Key Talking...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 8, 2004 at 7:07am

Key Talking...

Reading from The Book Of Florida,
Or is it the Book of Dreams,
We imagine to discover paradise,
Found in spectral sunsets,
Dreams of broken old bridges,
The yellow tang of Key Lime pie,
Sea food and palm fronds,
Maybe fried plantains,
Or lost beach-side in flip-flops,
A place in imagination for ghosts,
Ruins and water to meet the underside of our souls,
Just as we dream of the underside of the nation,
It may be a bigger deal to the poet in me,
But if I can get all of that,
Sitting reading the Mobil 2002 Florida travel guide,
Naked in a dumpy Atlanta motel room,
What grandiose visions will the true Keys bring?

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 04/07/2004

Author's Comments:
Tropical fever? (Two If By Sea poem 0005)

In Search Of The Flying Biscuit II...

Post by AquarianM on Jul 8, 2004 at 7:13am

In Search Of The Flying Biscuit II...

Driving by secret code,
Divining the runes I had written,
Atlanta freeway dodging,
Crossing Peachtree Lane,
Peach Tree Street,
Finally we deciphered 10th & Piedmont,
Tucked ourselves into a parking spot,
Only the Parking Angels saved the waiter from being broken,
And we sat on the fish-bowl patio,
Staring at sanded wood tables and chicken wired caged glass beads,
Listening to biscuits fly awaiting,
Iced tea and cute shops outside,
The magic landed on the table,
And the snapping gators were bespelled,
Wonderfully,
Leaving us sated and flying South,
Half-dozen biscuits in hand,
Don't forget the apple butter.

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 04/07/2004

Author's Comments:
To Panama City! White sands! Emerald waves! (Two If By Sea poem 0006)

Poetry Is In The Moment:

Post by AquarianM on Jul 8, 2004 at 6:53am

Poetry Is In The Moment:

In the mindless foolish transition,
I lost my words in searching too deep,
Looking for mountains of meaning to pour out,
Hoping for some grand place in the heavens,
Forgetting the simplest of things,
When my eyes are opened and I see a small space,
The dusty trails I walked between cornfields,
The footpath along the railroad tracks in early 1960's sunshine,
The insects and prairie flowers of Wisconsin Summers,
The goldenrod and oriole and wild child hair,
Deep in rural Nebraska,
The stark contrast of dark night skies in the desert,
The deep blue of a rare New Mexico lake,
The salt tang of a midnight beach in Galveston,
Poetry is in the moment,
In the small places you live and see and breathe,
Those slices of life too precious to forget,
And all the moral ground and beliefs,
Wishes for the future and hopes and dreams and fears,
Nothing is exempt,
No single piece is all there can be,
Because poetry is life,
In the words you can find to capture it.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/08/2004

Author's Comments:
Sometimes I forget and my voice falls silent in a false lack of words.

Peekaboo Moon:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 6, 2004 at 5:57pm

Peekaboo Moon:

I saw the Sun falling,
Behind the Village Hall in the West,
It fell softly purple-magenta into the twilight arms of stars,
Where the sky was clear.

The brilliant single eye of Jupiter glaring down regally.

I was riding along non-chalantly,
Pen and Paper Cowboy in the Sunset Truck,
Headed North for an evening and wine,
When I saw you come out in the East.

Sweet Diana with the pale round cheeks.

Glowing softly from behind your tresses of black night clouds,
Playing hide and seek with me from behind buildings,
Following my every move like the Huntress of the Night,
It was then that I felt the magic.

Somehow I know it will always turn out allright.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/06/2004

Author's Comments:
It was one of those really movie-magic looking skies tonight. It gave me a deep sense of peace.

