Enchantress

It flows through you, this energy.

Shining like some light.

Drawing me close; like moths to the flame.

Calling me with some hidden spell.

Oh - you are magick!

Invoke your calling; summon wind, rain, and fire.

Enchant me.....

K.J.K.          10-30-96

Words Again

Sometimes fleeting.

Sometimes overwhelming.

Thick like peanut butter.

Thin like blood.

Drawn on joy.

Remembered tears.

So many experiences.

Spoken aloud.

There is magic in meter.

Rolling of tongue.

The far pressed syllables.

Stressed beyond belief.

Until they break.

Like icicles on the mind.

Embedding their point.

Still - yet screaming.

Waking something within.

That spark of ingenious madness.

Calling pen to paper.

Write!

K.J.K. 08/20/2012

Hotness

Memorial Day weekend, 2012;

The hottest Memorial Day weekend in history.

Train to tower was packed with both sun worshipers and moon children.

Nary could a seat be found.

Dogging sweaty passengers until there are cars no more.

Look up; it shines like a golden beacon in the night.

Run, run before someone else sees -

The one last open seat on the train.

Victory! Claim the prize.

Two less barking dogs.

A knee that doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

A body at rest.

Catch up on Facebook updates, get ticket out.

Sound of riding the rails and –

Giggling kisses?

Turn to look, ever so carefully.

A young, early 20’s couple sit in two seats facing each other.

He, dark skinned perhaps from India. Curly hair, mustache -

Wearing white pants, white shirt and a red bowtie.

Her a light skinned lady with long brown hair and many freckles.

She is wearing some kind of puffy white dress.

Puffy sleeves with lace, um, “things” on them.

Kid you not; she has a white flower in her hair.

Can’t tell much more because they are kissing.

They are kissing.

Kissing.

And kissing.

Demonstrating that America is, indeed, still a melting pot.

There must be some more Facebook posts.

Damn!  Nothing.  Evidently everyone else has real lives, too.

Book, book, is there a book to read?

Damn! Nothing.

The scenery passes by.

“Tickets!”

A conductor has never before been such a welcome sight.

He stamps it and moves on to the couple.

“Tickets.”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

“Tickets!”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

“TICKETS!”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

Whisper – “tickets?”

“Giggle, smooch, smooch.”

The conductor looks momentarily around.

All who were looking one second ago seem to found a newspaper or something.

Oh look there’s a Facebook post from last week, let’s re-read it.

The conductor shrugs and walks to the next car.

30 minutes later train is at tower.

The dogs and knees are happy if the faster ones leave first.

Including, thank God, the couple.

The platform is nearly deserted.

The conductor is looking over his ticket book.

Eyes are caught.

“Hot day, eh”?

He smiles: “Going to need a cold shower today, man!”

The dogs bark.

The knees pop.

Distance is tread, each others laughter still echoing in the ears.

Yup, gonna need a cold shower tonight, for sure.

K.J.K. 06-08-2012

Messenger

Do you really believe in all these things?

Do you believe that miracles can still occur?

Not ripped out of some holy book.

Telling a story out of the distant past.

Do you believe they occur in the here and now?

There is a flaming sword.

Dangling high above.

Its fire can burn.

As much as it can heal.

Its blade can cut a path to the heart.

Of all it touches.

There is a sun, struggling to keep all its pain within.

Occasionally spewing forth flares.

Geomagnetic storms.

Radiation, both visible and invisible.

To those who look.

Do you listen for God’s call?

Would you recognize it if you heard it?

Above the din which is all of human kind.

The beep - beep sounds made by roving rows of silicon.

These are the wild times.

Foretold eons ago.

Earth Child – Capricorn’s dust.

Let the water flow.

Know not what dam bars you from this place.

The Earth is fragile.

The Earth is strong.

The song you feel is real.

What moves you to words is no more the end.

It’s a call.

You are on a conference call with God.

Along with the other players in this scheme.

The monsters and the saints.

The jackal and the snake.

The woman and the man.

Not embarrassed of themselves like in Genesis.

Rather, confidant of their place.

For the world is changing.

The rules are all mixed up and hard to hear.

The song you feel is real.

Listen to it now.

The Messenger sings.

Listen to it!

Pick up the phone…

K.J.K. – 04-15-2012

The Monster Whispers

The Monster whispers in your ears.

