Long Staircase Poems
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Did I sign a contract?
For these personal life experiences slept beside my always busy mind
Calling to me
As I stumbled down the Devil’s staircase
Once encased by my addictions
Bathed and soaked scars that I allowed myself to control and define me
Suddenly,
My Angels picked me up
and filled that empty space
So I could teach one how to adore thine own scars
So I could pick you up, up, up, up, up, up.
And fill your empty space
I remember the time of feeling unable to get back up again
My wings tethered and my mind scattered and my chest splattered as I echoed each breath of these unbearable gifts
I see the devil in every mirror and through every souls doorway I encounter their demons
Sometimes facing them into the late hours of the night
I’ve shed tears for my ancestors
Bearing the weight they couldn’t shed
Carrying these immortal longings along with the commitment of releasing them
My Angels picked me up, up, up, up, up, up
And filled that empty space, space, space, space
So I could pick you up, up, up, up, up, up
To teach you how to love each scar
How to dress unattended wounds
How to weep below the moon, moon, moon, moon
How to growl in the face of each darkness
How to listen to a fellow sad face
How to learn how to love yourself
As you stumble down the Devil’s staircase
I’ll pick you up, up, up, up, up, up
And fill each empty space, space, space, space
I signed a contract, to bear a loving heart
That loves so deep
With a soul that weeps
And a chest that will breathe
These immortal longings.
Chantilly lace curtains of my apartment window ripple in the cold January night. From here, I observe mooring lights that illumine the docks in this petty northern port and four cafés that lean toward one another, side-by-side, though separate and apart. I wonder at their co-location. Their twinkling lights blur together in a loud kaleidoscope of color.
The harbor winds carry putrid odors to my window. Sidewalk signs cover most of the walkway. Though too distant to register detail, I discern the outline in flickering neon of two women outside the smallest café as men clad in oilskin foulies lumber into the second, barely a bar, as they all are. Faint modern dance rhythms announce a tiny dance floor inside the third. The brightest café-bar has no one visible. A lone figure in casual attire moves from café to café, not staying long. He moves in the same pattern, over and again, stopping once to chat with the women. I wonder what or who he seeks. The women disappear down a side pathway.
With a desultory outlook for the evening, I close my window, wrap against the cold, and descend the European-styled spiral staircase.
An angel on my shoulder
Whispered to me
Go that direction
See what I see
I followed for a while
I wanted to live right
But me and my angel
We started to fight
I said I have free will
You don't need to stay
Still my little Angel
Wouldn't go away
By ignoring him
I made the wrong choice
What I thought was freedom
Was a different voice
This one alluring
No rules it said
Follow this way
I proceeded to be led
Down a spiral staircase
I started to slide
I seen in the distance
Hells gate open wide
Oh little Angel
I see what you meant
Please Lord Jesus
Stop my descent
I thought I was too late
Yet stopped in my tracks
My Lord and Savior
Was able to hold me back
I trust in the Angel
The Lord gave to me
Rules I thought were bondage
Have now set me free
I am empty of tears
nor will welcome again
my wounded wonderings each night
up the staircase to my despair
drunk on the elixir of my pain
love ended
and we will go with it
when I stare down the curved handrail
of timeless eternity
naked, alone...covered in blood
by my hand's work
blood dripping
from the blade of insanity
plunged into your frozen heart
where you'll sleep...forever
as I
throw my worn-out body
down the stairs of death
into endless black
freed from the painful emptiness
you claimed each night
when I climbed the staircase
like a slave
to the tortured duty of worthless love
filled with hate-filled disgust
that has taken...both our lives
10/12/19 contest Nude, descending a staircase
Aggrieved and incensed a lot
I thundered some dull abuse
Que sera sera said a passing sot
Act Betimes or else, there’s no use!
Some possess the wit to cut
At anyone who stands in their way
Sometimes a Parthian shot
At times words to disarray
But many of us cannot find
The words to appease our souls
Someone’s words blow us blind
With rage and we drop our goals
Only after the moment does pass
And moaning Alas, we just toss and turn
Do we think of the way and pass
That make us less with ire burn
Yet does it all matter that much
To riposte an insult and cut back?
Off a firm tree, cut a tiny notch
Is that a massive deadly attack?
The stately fir and cedar
are roped in garlands green
about the staircase bannisters
edging old wood's polished gleam.
Their bracing forest fragrance
punctuates the air with spice;
on the tree in parlor window
twinkle sparkling lights like ice.
