mike fuerstenau
POEMS
"Truth is like freedom, it doesn’t fool me.
Be true to yourself, never think that you’re free.
Dharma will come eventually."
-Jethro Tull-
If You're Listening
A September sky
deeply set, reminiscent blue
warmed my heart and
reminded me of you.
A cloud fluffed white
and sunset laced,
your hair tainted grey,
full of grace.
It has been a while
since you've gone.
No more stories
no happy songs.
Cigarette in hand
wine in glass,
you blessed my future
by enchanting my past.
Though seldom said,
If you're listening,
I love you very much.
Smack Into The Fire
burning madness
churning desire
heartmelt obsession
run to the fire
a
sway in the breeze
a whitecapped river
a landslide vice
like a festering sliver
your
head in the clouds
feet off the ground
so fucking high
you'll never come down
so
welcome the heat
hug the flames
can't shake the monkey
can't break the chains
that
bind your soul
slave you to the sire
sends you dead sprint
smack into the fire
A Queen's Throne
Heavens fractured
Bleeding dread
Demons dancing
Boredom bred
Hade’s armies
On steed, instead
Formless faces
Haunt her head
Daybreak rides
An iron sled
Sleep disrupted
Mordred bred
Through forest thick
Past dale dark
Toward fissure’s edge
She disembarks
To slay her past
Fillet the fears
Dispel regrets
Reclaim the years
Transpose moments
In regal manner
Quiet all chaotic chatter
Hoist anew a peaceful banner
October 8, 1682
Running through the bloodied field
Glory on his heels.
His mother’s prayers and God’s hot breath
His weapon and his shield
Thunderous booms and wailing screams
Drown every fear or doubt
A mission meant for slaughter
Tuned deaf to deathly shouts
The principles he fought for
Lie fractured in a grave
Buried under bullets
and souls who won’t be saved.
Every glimpse of horror
Every curdled obscene sound
Cousins fighting cousins
Brothers scattered on the ground.
Smoke so thick it chokes the sun
The trees succumb to lead
Beneath the shattered limbs of time
angels weep collecting dead.
His feet compelled to carry forth
A mind to act alone, to
one day kill that President
and send these soldiers home
But Perryville befell his plans,
Embattled bitter sons
ending lives and slaying worlds
At nearly one for one.
Ending lives beneath His eyes,
a Nation come undone.
Fireflies
It’s only mid May but it’s hot and humid
and soon the fireflies will flash about
the old knee-high ferns and dense hostas
growing untamed beneath the sturdy ash trees
out front. Soon, we’ll be sitting on the stoop with
mosquitos zzzzz’n past our ears and cold sweat
dripping down a pair of cocktail glasses
filled with Beefeater and lemonade
forming two cool puddles on the warm cement.
Maybe, for old times sake, we’ll stain the
mossy, stale air with the rich clinging aroma of
a shared cigarette. And, when the winking flash
of those fireflies catches my eye,
I’ll know our secrets are safe.
Beneath the bellowing rumble of semis
on the expressway and the chatter of crickets,
the streetlight will cast a gentle glow on your
perfect cheeks, and your determined eyes will
twinkle mysteriously, accenting your easy smile,
and I’ll thrive in your affirming laugh while
we talk softly...
'Let's ignore our curfew, the babies are asleep,
let's celebrate the moment’s pureness,
defy time, hold hands like teenagers
and kiss.'
I can’t wait to taste your soft lemonade lips.
You will impress me and I will marvel
that you brought us two angels who snore in
heavy sighs and laugh in such fits of tickled
ecstatic joy that I am thankful they will
never remember the day they were born or
the three months after that, or most of 1998.
We will forever tote their infancy as a chest of
frightening and fond memories, so many stories
to share with them - summers worth of conversation
on the front stoop. And, when the winking flash
of those fireflies catches my eye,
Our stories will be told.
Whistling Contempt
Epicurean freedom
love embraces;
tangled sneers, of
dying faces.
Condor glides
Moonlight hides
behind the wall of
eternal correction.
"I bought myself a day off"
A nation cries in dogged pain,
Barmaids welcome pouring rain,
high priest nods in disdain,
fuck you sir - I pride my name.
