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.

Singing on King's Hill:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 18, 2004 at 2:13am

Singing on King's Hill:

I saw the Fisher King,
Sad and hysterical,
Joyous a raucous and somber,
Hard-hearted and tenderly loving,
It made me wish to brandish a hood ornament sword,
And sing songs from atop a ruined old Chevy.

I saw the hits of the seventies and went back to school,
Song after song after song like the ghosts of spine chills,
I remembered young and easy going,
I once danced like the Fisher King,
Alive atop a pile of nothing jewels,
Moses with a funny book,
Laughing secret tears over mystery causes.

Still I spin a life around love and interest,
The dance of King's Hill,
Crafting baubles out of nothing much that touch the heart,
When something is beautiful I feel joy,
When her eyes sparkle the Moon swings into place and the stars come out,
The Red Knight is lost in a forest of dragons,
Too busy to ride near.

It's the eye of the beholder that makes a life,
And places of darkness were meant to fall,
Yet a gleaming hub cap mirror makes my spirit dance,
And suddenly I hear the brass I will someday bear to war,
Not a war of arms so wasteful,
But a war of spirit,
With angels' music the battering rams of hearts will make,
The light gleams and pearl keys beckon softly,
And the subtle magic slowly falls into my fingers,
You'll hear it when it reaches my heart.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/18/2004

Author's Comments:
Robin Williams and Jeff Bridges - no small wonder it blew me away.

Three Years Trembling:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 25, 2004 at 1:14am Three Years Trembling: I've listened to the wind, Seen the world land upside down, Lost one of the standards of my life, Wondered where in creation I really am, Because this dream is beyond anything I'd have ever believed. Send me to America, Send me home. Time was anyone could say anything, And no one had to listen, Seems like now we say nothing, For fear even the wind will listen, And I'll never put my name on the list for a book. Calling America, Are you home? I walked down to the river alone, Just six years old and there was no fear, I dipped my feet in the water it was glorious, Hot sunshine and cool water I was free, free, Like the air was where I ended I flew on. Ghost of America are you in tears, Darling Liberty your daughter Responsibility ran away. Incredible things were made there, Everything was made there, A neighbor's name was never "Hey you", There was an entire world outdoors, We were bundled up but never in straight jackets. People honestly believed you America, You still had the scent of truth and good upon you. Can you recall the child you were America, What have you done to yourself and your children, What God-forsaken fears have crawled under your skin, That you feed them drugs to behave, Swaddling them in electronic blankets. Oh God America, Where has your soul fled? Come back home, Come back from the scared witless brink of insanity, Come back to freedom and never shut out a single voice, Please oh please be you again, Not some pale ghost of an ideal. Do you remember America, When there was no haze in your skies? No one worked weekends and holidays, Two jobs were almost unheard of, Night shifts were only in hospitals and power plants, Families lived close to the land because it was their life, And if we swore it must have been something awful beyond belief. America, America, America, Come back home! You were great... AquarianM By: Daniel A. Stafford (C) 01/24/2003 Author's Comments: The things that are going on with workers' rights, constitutional rights, offshoring, corporate greed, abuse of the land and oceans, blatant crudeness, they are absolute abominations. Sometimes I wonder if I've been pulled through a wormhole into some forsaken alternate universe. This is not the country I grew up in. We've lost way, way too much. People NEVER would have put up with this when I was growing up.

Last Breath:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2004 at 11:47am

Last Breath:

The Oil Demons breathed their last breath,
It was thunderous rejoicing,
Children need not die in the sands,
In the streets or in the far countryside,
Winter could someday come back home to stay,
Poison could leave the land and lakes and seas,
In the silence of golden sunlight,
In the peace wrought of whirling white blades,
In the bountiful cascade of rolling waters,
In the field of golden harvests,
The treasures of gold and heart,
Home again to stay, to stay,
And once the people finally believed,
That was when the monsters were no longer needed,
And we could all walk closer to what God gave us,
Even though it took so much horror and filth to understand,
Cleanliness IS next to Godliness,
Just expand the concept,
Because the entire world is your home.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/24/2003

Author's Comments:
My biggest Christmas wish is that people will truly see what oil is doing
to us and add their voices to the clamor for a clean life and world. It's
worth it!

A Cigar With My Ghosts:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 10, 2004 at 6:24am

A Cigar With My Ghosts:

I won't play favorites I loved those gone,
Every one was something special in my life,
Still is 'cause I hear their voices,
Feel the love they left in this place,
On some sunny days I sit and slow time smoke,
The scent reminds me and I see them there,
One in pony tails drumming tennis on the floor 'n gum poppin',
One sitting back with a newspaper no longer toiling over the stove,
Another next to me with a glowing cherry in a cloud,
And as the music plays back behind me,
The wind whispers by like yesterday did,
I feel the chill of all they are,
And smile because in my heart,
I'm sharing something with these spirits that still move me,
In the sights and sounds behind my eyes it's all good,
I remember and I dream and I play fast forward or rewind,
Just one of the special scenes that graces my mind,
I could listen to that part of my soul for hours,
Some times I do,
But I guess it's a gift to me,
This little happy fantasy,
That let's me hold on to the best of you.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/10/2004

Author's Comment:
I wish sometimes in life I'd been able to share a cigar chair day with my Grandfather, but I'd bet Mom 'n my Grandmother would've been there too.

