The scent of a pixel friend.

I have a friend a thousand miles away
I haven't looked upon her face, never felt the way her hips sway
Although you might think its rather surreal
I feel a bond thats very very real

So I know you think Im mad
When I say Ive known her in my past
But for me it only matters that its true
Besides, I can smell her through and through

Can you smell  a pixel friend, yes her very scent?
Do you feel her honesty and intent?
Have you taken a moment to reflect
on the feeling, that buzz you get, when you connect?

Can you smell Innocence?
The first time you crushed your newborn to your face you did, the bouquet of life, thats intense.

Has the scent of Love lingered in your nose?
It has, its like the mountain meadow mulch, god knows.

How about Pure?
A winter night, when fresh moon light blossoms off Birch Trees, reflecting on a mountain stream,
When you cup it in your hands to drink, the scent is nothing baby,  but pure and clean.

Yeah, thats my friend! You think she isnt real?
So stand real close, get to know her, the scent of her she can't conceal.
Gunner ©

Reflections

The best reflection I could possibly ever see is after I have fallen into your eyes and confronted myself as  you see me. Gunner ©

The Butterfly and The Stone

Look into my eyes, beyond the bars of my silent agony, to the depths of my blackness
See a stone in the  heavens, tracking to nowhere, time an unknown concept

Ages come and go, stars fire and burn away, memories like chimney smoke on a cold winter day
Questions, searching..a long burning  ache to feel, sense the presence of the one to stifle my decay.

Awareness alone is hardly worthy of a stone
But for the darkness deep in my soul there must be a light to help me atone

And did you know the soul leaves a scent in its wake,
small wafting spirals of its essence that float unrestrained through both time and space

For eons I've drifted, a rogue stone on her trail
when suddenly the troubled slumber is torn away like a veil

When the weight of a butterfly alights on my stone
the causality a mighty curve, bringing me atmosphere and excites me to the bone

And I know the purpose of my blackness is a place for the butterfly's light to shine upon
Gunner ©

Threads

Would that I could,
Love the Raven in flight
My heart says I should
And not ever let her from my sight

Would that I could
Be a ball of thread
To wrap around her talons and fly
Or be that wound round her nest the night next to her breast

Would that I could
be a path of sand
Her beak tossing me, teasing me
Or be consumed by her fully and warmed by her belly

Would that I could
Be a drop of rain
The span of her wing catching me from heaven
Or her thirst, with my waters, forgiven

Would that I could
be a breath of wind, a sigh
Nourishing her lungs
and lifting her weightlessly across all skies

Would that I could

Gunner©

A Gift of Noise

I was on a shore of the big lady, she giving birth to a new day star.
As I watched the burn on my horizon, I gave thought to the quiet.
And I heard the wind whispering to the busting surf.
The waves arguing with shiny pebbles rolling on the beach.
I wondered what was so funny that had the trees laughing happily,
their leaves a million rustles in the crisp morning air.
The woods themselves hmmmm and hawww
as the meadow grasses bluffed and fooled with the fall frost.
And as I withdrew into myself, my heart a thundering boom, I thought
How the hell is a man supposed to think in all this racket ?

Even on a quiet dawn, its good to consider the gifts of some small noise. :)

Gunner©

Stone Statues

I've thrown my praises like whipped sand on wind
to Kings, Queens, men, women and kin
Built them statues of sticks, stones and bones
Ive shared my brutal sword and carried gently my child
Tasted the salt of blood, drank cream from a mug, sweet and mild
Ive swam in love and sank in rage
Struck a friend and delivered my enemy from his cage
And today I know, with all these things gone past,
With an idle word I sow, all these things can tumble down like glass
What have you learned this fine day, to say?
Gunner©

29 Souls

There's a mist o'er the hole
where below
on the weary bones of the ghosted iron ship
toil 29 souls

And seven miles on to my horizon
Our star makes love to the great lady's bosom
My mast a cross on the spot of the boiling burn
My foot on the tiller, my weight on the stern

My brother Moriah a wind on my back
I pull in the main, leaving not a trace of slack
The steel lines bite into my hand
a warmth compared to the cold splash of the lady's fan