The Slumber Of Saints:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 7, 2004 at 3:10am

The Slumber Of Saints:

Saints and angels all slept,
Tired from working so hard,
I can tell because tears were rampant,
All the world through,
I saw it in the news today,
And maybe too just yesterday,
People had been so mean and hard,
For what, pray what?
What shall it be when the saints awake,
Be it upon the light of Judgment Day,
I am living witness 'tis not our place to judge,
For that is the meaning of my very name,
Daniel - "The Lord is Judge",
How much prettier of soul forgiveness warrants,
Like the fresh life of spring in tears of joy,
Much less polluted waters than those of sorrow,
Do you not know God granted us tears,
To release the poisons of the soul?
Join you not the slumber of saints,
Shall you carry the weight of nightmares to Heaven,
For these things must go behind and below,
Love is the only key to unlock the gates,
The interconnection of souls in unison,
That is the font of Heaven's true jewels,
Not these hardened bits of stardust baubles,
Ashes of God's fires though they be,
Sweet children,
His light burns in hearts that beat kind.
Forego the deadliest sin of all,
Provoke not fear and leave revenge,
Sitting upon it's cold grimy plate,
For if this you taste,
It will not be your dessert,
To taste the slumber of saints,
Only love and kindness,
Bear such fruits.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/25/2002

Author's Comments:
OK, I know it sounds like preaching,
but look inside. Doesn't it just ring true?

In Spirit...

In Spirit...



With you now love will be,
Blessing is need we what,
Turned outside in be must the wind,
For emptiness the dark side is,
Light waiting filled to be,
So such a force love is,
Underneath we are all,
Or all we are underneath.

Bells you may ring,
Sing you may songs,
Give you may gifts,
Yet nothing is without love,
And love is without nothing.

Love must there be.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/09/2016

Tears Over Tin Hearts:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 10, 2004 at 9:02am

Tears Over Tin Hearts:

Labels are for canned goods,
Love doesn't fit in small tin spaces,
Eyes don't cry without sad reasons,
Yet all eyes cry the same,
Dream your dream it's lovely and yours,
I'll dream mine on ethereal shores,
I've read your words,
Brought me up not down,
Your dream isn't my dream,
But I'll second it for you just the same,
Go live it kindly.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/10/2004

Author's Comments:
Reply to a poetic plea for freedom from strife.

The Thorn Of Crowns:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 15, 2004 at 2:13am

The Thorn Of Crowns:

One doesn't need to be crucified to die on the inside,
Heavy responsibility is not always easy to bear,
Temptation can blind you at times,
And losing your objectivity can be worse than being blind.

The sepia tones of old photographs can't hold you at night.

Never forget those times you cried,
And how they came about,
Remember the times you smiled,
And what gave those smiles birth.

Everyone has those moments in greater or lesser degree.

Even if you are King of the World,
You can't eat diamonds and emeralds,
And fast cars and jets can carry love away,
Just as easily as to.

You could be haunted even on a yacht at sea under forever stars.

Think about it,
Will the world truly have been better for you having walked it,
Even just one little bit,
The sum answers of that question alone are set in stone.

The true bits of gold carried by men.

When power comes upon you,
And you've walked the the halls of rulers,
Lying with a rattle in your throat,
As the angels gather round you,

Was the life you wore torn useless by the Thorn of Crowns?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/15/2004

Author's Comments:
I think most people will understand.

Mufflespeak:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 12, 2004 at 4:45pm

Mufflespeak:

When did it become so onerous,
To speak of the issues that affect all our lives,
When did it become impossible to discourse,
Without fighting to stop a dissenting mouth,
How much ear wax is there,
In the social hive,
Sing me the song of America,
Home of the FREE and brave,
Feed me no Mufflespeak,
When fascists wish to leaven and rise,
Place no hand over my mouth,
Don't cover your eyes with sand,
Look at the blue sky of love,
When we return to hearing each other,
Without raising hands in anger,
Mufflespeak will be off the menu.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/12/2004

Author's Comments:
People treat political discussion like it's dirty - and yet they fall under the political thumb. Burying the discussion buries the power of the people to change this. Opening discussion allows no shadows to hide. We need everyone to speak and hear each other more than ever. This cultural imperative to shy away from the subject or fly into anger when such opinions are expressed needs to be changed. Doing so is the only thing that will keep power in the hands of the populace in reality. Open ears and open minds, unclenched fists open palms for handshakes.

