escape

escape

8-4-2012

while you escape from me 

i am bitter with forgiveness, 

you will never visit

and i am left bewildered

do i reign my horses

or let them loose over plain,

like thunder with our cries

like beauty in blue skies

perhaps we will know

whether it was meant to be

or if you did not equal me,

trudge on traveler weary

your only voice lies in an image

i am not even sure that you exist,

i am apt to dream fantastically

and memory is an elegant lie

the stars watch as we question

our very existence, our option

whether to plunge a sweet blade

or taste the breath of life's aid

one thing remains for us here:

to live as we have never done

for many wish to be free, gone

yet trap themselves under cone

one thing remains to be discussed

heated arguments fill our blood

and words spoken, heart flood

will we ever sustain our drown out

rising seas and scouring resources

the real answer lies behind struggle

chasing something we do not want

products we need to buckle, taunt

meet me where the sun hits cement

i will be lying there in suspense

hoping my mind's eye sees clearly

or if i am lied there by angels

the future unknown is clear

but a sharp picture of our past

do we hold dear to our bier

shift the engine, work the gear

i am no prophet, but a seer

James P McCabe

embrace

embrace

8-3-2012

i feel your embrace

and the conjunction of memory

sweeping me free,

living painfully

no restraints or limits

but what are walls

erect, replace and rebuild

leave me to run uphill

good, cause your face

i may never replace

but will surely find its mate

in another time, place

how beautiful your caress

when you lie at your best

and cease to interrupt rest,

moments like ruby gems

if only we were always alike

and not asleep during the night

I would never have to write

or make jokes to spite

and the moon fills the night sky

covering everything in shadow,

or delicate moonbeam like dream

I have been sucked dry, lifeblood all

bring me to another time

where we dance and skate away

with nothing but our youth

children til this very day

i imagine past landscapes

and wish to construct it all

but am left wondering withal:

where did our innocence fall?

was it like a tree split into fours

or screaming inaudibly behind doors,

the evolution of time and freedom

mind dozing , jab the inoculation

a delicate and wonderful past

will make our future to enact,

and if we live free under no pact

we may yet call ourselves a fractal

coalescing and descending beautifully

we become one as a starlight mix

no one will ever hear our moans

or our death cries in night alone

we have but data to hold together

our own worlds, our thoughts

and we are lost in a binary spout

of which it holds almighty clout

there is no god but a computer

hidden inside a delicate plastic shell

waiting for my bloodboil hell

to rip and reconstruct its well

James P McCabe

a hole in my heart

a hole in my heart

6-1-2012

insp. Schubert - Allegro moderato

there was a cold winter

with bitter rain, all froze

a favorite tree of a boy,

split equally in fours;

a thunderous noise, its fall

he overstepped his fallen brethren

and wondered if ever his heart could fill

or else wander forever until he decayed

and pondered how else to fill this hole;

years passed until he felt complete

the young sapling grew from his father

(a giant maple or oak split in fours)

and grew as quick as the boy (year by year)

until one day it stood the height it once was;

the man, no longer a boy, rejoiced that day

but this time was not to pass at present

for the young sapling was developing,

growing and multiplying its forearms rapidly

and who knew if ever its growth would cease;

the young man grew uneasy at the tease

this heart had begun to fill once more

with the rapid extension of tree limbs,

yet something was never quite right-

would he see young trunk to fruition?;

he could perhaps wander forever

his future unknown, like the oak

he dreamed of success and rapid ascendance,

all he could do was dream- nothing more

for who knew when he would be satiated;

his past habits did not satisfy wholly

a light he saw before him

questions, answers intertwined unfolded

before his very eyes but short-sighted was he

and not able to perceive the nature of knowledge;

bewildered, he stumbled through valleys

though exhaustion claimed his senses

he could but reach out with long limbs,

drawing the world with his fingertips

the expansive maze grew clearer;

few truths dawned on his young mind

-                                                                        James P McCabe                                           Part 1 End

lying in wait

lying in wait

5-30/31-2012

here I am, lying in wait

for a magical mistress

she may bewitch me,

I am happy she can;

now I miss her so

for the ones that lay

beneath fire sheets with me-

a lucky few seen gift,

how different is reality;

how glad am I to live

I wish she would grant me:

free reign over her curved torso,

passage to conquer her wholly

now all fade...

the morning is our time to shine

maybe one day we will know

if ever love was as strong as ours,

or if we kid ourselves on long nights

the tempest changes course instantly...

