Jan
06
2005

Burn

by Stephen Messer

I see the flames crash
rising and shaking and shimmering
and showing me
the endless destructive
creative force
that it can be

and embers
that had released their energy
had given less intelligent men than me
the power to truly overcome
all the things they had done

and in that destructive force
there is the creative too
and I see with more purpose now
what fire means to me

It has allowed me to sustain my life
in places inhospitable
but only in name
for with this powerful force
I’m freed of course
to destroy, create,
to warm and illuminate

So I’ll take a steady flame
and onward go
with the knowledge
that warmth is available

posted in Nature, Poems | No Comments

Jan
03
2005

Reporters

by Stephen Messer

Joyful shouts shatter
and drown an ever-deepening message.

Pages stir sleepily
as words drift onto paper,
images onto film,
voices onto airwaves.

We write:

purveyors of all that is,
sentinels of all
that trust would draw away;
unembarrassed
to bear witness
to the sickness
of our times.

Sometimes I cannot
hide those parts of my life
that are better forgotten.
They enter and taint the neutrality.

Those tortures prove worthiness;
give something in common
to all and free the
hidden solidarity
that lurks beneath a divided society,
beneath the divided race of
beings we are.

Is it not the
greatest of the graces
that seeks to fulfill
its own promises,
its despair,
its feckless abandon
into the hubbub of fate?

I turn away to
release in the evening air;
tears are invisible, but there.

The capacity to report
now marooned upon
a million billion thoughts
that have flashed through this mind–
too fast, too many–
no time for the thoughts
to be formed into the words
that would express them.

Sleep evades this room.
Quiescence evades this mind.
The sleeping must be done elsewhere,
another place, at some other time.

Such is the racing mind.
Dawn brings more thoughts;
focus drawn towards the realization
that life and friendship
and streaming sunlight and water
share a commonality:
how immensely cherishable they are.

How perishable, too.

posted in Introspection, Kisner Collection, Personal, Poems, Social | No Comments

Dec
08
2004

Me Matará

by Stephen Messer

buscaré la tranquilidad
escondido al fondo de esa
miente, un fuente
de mi fuerza,
haya descubrido.

Las fuerzas del mundo
de una vida perdida,
desmigajando
debajo de ese presion,
me matará.

Las fuerzas de esa vida
tan rapido,
tan incontrolable,
me matará.

Debo encontrar
la fuente
que me salvará,
escondido
al fondo de
esa miente–

al fondo de
esa vida,
perdida.

posted in Introspection, Personal, Poems, Spanish | No Comments

Dec
08
2004

Ill

by Stephen Messer

Life’s dizzying pace had to break.
It had outrun itself.
To some a hero,
unstoppable by any means.
But to me, a fool
trying to outrun
the inevitable.

The inevitable
lived up to its name.

Those days too empty
of moments in which to take
a breath and smile…

Those days where ne’er a
moment
went unreconciled…

Those days that have helped
create enough memories for
someone twice my age…

Then a near-death life-change
took place.

The days became a tranquil
routine of tests
and visits
and rest.

An incessant brigade of
pokes and
prods and
questions

and rest.

A sudden, unrequested change
to take stock and recompense.

A chance to rejuvenate,
drop old charges,
relinquish unneeded
responsibility,
re-prioritize,
according to what’s best.

A chance to heal
and think
only of what’s best.

posted in Introspection, Personal, Poems | No Comments

Dec
08
2004

Me Matará

by Stephen Messer

buscaré la tranquilidad
escondido al fondo de esa
miente, un fuente
de mi fuerza,
se ha descubierto.

Las fuerzas del mundo,
de una vida perdida,
desgajando
debajo de ese presion,
me matará.

Las fuerzas de esa vida
tan rapido,
tan incontrolable,
me matará.

Debo encontrar
la fuente
que me salvará,
escondido
al fondo de
esa miente–

al fondo de
esa vida,
perdida.

posted in Introspection, Personal, Poems | No Comments

Dec
08
2004

Chance to Heal

by Stephen Messer

Life’s dizzying pace had to break.
It had outrun itself.
To some a hero,
unstoppable by any means.
But to me, a fool
trying to outrun
the inevitable.

The inevitable
lived up to its name.

Those days too empty
of moments in which to take
a breath and smile…

Those days where ne’er a
moment

went unreconciled…

Those days that have helped
create enough memories for
someone twice my age…

Then a near-death life-change
took place.

