Wednesday, September 25, 2013

The Great Ray That Got Away

The Great Ray That Got Away

Only you and the fish are smiling. The salmon
since he got away, today and grandpa,
you got some good looks before the final splash.

I've heard the story so many times—
skunk trips to the sea, early
to bed, to rise, sounds wise

until I’m five hours off shore, still broke,
fishing for kings with my jack-
of-all-trades Great Grandpa Ray.


Though, we've never been salmon fishing before
but I continue to look like you. Arms
extended, still posing for pictures

from a childhood never taken, stolen
memories— with your cigars hooked in cartilage,
lines set for cancer, me reeling as fast

as I could to grow big enough for the boat
so dad and you would pack me in the cooler.
I was awake then, listening and dreaming,

when men were rising with the dawn
and this son only a man long after
your sun set; Grandpa you were

this great. My Great Grandpa Ray gone,
only pretend trips to take to the big lake,
Dad’s done you proud and whenever

there’s a skunk in the boat
after trolling for too long, five more minutes, I’ll
think at least you didn't miss this—

We miss you, the one that got away. No
he wasn't as big as your tales,

you were this big and got away too soon. 


"Big Fish" mixed media art by: Thomas Massey

To My New Nephew, Ryker David Sutherland



Dear Ryker,

Your Dad and Mom love you
but they’re the first of many hearts
that you can rely on for love. I’m yours
too, a number two, too
and unlike your sister, no tutus
will I impose on you. Not that

there’s anything wrong with that breezy
freedom. Take your time
you’re commando Ryker
for the first few years—
no one will complain
when you decide that heavy diaper

simply holding you back from sprawling
crawling and too soon walking before
we know it. You know you’re
a number one, too? So special
David’s in the middle of that Ryker
Sutherland name, you’re the first

Son of Sutherland from David and Peg’s
Clan of men, strong-willed, Scot-Irish
who unconditionally have been raising
roses to cushion your childhood.
These ladies, three gems, your friends
so close they’re your family,

they’re your cousins
they’re beautiful, brilliant, and bold
they’re Olivia, Aurora, and Amira 
and you will be their sword, yes
you will be the man. Welcome
Ryker David Sutherland

to your Sutherland Clan.
Sans Peur my brother,
my nephew,
my new boy in blue.    
Without fearSans Peur

but oh how they’ll fear you.          

Our bike ride while the rest of the world was sleeping

Our bike ride while the rest of the world was sleeping

Last photo before my battery rot.
I felt so recharged this matters not.
Just above freezing,
a bike ride up hill
to chill my fingers, nose,
ego— Only lonely to find
me at the top. It has already
been hours since you rose
me with Your call and I thank
You for inviting me to Your house
each morning. These places that
place me where I aught to be
are Yours. You keep me from
where I can be led astray.
I sometimes wish someone that's
she could be among me, with me and these
things called blessings. But, You rode
with me, You Guide me, Friend.
We were at the park
while the rest were sleeping.
You beat me there and met me
with a warm cup of Creation.
You've been busy and I've been
lazy. Now there's nothing but You
with me. Happy in solitude if
you dig within. Mark, Mark,
Mark my words—
you are longing for a Friend.
Let go. And, no sooner do You
wrap my heart, it's Your heart
now. Pray, dry my selfish
tears and take my stubborn
sadness. Transform me into being
with You and I cannot imagine
being with anyone else.
Back home, legs pushing, heart
racing, it's all downhill and not
nearly as cold
with your Love.    















Honesty Among Friends

Honesty Among Friends

If I’m honest,
I know I should lie
to avoid getting kicked
while face down and grounded
by Earth’s carnal ways.   

You have no time or energy
For all that is important.
Truth sets free eyes that see
yet, you dare admit I’m not the
problem. It is my fault.

I’m making my own choices, too.
Are you deaf and blind?
Shhhhh, be dumb,
that was rhetorical,
I know I've been, too

but somehow in my face, my light,
you cannot see, let alone face your own problems.

So I’ll be honest,
I’ll bleed my tongue dry
in fear I may hurt you. Speechless
while you grill my heart, season my soul & release a burp;  
go on, cumin and I relieve your indigestion.

Intentions pierce this world
and we will be judged, you will
be judged like the way you chew me.
My silent cries rock you to sleep—
Sleep with your nightmares of reality.