Grey Sky And Angel Feathers:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 10, 2004 at 6:10am

Grey Sky And Angel Feathers:

I fell into reverie,
Lost in clouds and sun departing,
It was flurries on water frozen into a sheet,
Sparkling white dust like a diamond circle,
Turning a plain pond into something mystical,
I won't cry over Winter as I hold her dear,
So much in this world needs these days of rest,
How man's clumsy hands are hurting the Ice Queen,
How careless and callous it can be,
I wonder for a world devoid of snow,
All the creatures that will die away,
All the cities that will be awash or sunken,
All the changes and hardship this might bring,
I dance at every flake like a new-christened child,
I feel joy in cold drops upon my tongue,
I see my breath in a cloud and consider it righteous,
I would be the Druid standing at the Stones of Winter,
Looking between the snow covered fir trees,
Sighting down the East and seeing sunlight not yet in,
If we truly knew what was coming,
We'd be frightened out of mind,
But today the snow was falling,
Like God's whiskers and angel dusted feathers,
And when the night is muffled with clouds,
And the pretty flakes dance in the beams of streetlights,
I hear sleigh bells ringing and see warm fires and hands holding,
Children with rosy cheeks and snow-filled pant cuffs,
Ice skates and sleds and snowmen,
And I could care less if I drive slower,
It's easier on Winter anyway,
And when I lose the child inside me,
That's when living will be a separate issue from breathing,
But right now I'm going out into the pretty snow,
And let the twain joyously collide.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/10/2004

Author's Comments:
Snowy weather is a treasure. It says the world is not yet truly unbalanced, just teetering. It says be child-like and have faith. Global Warming is a nightmare and I owe a very great debt to Winter and all it has brought into my life. There are so many reasons to rejoice in that the Winter is come to bring the world to order for the mad rush of Spring.

Snowicane:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2004 at 11:48am

Snowicane:

Christmas skies falling,
Dancing twixt headlights,
Glinting on ground all covered over,
Just in time for the night.

Snow, snow, snow,
Beautiful snow.

Gulf moisture rising,
Arctic air dropping,
Collision of flakes with ground,
Snow Goddess' crystal tears.

Snow, snow, snow,
Beautiful snow.

Whirling in the season,
Christmas lights glow on the ground cover,
Child at heart sees with delight,
Welcomes in the hushed falling by street light dancers,
Angel whispers drop from the clouds now.

Snow, snow, snow,
Beautiful snow.

Call for it with me,
Ask God if He'll gift us,
Blanketed visions just in time,
Icing on the ground and wishes that fly,
Tiny prayers falling in sight.

Snow, snow, snow,
Beautiful snow.

Say it with me,
Look out the window and see it now,
Believe it with all your heart,
Tonight is the time and place,
Christmas skies falling.

Snow, snow, snow,
Beautiful snow.

Play in the morning,
Delight in snow angels and throwing,
Take a day off and just play like a child,
Show the world how it's done,
Remember the magic of a Christmas morning.

Snow, snow, snow,
Beautiful snow.

Pray with me for God's white grace.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/24/2003

Author's Comments:
No matter what age I am, I want snow for Christmas.
Please help me ask for it.

Inch By Inch:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 10, 2004 at 6:10am

Inch By Inch:

In battling the brass,
There is no fast and furious,
Only incremental improvement,
A microfraction every day,
Slowly getting better,
Like a snail catching on,
Each note dragged out by it's squeaking hairs,
Yet the however is simple and stark,
I'm still moving up hill,
And if it takes me years,
I will play yet someday,
I will win the sweet battle,
Of buttered brass and reed.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/10/2004

Author's Comments:
I'm steadfastly struggling to improve my saxophone playing just a touch every day.

I Walk The Shore:

Post by AquarianM on Feb 3, 2004 at 8:14am

I Walk The Shore:

The sand is buried deep now,
Drifted under soft illustrious white particles,
The grass is tawny but arisen,
Waving in the winter winds a reminder,
The waves are stark grey blue now,
The ice is piling along the shoreline and buckling rough,
The wind whips through bared trees howling,
Each footstep I take I pull cloth tighter,
Shivering in Winter's solace I look within,
Connnecting to the source my footprints melt behind me,
No castle will I make upon this shore,
Nor footfall into water,
Yet I walk here and it's the underside of Heaven,
Somewhere only the wind speaks to me,
Begging peace and harmony and a place to call home,
Howling in gunmetal desperation,
I hear the voice of God in a whisper,
But my ears are chilled numb to the bone,
Still the waving grass and heaving water sparks me,
Ice blue dreams of summers to come,
Perhaps too long and too soon,
And I wonder at the miracle I might miss,
If I never looked in Winter's pretty blue-white face?



