Enigma

Veil of Death

She had come back changed
There was something about her eyes
The green in them was glowing
Beyond any green most had seen
A bit like two emeralds, large, hard
Her eyes were heavy
With a gravitational field all their own
Anyone who saw them was changed

To hear her telling of the story
One had only to catch her and ask
She was quite easy to catch
Spent most every day in the diner
The days she wasn’t working
She’d come in anyway and sip ice water
Some said that ice water ran through her veins

The veil of death had covered her
For more than fourteen minutes
And for most of the next few days
After her mysterious recovery
She told everyone who would listen
About the dim hallway with the light at the end

A few weeks later though
She got quiet
Pulled
Into the gravitational field of her own eyes

She died for a time and came back to life
Then one day she died again
And she died each and every day since

Winds of Change

swirling, twirling, twisting
the wind’s song is beginning its fatal cry

how I long to hear the sand
as it crunches
under your feet
as you walk on

swirling, moving, roving
wind is whipping at my thoughts
tearing them from their brash safety
devouring each and every whisper

whispering winds’ animation
given life in the songs that they sing
join the great heavenly chorus
the creator of everything

deeper, stronger, harsher
thoughts give life to words
awakening feelings blooming
alive in each moment of truth

great miseries before the altar
as the wind still sings its quiet song
inside and outside and through
tenaciously rowing along

swirling, twirling, twisting
caught in divinity’s flow
alive in perfection’s dark mystery
release and retell what you know

always, forever, and yesterday
blown from the heights of lost peace
wind’s song is blowing in greatness
regain what you choose to release

in the instant between
that last stanza
and this
the heart finds
a moment’s rest
breathing in
the fiery song

song of the wind is pervasive
passionately pulsing along
fire and rain and forgiveness
lost in the notes of their song

the bleakness of his weak shell
awakened in the rouse
hear the quiet refrain
acknowledge this moment to choose

twisted, swirled, and frozen
time, wind, emotions, change
rage has awakened new peace
the universe, now rearrange

perfection of language abounds
in the stillness of terrible refrains
greatness arrives in the silence
this song of the seasons of change

Black

In blackness
He rides the rising tides of evil
Devoid of all colors
But the color of colorlessness

Black moods, black magic
Bleak thoughts, black skies
Into the vacuous depth
Of the blackest night

Oh, ruler of blackness
Set my dark heart free
I long for the colors
That you have kept from me

In blackness
He is the ruling breath of evil
Devoid of all life
But the life that swims in the dark

Cold…
and black.

What it Seems

The elevator, stuck for an hour
The appetite, it wants to devour
A sweet, some tart, or even something sour
As the others on the lift look dour

I pet the furry cat by the wall
He looks up with eyes bright, but small
I wonder for a moment about all
The folks sitting down, standing tall

Thoughts drift to faraway places
Where only love shows on the faces
Bliss and joy chased by the sound
Of the crowds as they gather around

Awakened from this gentle dream
I hear the cat cry a small scream
Nothing is quite what it seems
When the elevator starts to careen

An instant of raw panic flows
As the speed of the box quickly grows
Who knows what this fall will bestow
Or where the elevator now goes

I feel the sandpaper of his tongue
I fall from the place of the dreams
My cat and I look at each other
And realize life’s not what it seems

Habitually

These damned addictive habits
I pick up the phone
	Check for text messages
I just checked two minutes ago
	I want to check again
	Nothing matters more
	It is my fix
	Illusory connections
	Leading nowhere
	Calling me

I want some chocolate
	There’s some in the fridge
	Dark, deep, rich
	Inviting, calling

Last  night, at the gym
	I burned a thousand calories
	Another new addiction

I’ll bury my feelings in a poem
	And switch on the TV
		Check the phone for messages
			Habitually entrenched
				In a useless quest
					For comfort

Dark Visitor

She sleeps soundly most nights
Has learned to tune out the darkness
Detaches from the horror
That visits in the dark

She dreams of honey and flowers
Dances the dance of the faeries
Floats among the puffiest clouds
Detached from the world below

Startled by the lack of breath
She tries to open her eyes
Sees only the utter darkness
Can’t hear her own muffled screams

Drifting back to sleep
Or, she wonders, “Is this death?”
Falling back into the dim hallway
She walks on the way to her dreams

She sleeps soundly most nights
Her conscious mind is unaware of the evil
Blessedly kept safe from the horror
That visits her each night

Another Street

On another street
Out of sight
She wanders

She is the lost antelope
The herd has found new plains
The herd is finding new grasses

She is alone
Afraid yet contrite
Sad yet fulfilled
Wandering the streets
Grazing the plains

A shot rings out
She has fallen

And on another street
The woman stumbles
Struggles to her feet
Pushes her shopping cart

My List

When the days turn colder
And I’m feeling much older
When my list grows short
I’ll make the time to rest

When the nights were longer
I felt much stronger
When my list was full
I found no call to rest

When the time fades away
In peace, I hope to stay
When my list runs out
Rest will surely come

When the days turn colder
And I’m feeling much older
The breaths will then cease
Now home, I’ll find release

Shadows Embraced

Embracing the shadows
A walk in the dark
Whistling past the tombs
Trudging through the swamp

I watch the housefly
Colliding with the closed window
Seeking the light beyond
Trapped in my peaceful stronghold

Opening the windows
Opening all my doors
Breezes clear the fog
And the housefly escapes
Into the broadening blue of a clearing sky

A Real Fucker

So there was this guy I knew
Tom

Tom was a pretty good guy
At least to me
But to the ladies
He was a real fucker

He had this idea
That the whole world
Sorta turned
Around his very large head

Tom drove a Chevy
He rarely washed it
It smelled of smoke
Pall Malls, non-filtered

He went to the same haunts
Most every night
Gene's Place over on 7th
And the Mid-Town Pool Hall

Tom was pretty good at pool
Better than me
Until after about 10:00 that is
When the Gordon's would kick in

I never really understood
Why otherwise smart women
Capable and clever
Would fall for his shit

But they did
Over and over
And he'd take them to his ratty apartment
On 9th Street, above the liquor store
And he'd fuck em

And most every morning
Around 11:30
He'd call me
Friendly and cordial
And tell me of his adventures

I knew he exaggerated
But I also knew his stories were rooted in truth
Most every night
He'd find a new mark
Take her home, and fuck her

Tom was nice guy
But he a real fucker

I'm glad I knew him
It was fun to live vicariously
But even better
To learn by his example
Not to be a fucker

For information on other works published by Stevie Ray Robison:

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