Never an another

Here I type on this blog spot,

The other it may be seen,

by the ones I care not 

to be in on this scene. 

Some things I need to let out,

The previous poem was clear

Of what it was all about

The things we hold dear.

The more people I meet

The more people I know

It would a great feat

To bring the high to low.

Wanting and yearning,

The only true way

Is with age and learning

That there will become a day.

The time to join the missed,

To reap the rewards,

Or have we just been dissed?

Earthbound as cowards?

A nothing to store,

a spec of dust,

Nothing more,

than part of a crust. 

Will there be life ever after?

Peaceful, unlike the vampires?

Blissful, spiritual and Holy

Like the girls around a campfire?

Why do I talk to them still?

Am I crazy, INsane?

Do they talk to me at will?

Do you think it'll rain?

I need answers,

Will I go somewhere

If I am eaten by panthers?

Does anyone care?

I miss who I miss,

I have who I have,

All have some of one,

One had all of some. 

Maybe one day,

There will be one,

To make me happy,

As some to be as one.

Deep Water Friends

DEEP WATER FRIENDS
(4-5-08)

Deep Waters,
Shade the sadness within.
So much pain,
Seen and Unseen.
Confusion and Regret,
Altering reality,
All part of her being.
So much in Common,
So much unforseen,
She carries her life,
With Great Burden.
I’m not going to save her,
I’m not in that business anymore.
She’ll save herself,
Through the Samson I know dwells inside her.
When the smile and laughter,
Come out of the Clouds,
It lifts both our souls.
If only for a moment,
The Deep Waters Brighten,
And the Friendship itself,
Deepens.

One, two, three
Look at me!
I have too much in store
But I always want more.

Not one can suffice,
sill not all can either,
However hard to entice
Still wanting neither.

Living life in its grandiere,
Holding on to everything dear.
You never live twice,
That is the greatest fear.

Get it while you can,
missing the opportunities,
the ones from the past,
Regrets will haunt your day to last.

Destiny will prevail,
If meant to be,
Or settle to be real,
From one not three.

Dust in the Wind

People come, born
Into our lives
Most are adorn

To fade away
Into oblivion
Among the world
We are still living in.

Not knowing what has become
What they are,
If they are even one.

The next chapter follows.
With anticipation expects.
Too what it always allows,
from the realms of the suspects.

We must plant the seeds,
In which we will harvest.
In fact it will indeed
Be the truth of the invest.

Hoping and competing
Everything is a sport
Where everyone is stampeding
To wear white in the court.

Cross your fingers for me!

I finished a query letter for a novel I finished editing Saturday, and I submitted it to a prestigious New York literary agency. I really hope this goes well, and felt it worth sharing with my fellow writers. =)
TTFN

wwht... on Lock Down!

Recently I've discovered that the internet is, indeed, a frightening place. You never can tell who someone really is when they're sitting behind a monitor.

I've run across some pretty bizarre behavior recently and, I'm sad to say, because of it I have to lock down wwht...

Only the authors are allowed to view this blog.

If any of you have any questions, leave a comment here or send a message to me through MySpace. Don't hesitate to ask for even a second!

river

It must be very easy for you

to always play to the river,

to just brush it all aside,

at the final moment.

Like running a hand through your thick, dark hair

before another chip is thrown.

Do you see me as I see me?

An equal player, deserving of my buy in?

I can match you, I won't fold.

I hardly proceed with trepidation.

So then, how is it so easy?

Is it the game you like to play?

Is it in the cards you draw

from your magicians wrist?

That flick of the wrist

so quick

so slight

and you're gone, poof.

And I'm left applying glue

to your house of cards.

Why does it get prolonged so?

We should have folded

and backed away from the table

but we get so involved, it becomes a disgusting display

and we always play

to the river.

GREETINGS ALL!