By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/03/2004

Author's Comments:
A fantasy of walking the beach along the Southern shores of Lake Michigan on a day like today - mixed with wonder at the thought that such days might cease to exist should Global Warming truly come to pass.

The Shadow Disaster...

The Shadow Disaster...

The latest and the greatest,
An ease of discomforted mind,
Convenience that beats the clock,
Perhaps the greatest disaster to afflict Humanity.

How many Grandmothers' recipes lost?
The skill of splitting wood,
Reading the habits of squirrel and wolf come Autumn,
How to cook ebelskives and forest mushrooms,
To know the breath of Winter and survive?

If the grid died,
Would we?

Will we ever know the glory of our ancestors' dishes,
Feel the breath of their spirits breathing the kindling of our hearts?

Thousands upon thousands of years these treasures took,
The stories and the marvels,
The handicrafts and the ken of seasons,
All to be oiled on a slide to oblivion,
For the sake of ease and comfort.

I wonder if I am the last,
To ever taste or feel the heart and soul of the past.

Winter comes,
But in a hundred years,
Who will know the meaning of cold,
Or white flight upon the winds?

Jack Frost may die,
So also millennia that ride His frozen back.

Come,
Ride the toboggan into nothing,
Eating the last taste of our ancestors' dust.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/20/2016

When China Comes Calling:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2004 at 11:50am

When China Comes Calling:

The dust bowls that are a quarter the size of the USA,
Blow hard on the minds of the prescient,
The rise of the Yangtze River screams the death knell of temples,
As the peasants climb away from home,
The grain stocks are almost gone and crops are failing,
Oceans rise and push inland slowly,
Squeezed between hungry blowing Earth and drowning swamps,
The deserts, oceans, and river are coming,
But who's going to feed that nearly a billion,
When China comes calling?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/18/2003

Author's Comments:
The Earth Policy Institute's analysts believe that China's grain storage
will be completely depleted by 2004 - and that the huge country will
for the first time in history turn to grain exporters such as the USA for
food imports - In such quantities that US citizens will be competing
with Chinese import companies for food. At the same time, crop yields
worldwide are declining due to the advance of global warming. See the
report at: www.earth-policy.org/Updates/Update31.htm

Call To Poets:

Post by AquarianM on Feb 8, 2004 at 9:36pm

Call To Poets:

I would like to begin calling for poets supporting Dennis Kucinich all over the nation to take their poetry in support of the campaign to poetry slams, open mikes, and poetry readings all across the country and read. There is a very diverse population attending such events all over the country these days.

I would like to call on poets all over the country to post poetry in support of Dennis at every poetry site you can find.

I would like to call on poets against the war to support the true anti-war candidate with their voices.

Get us out of Iraq,
Get health care for everyone,
Get clean water as a right for everyone in the world,
Get college education for every U.S. citizen,
Get out of NAFTA & the WTO,
Get our manufacturers back before we make nothing here,
Get energy from sources that do not pollute and kill the Earth,
Get cabinet-level advocacy for peaceful conflict resolution,
Get on track with the rest of the world so it doesn't burn up and flood,
Get Patriot Act acting thrown off the stage,
Get our civil rights back,
Get our noses out of other countries lands and resources,
Get that we can be a great force for good without wars for oil,
Get that we need to heal the divisions between races and cultures,
Get that we need to heal those divisions right here at home,
Get that we don't need billions for a legal system to fight a drug war,
Get that we don't need broken families and bankrupt treasuries because of it,
Get that we do not need to become corporate slaves,
Get that we do not need corporate raiding of our retirement funds,
Get that we need to restore our infrastructure,
Get that we are the stewards of the Earth and must not just take and take,
Get to those microphones and,

Get Dennis Kucinich elected!

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/08/2004

Author's Comments:
www.kucinich.us

Vortices...

Vortices...

Great spinning energy,
Red flame flecks like spinning burning leaves,
Bits of paper in an orange-lit cyclone of mind,
Special places where the fire is a healing burn,
Cracking open the shells of rebirth,
What is a disaster for the old is an usher,
So get ready to dance at the center,
Spinning,
Glowing,
Burning,
Whirling light in the darkness,
Who will be be left standing?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/18/2016

Author's note:
Every once in awhile I get flashes of insight, and they can be just subconscious imagery. I had a flash of this today. Like the place I was in was at the center of the fires of change, protected, just the place for an audience to ride it out.

Compassion:

Post by AquarianM on Jan 12, 2004 at 1:41am

Compassion:

Something I wish I always had,
Something the heat of the moment sometimes seems to steal,
All is fog and smoke without it,
All is heartache and broken foolishness in it's absence,
Yet in it's light the mighty are forgiven,
The joy is lived,
Everything sails so much truer,
Like glass twinkling,
Not to be outdone,
The light's presence is required,
And terrible darkness only results in injurious error.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/12/2004

Author's Comments:
None needed - strictly observational..

