SUBVERSIVE

This, for Open Link Night #42

Dverse Poets  Pub

Come HERE after 3 PM Tuesday, 

and leave a piece of yourself.

c.1940-1980

After many 
(forty?)years

of soul-seared

mind-feared

existence...

he at last believed

his ears:

"You are stupid, useless;

You are a lazy, crazy

piece of worthless

non-humanity.

Plain insanity.

Always you dreaming,

forever seeming

ensconced within yourself.

OH! Your vanity.”

c.1980-2012

Gone by now are numerous birthdays.

Whole new nests of friends

arrive to rest their 'ends'

on porch swings, steps, and

handmade wooden chairs at his

damp-coffee-colored kitchen table.

LIFE for them--him--has ripened, to settle...

so like ancient, heavy, dented kettle

sitting contentedly nearby

under its steam—released

cloud, no more loud.

however, they, nor the pot

--anytime near deceased!

“You are your worst own enemy.”

Piercing word heard so far ago.

He knew now its meaning,

yet back then, did NOT.

Gathered assemblage discussed that

lives--of which they'd deeply tasted,
Thank God

had not been annulled, deleted.

They decided and reached a conclusion,

that their lives had not gone to pot.
They had no claim
to shame

He reached back 

to discard some memories:

"You are stupid, useless;

You are a lazy, crazy

piece of worthless

non-humanity.

Plain insanity."

He smiled

He lived

and, from the  heart of him

He loved...

--steveroni

May 1, 2012

  IMAGE:  downpour by
sardjito11-d4y943g.jpg
      in DeviantArt

TWO GIRLS NAMED SONNIE

SONNIE

Sonnie is her sweetest name.

My first really hottest flame.

She played the piano--and sang.

That big bell in my head—rang.

"Hal-le-lujah...Hal-le-lujah!

I'll drink one more to-ya!"

(Reader, I wish you to know

this was so long ago...)

Recall loving on the beach,

smelling...the warm salty spray,

sea-oats that bent to sway

as we each twisted to reach

place of seldom-known bliss

--which started only with a kiss.

We had fun, and like a couple mating bees

ended up with four very sore knees.

Sonnie, remember we toweled sand from one another?

And that most beautiful night, you became a mother

to our future first-born, a baby girl. She survived...

You died--on that terrible morning she arrived...

OYYYYYY             VEYYYYYY

Sonnie, only one ever shall match your beauty:

Yes! Right! Our little girl, our darling cutie.

As living still—YOU!

She--

named “Sonnie-Too”

--steveroni 
        (12/16/2010)

 Image:   Love is Over
--by gilad in DeviantArt

DON'T CROSS THE ROAD

At age six

I ran away from home.

It's hard to 

run away from home

when you're not allowed

to cross the street.

Then, until age sixty-six

my life, a flurrying blur of

fact and fiction, avowing

to all the Peeps I meet--

I had crossed many a street

 Nearing age seventy-nine

and Oh yes! I feel fine!

In unison voices, aloud,

hear them? Listen! 

“Run away, Peep.

 But don't cross the street!”

Hear sweetest bird-sounds

and a violin in the woods.

See tombstones of the dying

and ashes of the dead.

And someone said,

in foreign code,

“Do not cross that road!”

steveroni

April 2012

Posted for D'versePoets Pub

- OpenLinkNight -

every Tuesday,

starting at 3 pm EST.

Photos courtesy of a friend 

MILE MARKER 191

Returning from Tampa Florida, 

I came across Mile Marker 191, 

stopped, took a couple shots, 

and was inspired to post about 

the 'true meaning' of Mile 191

Note: This is NOT

the original 191, as is

depicted in her story

MILE MARKER 191

Once upon a time a girl—age 9--was being introduced to sex. It was, like, 'all in the family'; predator-rapist: her sick, sick stepfather. Locked in her closet for periods during many years, she suffered all the physical pain and mental torment one could, or could not, imagine in that situation.

When her little sister became age 9, the stepfather made advances toward new new younger one. So big sister—to protect her baby sister—let herself be 'used' by the stepfather until one day he was forced to move out.

Their mother would not accept reality of the situation, remained in denial, blaming the girl(s) for everything, even for the stepfather leaving them.

Prayer Girl and I 'met' older sister (recovering from many things) 3½ years ago on her blog. Recently we have been again in touch. For a real-life, heart-hurting story of evil, and an amazing account of recovery, I give you her BLOG as it is today. Her introductory link of November 2008 (brief) is HERE.

The 'real' story begins with THIS specific link.

LOVE and PEACE, my friends.

SOUL MATE: A POEM

On a day of days I dreamed a dream

of meeting face-to-face,

who God might chose .

