivia

of your small small world

as it swallows you

and you feel down;

Don't tell me

of your false lovers

and your lonely nights

bathed in the solitude of stupidity;

Don't tell me

about your disappointments

when someone lets you down

or ignores you

or does not hear you

or hurts you

or fails you

in some imagined way. 

Do you hear me?

Stop looking at me

as if you know me

as if you feel my pain

as if my life and yours

equate

just because you look like me.

Don't tell me. 

I am busy, breathing.

  

© ACG
10 January 2014

 

Ode to Imbibing 

My heart is driven slowly,

my soul cannot resist;

a smoky gaze

thru music's haze

my soul so softly kissed; 

uisce beatha* delights me,

and silken draws me in;

his ancient swirls

and lustful curls

another night begins; 

again I find the music

it swells my heart so full;

tequila knows

her silver glows

surrenders to the pull; 

with morning comes the coffee,

at lunch a sip of beer;

with midnight's hour

let bourbon's power

release the dreamer's fear.

 

© ACG

* uisce beatha is Irish Celtic for whiskey; pronounced "whiskey bah" and means "water of life"

Melancholia

 

Disappointment

mantles me with grief,

realization cold and hard,

for Silence is the rule,

there is no breaking through

~ Fall In Line ~

my very breath of life

freezes

my words

in your presence,

stopped cold

literally

by the ice in your eyes

and the turn of your heart

~ Fall In Line ~

I have to wonder, as I wander

lost on streets so dark and still,

why

why

why

~ Fall In Line ~

or

walk alone

so alone

alone I walk

as midnight fades

into memories made

of solitude and pain;

melancholia in nostalgia

for once so tightly bound

no shadows cast

no sliver came between,

no icy stare

no Silence demanded,

now

when only shadows come

away away they steal

every rose colored memory

of beauty and light

when breathing was easy

and my words were free

now all is stolen

stolen away

I am left with my empty footsteps

and just an echoed hum

can you ever

for I can never

~ Fall In Line ~

  

© ACG

15 November 2013

 

Waiting For My Second Line 

When the Parade has passed

and the cheers fade,

when the party ends

on promises made,

then I'll come along,

then I'll dance. 

I lie in the dark and they come,

always the same echoes,

the same strains ~  

No matter where or when I rest,

from the cradle right on through

my darkened fevered childhood

on through nights alone or in

a swept togetherness off and on,

in hospitals and at home,

always always every night

I hear it ~ 

Like you hear music through thin walls

or from way down the street,

or across waters calm and dark,

always muted just beyond earshot

just beyond reality,

wafting within the darkness swirling,

kissing my ears maddeningly close yet

just not there;

always always every night

I hear the music ~ 

I thought it was a haunting,

following me,

no matter where I slept ~ 

The darkness brought it to my edge,

the soft sad strains of a sinking ship's band

merging into and with jaunty unknown melodies

like an enveloping wave takes your sanity,

from weeping violins to some honky-tonk sound

or hurdy-gurdy never heard

in my wakened world,

with background chattering and clattering

far away,

this darkened party of ghosts;

always always every night

I hear them ~ 

Confusion reigns in darkness;

why and wherefrom,

if not haunted ~ 

Each night I strain to hear some full detail,

a note, a word, a chord alone;

only the distant brass clamoring

and sweet melodies floating

and fading further away,

just beyond the night,

but now

I know who they are ~

I know them all,

those who wait for me,

who will dance and sing

when I arrive,

they wait for me,

to celebrate me;

they play for me every night

my beloved band of ghosts ~ 

always I am hearing them,

and I am waiting

for my Second Line.

 

 

© ACG

27 September 2013