The Driven Snow:

Post by AquarianM on Feb 5, 2004 at 8:05am

The Driven Snow:

When all the world is swirling in falling white,
A hush appears upon the land,
The mountain winds are the only voice,
The speech that carries is the rise by inches,
The power gains momentum,
Unseen moisture rises steaming,
Dances with the freight train of pure arctic cold,
And the world is covered in a blanket of purity,
Leavened with just and peaceful respite.

This is the moment the eyes find stark yet beautiful,
Still verdant Spring will come.

All one needs is unbending faith,
Which is easy because you know,
The cleansing power of the snow,
And all the mighty struggle of your steps,
They lead not to death and darkness in the cold,
Nay the silence yields to nature's perfect miracle,
The birth of everything new...

Dennis Kucinich is Winter's Child.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/05/2004

Author's Comments:
Because for the first time in my life, I believe.
www.kucinich.us

Pushin' White:

Post by AquarianM on Feb 3, 2004 at 6:49am

Pushin' White:

Man oh man,
Five inches of heavy white,
Still dusting down a little in greydom,
The drive is deep and it's that thick wet snow,
The shovel is moving steady but slow,
I don't care it's beautiful,
Backache or not I can't help it,
Snooooooow!!!

Yeahhhhh....

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/03/2004

Author's Comments:
And more on the way for Thursday. To only be a child again - oh, wait, I think I still am!!!

Fun House Mirrors...

Fun House Mirrors...

I watch the twists and turns of light,
Like a Fresnel lens of insanity,
A beacon of changing tune,
A hurricane-driven weathervane,
An egoic Super Moon of willful ignorance.

Day-by-day we must wonder and fret,
Twisted upon an impaling spike,
Awaiting a hail of stones,
Yet hoping for the kindness of a shovel and bath towels,
Receiving a schizophrenic cyclone.

We've eaten more trail dust and grime than an ancient cowboy,
Run over by our own cattle,
No real awareness of the deed,
Oblivious to the utterly warped light,
Of these fun house mirrors in every room we inhabit.

E. R. Murrow is spinning hard enough to burst into flames,
Mirroring our sad excuse for truths and portents.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/16/2016

Murdering Home:

Post by AquarianM on Feb 8, 2004 at 11:43am

Murdering Home:

Those of you in big cities might not know,
The little places I used to go,
Sadly you see I'm from a small Midwestern town,
The river runs past it flowing down.

Where I was born - could've sworn, I'd never see such dark days.

Every day another small business closed,
Another family with no place to go,
Another house payment blown,
Another farm that has flown.

Into the corporate sea, slaves to make of you and me.

I heard of a 250 million dollar man,
Quit the job and off he ran,
But the company had to pay,
Bankrupt near two years to the day.

Put the contract down - before your soul drowns.

Send all the cheap TV's,
Right on back overseas,
Where the coolies eat their peanuts miserably,
Even worse off than you and me.

It should have been us pulling them up.

There's a ray of light in the dirty brown sky,
A man who's worked like you and I,
Wants to do what's kind,
And will let everyone live their life.

I'll even give my birthday - to have it Dennis's way.

Look back to where you came from,
Is it dried up and almost gone,
Just broken empty shacks,
That the corporations bull-dozed in the new outback?

They're trying to murder home - but we don't have to let it go.

Where I was born - could've sworn, I'd never see such dark days.
Into the corporate sea, slaves to make of you and me.
Put the contract down - before your soul drowns.
It should have been us pulling them up.
I'll even give my birthday - to have it Dennis's way.
They're trying to murder home - but we don't have to let it go.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/08/2004

Author's Comments:
Today is my birthday - I'm going to go spend it helping Dennis Kucinich's campaign - and fighting NAFTA & the WTO. www.kucinich.com
Take a look, a hard look at all those small towns out there - while you still can, before you forget before the sardine cans.

One Step Over The Rainbow:

Post by AquarianM on Feb 8, 2004 at 3:06am

One Step Over The Rainbow:

They said I'd left the world,
Walked over the rainbow like a ghost,
Senselessly squandering my mind,
All to fade into some passing dream.

I am here, I am hearty and hale.

They were fearful of the rainbow,
Believing it would not hold their weight,
I believe and so I dance upon the sky,
Laughing and inviting.

We are here, we are dancing upon belief.

I point out in serenity,
The steps of this journey,
I gift their names with inclusion,
To walk into the valley of verdant green.

I shall never regret taking one step over the rainbow.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/08/2004

Author's Comments:
On supporting Dennis Kucinich. Seek and you will find belief in the possible.
www.kucinich.us

Touch ‘n Go:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 14, 2003 at 1:10am

Touch ‘n Go:

.... I like the idea, and being much a loner in life...

Willing to witness but never relate
I stand at a distance
Seeking something to force me
Closer to the scene
To a vantage point from
Which only I can view.

....So happy that you want to do this. I was not so much the loner growing up but an Air Force brat that was always slightly detached from wherever I was. Seems like we can relate.