Before everything happened, God picked

a soul to merge with mine, to

become WE for endless eternity.

SACRED MOMENT?

On windy, winding river bank

I walked. And talked

with a snake, snail and a shell.

Not complaining about the sandy mire

in which sunk my feet,

I spoke of what

my mind thought and soul desired

Our conversation continued

as they said to me:

"All life is twain:

One, a frozen stream;

the other, a burning flame.

And that burning flame is LOVE!”*

Far distant, I saw one

heavenly being approach me

from another direction.

Her feet did not touch dirty sand.

"What is your name?”

No sound, but I heard, “LOVE!”

Vision beautiful said, without speaking,

"God sent me, lent me, to you.

You are me.

I am you.

One are we.

Friends in body, mated in soul.

Our union—blessed--shall not end with time.

Eternity is now, this moment, which IS 'now and forever'. 

Nothing must be counted--ever--after this time.”

Poem by steveroni

*Quote by Kahlil Gibran in “The Prophet”

Images: Google Images

LOST, FOUND, LOST, FOUND!

This almost didn't get posted.

Some force pushed to publish:

THE RIDE

"...follow the yellow brick road..."

Scooter trip Friday to Tampa was like a dream. You can believe this or not...while riding I prayed for two Peeps who are having rough times this week. As I meditated, three hours passed as twenty minutes. (That was exaggeration—grin!) OK Peeps, I'll get down and personal, got nothing to lose—grin!

MEDITATION!

I contemplated, my mind felt like 'in training'. Much more than one of 'those' moments. Emptied of all busyness, God's Goodness settled into my brain. Gratitude—not for specifics, but for the Gift of all life--overtook Suzuki's 85 mph.

As mile markers tried to catch Suzuki and me, reflection kept me in a state of --difficult to explain--like experiencing grace, a feeling of safety, not from natural disaster, but, well, I felt suddenly shielded from the enemy, e.g., from concupiscence. If I followed God's Will, I'd be 'untouched', so to speak? What I needed, wanted, was faith. I received a blind faith during this travel-time. “The gift of Faith”, I've heard and read. Indeed! It is so--a gift!

Is it finally—at last—time to let God take over my life, run the show? So what happened? I lost my driver's license, not misplaced... LOST! Prior to this day, I would have panicked. But it did not happen. Peeps, this is big-time for me! So...first test passed!

Later, still in relaxed mode, someone asked me if I lost my DL. They had found it! It seemed as a reward (I KNOW this ain't so!) for passing my first-day exam. Will let you know how this works out—truth will be posted in 30 days. Meanwhile, I'm sober, happy and free...and that IS truth, OK?

BLESSINGS! 

UP, UP AND AWAY....

       RIDING!


Leaving Friday morning on a 200-mile weekend ride to Tampa FL, for an AA Area Assembly. Hopefully I'll find time to read, comment, and blog with some of you wonderful Peeps.

Been missing you. Confession:  I've been a defector (Face book).

Life is full...and happy. Sobriety does not guarantee 'happy', but it helps!

Sobriety DOES guarantee JOY! No Matter What (NMW!).

Ride safe. Stay sober. And I will, too!

LOVE and PEACE!
Steve

SEEDS, FLOWERS and LOVE

Please Click HERE to view the

Beauty of Creation: SOUND ON!

Written 4-4-78: 

In memory of my father Steve Elsaesser Sr.

Using phrases from his last letter to us, 

one week before his death, by my wife

Nancy Elsaesser, now deceased
He was deaf/blind

In the spring

You called him home

Crocus bloom

Buds are springing

He spaded and planted,

Daffodils and tulips still growing

In the spring

You called him home

New birth for us all,

Wild animals and birds

Pear tree much alive,

Thanks again

In the spring

You called him home

Blind and Deaf

He sees and hears

Crocus Blooming

Buds are springing

In the spring

Of the Risen Christ

You called him home.

==============================

 One more short poem:

4-4-78 In memory of Steve Elsaesser Sr.

God, You took my friend

I love him so...

He was a God-like man

But that You know.

You took him in the spring

About the time You took

Your Son.

He was blind and deaf, Lord

You gave him such a

Huge Cross.

But Pop never HAD a cross.

ASK him.

He loved Your world

And he saw it with

Your eyes, Lord.

He saw it with love.

It's a lonely-looking world

Now, Lord

I'll close my eyes, Lord

From time to time

Maybe I can see

What Pop saw.

You were right, Lord

"The blind shall see."

Please Lord, tell him I miss him so.  

--Nancy Elsaesser

Image in Deviant

rose by ~klefer