What joy to sit at evening
with just candle glow released,
the tree lights softly spreading
an atmosphere of peace.
I think about the loved ones
soon to gather round and sing;
I think that heaven’s angels
guard us here with outspread wings.
Perhaps they touch us softly,
when or how we may not see,
with love from those we’re missing
gathered round our Christmas tree.
Copyright, December 7, 2017
Around me, a trellis, with a bounty of thorns
adorned with lush roses, and I feel I'm reborn
Awake, or a dreamland, I cannot be sure...
There are blue skies, above me, and a caress of the sun
It's as if I'm transparent, and my mind is a blur,
vague pictures, old memories, which I cannot secure
They confuse me, yet free me, from winters within
I'm out of the darkness, from the clouds of despair
The admirable beauty, impossibly soars
with a staircase of alyssum , sweet mosses, and more...
trilliums, wild ginger, sweet violets, adorned
garlands of daisies, and lavender floors
The sky is a blue sea, I want to explore
Birds sailing along, and I envy their wings
But with my eyes closed, I am flying and free!!
Wake me not, if I'm dreaming, I will rest on a star
And dream of the roses, that climb to the clouds
The voice of an angel, tells me I am allowed
to sleep with the knowledge, I can fly in my dreams
and escape to the place, where worry's not found
Around me, a trellis, with a bounty of thorns
adorned with lush roses, and I feel I'm reborn
___________________________________________________________
A little lamb weeps from the staircase
Legs infected with the scent of his whip
Stained glass peeks from her ribcage
My life I have been stripped
Young bees climb up the stairs
Smelling of putrid moral decay
The bee’s eyes have fallen from their minds
Now on the lamb weeping from the staircase
“Little Lamb! Little Lamb!
Why do you cry?”
A crystalline tear
runs from her eyes
“Take my being,
And tear it to shreds.
It’s the meat butcher’s fault
The epitome of dread.”
But the bees don’t stir
Why would they
Please pity the poor lamb
Now dead in the doorway
Close your eyes
Close your eyes
And go to sleep
My little lamb
I recognized you in an old photo
taken long before I knew you
You were among the ancient ones
The ones on whom you depended
You were brother, son, nephew
and cherished grandchild
I recognized you by your quiet demeanour
gazing with those watchful gentle eyes
I have witnessed that look many times
I am sorry I have not asked you more questions
Too often I am too busy to make time
Please tell me stories about the ancient ones
the ones who laid your foundation
Tell me about your happy and your sad.
What did you dream about for your future?
Have your expectations been met?
What is your greatest joy?
Two photos, one of you, one of mom
a handsome man and pretty girl
Were they taken before you were one?
Your family knew you both so well
They gifted you a lifetime
they knew you would endure
Together you have traveled far
You have accomplished so much
Another photo of your VW Bug
The six of you with that seventies vibe
you were all accustomed to close spaces
You and mom were courageous adventurers
You moved to this strange new world
This big empty city with ghost-like streets
white unfamiliar faces
I can’t imagine how scary it must have been
the sound of voices you could not understand
In a country that was not always welcoming
How did you survive your lonely?
Hours and days working away from home
You persevered, knowing what was important
Family has always been your priority
You were not seduced by the unimportant things
You are a good man William
Slow to anger, gentle of spirit
You see with kind eyes
I appreciate your smile
I appreciate being part of your picture
Your gifts have been passed to your children
your children’s children and their children
Your ripples have traveled far
There is another picture of us
We are standing on a staircase
Your children their spouses
and with children of their own
Without your breath
none of this would be possible
You and mom together
are the heartbeat of our family
Your Ninety years have been well lived
Thanks for blessing us all
Thanks for being a good and faithful man
Happy 90th Birthday Dad
You are greatly loved!
By Richard Lamoureux
Dedicated to my wife's dad for his 90th Birthday.
Though dormant, your strengths are still present...
within the silky staircase of God-woven DNA.
Just peel away layers of perceived weakness
climb through the fiery muck and mire...
through acidic jive-devil-clawed lies.
Climb with a pickaxe of love and faith.
Shed decades of doubters and layers of deceivers.
Buoy the desperate dreamers, along the way.
Climb until ogres cannot reach your lowest high.
Until jealousy no longer bangs a cymbal against your mind.
An enriched life awaits those with fair intentions.
Climb as if every step uplifted the heavens.
Climb until you smack your face against the stars.
Just climb.