Standing behind this force,
Some invisible shell,
Like a circle of loneliness,
Each time I break through,
A stream of words escape me,
Screaming like a tree fallen in the forest,
Willy-nilly compass of the heart,
Wandering in a leaning circle of blue,
Which trail leads home?

....Moving around every couple of years as an Air Force brat (no comments from the peanut gallery, please) made it difficult to have a sense of belonging. I always felt like an outsider looking in.

Round paths with nothing inside
Just glimpses of the center and
Reaching through this ache to
Find bread crumb clues that may
Be what's needed to get to the
Soul of it all.

....I was about as close to being an Air Force brat as you can get without actually being one, and then for about three years you could argue I was. We moved constantly as kids, no real time to put down roots, always wandering, nothing resembling stability except my grandparents, and no wonder the detachment. You always lost anyone you got too close to living like that - even my grandparents died, my Grandmother when we moved away because Mom's husband was stationed elsewhere, my Grandfather when I myself entered boot camp at Lackland AFB. Everyone else just kind of...faded away.

Wandering through fields of waving grasses,
Nothing in view but their golden height,
The rustle like a million whispers,
Nothing I can really make out but I try,
The meaning of it all beats down on me like sunshine,
Hot and urgent and endless,
Bright as it is I only understand it's there,
Sometimes whispering back at the grasses,
Shocked when I hear a true and honest cry,
The birds lift up en mass,
Thundering wings alluding to my danger,
I freeze in place to catch the scent.

....Always on a different wavelength, new places, new faces, none of the local routines. Always the new kid on the block and gone by the time I got to know you, and then along comes the ol' black magic - love, and they're still dragging us away. I wonder if there's skid marks from the dug in heels?

Wade deeper discover
Pathways hidden chances
Around each corner.
Are your eyes openly
Aware of what surrounds
Secrets lost in feverish joy?

....the letters sometimes kept coming for awhile. The phone was just too much for a single parent to say ok, and then it would come, "dear John dear Jane" how we knew the fires before we found the heat and figured it was better just to turn backs on the flames, maybe read a good book and get lost between the pages.

The discoveries of the heart so fresh and new,
Like the morning dew upon the leaf,
Beautiful and shining and transient,
Or the fall bird singing on the wire,
Only to loft and fly away to warmth,
Just a taste of what could be,
Every time feet are set the Earth moved,
Or was it just my backwards dream?

© Katie Shields/Dan Stafford
09/11/03

By: Katie Shields/Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments

A combination of poetry and personal notes from two migrant children...

Ink Blots...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 14, 2003 at 11:20pm

Ink Blots...

 

For some reason tonight,
I've tried to pry a secret from under the coner bricks,
Of the universe,
Something I've once in a poem been successful at,
Or so I think some nights,
But tonight the well has run dry,
The quill captured by a soulless empty breeze,
So all I could come up with,
Were a few ink blots and a scrawled "Hello friends."

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/15/2003

Author's Comments:
It's just gotten too late and all I'm doing is
yawning. Thinking of you all.

Just A Lost Yellow Brick:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 16, 2003 at 1:26pm

Just A Lost Yellow Brick:

 

Hey, it's not OZ but it's close,
Someplace that only exists in your mind,
They had stock in trade in high volume,
Once upon a time,
And ghosts falling from the windows,
Repetition shadows in the mind,
Sad place old place lost place,
They pulled the stone bulls and roosters down,
Carted them off like trophies,
Just a big gone hole in the ground,
Twenty stories of old Chicago,
Or was it millions I forget,
Anyway there's just broken Earth now,
Caterpillar tracks and busted old bricks,
The ball swung hard and thundered the world,
And the ghosts were chased screaming,
Or maybe they're stuck in the old bricks,
I took one home and set it aside,
1808 in big worn carved letters,
Just a standard size yellow brick,
Obviously made of yellow Illinois clay,
Yeah I own a piece of the old Chicago Merc' today,
But if I forget what it was,
Someday remind me,
Just a lost yellow brick,
But if it had a soul calling it home,
I'd guess it would weep,
Maybe for what was so grand once,
Or maybe because it has a home again,
Or maybe just because someone took a few moments,
And as poets strangely may do,
Remembered it for us all,
And maybe that piece might set the old soul free.

AquarianM

Author's Comments:
300 West Washington is flat dirt now,
and really it's a shame. www.skyscrapers.com/re/en/wm/bu/117342/

The Dearth Pumpkin Chronicles...

The Dearth Pumpkin Chronicles...

The galaxy isn't ready for this empire of evil,

Yet the dark side of the Farce is upon us,

In a cackle of orange mental static,

All the birds are berned,

All the children huddled.

The Alliance is hiding on an asteroid,

Radio silence,

A few lost Hilbot droids forgot the orders,

Ran into the desert trying to fire blasters,

Shot down again.

Bernie Wan is off in the snowy place,

Making plans and gathering the generals,

Watching out for spy drones,

Still dreaming of the future,

Despite a terrible blow from the Hilla The Hut.