The Isle of Deception ahead on my left
four foot down on the lee, one hundred fifty off the windward dock
A ghosted pilot and crew still swim, angry at the theft
Tricked and fooled, their airship down, they chose to swim rather than walk

If ten thousand were claimed by the Great Lake Superior
To wander her deep bays and drift over her quay's
To haunt her thick mists and sunfilled bays
When the time comes, I'll steer my bow deep, let the lady grab hold,
make it ten thousand and one to her fold

There's a mist o'er the hole
where below
on the weary bones of the ghosted iron ship
toil 29 souls

Gunner©

Distant Shores

Distant Shores

I’ve seen the face of God...and more
And I can say...with ease
With no fear of laughter or reprieve
That we…them and I...have even played on distant shores

Still...and regardless that… I’ve known the truth
and felt the warmth and joy of evidence
I tremble and weep with foreboding…a glimpse
a vision...of my truest love taking flight...to much to lose

And more...I see old friends in tears
I recall our brothers sisters sons and daughters
Our mothers…our fathers
Our hearts aching...lost of strength and love requited

We shall survive and endure...and more
For I can say...with ease
With no fear of laughter or reprieve
That we...you and I and them...will even play on distant shores

I know we’ll love and laugh with them…taste their tears
We will meet again...and again...make or break our fences
Play our part...and rediscover our senses
But then the face of god will quiet our fears

Gunner©

Brothers Black Black Blood

On hot summer noons

When school bells sing their lunchtime tunes

Memories of mine steal me back

To something bitter and black

Children singing ring a rosie things

They have a melody and a sting

"Your baby brothers dead,

"He lays upon a pool of blood"

"He lays upon a pool of black black blood"

"Your Baby brothers dead"

I run like mad to a spot nearly blind

Tiny fingers my guide

Its there I find a shine on the road of pain

Something that would make a strong man insane

Blackness spreads like water should

It stops me dead the way a bitter taste could

I bend and stoop my childs knee

Wondering if this monster really could be

Fingers point and tenderly touch

And as my tears fall like rain, I know the pain will be too much

Blackness that lifts away sticky red

From the place where my baby brother had lay dead

Fleet of foot and carrying fear like cold stone

I race to the shelter of my home

I find the sun burns and falls

It blossoms on the wine bottle tall

The fan turns a slow smooth and the scented oranges are bright with color

But my soul has turned gray, not a sign of my mother

And each day since

A tear escapes my glimpse

When school bells sing their lunchtime tunes

Since I found my brother dead to soon

His black black blood on my scrubbed raw fingers, still a stain

From that long long road of pain

Gunner©

Giants

Giants

Winters grip is on our town


Frost is everywhere, 
snow banks piled high,

School kids in cold weather dress hunker down


The air so cold my breath becomes a visible sigh

Each morning I drive past the school


I see the kids, the moms, and the dads


A crossing guard too

A hunched over, shuffling old man, 
slow moving bones make him seem somehow sad


I wonder what drives that old guy

Why fight the bitter cold and wicked snow


What rewards for him when storm clouds churn the sky


What makes him drag on his winter coat and boots to go


The snow twirls blind and stirs my mind


Suddenly then through a sideways frosty glance

I see a father, a son, and an infantryman of some kind

Strong and powerful, willful and intent in his stance

It’s a ghostly scene that I’ve just been shown


My minds eye blurred, visions like windblown snowflakes whipped


Truths of heavy labor and toils on the farmers’ ground


Adventures on new trains and great wooden ships


He’s been a son, a brides groom and a fine father they say


He’s been to war and paid his dues


Buried many friends on their last days

Lifted his son in joy...life brand new


I press my throttle and drive on by


And its no surprise what I see with a backward glance

A giant of a man, his arms raised high

A warning there, 
strong and powerful, willful and intent in his stance


He guides our child safely cross the road


And that’s just what he has done as years have piled high


Kept us all safe, holding off the foe


That Crossing guard, that giant of a man, that hero of mine.

Gunner©