DREAM STATE
In the dream state, in the sleep state, I have held and loved you long.
Long before you came to me and life at last made sense,
I formed you in the vapors of a foggy adolescence.
A road paved with the sweat of a thousand fruitless searches.
I looked for you in dormitories, libraries, and churches.
In the dream state, in the sleep state, I have summoned you beside me,
Hoping Fate would weave its web and send you here to guide me.
In the dream state, in the keep state, I have found you on the stairway,
Dressed in black, my Johnny Cash, inviting me with family tales,
Rescuing me from the deathly hallows and the lonesome sand and shale.
Sitting at your kitchen table, catching myself falling,
Past and future blending and all my senses calling,
In the dream state, in the stream state, of consciousness ascending,
Two lives await completion, hand in hand unending.
Your body warm and beckoning, my day of final reckoning.
In the dream state, in the sleep state,
I have held and loved you long,
Before I found the treasured bliss that my life in stillness missed,
I heard within a fog-like din your tempting siren song.
Long before your lips met mine, here in the present tense,
I tossed and turned on the dangerous shores of a reckless adolescence.
Endured the barbs and the taunts of the crowd,
Yet followed the sound of my heart beating loud,
To the threshold of your open and inviting door.
Swept inside on your welcome ride, I pined for love no more.
And now I glide and soar with you, now I am gently floored by you,
My angel and my lover,
In the dream state, in the sweet state, of nightfall’s magic cover.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
BACK PORCH SWING
BACK PORCH SWING
Summer evening, the fireflies gleam like backyard candles.
You and I growing older, the male pattern baldness,
The love handles.
In love with you, in love with life, in love with everything.
In love with the wondrous life we lead,
Arms wrapped around you on the back porch swing.
Watching the rabbits, the deer and the squirrels,
Watching the world in languid repose.
Watching you with eyes of devotion,
From your beautiful head to your wonderful toes.
Waiting for the sweet veil of night to fall,
To wrestle like schoolboys on the grass.
To feel each curve of your body so sweet,
The contours of your beautiful ass,
And then to continue the party indoors,
Lustfully craving the flesh that is yours.
The sunset a divine aphrodisiac
As I run my fingernails up your back
And then down again in swift solemn motion,
Something you love and my act of devotion.
In love with my life and the man of my dreams,
And the wondrous allure of the back porch swing.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Summer evening, the fireflies gleam like backyard candles.
You and I growing older, the male pattern baldness,
The love handles.
In love with you, in love with life, in love with everything.
In love with the wondrous life we lead,
Arms wrapped around you on the back porch swing.
Watching the rabbits, the deer and the squirrels,
Watching the world in languid repose.
Watching you with eyes of devotion,
From your beautiful head to your wonderful toes.
Waiting for the sweet veil of night to fall,
To wrestle like schoolboys on the grass.
To feel each curve of your body so sweet,
The contours of your beautiful ass,
And then to continue the party indoors,
Lustfully craving the flesh that is yours.
The sunset a divine aphrodisiac
As I run my fingernails up your back
And then down again in swift solemn motion,
Something you love and my act of devotion.
In love with my life and the man of my dreams,
And the wondrous allure of the back porch swing.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
YOU ARE FAR AWAY
YOU ARE FAR AWAY
You are, alas, a brooding man, and often hard to reach.
Not to say that life with me is any walk along the beach.
But I feel I’m always failing you, impotence in bed and out,
And you are far away from me, I have no wisdom and no clout.
Do you stay with me because you care
Or only just to cut my hair,
And have someone to travel with to places you have longed to see?
All I know for sure is you’re an enigma and a mystery.
I lend no comfort with my words, I have no wisdom in your eyes.
Just some old and faltering man who needs your constant care.
Yet sometimes you’re so far away you’re scarcely even there.
And yet I love you more than life, I only want the same from you.
To feel your sweet and tender lips embrace my famous dirty kiss.
And not feel like a sinking ship, rudderless on frozen seas.
Useless both in bed and out, a broken limb from off the tree.
You are, alas, a wise old soul, melancholy, staid
And I know you know I need you just to make it through the day.
And somehow I wish I really knew, what it was drove me to you.
What was all the fuss about, that bade you join your hand in mine?
How was I some diamond gleaming, how was I some special find?
The questions linger, tears cascade, they rain down hard on my parade,
And the answers blow in the summer wind, with you so far away.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
You are, alas, a brooding man, and often hard to reach.
Not to say that life with me is any walk along the beach.
But I feel I’m always failing you, impotence in bed and out,
And you are far away from me, I have no wisdom and no clout.
Do you stay with me because you care
Or only just to cut my hair,
And have someone to travel with to places you have longed to see?
All I know for sure is you’re an enigma and a mystery.
I lend no comfort with my words, I have no wisdom in your eyes.
Just some old and faltering man who needs your constant care.
Yet sometimes you’re so far away you’re scarcely even there.
