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Newer Stuff & Untitled
Unpublished Material Copyright � 1999 Jonathan Kotinek, all rights reserved. |
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I |
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II |
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| III |
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| IV |
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| V |
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| VI |
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| White Hands (ok, I lied they're not all untitled) |
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| Do this in remembrance... |
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| And counting |
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| Return to Tomes |
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I
Sometimes I miss it
the calm assurance of nothing
the freedom of being whomever
of reading the lines for the character I'd scripted
the beauty of acting and the innocent
hope that the fairy tale would come true
and that there could be proven some
veracity to the adage that opposites attract
from moonlit backyard fast-food picnics
with one heart in earnest
the other in playful mockery of it
Well intentioned phone calls
Playing kickball with children in a hedge
Lying in the dark, hoping, praying for
a spoken kinship of heart that would never come
Sometimes I miss it
Most of the time I don't
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II
I am the stranger in the dark
the whistling of the wind outside
your window on a frozen night
I am the face that you looked at
and wished you hadn't because
it was the beginning of the end.
There is a conditioned response to the color red.
You can't help the warning lights and buzzers
because you couldn't stop staring
and went insane
because you turned away quickly, sobbing
because you know in the end I'll be back for you .
The void, the cold, the fear
and you'll struggle every step of the
way because I'm leading you with
your hand frozen in mine.
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III
Am I wrong to cry your forgiveness?
For so long I championed your heart
even later when I secretly held you responsible
Can I be held accountable for a promise
that you wouldn't let me keep.
It haunts me like treasured memories
mapping pirate hoard
A game.
or enigma wrapped in a riddle
with a gamble at a higher stake
I folded while I was ahead
and left the table to make my tally
I thought I could walk away
and leave those other cards on the table
But I'm flushed
sitting in the dark trying to sleep
and the memories
The thought of our hands brushing as we
pick up the cards cut to us
It's unsettling
All this I have to tell you so I can get to sleep
That I got tired
I never lied except to myself
And my heart still races when I hear your voice
to be that myth, and be surprised by an embrace from behind
But I've found my partner for playing hearts
and sometimes building bridges, until we meet our spades
I still think of you and love you
Goodnight Elizabeth.
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IV
Chapel of night
with inscence of pine
I remember being here before
on my knees with a broken heart
and it felt better than I do now |
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As the darkness fades
so does the weight on my heart
The light is too harsh
and doesn't reflect this
emptiness that stars can |
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Who is this void and
what can ever fill him again?
His head bowed in wonder and admiration
While his mouth mocks his maker
and calls death upon himself |
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He plucks at the bloom of
what was once Faith
and in proxy sits
the flower of conversation
a plastic arrangement |
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His arid words sow
discontent and a drought
from his heart copies the void in him |
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Be sure of your allegiance
while you can still be sure of it
When you draw your Ace of Spades
Death comes swiftly and silently
even through the loudest cries and lonely months |
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Break me again
Bind this haughty heart
with grace until it cries in blood |
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Crush those guilty memories
of impetuous youth in your hand
and destroy those bonds which hold me to them |
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I am unregenerate
I am selfish
I am lustful
I am trying to give you control
I am
I was that which you are
You are beautiful
You are perfect
You are jealous
You are merciful |
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Give me that chapel of night
That candelabra of worlds
That Spirit of worship
That feeling of Peace.
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V
Dry and dusty I am blown
All these miles gone from home
Let the thought of you cover me warm.
I seek my shelter from this storm. |
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That's my life, how I want to live.
One of these days it'll be all I've left to give
Living on a love I had never hoped to find
Girl I'm living a dream because I know that you are mine. |
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Waking because you are morning
and this day will bring me a little bit closer home
no matter how far I wander
You are with me no matter how far I roam. |
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That's my life, how I want to live.
One of these days it'll be all I've left to give
Living on a love I had never hoped to find
Girl I'm living a dream because I know that you are mine. |
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Dry and dusty I am blown
Each new mile is another one closer home
I pull the thought of you over me warm
and take my shelter from this storm. |
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That's my life, how I'm gonna' live.
I thank the Lord, 'cause all I have He gives
Living on a love I had never hoped to find
Girl I'm living a dream because I know that you are mine.
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| VI |
Someday
A small voice will respond to this
Tired gruff one
As Daddy.
Someday
A small hand will grasp
A finger of this calloused hand
And feel safe.
Someday my hands will caress
A life I will have been entrusted with.
How do I look into her eyes
Knowing I've hurt others?
How do I correct his ways
When I know my own?
What do I tell them
When they ask
How do I tell them
There are times to rush at the goal
And times to walk leisurely?
How do I teach them to know the difference?
How do I know? |
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| White Hands |
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Red hands bloodied by four hundred years
And not at least one drop has permeated this skin.
Black hands, blackened only by the ink in which I immerse them.
I need more to continue this
I need experience I can call my own
I hold up white hands to help
And know that I am still not ready because
I think of them this way.
When my hands are ready that is all they will be.
Ready hands.
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| Do this in remembrance |
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I believe in truth
I believe in simplicity
I believe in absolutes
I believe that purity is a gift,
not an accomplishment
I believe in God
and his counterpart
I believe that music has power
to create and destroy
I believe that fiction is sometimes
more real than life
I believe in love
I believe in light
I believe in blackness
I believe in denial
I believe that all great men
are humble
I believe that size encompasses everything
I believe that a genuine smile encompasses heaven
and a cold shoulder, hell
I believe that three AM is the witching hour
I believe that a person can reveal more
through their eyes than through their mouth
I believe that friendship is a prize worth
fighting for
I believe in my potential
I believe in those who question my motives
I believe that I don't know everything
I believe I'll find out one of these days.
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| And counting |
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A decade past deciding
three hundred fifteen million seconds
and a lifetime away
Even now, that powerful wave of time at my back,
I know as much about my father as before
and he easily sums me in a plaque
Last night's telephone call tells me he is tired
as ever
I hear joy and hope in his voice
and wonder how many seconds
past hanging up that it will last
Three hundred fifteen million
little freeze-frame opportunities
and still not enough
I didn't even stop to think about
the seconds lost to my mother
I wonder how much of the day
my grandparents sit, silently, reverently
terrified
as they mark the seconds
each stroke the shuddering stiffness
of another lost friend
Each, for one second, the
tireless hand
moving around the face of an anachronism
Three hundred fifteen million-
how many left?
each moment (tick) I waste
at my desk reading (tick, tick)
each weekend (tick, tick, tick)
not spent
another one hundred seventy thousand gone
Three hundred fifteen million seconds
and that many more gone
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