Just letting you all know I'm still around!
I have some news about myself I thought I'd share.
As of a couple days ago, I have completed the first draft of my book entitled "Death By Mistress"!
I'm excited to have finally finished it, and am working on editing and rewriting.
Now, I just have to find a publisher worthy of my talent. (LOL)
Hope ya'll have a wonderful superbowl Sunday!

D.

f(r)iend

A wrinkle on your finely tailored shirt,

A fly on your vast white-washed wall.

Fine, I'll sit and behave and merely observe, as usual.

Don't boast to me anymore, however

Don't lift yourself to heavenly heights that you cannot possibly reach.

Don't become the despised and hated one.

Remember, I'm observing

It may be a mere gesture

but its usefulness extends beyond

what your narrow mind is capable of.

You can drink all the wine you'd like

flaunt your so-so society wares and

fake it all, if you want

just stop doing it in front of me.

I have my ways.

I never pretended to be nice.

It may come back to you, ten fold.

Vigilante.

we've given up.
the hurly-burly is done,
but the battle was lost.
the scarred battlefield
is strewn with the corpses of
soldiers mindlessly sent to death.
this skirmish was a Holocaust;
those lost were innocent.
the faces of pure children
lay mottled in the field
where blood was spilled like rain.
there's no point anymore
in their fighting the inevitable.
we must submit to the
vicegrip of the dark-angel
observing from above.

in the center of the
massacre lies a pile,
a mound of the dead
sacrificed to the above.
on top of this altar
lies the great leader of heraldry.
blood seeps from his mouth
like water to feed the
roots of the flowers.
flies buzz about his face
awaiting putrefaction,
hoping for decay.
and his eyes--
so pure, so delicate!
so fierce and strong!
his eyes are locked upon
the sky. that is where he
belongs--above such
shame, such travesty.
but that dark-angel,
laughing from a heaven
that is wrongfully his:--
he has triumphed for evil,
and the good are
left behind, left
in this field to rot,
forever.

What we know

Sing a song of honesty
A pocket full of lies
Listening when you speak to me
The truth in your eyes

Sing a song of time together
Pretending things are fine
Too frightened to change the status quo
Admit the truth’s that mine

Sing a song of here and now
The words you long to say
What we have is not enough
Will wait another day

Sing a song of reality
We’ll drift along a while
Until we see what we already know
Hidden behind the smile

Come and Gone

One more Year
has came and went
No I won't shed a tear
As a resolution is sent

Glad to say Good by to 2007
Hoping for better things to come
A decade of a man being in Heaven
He is better off says some.

Water & ice are melting
The polar icecap could be
the Earth tuning & shifting
'Fore everything becomes the sea

Just when things get better
They may get worse
Start riding horses again
Time will go in reverse

The world will begin again
REfresh and start anew
For the selected fittest
The survival of the few.

NOt in your lifetime
Or So you just say?
It's not like we commited a crime
Just ask the buried in Pompei.

painful as a gunshot, precise as a pinprick.

Pavlov rings his bell
ever so delicately
Pavlov drags me along
though I yearn to be free
and every sensation
with laser precision
haunts all that I do
an indelible derision

but even though Pavlov released me
long ago, before a world anew
all that I do and all that I see
feels, hurts, rings like that little bell
louder than the solace of time

Poetry on Tuesday! 12-4-07

REDEMPTION
12-4-2007


The reality of growing old,
Is one that haunts our thoughts.
We change our age,
Ignore our ailments,
Sit back,
And watch,
As others pass on to grace.
Funerals,
Don’t get so hard to attend.
Distance forms,
Between ourselves,
And the ones we love.
We can blame it on our work,
Or our absentmindedness,
Or some addiction,
And continue the walk of our choosing.
Soon you find yourself,
In that place of dread.
Loneliness abounds,
Fear strikes us,
Reality lands upon our head.
How can I go back?
The answer is simplicity itself.
Me.
I had the mind to follow this path.
I have the mind to turn around,
To follow it back.
It may get ugly on the way,
But Redemption,
Is not for the light of heart.
My mind won’t be haunted for long.