A mother's quote - unholy; snide,
Jim and Jeff have shortly died,
I give my belly - my crispy hide,
boundless mirth - let's quickly ride. . .
Through The Trees
In the dark
in the woods
in the fall
comes a call.
A pitchy buzz
a throaty groan
a shadow beast.
On doubt it feasts.
The teenage girl
the misspent youth
a lonely one
out on the run.
She won’t escape
the things she’s done
she can’t outrun
the rising sun.
Surrender spikes
a rousing cheer
whet with hope
devoid of tears.
In near defeat
on bended knee
blind to all she could achieve
she receives,
Through the whisper
of a falling snow
by grace of God’s
own hand bestowed
a chalice poisoned
with enmity, or
a future filled with
serenity.
Her trespasses.
Those against her.
A choice to forgive.
Permission to live.
Beyond the past
beyond the sea
beyond the dawn
through the trees.
October Someday
The wishing winds come breezing in
Sweeping leaves from off the limbs
Of stubborn trees that cherished them
Now cast aloft in atrophy
Brittle grasses dance in kind
To melodic whims of winds sublime
and lilting cattails waltz in time
Across a prairie so divine…
Her midlife eyes, soft hazel-green
absorb the perfect Autumn scene.
a dreamlike state so serene
out beyond the coffee’s steam
that rises with the morning sun
dispelling of the night
evaporating morning dew
an affirmation, all is right
A moment filled with wonderful
and flowing so entirely
that sun and moon and stars and breath
belong to her especially
Dusk To Dawn
Behold the death of regal dusk
Foretelling awe of dawn.
Secret joys and callous mourning
Buried by the crickets’ song.
Ash wood embers fiercely hot,
Flames lick the dewy night.
Spirits fill an empty head.
The battle’s lost, but not the fight.
Demons linger at the gate
Coyotes howl and whine.
Temptation, fear and abstinence
Fall prey to false sublime.
Sirens sing their lulling songs
The prince cannot resist,
A cold, hard sword of self-deceit
Jabbed deep within his chest.
Brave bold knight called Recompense,
Stands guard his flippant Lord
A guileful wretch of meager worth
In deaf-blind haste was born.
The woe of sinful lust dispatched,
Sunlight’s golden hue is cast,
Refreshed and blessed and bittersweet,
Freed from self and free at last
Behold the pithy wake of dawn,
Bereave the despot's fling.
Songbirds take to lovely wings
to weary eyes, awakening.
Ghost Writing
In the window up above
the palette of the night,
where shadows black and
violet deep impair the gift of sight.
Tremblors flick a wishing glow
cast upon a lonesome light,
dreams and doubts and fears and hopes,
ambition burning bright.
The pen rubs fast and furious
across the paper white,
fingers like synapses trigger
words that fit just right.
Her satin gown of solitude
belies her sense of might,
as letters sweet like kisses fall,
her soulful song takes flight.
The magic of the mourning
whispers from the afterlife.
Note of Thanks
The walls bare,
My heart empty.
I sat on the floor weeping.
A cold beer in one hand;
Trembling pen,
hating your picture
smiling defiantly from
above the television.
Why did you leave?
I'm glad you've
gone and left
the television.
I'll visit the
Huxtables tonight,
have another beer
with Cliff and Norm.
Always you hated
the television,
hated bare walls.
Thank you for leaving
the television.
Chagrin Winds
The winds blew in
To my chagrin
And stripped the
ash trees bare.
October mourn
bequeath the storm
a million leaves
bejewel the air.
Rains like knives
Pierce the skies
palettes graying
Golden fare.
A pauper’s life
The joy, the strife
A stage of souls
ascend the stairs.
to leap at faith
On silver wings
and pluck the strings
Of winds’ chagrin
Unfinished
So many stories
Never quite finished
So many poems
Well on their way
Thoughts thrown on paper
Ink by the gallon
Time is a bandit
That steals the day
The zeal to purge
The demons and fairies
Plumb deeper than dreams
Chase the obsessions
Give life to the letters
Dispel with reason
The voices and visions
Unleash true confessions
Trapped in the period
Tangled in fear
Ambition was murdered
The pen lies still, here.