Back to Reality

It was the hands.
Smaller
More fragile now
Between my fingers
As I held them
Wondering my own path
To age.

It was the multitude
Of collected things
Strewn about those walls;
A pish-posh of souls
Forever entwined
Despite absence
Which made me wonder
What would they do?
What would they want?
Would they even want
To crowd their walls
With the memory of me?

It was the grey.
That cold steel slate
Nature connected
To here and there
Which made me think
Reminisce
Ultimately bring me to content
And a knowledge it was time
To take a step forward,
No,
Several
To ensure my survival
Now
To then
And beyond
As I looked to my own hands
And the passage of time...
©2011cchristopherbess

First

First.
A new moment
Fresh start
As all those little things
Come quickly into focus
Upon a kiss
This side of a stare
And a heartbeat
Which beckons one to fall.

The first
In a long time
To inspire
Fear
Intoxicating to continuation
Belief
Ultimately to desire
To move closer to the edge
Of that springboard
Possibility.
Close the eyes
Breathe deep
leg up
Bounce, bounce
And dive into the splendid unknown...
©2011clarencecbess

35 Promises

Heat singes the flesh
And a new year blazes into being
As I make thirty-five promises
Wondering what happened
To the previous thirty-four

Losing count
I think intentionally
I blow out my candles
Thirty-five promises
Once virgin and blue
Now singed and blackened
Not a minute old
With the truth of it all
Of whatever happened
To one through thirty-four

Thirty-five promises
Baked onto my flesh
With the hope It'll be cooler
Tomorrow
Down the road
And maybe this will be
The right number
Where promises come true
Leaving to me to stand
In resolution and content
As I seek to devour
This sweetness called life...
©2011cchristopherbess

Peep Show

Though I watch,
I stay out of people's mouths
Unlike the woman
Now across from me
Intently staring...

She watches the papers I hear
Of the woman next to me;
Watches a woman almost in tears
Embarrassed she broke down
Here
With the man next to her
Barely seeming to care
As he hurries to answer another call
Before we dive underground.

She watches
As I glance
Taking in flashes
Interpreting pictures that remain
Which over time
All look the same
Grouped or not
People going about life
As if no one else existed...
©2011cchristopherbess

So Far Away

Between images
Of pristine worlds
And what I live in
I slip away on dreams
Things I wonder
If I should believe in
Like maybe there's a place
Where injustice and stigma
Are words to be readin'

Instead of seein'
Instead of livin'

Between what they say I could be
And what the world
Seems to have planned
For all who look just like me
I slip away on dreams
Maybe there could be
A place for truth and love
And all the good they say
But when I wake
That just seems

So far away

So far away

Between words and worlds
I hoped never existed
Beyond stories of old
I dreamed it was all a lie
And that I didn't have to die
To know a little slice of heaven
And to the children I could say
That peace exist
And it wasn't

So far away

So far away

I think I'll have to turn
Forget the way they see me
Accept the fact I'm stolen
No closer to my history
Than what I'm allowed to be
Without fear up uprising;
I think I'll have to turn
My cheek again to burn
From the sting of a world that plays
and leaves us all astray
Chocking on the exhaust
As they achieve their dreams

So far away

So far away...
©2011cchristopherbess

The Face of My Father

So my mom contacts me and ask for a favor. This piece is the result and is dedicated to those "senior" members of the Highland Ave. Church of Christ. Enjoy!

“The Face of my Father”

I saw the face of my father
Saw the faces of them all
Contemplating their grace
God’s blessing of age
In a time so many of my heroes
Have faded much too fast

I saw the faces of his friends
Brothers and sisters
Ageless grand oaks
Whose leaves of wisdom
I still seek shelter under
When the glare of this world
Seeks to blind me to fall

I saw all their faces
Not as they are
But as they were
A multihued multitude
Of the stories I part
As I tend my fields
Of adolescent abandonment
Realizing beyond
What I ever thought I would
The exquisite joy
Of age
And prayed
I’d be blessed to see the same…
©2010cchristopherbess

In Passing

Hanging his head low
Working hands undo
Silver Container of spirit
Because his spirit's lost
And this seems to be
The best way to pass time.

Swallowing hard
His apple makes a vicious move
Within his ravaged throat;
Sucks his teeth a little
Cocks his head to the right
And with one grim look
Encompasses me into his fable.

A silent minute
Or two
We go on with our game
I blink
He looks down
Weary eyes to my script
Unseen;
He rummages through
A collection of bags at his feet
Producing a small leather book
As my scribing ceases
And I look on in wonder
Further with question
As to why his hand's outstretched;
But with each page turned
The message clearer
Artist to artist
Recognition sublime...
©2010cchristopherbess