Rouge Notes

The music pours from my fingertips. They swoon and sway to the rhythm of my mind. The lights are bright and the room hot. Sweat from every pore. Left works the pounding beat, following the heart. Right works the sickly sweet melody, telling tales of the past. The vibrations paint the air thick with the vivid vision of nothing in particular, but everything of importance. Pulses race. Memories spark. Tears flow. Power. There is a collective sigh as the hands dance the keys on their own, making it up as they go. There is no more control, only music. I become one of the crowd. Lost in the orgy of nostalgia and healing hearts. We all see what the sounds mean to us. Our bodies become sympathetic the the waves of feeling making their way from the deepest center of the piano.

I regain consciousness and start to take it away. The crashing crescendo replaced with a gradual let down. The last trickle from a torrent. One last lingering note and it is all over. No applause, just the overwhelming pressure of times long gone. We leave each other and go on to our lives. But we all share the experience.

Old poem

The Itch

When cold, His is the Blanket offered.
When tired, His is the Bed supplied.
When deaf, His is the Voice all heard.
When pained, His is the Sympathy cried.

He lends you His Strength.
He lends you His Wisdom.
He lends you His Wealth.
He lends you His Kingdom.

He speaks the most sweet,
Writes the most kind,
Gives the most gifts,
And spends the most time.

Then when you feel the safest,
And no riches you can't fetch,
He'll call back His loans with interest,
And all you worth He'll catch,
So beware when you make wishes,
And steer clear, Dear Friend,
Of Old Scratch.

Dance Poem

Slàinte

Hand in hand and
Hearts in beat
They pound the music
With their feet.

The people crowd around
And cheer
To mark the passing
Of the Year

But Dancers know
What crowds know not,
They dance their dance
To bring the rot.

The tempo wrinkles
Clapping Hands
And turns lush grass
Into sands.

Smiling faces,
Now skeletal grin,
And organs start
To pool within.

Still they dance,
Out in the street,
Hand in hand,
Hearts in beat,

They do not dare
To stop their feet.

Same Old Song and Dance, Part II. (by popular demand)

So, at this point we have Paul in a transient existence and Steve recently set free from a small-minded college in Kansas. The two come together in Oklahoma City where Paul has been offered an amazingly large 20 screen theatre. For the first time in a year and a half Paul had a theatre that didn't require rescue or refitting. This meant that for the first time he would be in one place for an indeterminate duration. Steve's new independence also meant that his options were now open. This led to a happy arrangement where Paul would now have company and Steve would be surrounded by four year institutions.

I was very pleased by all this because the new arrangement would be good for the both of them. The thing about Steve and Arkansas, however, was that Steve had a lot of history with several girls in Arkansas. Girls with less than stable personalities. And it was in this heady mix of hormones and old flames that Steve had to sit in before Paul's move to OKC was final.
And Steve doesn't have the greatest self control.

That was the fact that I kept coming back to as I looked at the Facebook note. It was written by one of the first female interests in Steve's life, and it made it seem as though things were on the upward swing. And when Steve gets serious with old flames he falls into old patterns and behaviours. Behaviours like changing plans last minute and deciding that Arkansas and a retail gig was better than OKC and college.
This would have been devastating to Paul.
For months he had been trying to get somebody, anybody, to come and visit him in Texas. And people, for months and months, kept making plans to come and see him and then letting him down. I could almost taste the heartbreak that would have happened had Steve decided to stay in Arkansas with his old flame.

Happily, the years had wisened Steve and he was done with old relationships. Well, maybe. Here lately there is a mystery girl that has appeared on the scene, but plans are still on and OKC is still his final destination. And when we are face to face again I hope to get the full story, but untill then I am happy with the fact that he is moving on and Paul will get some much needed company.

-Dig the beat-

Election time to wave
The colors and to taste the
Freedom of those amber waves
That blanket the veins of the steadfast decay of
Mighty giants with the blackest of pitch just
Like the blue of Dolly's Smokey Mountains
While there is black to usher change and
A sister too
And masses praise the difference
That no change can bring.
A veneer of fresh to cover the
Melted pot decay.