and I am left bewildered in the wake

in my mind, I may fly anywhere

rest atop a mountain then sail to sea

even find myself knelt beside she

for even if our time was short (long)

it shan’t be forgotten, like our expressions

I don't know if ever she will climb me

or if she will understand what she had,

but I can guarantee that many passages

written and unwritten- are given a voice;

unlike my desires throughout the year

she may grow tired of me, annoyed even

but I will claim that when she lies before another

her mind will linger to our long nights

her poor memory will retain some details...

her heart will remember all that passed

if I could mail a letter to past partner

she would receive it kindly, and with luck

may she proceed through this life undeterred

and reverent to past loves (she still knows me);

was I ever unchanged from birth

James P McCabe

the best most createst

the best most createst
3.19.2012

the best most createst man lived in a small room
with dusty cobwebs his neighbors,
and a stuck, dry room to call his own;
his bed was shaped like a flattened rock
and he slept upon it, smiling smock

that many moved out of his smallest room
to a larger room, with ventilation, upstairs
he could maybe claim another in his bed;
was glad to receive a good herb instead
and happily, humbly took his stay

a sailor’s cap he had donned, white
and wore a collared-shirt, white
but wore black soles underneath feet;
destined for his peddling or walking
he knew the town, inside and out

friends’ willing hands eagerly treated decor
and one’s wrists whipped dust from the floor
his would-be lounge was empty and clean;
the elevation of his mind was grinning mean
and eyes, half-open, gleam beneath pink lids

soon work would give him little respite
from a, at times, grim and bleak light
his friends were close as thread on spool;
and willing to throw in with a greenish hue
or a magenta, blanketed inside of capsule

James P McCabe

delectable

delectable

2-18-2012

old friends, family and food

make an inspired, delectable mood;

oh the stories to tell

and history to recount-

we grow again together

with great thoughts roaming

am left wondering alien landscapes:

where to go with legs energetic

spinning wildly through time/space-

love denoted beauty on face

new names and features,

how eager the ear to listen

when among good company;

now fly free white bird

sail over foreign cloud absurd

the future is unwritten by a

thousand scribes divining why,

forever pondering in flight;

my the wings now outstretched

and bruises left to heal

and an open wound is unsown

my very heart I may disown

yet its feelings I cannot ignore,

nor the ceiling to stare at from floor;

many paths winding, future finding

mood climbing or wanderers' timing

with exactness the deliverance of victory-

spent frugally or anonymously

each event shares its importance;

whether cut short or prolonged with short notice

-

"his discolored, sallow eyes gazed deeply into.."

"eternity, which stretched forever onwards..."

"groping fingers for crag on precipice found little.."

"great hope grew beneath an exhausted demeanor..."

"he climbed until the sky knighted his shoulders with mist..."

"and walking through the clouds, great revelations came..."

"a figure appeared before him dressed in white gown..."

"his failing eyes grew watery with the divine sight..."

"hope sprang inside his stolid heart, and he wept..."

"four miniscule droplets of vapor dotted his every pore..."

"raising his hands upward, he walked through stratus and cirrus..."

"and just as he thought the journey's enlightenment was done..."

"the descent over a green valley, wide and fertile, waited for him..."

"he sprang into the jungle with every inch of skin devoted to explore..."

"the humid atmosphere enveloped him, body and soul, completely..."

"she waited with feet tapping, mind wondering and wandering..."

"her dream man was suffering gradually, though he enjoyed the cadence..."

"his shorn face and inebriated mind welcomed all experience..."

"many of them waited for his call, one day, to summon and live..."

"though weary, he pressed ever onwards, knowing the awards ahead"

James P McCabe

Today

today

12-30-2011

today

writing a list of

items to complete

exhaust muscle

ready for relax

I think of her

night and day

memory relay:

glorious essence

we are one

-

what good is skill

when deceiver

proved innocent

told wrong

what is right?

here, I have expertise

in showing you after

life and with ease

do I navigate stream

or web, large dream

her unconfidence

and devout weakness

unsettles the sand;

live for the ripple

dive in pond

for sure I will bolster

your ego insecure,

ask what you feel-

if you are comfort

show you are       able

much done in a week

now I desire little:

rest and do as want

for none can tell

what lies within

a journey unfolds

in memory fold:

I am walking

you, berating the sun

both at ease

James P McCabe