Dearth Pumpkin has seized the reins,

Is simply waiting for Barry Obafet to leave the seat of darkness,

That place where the hum of the dark side never ceases,

There where the storm troopers dance on puppet strings,

Where droid drones are sent to electronic death.

There has been a great disturbance in the Farce,

The future looks bleak,

Princess Tulsi is even quiet for now,

But the prophecy says that all things will end,

In the dance of dark and light.

Help us Bernie Wan,

You're our only hope!


​

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11/11/2016

Off Our Butts And Out Where It's Pretty:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 19, 2003 at 12:30am

Off Our Butts And Out Where It's Pretty:

 

Time to get up and go,
This weather is so fine it can't last,
Sunshine eighties at a Fall sunlight angle,
September's closing slowly fast,
The greenery is still green,
The Monarchs are fluttering over the yellow flowers,
Their little yellow-white cousins air-bumping cattail stalks,
Milkweed pods just getting hints of brown and gold,
My t-shirt is caught in the breeze and it feels great,
Stretching our legs my love,
Even with the snappin' cracklin' lines above,
Even with the paved walking path,
The hawk sits on the tower over the garden,
Watching, watching us with steady eyes,
The sky is blue and the redwing blackbirds are flocking clouds,
Alive and twisting in the sky like a living thing,
The dragonflies are rare but here racing by,
The teenagers are walking the paths laughing,
The little kids swinging on park swings,
No couch can hold us,
Nor even the soft old bed,
The wind and trees and sunlight are calling our names,
Let's stroll where the wildflowers are growing,
Let's call the blue sky our Heaven,
Let's hug Summer while she's still home,
Let's get off our butts and out where it's pretty,
Become the new Americans and see the real world.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/19/2003

Author's Comments:
This was the day before yesterday in a nutshell.

Ten Polished Moonstones:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 16, 2003 at 1:23pm

Ten Polished Moonstones:

 

I closed my eyes,
Saw black shiny spheres,
Saw whirling colors,
Saw oil slick rainbows,
Black glass eyes in the middle of the dark,
The jade princess was drawing,
Alone in a garden,
Some sacred thing,
All calligraphy in henna shades,
Encircled by these stones,
Ten black Moonstones,
And from each a moonbeam sprang,
Ghostly pale amber,
Like ladders to the sky,
And I looked up,
Into the light years' distance,
I saw a kingdom of many colors,
Everyone dressed in strange robes,
The princess was crying crystal tears,
That tinkled like bells as they fell,
With a raptured smile on her face,
Painting and painting slow steady and sure,
Delicate strokes like flower petals in a puddle,
Spinning all these hidden dreams,
But you couldn't see past the moonbeams,
And down from the sky,
A crazy old man with skin of coal,
Crazy like a fox I guessed,
Because he held the crown,
I bowed in respect,
To the father of Dreams,
And suddenly forty red princes appeared,
Laughing in their feathers and skins,
They called the Earth child and Mother,
Caring for her with deep joy and light souls,
And I danced with my brothers,
They gave me a gift,
Telling me I was Mother's lost child,
A beautiful winged lady,
Transparent like a ghost,
And an amazing glass pen,
When you looked into it,
You could see everything,
As though through fuzzy glass,
And you could hear the whispers,
Thundering from the Lady's wings,
And thus my family muse came to my side,
And mother Earth called me home,
I fell down between ten polished Moonstones,
The pen was my hand,
And landed in a pillow dream of words,
To wander all my days,
Seeing a different light,
Hearing a different voice,
Some called the voice Poetry,
I still think it's just touches of life,
Light,
Life,
Touch,
Whisper,
Whisper true,
Heart to me to you.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/16/2003

Author's Comments:
Don't mind the wrapper, see the light.

Return My Colors:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 19, 2003 at 3:53pm

Return My Colors:

I saw them waving in the breeze,
Those threads and dyes of freedom,
Pursuit of life, of liberty, of happiness,
Red of courage,
White of purity,
Blue of truth,
They stand for freedom,
They do not belong,
Upon the collars of intolerance,
Upon the poles where heads hang,
In the circle of a lake of tears,
In the halls where our lives are pried open,
Like a clamshell overfed on statute pages.

I want my colors back.

I want those colors to bring tears,
Because they mean a home where one is soveriegn,
Upon the lands we've worked to earn,
Where spies are some dark shadows across oceans,
Or figments in story books,
And no one is disappeared without a trace,
Just upon the say-so of fear's hounds.

I want my colors back,
To wear with pride,
Because they represent a place of good hearts,
And live as you are.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/28/2003

Author's Comments:
Our rights and liberties are critical to the
character and identity of this country. There is no place on
Earth like this place was just two and a half years ago.
I want that place back, and the colors that go with it.