Love On The Level:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 13, 2004 at 4:12am

Love On The Level:

Yes,
It does happen,
Maybe not always,
But always when hope is in your mind,
And you're not desperately seeking,
When you least expect it you find,
Love on the level,
The level of kind and true,
The kind of decent heart,
That won't break you blue,
Sing a soft song and don't search too hard,
Be kind and just gently guard your heart,
It's not hard to spot when it comes finally along,
Something about it glows,
Love on the level,
Is the only way the world truly grows.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/13/2004

Author's Comments:
Just a bit of observation after many years of stumbling in the dark. The light is really great - hope you all see it soon.

Riveting Rosie's Granddaughter:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 16, 2004 at 3:15am

Riveting Rosie's Granddaughter:

It's a tough conundrum to watch Rosa,
As she's led off in chains,
Rosie the Riveter's great granddaughter,
Caught in a web no one would have thought possible.

You see,
The war came,
Fifteen countries got tired of being bossed from Washington,
And took to the high seas and and swift skies.

The bombs fell here in the good ol' USA,
Made in China and Taiwan,
Though neither of these countries touched a trigger,
A far different cry than a century ago.

The calls went out,
But there was no one to answer,
The bombs were all made in China,
The bullets were all made in Vietnam.

No one knew how to run the rusting machines,
American factories had been silent for over thirty years,
No bearings or bicycles or tank treads could be made,
The supply lines were impossible across the oceans.

Even if those countries had cared,
They were tired of the bosses in Washington,
And the Americans who voted for right wing hard-asses,
Every bomb they'd seen in the forty years prior...

Stamped with "Made in the USA" had all but disappeared,
And as the war progressed,
Survivors dressed in rags made in China graced internment camps,
As the spare parts for the tanks ran out.

It was impossible to ship bullets from Hong Kong,
And the Brits were besieged on their island,
The consolidated media companies were captured,
Long before they could show the pictures.

The invaders marched Rosa into the concentration camp office,
Paid no attention to the tears or screams,
They made on her the same wars,
That had for so long been stamped "made in the USA."

Take this peek from the future,
Understand we still make plowshares instead of swords,
But under NAFTA & the WTO,
While the factories rust and people forget how they ran,

Where will those hard rich hearts take us,
As they create a world they THINK is filled,
With masters and serfs?

Do our factories need to move over seas,
So we can't even make bullets and tanks and boots,
And does Rosa need to scream in the new Commandant's office,
Before we understand what "Made in the USA" really means?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/16/2004

Author's Comments:
Both morality and manufacturing are critical national security assets. Where is that recognized in these elections?

In Places At Peace:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 20, 2004 at 6:02am

In Places At Peace:

Children grow unafraid and inquisitive,
Learning of all around them,
Before there were labels,
Children play together unknowing,
No idea that different skin or hair color is of note.

Homes grow in quiet to be refuge,
Places of community where neighbors know each other,
Door locks are dusty and unused,
Industry and sharing benefit all together,
Making things and art that make a better life.

Birds soar and small creatures occasionally visit,
The skies are clear of haze and smoke,
And mankind reaches out to touch the stars,
Carrying life and love across the universe,
Able to discuss differences without animal fear.

A green Earth greets the morning sunrise,
And all I see are kind eyes,
Songs are sung with smiles,
The sunset is a place where we meet stars,
And friends to share the sky.

These are the things that survive.

In places at peace.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/20/2004

Author's Comments:
It takes courage to live here.

One Un-bent Night:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 22, 2004 at 4:25am

One Un-bent Night:

My breath was floating into the past,
The engine running at idle,
The stars shining through the city glow from above,
I listened to the vibrations of the Earth,
Echoes of love won and lost,
As the frost slowly melted off my windshield,
I held the soft brown feel of a good cigar,
Slowing to gentility with each fading smoke spirit loosed,
Reaching for the connection under the soul,
Needing the Family Muse's whisper in my heart.