The days became a tranquil
routine of tests
and visits
and rest.

An incessant brigade of
pokes and
prods and
questions

and rest.

A sudden, unrequested change
to take stock and recompense.

A chance to rejuvenate,
drop old charges,
relinquish un-needed
responsibility,

re-prioritize
according to what’s best.

A chance to heal
and think
only of what’s best.

posted in Introspection, Personal, Poems | No Comments

Aug
22
2004

What would goose think now?

by Stephen Messer

Goose would think
that the room wasn’t so mad after all,
compared to a world
run by imbeciles and charlatans

Goose would think
that the box is a safer place to be:
At least in there he’s free
to do and say what he pleases.

Goose would think
about who is screwing Susie?
Aside from the government,
the cops and the floozies…

Goose would think
that if only he could let us know
Perhaps we’d all have something
that might be worth an ounce of hope

Goose would think
that life is just too short, too painful, or too long,
and for most the of fucking people, just plain wrong.

posted in Personal, Poems, Social, Songs | No Comments

Jul
29
2004

Ravage the Planet

by Stephen Messer

As we ravage the planet, there’s nowhere to turn.
As the world around us crumbles, what have we learned?
Not as much as one would hope, it’s obvious to me.
And the lessons we are learning are not being taken seriously.

The polar ice melts and the guilt comes our way,
for we’ve not done all we could have to avert this melee.
And perhaps I’m more guilty than most could have been,
because I had foreseen the inevitable results of these schemes.

And ozone is depleted; there’s a hole in the sky.
From the cancers, the melanomas, too many will die.
And we’re all as guilty as each other; there’s no fault but our own:
We’ve allowed politics and business to degrade our home.

But it’s never too late to make a difference; all of us are empowered.
There’s no point in inculpations: the changes made now
each make a discernable difference, albeit small.
But millions of small differences are better than none at all.

And the human race is resilient–a parasite it would seem.
Slowly killing off the planet–the source of all we need.
And though humans on the planet may yet see harmonious days,
how am I to survive the inevitable melee?

I’m left with a sense of sorrow for the things I’ve not done.
But I’ll start them tomorrow hoping damage can be undone.
And I hope you’re sorry too, and inspired to begin
to be a more conscious inhabitant of the world in which we live.

posted in Kisner Collection, Nature, Poems, Social, Songs | No Comments

May
28
2004

Diminishing Resource

by Stephen Messer

Boulders rounded by the ravages of time;
Sinewy sluices weave down the valley floor.

I taste the cold crystal waters
and cherish all I have.
The diminishing of special places
is what scares me most right now.

And the river brings me life,
brings the sense of urgency
as it rises with the melting snow
and makes its way to the sea.

But we could not let it reach that destination
with our dams and other destruction;
we’re the parasite feeding off this living thing
in the name of building a nation.

But I’ll sit by this, the last living river
as if it’s everything I know,
and I’ll feel the peace within me
continue to grow and grow.

For the river brings me life;
the river makes it real.
The river is the only thing
that right now I want to feel.

So I’ll taste those cold clear waters
And arouse within me the respect
for what’s left that we haven’t ravaged,
and what I would expect

is a disappearing resource
a disappearing way of being
The rivers no longer run free.
And down them,

my freedom runs to the sea.

posted in Kisner Collection, Nature, Oceans, Personal, Poems, Rivers | No Comments

May
27
2004

As Much as I Will Ask

by Stephen Messer

More nervous than a stage
had ever seemed to make me;
Just knowing that you will be there,
then wondering where
the emotions will take me.
Because I’ve been hurt once before.
Let down and subjugated,
and I am nervous now
to face the object that had caused this

So just come back,
Be a friend to me.
It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask.

I hope you can now see through the
veil put up between us;
there is nothing left but a friendship
waiting there to be redeemed by us.

And life’s chances that we’ve taken,
the pain, the scars mistaken.
But what can you do
but face them?
For the chance may not
ever be there again.

So I’ll come to visit one more time
To see how life has changed us
Because I hate the fact that I lost a friend
because of fears that were unfounded

And the time’s too short for us to worry
about the problems that we will face
So just come back to me, it will
be the last thing I ever ask.

posted in Personal, Social, Songs | No Comments

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