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 Sep 2016 david mungoshi
Darkly
There are some who may prefer a cloudless sky and the touch of a warm sun. These hearts are similar climates, and you may find them at no great distance from the equator.

Not mine.

My love is for the sedge and moss covered upland of frozen lakes, where the cold white blanket covers the steppes. Peace is found here, among the ice and whispered within the biting gale as it travels over her skin.

Her chill breath touches me, and I am not driven away.
For within my chest beats a fire as black as space between the stars.

And I go unclothed, as the caribou carry me across the frozen land.

I am the horned god.
Like I said. Frayed hair dipped in barbecue sauce. I can't even.
 Sep 2016 david mungoshi
L B
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult.  I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.  

Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania.  Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxK3CcOQD8
To be without you

Means nothing to want

Attention.

Seems I'm jaded...

My eyes are Abyssinian

Searching for red laser

Point

On the walls,

On pedestrian faces,

And none will ever

Ever do.

But to be without you

Means I am

Nothing.   Wanting  

Attention

Nothing     Wanting

You.

Are you in them rivers

In these herds?

These lakes of

                     Lips

Kissing the silence of melancholy?

Means nothing

To want

Your poetry

Feeling much much more

Than

Pedestrian.
I have set my heart to rest in the palms
Of so many others, each a spiralling hate
grown from the echoes of differences
but I guess I've come to regret my mistakes.
I have loved as much as I have lost
Watched the tides take love from me like a kite
caught between the drifts of stormy winds
Just hoping that one day things will be alright.
Maybe I trusted myself with too many others,
screamed 'here take a piece of my heart...
do what you want with it because I trust you
Not to ever break it into pieces and parts'.
I never did learn, what it was like to not trust
And I guess doing so, I drew the short end
of a twisted stick, just some sick game to those
Who saw it fun to break hearts over and over.
I look around, I see people filled with life
Filled with joy, I look at a mirror and I see
a desperate cry for help that goes unheard
because of all the things unsaid like simply
'I love you and I hope you do too'.
I guess me...and others...we weren't meant to be
We weren't meant to ever be lovers.
So I write this dedicated to those who I've loved...
And those who I have lost.

'A part of me will always remember what we had
And you might not think you had an impact
But I guess you gave me a piece of myself I never
knew that I ever had.

You have a piece of my heart-
And you can keep it;
I won't need it where I'm going...'


From: Someone you once knew, and someone who needs to forget.
take me to the mountains
where my spirit can roam
take me to mountains
so I can walk on their welcoming loam*

in the mountains the birds sing
such a sweetness of song
this is the rightful place
for my heart to belong

deeply seeded within the soul
the mountain's beautiful hues stay
when I'm amid the fall colours
my joys happily parlay

take me to the mountains
where my spirit can roam
take me to the mountains
so I can walk on their welcoming loam

the mountains call me
with a returning refrain
oh how wonderful being
back home in this domain

for too long I've been absent
from the mountains I treasure
everything about them
has a sheerness of pleasure

take me to the mountains
where my spirit can roam
take me to the mountains
*so I can walk on their welcoming loam
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