The shadows bear long,
But it takes only a simple candle to banish them,
And at the hidden bottom of the night,
That light can blind you gently,
Leaving you with all sorts of dreams and wishes,
Or simple silence of nothing in the flame dance.

I felt presences come and go,
I felt threats and love flow around like a kaleidoscope,
The endless dance of joy and pain and fear and hope,
All the things that drive this laboratory of souls,
Drifting with the scent of the glowing final puff,
I let the stub fall on hard concrete and put my foot down,
Unwilling to scorch the earth that cradles us,
Walking in to feel these words fall out of endless nothing,
I know that this connection is something spiritual,
And I know enough to let the fear pass,
And touch every ember of love I can find.

Let's walk kindly together through this dream,
We could act in unison for a time,
And gift those silent distant stars,
With the blessed peace of one un-bent night.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/22/2004

Author's Comments:
My Mother's ghost looked me in the dream, and thought me to walk soft.

The Silence of Rain:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 14, 2004 at 12:37am

The Silence of Rain:

In the dead of night,
Long before I can rest my weary head,
The sound of rain falling,
Leads me into thoughts of nothing at all,
Television glaring old movie angst,
Will my heart ever wake up,
From the silence of the rain.

It seems people don't care any more,
What the world really is,
Does he look like some movie star,
With a face more famous than a name,
What's underneath those eyes,
Is a vacuum in a fog,
When sincerity and caring are backed up to the wall.

Then suddenly I remember,
The stars will come back out,
Even though the lights of the city hide them pretty well,
Make their connect the dot picture show,
Forever across the sky crawl,
Inspire a billion sages,
Whisper a trillion new songs.

In the dead of night I understand,
The rain isn't silent,
I hear each lovely note,
And until the stars shine up again,
Eyes can only open one pair at a time,
The wheel is turning as always,
Soon will be the right place right hearts right time.

Funny how the sounds so pervasive are silent,
Pour down what eventually touches everyone,
So go ahead and drink your fill,

I'm standing in the silence of the rain.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/14/2004

Author's Comments:
I don't know quite what it is about a rainy night, but it makes me look inside.

Fallen Birch:

Post by AquarianM on Mar 9, 2004 at 7:36am

Fallen Birch:

I see the grey sky,
Early spring and windy,
The hawk is perched high in the fallen birch,
One ray of sun striking him gently,
Lanced down through the hole in the clouds,
A finger of God set down in kindness,
Illuminates bare dead wood and living regal bird,
The eye of the hunter is sharp,
And I stare silently across the waters,
Gun metal colored ripples,
Awaiting the joy of warm and blue and green,
It's the silence of a good omen,
A moment the spirit heals,
Still standing and supporting life,
Still in ways able to win,
The fallen birch leans upon it's neighbor,
Adjusts the lean of the whole picture,
A vision of successful endings,
And flight is not far away.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/09/2004

Author's Comments:
A real-life scene and a personal vision meet in the middle.

Just So:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 26, 2003 at 11:23pm

Just So:

There is an underlying quiet,
A certain way you just know,
The man knows his job,
Things are set and polite,
Sociably adept but in reserve,
Nothing out of place,
Smooth like jazz on the river,
It just kind of flows around him,
The place rolls on nice and steady,
Clockwork precise,
A damn fun bebop around the Christmas party,
Night time quiet words,
Captain Carter is on the job,
And you won't find any,
Four-armed fanged green men of Mars,
No, he'd put Princess Deja Thoris,
Tucked securely to bed,
Walk the walk and lock the locks,
Clockwork precise,
I guess I had to write this,
Just so you remember to come back to your castle,
'Cause we need you runnin' the show Ol' Man.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/27/2003

Author's Comments:
John - get well soon. We'll all be pullin' for ya.
Lookin' forward
to the Jazz Captain of the night shift comin' back soon. (Our night shift security man is duking it out with the big "C".)

