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David Tamilin Poem
Submersion Connections
The water heaved and sighed with the gathering force of self while
the tug positioned to push, pull, hold.
The mammoth engineering marvel,
rose like the Phoenix with the grace of Shamu,
antenna first
then bridge
finally the deck
The round port hole unwinds.
On the dock are,
two women and a man
The women she,
confuses, flusters and amazes the man,
In a glorious way!
Completing his being and upsetting his,
reality impressions.
The reality he always thought was true and only,
their emotional, physical, spiritual and,
historical selves are dynamic like the name of the ship USS Dynamic.
A composite of every:
• Girl
• Women
• Mother
• Lover
• Goddess
• Witch
• Vamp
• Teacher
• Whore
From brunette to blond.
From redhead to auburn.
From Cindy O to Patty S.
Christine C to Tanya R.
And back,
from forth
? Plump
? Skinny
The Anima essence reflections intoxicate him
But consistently calm
A feeling tone of
Peace resolved
With facets like diamonds
The mission is to,
reconnect!
Without a connect all,
Energy is gone
Relationships gone,
Fellowship gone,
The pain of hunger gone,
Anticipation of love gone,
The release of laughter gone,
Mortal reassurance of pain gone,
Knowledge of being gone.
The water is deep and dangerous,
just below,
our fears swim with our own self hatred.
But the wires are severed and that’s where they lie as,
deep in our subconscious,
a dangerous place for anyone to try.
You enter the vessel,
Cleansed and baptized from,
eons of anticipation and preparation and,
the sub supplies safety and comfort,
for the process of healing
Connections are made:
o Soldered
o Tested
o Insulated
The three souls are merged, mixed, consolidated and rectified,
beyond recognition and memory.
One Archetype where,
the power flows,
the meter spins where,
balanced achieved and,
calmness reigns,
once again.
At last!
Copyright © David Tamilin | Year Posted 2017
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David Tamilin Poem
Cock Tales For Two
Sunny Saturday morning and
Mass is over.
Sacrifices were made,
Vestments in hiding,
Cruet of wine is emptied,
by me,
in me,
not down the drain.
Chasuble is hung exposed,
With my name in Magic Marker,
It marks the Mark.
The invitation from the priest is casual,
We’ll go to the beach,
bring some other boys,
burgers after.
All splashing in the waves
Yellow flag today.
White means safe.
Red means danger.
Priestly Hands and arms,
And body weight,
Press me down
Below the brew.
Instinct to struggle,
panic and fear
rinse and repeat
Downpressor, oppressor,
Priestly Teacher of intimidation and fear,
silent warning of,
the real imbalance of power
Father says don’t forget
Store this memory in your duffle bag with your towel
The second wave cums.
A stop at the Banya,
down the street and to the right.
Custom dictates no vestments for this Mass
Just cedar and oak leaves tied together,
on a stem,
like a crucifix on Palm Sunday,
and buckets full of soapy baptismal water.
The priest takes inventory:
? Imbalance of p0wer
? Beach terror memories in place
? Hot and steamy
? Bucket of soapy water
? Naked boy
? No one around
? Just the two of us
Brush of oak leaves,
smooth of hand.
Remember the Mass.
Serve the Mass.
Remember the Master.
Serve the Master.
Remember the power,
To change water into wine.
That trick will come in handy later on.
Years before rehab number one!
It’s more like changing:
Money into wine
Family into wine
Soul into wine
Self into wine
Wine into self
Life into wine
Wine into wine
Be the wine
I never collected marbles.
baseball cards, rocks or arrow heads.
Just Lego Banya secrets,
Enough to build a coffin,
to inhabit because you never seemed to,
fit into the neighborhood,
or the skin your Mom and God gave you.
Must be because the secrets always,
add a few pounds to the picture.
Copyright © David Tamilin | Year Posted 2017
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David Tamilin Poem
Run Away
Ticket counter still open but
no planes departing
Ticket plus dog scheduled for 7:10 AM
(Twelve Hours to nowhere)
Bag packed with who knows what.
Sidearm.38 snub-nose holstered on hip and loaded,
permit signed by Sheriff himself.
Boarding pass left on bar
After calling 17 times but she shows and
we have fun.
She puts me to bed with warnings of roommates sensitivities.
A liter and a half of Sky consumed but no side effects.
Lunesta samples on the nightstand.
But how many is too many?
Not toxic enough to do any good.
Sex is the next step but.
only to give and impossible to receive.
Dawn comes and homebound on Grant Avenue but,
o No key
o Garage opener dead
o Door bolts engaged
o Fear inside is oozing out
Her car appears and the dog is snatched.
Bus to town to find more blue Sky.
All the given gold traded for fresh supply,
pennies on the dollar.
Bus to airport.
More Sky at terminal bar.
Suddenly splashed with screaming anger
Could not respond and guards take her away
The law protects me.
Time to board after stashing,
Sky soaked hoodie under plastic chair.
Take off to nowhere for no reason.
Ohio is really Kentucky as are the strip bars.
Layover allows for two days of arms length love.
SOS to Son with instructions to follow.
Troops are sent and dog is snatched.
This would be the last communiqué for 54 weeks.
The beginning of the first involuntary confinement.
Freedom relinquished,
Like I had it to begin with!
302 to mental ward
Then to Ohio rehab for 28 days.
Early cure achieved,
while lies continue,
with smiles of well being.
The start of the next downward spiral is scripted for,
death or Insanity or freedom?
But first a word from my sponsor!
Copyright © David Tamilin | Year Posted 2017
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David Tamilin Poem
Daniel’s Song
Tears shed for
A life cut short
A beautiful child
Who was loved
By
Many
But
Confusion set in
And pain reigned long
We loved you in spite
When hope seemed lost
You were stilled loved
[This poem is dedicated to those suffering from Opiate addiction and their friends and families]
Copyright © David Tamilin | Year Posted 2017
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David Tamilin Poem
Voicemail Heart Flickers
When the alert sounds,
the source of the mystery is revealed.
Heartbeat flickers,
mind smiles,
your voice distilled, calm and haunting,
as I am the lone soul on the planet and,
the only one who can detect soul’s peace?
In the flurry of the daily,
ups, downs and even outs. ,
Copyright © David Tamilin | Year Posted 2017
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