Post by AquarianM on Sep 19, 2003 at 2:14am

Salvation's Rust:

They put the baby in the field,
Cold and quiet-like,
Dust howls by,
The sands grind our teeth,
Only the bones fall slowly,
Time over the river now gone,
Somewhere beyond Eden,
Iron horses and hawks fallen,
Tears on our letters,
The pen at our worried necks,
Give us the quiet lanterns,
Crying behind flapping cotton,
Gifted ink and no lies whispered,
Give us the voices of home,
Send away the cold angry angels,
Give us dear loving friends,
And not some dust deviled sphinx riddle,
Born to hide the shame.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/19/2003

Author's Comments:
Why are we really there? (Iraq)

Clouds of Season:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 25, 2003 at 7:17am

Clouds of Season:

The sky is a patchwork quilt,
Clouds of grey, white, amber,
Bits of broken evening blue,
The sun will soon fall,
The geese and blackbirds,
Honking chirping secrets,
All the gypsy spirits in the sky,
Flowers lie before the pumpkins,
Tomato jesters still charging,
Soybean and cornstalk soldiers slowly turn to gold,
Seagulls engineer reality,
Passing a small pond,
Heron and hawk royalty,
Just give a quiet noble eye,
Soon the last cigar is ash and smoke,
Carried off in a cooling breeze,
Life is drawing inward,
Pulled, whirlpooled,
By voracious falling leaves.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/24/2003

Author's Comments:
I feel fall in my bones.

Outta The Box:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 25, 2003 at 7:05am

Outta The Box:

Don't look over,
Your left shoulder,
When you throw the salt,
Thinkin' by luck,
Your style will always be in,
Tell me what to wear,
To fit in your tribe,
I just can't wade in my vision,
Too far off the edge,
Of your little map,
Made of bits of cloth,
Seven rays of sunshine,
I'm the odd one in the middle,
Just on your advice,
But yesterday I walked my own star road,
And my,
Weren't you,
Strange.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/15/2003

Author's Comments:
Some of the silly stuff people think just because I like to
wear a bandanna in the summer. It reminds me of my youth,
it's fun and attention getting, but it's just a piece of cloth that
keeps the sweat ot of my eyes when I work around all the
phone equipment because it usually is eighty five degrees at work
in the summer.

Grace Hides In Out-Of-The-Way Places...

Grace Hides In Out-Of-The-Way Places...

Is innocence such a dim memory,
Only to be found in flowery script,
Some battered parchment in a long-conquered fortress?

Would Sir Lancelot recognize sweet Guinevere,
Were she cloaked in a business suit,
Creating the fortune of nations?

Time has wound us tight,
Busy with the bother,
Slaves to information overload.

I long for typewriters and quills,
The feel of paper in my hands,
The quiet that falls with darkness that knows only stars and candlelight.

Civility and service are too complex for this age,
They are ghosts that haunt my dreams,
A song my grandparents would sing were they alive.

Perhaps Time is the name of a dragon,
One that slays us without exception or fail.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 11/04/2016

Post by AquarianM on Oct 19, 2003 at 1:29am

Searching For Cygnus:

 

Cold Red Mars receding,
Brilliant and alone,
For the moment ruling,
This land where the shadows won,
Peaceful in the darkness,
The stars, too, set in the West,
Up above the swan flies,
Hunter Orion always follows,
While princess Casseopia cries,
Jet lights way high flashing,
Crossing the Northern Cross,
Do they see my garage light go out?

Chill breezes,
Zippo-lit cigar,
Familiar click and scrape,
Rustling grass in the dark,
In the silence of the dark night,
I pull my jacket about me,
Trying to fit an October Universe,
Smoothly between the lines of a poem,
Sitting in this chair with coffee hot in one hand,
Every sound in town heightened,
Searching for Cygnus like a feast for my eyes,
As one more tobacco smoke ghost,
Coils silently around the corner,
And vanishes into the starry night.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/19/2003

Author's Comments:
Never lose your sense of wonder,
best savored at a deliciously slow pace.

Simple Brass:

Post by AquarianM on Oct 21, 2003 at 5:59am

Simple Brass:

The feel of it smooth in my hands,
The taste of reed in my mouth,
Some piece of life I abandoned far too long,
Battered and old,
Touches of green on gold I'll spend days,
Stressing to find the natural flow,
Remembering infancy and desperation to speak,
It's right as rain and hard as hell,
Wavering cracking squeaking,
Like a teenager trying to sing,
But none of that matters,
Not if I can strike a true note at will,
Someday I'll have different words,
The kind that don't push pictures,
But will break your heart and leave you loving it,
Simple brass but it gleams in spots,
One more bit of polish,
In every hard-earned breath.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/16/2003

Author's Comments:
A touch on picking back up a saxophone after
29 years.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

The Goat Is Dead!

The Goat Is Dead!

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,

Cloudy skies,

Was working instead.

I was asleep,

Last time the Eagles played,

No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,

The Pyramids of Egypt,

No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,

The space shuttle landing,

Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,

Yes I was watching,

The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

The last time,

They couldn't announce it,

radio hadn't been invented yet.

Six-to-six,

In game seven,

Bottom of the ninth it went to ten.

Got rained out,

The tarp was over the field,

It dried up and on they played.