Bodies in Motion: A Double Dose of Prose

I

Eyes locking across the room
beckoning with one slow smile
bodies joining
heat rising
silk slides off
lace merges with satin
tumbling
falling
breath catching
sighing
limbs interlacing
eyes rolling back
overcoming scent
a burst
sudden silence
lazy laughter
desiring more
never fully sated.

~

II

It's all in the way you move
which fills me up
slows me down
never ending
creating that heat
we're craving
in one second
unifiying.

© Copyright 2007 Kathleen M. Wehrstedt. All rights reserved

The Writer

I need a muse

(The writer mused)

I've been betrayed

My mind is frayed

I've lost my touch for words.

Goodness only knows

What is a poet

Without his prose?

Upon the early morn,

Heavy lidded

And beard unshorn

I spied an angel

In the mist

The glow of sun

Would gently kiss

A golden curl upon her cheek

Eyes of blue, piercing, deep.

Oh! To call out to her

To run to her and reach

To touch that fairest

Softest of cheeks!

Those golden curls!

Unforgettable such entrapment would deem

My fingers could only dream!

Forage around the betrayal of my mind

I need peace and woe is mine

In the depths of the darkness there is something there

Burning and burning without hesitation or care

I do feel the warmth,

It encircles me

And quill to parchment

Finally beckons me.

I have become one with the words,

The world is on fire

For this fair maiden

Fuels my only desire.

Thank you, dearest one

Your kindness cannot be outdone

Within the scope of my imagination

You will always be immortal,

Not a centerpiece of infatuation.

lies upon lies.

building upon a foundation of nothing
the artisan's work collapsed.
surprise?--no, it makes sense.
for one cannot build something on nothing,
even if nothing has a facade
a veneer more glorious than even reality.
but that's what i did, foolishly misled
by the lying face of nothing, your nothing.
and though i tried to manifest
this nothing into something, still it
remained blank.

and nothing has changed, except now--
this tower has come crumbling down,
babel! babel! irrational belief in
nothingness.
and now up is red and down is eight
for nothing makes sense and we are all
from sodom, from gomorrah, and babel
and russia and england, and cultures
crash. the mafiosos line up only to vanish,
all because they lived their lives on this space
reserved for nothing but lying about everything
a regular siren.
but now the rock is on top and the siren beneath
so that all is an extension of the sweet song
that leads us astray.

epiphanies lead nowhere--realizing this limbo
is just that and nothing more is too much
and so we return to sodom and babel
to be who we were, ignorant and joyous;
puppets of the great mafioso in the sky.

Your Good Graces (10-26-07)

I'm always looking,
To please you.
I want you,
To be Happy.
I'm always striving,
For you to be proud of me.
I wish I could have somehow,
Earned your respect.
It's so hard,
To live up to,
What I think you expect of me.
Pushing,
And Toiling,
And Straining,
And Trying,
And Living.
These things I supposedly have to do,
Just to stay in your good graces.
I think I'll be myself from now on.

The Auction House

trinkets and paintings
old books and movie posters
marble figurines

the new and the old
items of great sentiment
once cherished and loved

spirits of the past
ghostly tales of times long gone
live in each treasure

the bidding begins
alacritous responses
and the gavel falls

My first post in awhile.

I saw you at forty years old today.
The age was clearly etched in your face.
I saw the fatigue, the
change in your presence;
you look...good...
for the time that's passed.

Any doubt about your
identity was erased when your
eyes--pure, clean, penetrative--
probed my soul, and you
laughed inwardly at my terror.

It isn't fair. Your experience
and full life is evidenced
in all your weathering.
But I--I am still young.
And empty.
It's so obvious
that in your life
you have moved on.
My heartbreak, however:
it is frozen in
an awkward adolescence.