Poetry By Herb Stevenson (page 3)

I hear you
calling
from some
distant place far,
far away as
if you were only
an echo or
a shadow or
maybe
a fading memory.

I return
your call
with haste
only to watch
the words fall
to the ground
before me,
lifeless,
yet, yearning
to reach you.

I call
again
and again
and again
but you
do not hear
as if I speak
in a foreign tongue
or in nonsensical
words.

Hear me
my mind
begs
as my heart
lub dubs
in my chest as if
unaware of
my request,
my plea,
or me.

I call to all
my senses
and plea for
their help
to find the
way, the
means, the
very key
to open
the door.

They search
every crook,
cranny, and
nook using
touch,
smell,
sight,
sound,
and taste
to no avail.

I call to
the gods
of love,
life, and
the pursuit
of happiness
for help
in even the
tiniest morsels,
but they only smile.

In desperation
I call
to my
self
as but a figment
of my enlarged
imagination
letting go
of the
thought.

Oh so softly
I hear a
whisper floating through
the air
like a cordial
response to a
formal invitation,
"I'm glad
you finally called".

The leather
bound boards
snugly
guard
the family treasures mirthfully
tarnished
from years of
painstakingly
collecting
stolen moments
from time.

"Mom"
erupts from
the embarrassment
of an unveiling
of the glistening,
dimpled bottom
of a new-born
boy
unknown
by sight to
outsiders
till now.

"Look at those
chub cheeks"
eulogizes the
pubescent periods of spiritual awakenings contradicted and
reflected
in bodily changes while emotionally roving
back and forth
lost in time.

"Well, I'll be"
debunks
the disbelief
that this portrait
somewhere,
somehow
ever existed
let alone
was possibly
the same person,
now,
known.

"Who's that"
queries
for an identification
of the dark,
leathery skinned
individuals
leaning
on each other
like old friends,
but being just
father
and son.

"Look at those ears"
cuts the air
with the surprise remembrance
of the effects
of serving a country
which strips
a personality
and replaces it
with a rifle,
dark, cutting eyes,
and razor reflexes.

"Oh my god"
precedes the
guffaws
of seeing
a vaguely familiar
face with long,
curly hair shaped
like a basketball surrounding a head
in a burnished
halo not quite
finished.

"What d'ja expect"
tries to deflect the
buried beliefs
from a spiritual path
walked
by a strangely
familiar person
wearing worn
leather sandals,
torn tees and jeans,
and a look too close
for comfort.

"Give me a break"
conceals
the flushed cheeks
of a forgotten person
wearing platform shoes,
wide, flowered ties,
and a shit-eating grin
befitting only
to an innocent
trying to enter
main street America
through the wrong door.

"Handsome boy"
shares the
mother's pride
as she relocks t
he gates
on the moments
stolen
but briefly
returned
from time
to
time.

The crowd
chants in
a plea of
pent up
hostility
and
bewilderment
that everyone
doesn't
believe
like
them.

"FREEDOM"
to live
your own
beliefs
never enters
the thoughts
of what
may or
may not
be right
or wrong
with the
world.

"FREEDOM"
to create
your own
beliefs
never
rests on
the shoulders
of a poster
board
in the
middle
of the
protest
march.

"FREEDOM"
to be
is never
allowed
into the
equation
for fear
that it
might
reveal
that your
beliefs
may be
my imprisonment.

"Good evening,
it's six o'clock"
forthrightly
gives warning
of a collage
of events some
unknown one
has decided
is the news.

"The day's
lead story"
begins the
charade of
what really
happened,
failing
to make clear
that it's only
a story,
influenced by
someone's
perceptions of
what will raise
the ratings.
"The tragedy,
the devastation,
the loss of life"
lays a snare
to prevent the
viewers,
listeners,
or readers
from shifting
their attention
to the child
beside them,
the burning
roast in the
oven, or the
laundry crying
for it's fabric
softener.

"The victims"
sends off sirens
of fear
in unabated
anticipation of
the notice of
an unsolicited
loss of
some one's
friend,
family, or
reputation and
personal
privacy.

"Witnesses at
the scene"
provides an
opportunity for
notoriety
at some one
else's expense,
often,
paid in blood, embarrassment,
or life.

"The family
resides at"
ensures the
involuntary
identification of
mothers and
fathers,
brothers and
sisters,
sons and
daughters.

"In another
story"
announces the
request for the
attention of
those missed
by the first
sortie and any
one joining the
show a little
late.

"Police"
sends off
flashing
images of
another drug
bust, another
case of brutality,
or another
plea for help
in the apprehension
of a known
criminal
on the
loose.

"In our final
story"
pleas
for the viewer's
readers' and
listeners'
attention for
just a little
longer as
patience is
wearing thin
and the laundry
has begun to
scream for
its fabric
softener.

"The Supreme
Court has
ruled"
hints that
someone's
rights have
been curtailed,
while someone else
is probably
acting
smug.

"The first
amendment"
indicates that
a freedom has
been further
defined in
terms of what
can and can't
be said by
someone
about someone
or something.

"Goodnight"
closes another
nightly
account
of a society
and what
everyone
should expect
it to be.

Floating
around in
my mind
visiting
a multitude
of people,
places, and
things, a
face stood
out amongst
the collage
and drew
me to it.

The man
with a wise yet
rugged face
framing crystal
clear eyes
seemed to be
a long
lost friend
knowing more
about me
than I
could remember.

His eyes
locked
onto mine
like a force
field of energy
drawing
my sight,
my-self,
closer
and closer
into them.

