It's after midnight on the sixth year after you inaugerated
the shattering of my heart, and I'm not thinking about the way
you held me in the palm of your long-fingered hand nor looking
for those letters I saved somewhere in a cardboard box,
but rather realizing how murdering the memory of you

didn't quite end the sense of your breath in my ear
nor your stroking of my leg that night before the taxi came
and took you permanently away from me.

You'll never know the way you lived in my cells . . .
Nor the way I used to gaze at the stars to feel close to you--
same stars, same old moon tonight -- reminding me

how small and alone I am, no one filling my pores
with hot, yearning music, no one carrying me
where I've never been before nor wanting to jump the fence
into my yard . . . Oh, this holy life in an expanding universe

where it's after midnight on the eve of a fading dream
of the impossible. I'm learning, at least, to sleep eyes open,
although I still sleep naked as if I were immune to the cold . . .

This body eclipsed so long, it's as though the world's turned dark.
And now the languid stretch of limbs, wanting the feel
of anything . . . even if just feeling my textured, soft skin.

(c)2007  Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This is one of the early ones when I first began experimenting with laying the music behind the poems.  Some shades of the music exist in another one, and I'll either change this one or that one.  Meanwhile, here is "Bad Lover," with the hope you never experience one.  But if it happens, well . . . write a poem . . .

---

(c) 2005 binnings  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

I wrote this poem shortly after the Downing Street memos were reported -- awhile back.  It is in my combination here titled Political Propaganda, but now I've decided to set it up here alone.  (My poems are mostly still packed away; that's why the poem's words aren't visible here.)

I've heard that political poetry fades when the issue is resolved.  But gosh, today it's hard to believe we live in a democracy when the dog on top kicks crap over all others except those who feed him treats. 

Brainwashing.  Last year at this time when I was awaiting my brain surgery and Sharon was como-ed out with his stroke, I was watching a lot of TV since I was supposed to do anything strenuous (that is just about nothing so my there'd be no interior-head explosion.  It was clear that a lot of people were coming out of the Cave, i.e. Plato's Cave. 

When it had become clear that the U.S. was going to Iraq, I began researching to find out why since all the puzzle pieces weren't fitting logically together.  I expected to find a good, solid answer.  Nope, I found seriously nasty answers.  Depressing, aggravating, frustrating, ugly.  The Downing Street memos were just one more nail in the sociopathic coffin.

How were all these people who encourage or make terrible decisions raised?  Raised to be sociopathic . . . psychopathic?

Anyway, I wrote this political poem in a little state of irritability given the news of the Downing Street memos.  Soooo, it is . . . my irritable poem??

I wish I knew who the person I'm quoting in the poem is.  I found it as an anonymous quote.  I'd love to give that wise person credit!!

P.S.  There's a Downing Street memo webpage here: http://www.afterdowningstreet.org  -- and another here: http://www.downingstreetmemo.com/  

Here are the words . . . .

sow a thought; reap an act...sow an act; reap a habit...sow a habit; reap a character; sow a character; reap a destinty, someone wise person once said....being sensible is not the same as being overcautious...being reckless is not the same as being courageous...being stubborn is not the same as having conscious resolve....blind faith is not the same as confidence...; getting the answer you want is not the same as the Truth.......when a leader fixesintelligence and facts around a policy...?
 Lead time 90 days . . .Use forces already in theatre ...lies, lies, lies . . .sow a thought, reap and act, shed blood....
sow an act; reap a habit . . .

(c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This is "Birds." 

Since my aneurysm., most of my stuff is packed away, and I'm not sure where the poem is.  I'll pop it up here as soon as it turns up for me. 

It's a little different . . . maybe . . .

(c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This has been perhaps the most challenging year of my life.  It began with the knowledge that it was not to be long before my head was cut open and a bypass done in my brain.  --That is, if I was accepted as a patient by Dr. Spetzler.  You know how oftentimes we make New Year's resolutions that we tend to forget and not fulfill . . . well, this year has not held much of the unfulling part of the resolutions. 

The one thing I understood was that the best thing I could do was to be as healthy as possible to come through the surgery favorably.  It turned into three surgeries . . . and funny how for months afterward, I thought my head would smooth out & feel normal again.  Ha!  Now I know a bumpy head is a little reminder that will always be there, even when my hair has all grown out & covered it up.

My resolution for this year is to grow stronger and more self-sufficient.  I'll hang onto the 2006 resolutions of being as healthy as possible also . that is healthy physically, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually.   I suppose that keeping that health-orientation will help me to fulfill my goals of strength and self-sufficiency. 

Perhaps the greatest lesson of 2006 has been that Nature rules!