A Conversation With The Monster Under The Bed:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 27, 2003 at 2:12am

A Conversation With The Monster Under The Bed:

Walking into a dark bedroom,
I felt a faint tug on my ankle,
My mind did all the rest,
Green skin and claws,
Blood red nails and gnarly,
I had to stop and say,
It's been a long time Clyde,
You see his name is Clyde E. Scope,
For the whirling madness of his eyes,
I didn't think you'd stop by again,
But Clyde was cool,
Adjusting the cover skirting,
Peeking up from the floor upside down,
He said it's Halloween coming up,
And he had to get a visit in just before,
Or he'd be buried in candied dust bunnies,
But hey it's good to claw your ankle again,
Make you remember the old bunk beds,
And all those scary dreams,
Watching my buddies be the stars,
Drac 'n Frank 'n Fang,
All them old guys from the crypt,
Thing is though I had to tell you,
It's tough being a figment,
You know the subconscious replica,
Of every carnivore of the dinosaur dynasty on up,
But sometimes we wonder about our grown up kids,
And I heard you'd been visiting with the mythical types,
And angels and all that jazz,
So I thought I'd come back and remind you,
Keep your head tucked tight,
Flip the wool under your feet,
Take a ride on a falling bridge,
And maybe scream a dream,
Just like the old days,
So I gave Clyde a scope,
Smiled and winked a nod,
Good night monster mash,
I clicked out the light,
And screamed a gory old dream.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/27/2003

Author's Comments:
I had a silly little fantasy the other day when I was
getting dressed and I just remembered the star of
many a childhood show.

Mirror Smoke:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2004 at 11:43am

Mirror Smoke:

I walked into a fortress of Zen glass,
Looking and feeling like a Vision Warrior,
Dancing in the rays of the kaleidoscope,
I shrank into a single petal and watched the hummingbird float,
Flew up into cloud crying raindrop snowflake tears,
Whistling a happy tune to a star whose cheek I brushed,
With kisses on a dream top,
The rosy glow brought the Moon out playing harmonica,
And somehow the pillow mirrors cradled me in strange,
Yet when it came to waking up,
I no longer wanted to listen,
And couldn't help but hear.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/30/2003

Author's Comments:
I wanted to reach into a dream.

Limestone Under Sunset Siege:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2004 at 11:45am

Limestone Under Sunset Siege:

I walked the path today,
Saw the crumbling limestone,
Foundations a shadow of when,
Simpler has gone or so we'd say,
Blacktop paved prairie paths,
Between tame milkweed ponds,
Canada geese sail a spring fed gravel pit,
And the only signs of amber waves,
Are crumbling limestone squares,
Planters for shrubs and trees,
Reminders of where children dreamt,
And people lived close to the land.

The sunset swore soft pastels,
It was late December and warm,
Barely ice on the water,
No speck of snow to see,
Just Canada geese and crumbling limestone,
In almost hidden shrub covered squares,
Buried under Prairie grasses seemingly freed,
I wonder how long the herons will be gone,
In this only place they still make little herons.

The ghosts are trembling amidst the crumbling limestone,
Under the barely chill sunset rays,
Looking at the sunfire on water,
Tied to disappearing haunts,
Even Winter holds their trembling ethereal hands,
Walking with them into faded memory,
Like the sun at the end of a beautiful day.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/27/2003

Author's Comments:
It all seemed to come together, the fading sun, the crumbling ruins you barely knew were there, the lateness of Winter. The world changes and it only seems slow.

Ten Seconds Of Thunder:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2004 at 11:38am

Ten Seconds Of Thunder:

My heart goes out to that place,
History crumbled over bodies,
I could care less the cut of cloth or name of God,
The wailing and weeping is too much.

There are too many souls at the gates of forever,
There are too many tears flown down the river of sorrow,
Let there be too much kindness offered,
To the too few left to grieve.

Just ten seconds of thunder,
Just an eternity of pain,
Just reach out your heart and hand,
To the remnants of Bam.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/30/2003

Author's Comments:
I felt only sorrow at the news of such incredible pain. May the whole world be kind to the tender souls left alive in Bam, Iran.