I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

2016,

The Cubs won the Series,

First time since 1908.

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,
Cloudy skies,
Was working instead.

I was asleep,
Last time the Eagles played,
No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,
The Pyramids of Egypt,
No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,
The space shuttle landing,
Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11-03-2016

Author's note:

The Billy Goat refers to a supposed curse on the Chicago Cubs imposed after they wouldn't allow the owner of the famous Billy Goat Tavern to bring his mascot on the field at Wrigley. This one is for you, Lenny "Pops" and Uncle John O'Hara - they waited their entire lives for the Cubs to win the series and missed it by two years. They passed within two weeks of each other in 2014.

The Goat Is Dead!

The Goat Is Dead!

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,

Cloudy skies,

Was working instead.

I was asleep,

Last time the Eagles played,

No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,

The Pyramids of Egypt,

No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,

The space shuttle landing,

Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,

Yes I was watching,

The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

The last time,

They couldn't announce it,

radio hadn't been invented yet.

Six-to-six,

In game seven,

Bottom of the ninth it went to ten.

Got rained out,

The tarp was over the field,

It dried up and on they played.

I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

2016,

The Cubs won the Series,

First time since 1908.

I missed the night of Hailey's Comet,
Cloudy skies,
Was working instead.

I was asleep,
Last time the Eagles played,
No time off I was home in bed.

I've never seen,
The Pyramids of Egypt,
No trail to that ancient dusty land.

Never saw,
The space shuttle landing,
Not a single rocket take off.

But I was there,
Yes I was watching,
The night we learned the Billy Goat was dead.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11-03-2016

Author's note:

The Billy Goat refers to a supposed curse on the Chicago Cubs imposed after they wouldn't allow the owner of the famous Billy Goat Tavern to bring his mascot on the field at Wrigley. This one is for you, Lenny "Pops" and Uncle John O'Hara - they waited their entire lives for the Cubs to win the series and missed it by two years. They passed within two weeks of each other in 2014.

The Family Muse:

Post by AquarianM on Sep 26, 2003 at 3:19pm

The Family Muse:

It's an interesting thing,
When you click "search".

Never knowing what you'll find,
Gifts throughout space and time,
Mysteries and revelations.

The greatest of them,
William the Giant,
He lived with her close day by day,
She leaned on his shoulder with tender golden whispers.

Kim the Giant's Heir,
Walking around his father's incredible ghost,
She brushes kisses on his ear in timely fashion,
And Princess Kit dances sweet moving the world,
Listening to Daddy's Love in timeless abandon and rhythm's power.

The Giant's brood are nuclear,
And the rest of us in the family quiet old TNT,
Lady Judith wanders with her hand in hand,
As they laugh a verse and lay down polished words,
And Dave Sinclair with our family in the midst gets some time,
Whiling away poor dear Norma catches whispers while doing time.

Paul Michael dances with her a jig or two,
Some day I'll see the sweet nothings she left him,
And Patrick P. remembers Lady Di under the gift of whispers,
Immortalizing the beautiful lost candle light in the hurricane,
And there she she danced a well deserved turn,
Yet Clay lies at her feet hearing bits in his dreams,
And David recorded WWII under the force of her gently driven breath.

Jorge is the Crossword Prince twisting out answers under her wing,
And Claire Ann has a subtle spirit of youth which colors her gift,
While Mr. Chris has a turn coming for a whisper soon we'll read,
James speaks to our souls and the twisted path we must walk straight,
As we never forget Simon be it fall upon the lake,
While Jana records the readings yet I bet she'll have her whisper day,
And Donna dash Skar translates January Rainbows and other rare golden delights,
And Barbara lends us pictures of the visions with the poetic way she illustrates.

Georgia Lynn brought us joy and sorrow,
Poor dear couldn't live even with the words,
But she took the time to speak with us before her leaving day,
And so the clan distant and scattered though we be,
She travels light at the speed of light,
A touch here and whisper there,
Busy busy busy but ever a tenacious delight,
The family muse lives on touching the quiet gentle hearts,
All these Staffords in literature and poetry.

What of me did you say,
I think she comes to me missing William,
Because she is often but I've yet to reach Fusion,
She is loving Earth and Sky and heart and cloud,
She led me to start watching over the family,
"Daniel A. please whisper prayers for them upon electric clouds."
My ear is always open to her,
Beautiful Lady Inspiration,
Dancing in papyrus piles and loads of feather quills,
Our dear sweet family Muse.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/26/2003

Author's Comments:
Thank you to Google.com, for what they had to say about "Poetry Stafford."

Last Edit: Sep 26, 2003 at 3:21pm by AquarianM

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Infallible...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 9, 2005 at 12:20am

Infallible...

Some words spark wonder and amazement,
In placement around a human being,
Claiming to know the mind of God is one such statement.

Words on a page were not printed in holy water ink,
And the senses they were interpreted through are a pale translation,
No title of a man makes him greater than every other.

Love one another - that's as infallible as you'll ever be.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 03/09/2005