In your dreams;

Of your fears.

Of that cold place you never look.

In your head -

Like wishes he took:

Crumpled at your feet like yesterdays paper.

Sickle cell, dagger.

And a rapier.

The cutting edge sliced thin with words;

Heard too often.

Maybe - for the birds?

The elevator stops on its path to hell.

What buttons are to be pushed?

Only that Monster can tell.

So the choice is yours, in what you know.

The Monster, his words.

Where that elevator will go.

Or remember the most important button of them all.

There is no Monster.

Press stop, my friend and stand tall.

K.J.K  03-20-2012

The Passing

Strangers passing on the scene:

Of daylight, twilight, aisle light.

Florescent blue sky.

Shimmering down from that ceiling of night - light.

Strangers passing, looking twice at each other.

Not with regard, Rather contempt.

Strangers passing in the aisle.

To the abode, apartment.

Away, an aisle:

The gestures of feeble mindlessness.

Strangers passing in the night.

Lit by blue light.

Shivering at the sight.

Of each other...

K.J.K.  2-27-01

The Burning Year

It’s just a year.

A measurement of time.

All too soon run out.

It’s just a year.

Yet somehow a physical representation.

Like a Psychopomp.

It’s just a year.

Leading away to the hereafter.

Leaving us in bittersweet tears.

It’s just a year.

A paper implement.

Meant for keeping track of days ahead and past.

It’s just a year.

A Calendar.

2011.

It’s just a year.

I’ll spit on you.

I’ll tear you pieces.

What you have taken

Can never, ever be replaced.

I’ll set you afire.

Curse your memory to the ends of it all.

I’ll burn your pages one at a time.

Take delight in the ending of you.

For what you have taken.

It’s just a year.

The burning year.

Midnight, it is done.

K.J.K.  11-30-2011

To my Father: Raymond Keyser. I miss you every day, Dad.

Divinity

Lord,

You know me.

My hopes, dreams, passions.

It seems, sometimes, though.

That you like the game of baseball.

Now I'm not a sport's fan, Lord.

But it seems like your favorite pitch is the curve ball.

When you least expect it.

WHAM!

Here I sit, worrying about this or that.

When something out of left field.

Throws me for a loop.

Left field..

Got three on base, Lord.

I'm gonna bunt...

K.J.K.  - J.J. / K.J.

Happy Meal

Food court at the mall.

Doesn't matter which mall, their all the same.

She struggles in.

Walking to the side where Mc Donnalds trumpets it's golden arches.

Four footed walking stick slowly carrying her to the counter.

Happy meal, two cokes, a Big Mac.

She labors to get to the table.

Not the first table she passes by, nor the third.

But a table on the far side, near the mall entrance.

There she finally sits.

Putting the table in order.

Happy meal, coke on one side, Big Mac, other coke by her.

Napkins placed by each setting along with a fork she takes out of her purse.

She looks over and over again at the mall clock.

As if counting the magnitude of seconds passing.

Looking back to the mall entrance with eyes, eyes, that will soon sleep.

Time freezes, refuses to pass.

She cleans her glasses.

Hands shaking, more then before.

Mall door opens.

He is that age just before the teen years call him away.

To concerns of sports, cars, girls.

Her face brightens.

They hug.

In a voice more shaky then her hands:

"I got you your happy meal."

They talk.

Over the din of the shoppers.

Making memories.

Happy meals.....

K.J.K. 4-1-00

Circle of Life

It begins at the autumn of our souls.

When all is turning rust colored.

Leaves to brown, flowers to dust.

The wheel in the sky moves on.

With or without us.

Who neither aid nor hinder its progress.

After fall, comes winter.

Laying its cool crisp blanket of snow all around.

Showing that rust can turn to pure, virgin, white.

The wheel in the sky moves on.

With or without us.

Who neither aid nor hinder its progress.

The landscape turns a gentler shade.

One of brown mixed with green.

Spring returns life to the world.

The wheel in the sky moves on.

With or without us.

Who neither aid nor hinder its progress.

It is summer and the green of Earth surrounds us.

Mixed with colors of every hue.

As flowers open wide and rock back and forth in the breeze.

The wheel in the sky moves on.

With or without us.

Who neither aid nor hinder its progress.

The wheel is season.

The wheel is change.

The wheel is forever.

K.J.K.  06-23-96