His eyes
began to
glisten
like rich,
deep,
dark,
emerald-green
crystals,
sparkling
in the sunlight
brimming
with wisdom.

Quickly,
but oh
so steady,
His eyes drew
me closer,
veering towards
His right eye
until nothing
could be
seen but a
heart-warming
radiance.

In a wistful
burst,
His eye
fully immersed
me into a
stream of
pure,
white,
pulsating
Light.

The Light
filled my soul
in riveting
bursts of rapid
strobe like
effects as
my body absorbed
the subtle energy
and exploded
with goose-bumps
lamblasting my skin.

"What's this"
spew from
my mind as it
searched for a
purpose of
this Light–
possibly
memories,
guidance,
future lessons,
or a Sign.

Thirty,
sixty, an
infinity of
seconds later,
He faded away,
leaving me
overwhelmed with
a feeling of
bewilderment
and unending
awe.

The bright
and cheerful
smile
precedes the
knife-like
penetration
of a verbal
slashing
with a
glistening
sword
cloaked
in
honesty.

Brutal
cannot
be such a
weapon
that slices
the life
from
a
friendship
or innocent
and unknowing
foe.

Brilliance,
utter
brilliance,
can only
bespeak
the ability
to
use
such
a tool
to manipulate
one's

self
into allowing
such
pain to
be
inflicted,
so deftly.

"Gotcha"
sends
sensations
of pleasure
through
the mind with
each
scintillating
jab,
prick,
and
thrust
of another
smiling
pseudo
truism.

"Uh Huh"
twinkles
from the
eyes
with each
orgasmic
opportunity
to
take
advantage of
an opening
into
someone's
trust,
not
your
own.

"Ut Oh"
shivers
through
the senses
suggesting
that the
person
is a player
or even
worse
a nonplayer
capable
of
stripping
the
illusion
to its
barest
element
as a
continuing
denial
to
accept
one's
innate
self
worth.

"En Garde"

"Love me"
echoes from the
depths of
my self, much
like a pebble
thrown in a lake,
rippling the water
without a sound.

"Love me"
conjures images
of being just like
Dad, Mom, any-one,
some-one,
in hopes that
it will fill the
void with-in-me.

"Love me"
reframes the
images into a subtle
vindictivness
created by rebelling
against what I
had become
and never received.

"Love me, now"
unwinds my
feeble-foibles
to scratch an
eternal itch
hiding in a massive
world much like a
child lying in a crib.

"Love me, then"
scans for moments
of feeling safely
nestled in the
comfort of knowing
I am loved
and lovable
and loving.

"Love me, when"
reveals
both aspects
of my-self—
one knowing
I was loved,
the another
denying I am loved.

"Love me, here"
uncovers the child
writhing in emotional
birth trying
to reclaim the
sen-safe-tion
of the enveloping
womb.

"Love me, there"
unfolds the sensory
overload that uses
anger, pain, and hunger
as a means to
hide the path
that teaches
where love truly is.

"Love me"
explodes as primal
screams of a self created
heaven and hell
crashing and crashing
until an implosion
breaks the tension
and ends the war.

"Love me"
allows the
unfolding of the
truth, the singular
eternal truth,
that no one can
love me until
I do.

"Yo"
signals
the approaching
target,
an unlucky
and unsuspecting
car,
truck,
or van.

"Go"
springs
the legs
into a fast
lope like
a leopard
stalking
its prey.

"Hey"
startles
the driver
as the door
flies open
in one
swift and
deft motion.

"Fly or die"
ripples
over the gun
barrel
amplifying
the choices—
to live
or die.

"Now"
rattles
the thoughts
into precise
slow motion, while
the body
bolts
into the
street.

Down,
stay down"
barks
a reminder
to control
any instinct
to be helpful
to the police.

"Eh, Eh, Ehaaa"
injects
throbbing
fear as
the head
is kicked
back onto
the street.

"Yeow"
echoes through
the air
as the jackals
cackled away
into the
darkness
with their prize.

Joy
resides
behind
the illusions
and delusions
of lurking
traumas,
travails,
and tatty
fits of anger
over someone
forgetting to put
a new roll
of toilet paper
in the dispenser.

Joy
resides
within
the thoughts
and judgments
racing
through the mind
each time
someone's late,
forgets to call, or
doesn't nurture
the need for
respect by
putting the
toilet seat down.

Joy
resides
amidst
the actions
and reactions
developed over
time with practice
until it becomes
a fine art
of yelling
at other people,
children, friends, and
yourself for taking
too long
in the bathroom.

Joy
resides
within
the acceptance
and understanding
that life
might seem like
a big toilet bowl
waiting
for the flush
and God's
got the handle
when its
always been
in your heart.

Beneath
the rubble
of three-high
piled blankets,
yearning screamed from my heart
like a low
bellow echoing
through a ravine
in a woods.

"What's this"
rattled my mind
as I reached-out
to find
the warmth
of your body
only to find a bag
of feathers
tightly snuggled
between my legs.

"Mmmmmmmmm"
soothed the ache in my heart
as a deep warmth
flooded
my memory
with whispers
of soft breathing
nestled against
my heart and shoulder.

"Ahhhhhhh"
simmered in
my chest as a breath
of life
filled my whole
with the
sweet pitter
of your heart
gently tapping
on my side.

"Ohhhhhhhhh"
reminded me
of healings
of long wounded
parts of my soul
as my heart
unfolded like
leaves beckoning
for rain from
the skies.

Beneath
the rubble
of three-high
piled blankets,
a glorious
sigh carried
me back to sleep
full of loves and
joys I've never felt
until now.