No more pretending;
I’ve been unlacing the lingerie of
a fallen angel I once knew.
I finally begin to wake up.
I’ll be a damned fool.

You turned my world around when denying me
entry into your paradise but His Paradise is eternally longer.

Better than the short lived thing
we called love while we mocked Love.
Jesters weep at us when we’re on life’s tragic stage,
they know we’re hero-less unless
we win the waged war within.

I offer prayers for forgiveness
that keep me awake while you sleep.  
Prayer is better than sleeping with you
Positioned upside down digging hellish holes.
Shame on me, mercy on you.

No more dancing with me
I ruined us by giving myself
To you. I’m crawling back up
While your body signals, ‘SOS’
Save Our Souls.

Stop blinding me. I want to see—

You must turn on your own Light.   

Love's Dumb Pain

Love’s Dumb Pain

There’s a cord playing with
my blood muscle’s soul—
struck, plucked harp strings,
tickling to tune their songs of pain.
There’s harmony in my arteries, 
Hearts aren't all that break, carry
me to meet my familiar friend, again.
Hello, lONEly. You, who knew we’d grow old together,
and not with her. I suppose you knew,

just lied in wait, or did you forget?
Is this your way of saving me
the hassle? Finally, eyes see
clearly through these teary
messages writing notes on my cheek.
They don’t blind like
that damn cherub and his God
forsaken arrows. I see you
plain as anger sees pain

Old friend. Music
sounds better slowed down
to mimic that harmony, that
cord playing inside down
in my dark depths humming,
drumming, beating away
pain to make room
for more. Da dumb.

Da dumb. Da dumb.

I Don't Eat Bacon

“I don’t eat bacon”

I feel used. Like
everything's cliché, now.
We’ve gotten so good
in expressing our feelings we
believed them over logic
and bacon. Crispy
burnt thoughts driven
by ego, no

empathy; remorse? Ho!
And, I’ll probably get
a text message summary of
my mistakes using her
feeling words—
using only her
eyes and using me as her

meat for breaking fast. 

Pure Clover Honey

Pure Clover Honey

Lucky he covered
Her
Nudity
With pure clover honey, always
Local—
Unconscious to his
Seduction;
It’s sweet and
Stings to be

Her.

ECLOGUE

ECLOGUE - Father to Son: 

Dry them tears boy. This too, is part of working our land.
          His wagging tail has now gone still.
He deserves a proper place, earned a burial;
I think we should lay him near your boyhood girl
On that hill, boy, our two companions will be one—
         Go. Dig him a hole. I’ll wrap him in his blanket. 

Ignorance

“Ignorance”

Ignorance—
Common behavior among us
Intellectuals.
We share, too,
Love for those cute, cuddly ones:
Deer me, puppies n’ kittens for you?

Compare us to the animals:
Sniffing passer-byes, marking visits
With what’s public taboo.
Spray displays are not the human
Way we say hello and good-bye.
That’s just not the way we do things;

We don’t say anything.
See anything?
Stopping to take a picture
Together, with other human beings,
At the rare chance we visit lonely
Concrete cages containing our childhood

Friends. Now life-sized and a little scary,
We continue to pay admission into
Adulthood to see the bears but
Only keep pictures of our children’s visits.
We believe then, the lens will see
Me

You
For who we are, and in
Passing
I will shake your hand
Next time offer to take our picture.
Thanks. I hope

He doesn't steal the camera.
It takes a village with a zoo.
Other enlightened ones,
Too, will not ignore our
Reflections next time
They look at the picture you took,

Not to our face, anyway.
How many ignored us
Today and did we return the favor?
A woe on man’s being to leave out the
Color. We’re cute and cuddly, too.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

I Am a Softer Me

I Am a Softer Me
            By: Mark Sutherland

I
am
a candle waxing—
Moon? Not as much.
More shine the closer fire
consumes my melting
head expanding as I shed
us to find
me
in the traces of light
peering from those shadows,
scars of ash, and
your burnt face
up to the demons. Smoking
nostrils flare without snarling
darling, and the sting in
this throat tells me
I need this
solitude.
I’m terrified of melting
I’m done with being hard—
softened wax suits me
even when I know
I’m melting away.