And yet I love you more than life, I only want the same from you.
To feel your sweet and tender lips embrace my famous dirty kiss.
And not feel like a sinking ship, rudderless on frozen seas.
Useless both in bed and out, a broken limb from off the tree.
You are, alas, a wise old soul, melancholy, staid
And I know you know I need you just to make it through the day.
And somehow I wish I really knew, what it was drove me to you.
What was all the fuss about, that bade you join your hand in mine?
How was I some diamond gleaming, how was I some special find?
The questions linger, tears cascade, they rain down hard on my parade,
And the answers blow in the summer wind, with you so far away.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Monday, April 11, 2011
ALL IN THIS ALONE
ALL IN THIS ALONE
Let us pause and tear a page,
From this strange computer age.
You may have tons of cyber friends,
But how many are for real?
How many look into your soul
And feel the pain you feel?
How many of them would die for you
Or lay a lone rose on your tomb?
How many are there to comfort you,
To hold your hand in your hour of doom?
To brace your fall, to return your last call?
How many cyber friends’ photos
Do you proudly hang upon your wall?
All which begs the question,
Set in granite, fading in sun,
Are we really passing fancies,
When all is said and done?
Are we traveling under the illusion
That cyberspace and its minions care?
Cyber friends with open arms
At the top of the golden stair?
Are we fooling our gullible hearts
There’s life beyond our own frail skin.
The flesh that hangs to the hardy bone,
Sinking fast like a jagged stone
And snagged somewhere, aching and sore,
Where we walk defeated, breathe no more.
Let us pause and tear a page, from this strange computer age.
A million readers may follow your blog,
You may be king of cyberspace.
Though I can muster only half a dozen
To read the tripe I write.
Yet how many souls would you need to touch
To fill up your sad and lonely cup?
Forgive my bitter ravings,
Forgive my cynicism.
Forgive my madman ramblings, ignore my self-derision.
I am made of lonesome, fragile, unforgiving stuff,
I dream and I dream but it’s never enough.
My tears can fall like jagged hail,
No matter what I do I fail.
All which begs the question,
Set in granite, carved in sand,
How will I fill the rest of this empty life,
A fragile shell of man.
The more I reach, the more I fall,
And like the belly of the asp,
That crawls across the desert floor,
My reach exceeds my noble grasp.
I slither toward the finish line
With the flourish of a gasp.
A gasp and a half for the legions of sins
For which I must atone,
A tired world’s lost and passing fancy,
All in this alone.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Refill that Zoloft prescription!
Let us pause and tear a page,
From this strange computer age.
You may have tons of cyber friends,
But how many are for real?
How many look into your soul
And feel the pain you feel?
How many of them would die for you
Or lay a lone rose on your tomb?
How many are there to comfort you,
To hold your hand in your hour of doom?
To brace your fall, to return your last call?
How many cyber friends’ photos
Do you proudly hang upon your wall?
All which begs the question,
Set in granite, fading in sun,
Are we really passing fancies,
When all is said and done?
Are we traveling under the illusion
That cyberspace and its minions care?
Cyber friends with open arms
At the top of the golden stair?
Are we fooling our gullible hearts
There’s life beyond our own frail skin.
The flesh that hangs to the hardy bone,
Sinking fast like a jagged stone
And snagged somewhere, aching and sore,
Where we walk defeated, breathe no more.
Let us pause and tear a page, from this strange computer age.
A million readers may follow your blog,
You may be king of cyberspace.
Though I can muster only half a dozen
To read the tripe I write.
Yet how many souls would you need to touch
To fill up your sad and lonely cup?
Forgive my bitter ravings,
Forgive my cynicism.
Forgive my madman ramblings, ignore my self-derision.
I am made of lonesome, fragile, unforgiving stuff,
I dream and I dream but it’s never enough.
My tears can fall like jagged hail,
No matter what I do I fail.
All which begs the question,
Set in granite, carved in sand,
How will I fill the rest of this empty life,
A fragile shell of man.
The more I reach, the more I fall,
And like the belly of the asp,
That crawls across the desert floor,
My reach exceeds my noble grasp.
I slither toward the finish line
With the flourish of a gasp.
A gasp and a half for the legions of sins
For which I must atone,
A tired world’s lost and passing fancy,
All in this alone.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Refill that Zoloft prescription!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
PEACE
PEACE
Daisy child, flower child,
Wave your fragrant rose, back and forth beneath my nose.
And help me stop my crying and start my trying all over again.
Tell me who you are and where you’ve been
And lay your gentle body here by mine for all time.
Daisy child, flower child, we walked the earth together,
Sharing both the bad and good, the sun and rainy weather.
You were once my compass, my bold and vibrant touchstone,
Comforted me on many a night I would have spent alone.
You cleaved to me and shared my dream, catered to my every scheme,
And looked into my lonely eyes and pierced my thin disguise.
The eagle soars above the dreamer’s head like wildfire.
Lightning strikes at the unrepentant dead without tire.
The world, its pains and promises still thrives.
This earth belongs to the alive.
Peddle your posies straight in my direction,
Lay in my arms, give yourself to sweet reflection.
Daisy child, flower child, you were sweet and you were wise.
Now you belong to the universe and to the teeming skies.
Every year I make the pilgrimage to your grave,
And lay a silk arrangement on the ground wherein you lay.
And pause to take my inventory of a love that will not perish.
A love that still survives the years, a love I’ll always cherish.
Daisy child, flower child, my steps begin to falter,
As I lay this floral sacrifice upon your stony altar.
And though I’m old, I keep your picture folded in the Bible’s crease.
The thought of you brings me silent peace.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Daisy child, flower child,
Wave your fragrant rose, back and forth beneath my nose.
And help me stop my crying and start my trying all over again.
Tell me who you are and where you’ve been
And lay your gentle body here by mine for all time.
Daisy child, flower child, we walked the earth together,
Sharing both the bad and good, the sun and rainy weather.
You were once my compass, my bold and vibrant touchstone,
Comforted me on many a night I would have spent alone.
You cleaved to me and shared my dream, catered to my every scheme,
And looked into my lonely eyes and pierced my thin disguise.
The eagle soars above the dreamer’s head like wildfire.
Lightning strikes at the unrepentant dead without tire.
The world, its pains and promises still thrives.
This earth belongs to the alive.
Peddle your posies straight in my direction,
Lay in my arms, give yourself to sweet reflection.
Daisy child, flower child, you were sweet and you were wise.
Now you belong to the universe and to the teeming skies.
Every year I make the pilgrimage to your grave,
And lay a silk arrangement on the ground wherein you lay.
And pause to take my inventory of a love that will not perish.
A love that still survives the years, a love I’ll always cherish.
Daisy child, flower child, my steps begin to falter,
As I lay this floral sacrifice upon your stony altar.
And though I’m old, I keep your picture folded in the Bible’s crease.
The thought of you brings me silent peace.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Saturday, April 2, 2011
NEW AND IMPROVED
NEW AND IMPROVED
I went to the repair shop to see what I could find.
Got me some new parts for a broken piece of mind.
And you my little lady are looking at
The new improved version of me, myself and I.
A brand new man, got a new Trans Am and a mansion in the sky.
Want you to know I did it all for you,
Traded in the bad for good and all the false for true.
And you, Mr. Son of a Gun
Are looking at 2011’s first born son.
Ain’t I just a beauty and ain’t I done my duty?
I got big bulging muscles on loan from the gym
And I got me a life coach, I’m back in the swim.
Ain’t I the star in this ab fab new car?
Aren’t you in the least impressed
With the imitation hair I’ve had sewn on my chest?
The splendid new head of hair, the stunning toupee?
Why, I knocked ten years off my life in the span of a single day.
Aren’t I the brilliant one, to look so fresh and young?
You could learn a thing or two from me, it’s the God’s honest truth,
How to achieve immortal life and everlasting youth.
Wipe that smirk off your old wrinkled face,
Compared to me you’re a stone cold disgrace.
My way is definitely the best way to be,
Here in the narcissistic 21st century.
I did it for your fun, Mr. Son of a Gun.
I’m hip and I’m glam in this sporty Trans Am,
Come go with me, you’ll see I’m the one.
And if you don’t like it, I’ll pluck out your eye,
‘Cause this is the new improved version of me, myself and I.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
I went to the repair shop to see what I could find.
Got me some new parts for a broken piece of mind.
And you my little lady are looking at
The new improved version of me, myself and I.
A brand new man, got a new Trans Am and a mansion in the sky.
Want you to know I did it all for you,
Traded in the bad for good and all the false for true.
And you, Mr. Son of a Gun
Are looking at 2011’s first born son.
Ain’t I just a beauty and ain’t I done my duty?
I got big bulging muscles on loan from the gym
And I got me a life coach, I’m back in the swim.
Ain’t I the star in this ab fab new car?
Aren’t you in the least impressed
With the imitation hair I’ve had sewn on my chest?
The splendid new head of hair, the stunning toupee?
Why, I knocked ten years off my life in the span of a single day.
Aren’t I the brilliant one, to look so fresh and young?
You could learn a thing or two from me, it’s the God’s honest truth,
How to achieve immortal life and everlasting youth.
Wipe that smirk off your old wrinkled face,
Compared to me you’re a stone cold disgrace.
My way is definitely the best way to be,
Here in the narcissistic 21st century.
I did it for your fun, Mr. Son of a Gun.
I’m hip and I’m glam in this sporty Trans Am,
Come go with me, you’ll see I’m the one.
And if you don’t like it, I’ll pluck out your eye,
‘Cause this is the new improved version of me, myself and I.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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