tamegaeil

[tamegaeil]

Fits & Spells

A creel of musings fished bare handed from the stream of consciousness.

A few of the poems in this collection might not be appropriate for the tender or those faint of heart. However, when compared with some of the posts observed on Tumblr, they're mild. Although not intended to be songs, save one, several of the poems have optional AI generated musical accompaniment, i.e the purple rectangles have deltas that when clicked launch audio.

Curious readers and listeners are invited to keep scrolling down. Comments, whether encouraging or scathing, are sincerely appreciated.

When you have the inclination, an additional collection of noodle doodles can be found at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gaeilmeta

NOTES:

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Finally, you are likely to run into some insinuated advertisements since this is not a Premium blog.

[tamegaeil]

Spinning

The boy’s all spun up. He shouldn’t be at the wheel.

if these words be recognized

by reason, wit or feel

they’ll serve to set thread spinning

‘round fortune’s busy wheel

what fabric might be shed

remains the weaver’s fancy

some subtle work that’s spun from silk

or winter’s wool for Clancy

ah, but looks the thing

what makes the fit 

and minds that match

the rest of it

so set the loom its magic measures

for hope of cloth that finely drawn

when to a garment fashioned

will find this man a swan

[tamegaeil]

Observatory Observation

My connection is with the stars. Beyond that it's all maybe.

what are these blasted fragments

these flickering shards inflating

gobs of yawning awe

roiling with endless probability

brilliant frivols of atonement

conjured from the mystery

dreams beyond the eons

frozen down to liquorice lumps

idly chewed into infinity

pray then do tell me more on meaning

and all about the thunderous arrogance

of your measly little squawks

[tamegaeil]

Homecoming

 I can't let you go. So I'll just have to let you be.

when last we stumbled

about ourselves

faces flushed

eyes diverted

darting

always the prickled itch

and gangly giggle

crosscurrents fidgeting 

on the tips of tongues

those sullen seeds

of words unsaid

have stowed away

near to fifteen years

tucked inside the creases

of my heart

only your return

could find them

now bared once more

and pondered in my palm

could there still

be life yet left

in such

dried out

scar hardened

kernels

'spose it was

the tender way

your hand

cupped my shoulder

that got me mullin'

on twice turned

summer fields

done right

their harvest's

oft times

just as strong

the weekend's celebration

then

should prove

fertile ground enough

to sow

a few pebbly nubs

and with them

single out

our simple truth

be it

a fool's fantasy

peekin' green

up through the mud

or forever may

that cramped contortion rest

buried

in a stillborn's grave

amen

[tamegaeil]

Mind's Eye

lying on our sides

still heaving

in our fitted knot

your breath

upon my shoulder

the sliding sun

draping us

like heated linen

turned the delicacy

of your perfect ear

a fiery translucent orange

with tiny 

red threads

pulsing

how infinitely

did I love you

even then

to the stars

a zillion times a zillion

and back again

you used to say

bony handed old woman

now still

I cup your drooping ear

and hold that memory prisoner

those red pulsing threads

ablaze

to the stars

a zillion times a zillion

love

and I

am back

again

[tamegaeil]

Palm

Psalm of the open hand.

Polynesians sometimes weathered typhoons by lashing themselves to palm trees.

                                   the

                                          most

                                             I

                                              can

                                                  offer

                                                is

                                              a

                                          palm

                                         in

                                      the

                                 storm

[tamegaeil]

Insight Out

And the voice said, "You are only a dream of time, a stranger to yourself wandering through the seasons."

maybe you know what it is

to lie snug in a sleeping bag

on a clear autumn night

gazing up between the branches

to the stars

suddenly sure

that if you could reach out

and touch one

there'd be a tickle at your little toe

perhaps too

once at twilight

you've flown

your breath filled body

low

over water mirrored clouds

closed your eyes

and stabbed deep

into the thick

bubbling world beneath

gliding through the stillness there

until it seeped into your soul

or possibly

you have even quivering dared

to lean out beyond earth's edge

so as to steal a peek

at how the whole thing

only teeters there

atop the skinny shoulders

of one piddling knock-kneed sod

who's hoping you're his speller

[tamegaeil]

The Best of All Goodbyes

My mother.... wasn't really much of one,  but there was a woman who took me for her own. The following derives from the night, as the Irish say, "She got away."

it was the first warm night

out of that long cold spell

and I waded through the walkway shadows

toward the hospital door

with the feel of spring

rubbing at my face

inside they told me

your room had changed

to one of those beyond the far end

around the corner to the rear

where I found you lying

in the dimness of the hallway light

for all the days of agony 

the drugs and the delirium

you called me by my name

and reached between the bed rails

to bring me over to your world

of olden days and things that were

your hand was hot and rough

where you fiddled at my thumb

as we wandered in a crowd of memories

filled with friends and enemies alike

visiting those who made us welcome

telling secrets on the rest

after a time you scolded me to go

the hour late and work tomorrow

pleasant dreams you said

pleasant dreams came my reply

then only the tightening of fingers

before I left you to the dark

outside a retreating shower

had rinsed the night air clean

and slowly like the moon

floating from behind the clouds

I began to know

it was the best of all goodbyes

[tamegaeil]

Befallen

you’ve simply

fallen

into this

and that’s all

you’re ever

going to do

just keep on

falling

and falling

through

your wily

wink

of time

the whole of it

a fraction

of a whisker’s width

borrowed

from our

fanciful forever’s

revolving

bottom line

absurd odds

and fluctuations

have slapped

you here

awakened

out of

nothing more

than vapors

now

so ungodly

far away

not even

you

can rightly

say

some teeny tiny

hidden hollow

it’s supposed

once

turned itself

inside out

so stars

could have

a proper space

to dazzle

play

and dance

their grand ballet

but you

you’re merely falling

and falling

through

the needle’s eye

pinched between

your first hello

and frozen

last goodbye

gliding along

glancing

at the flocks

of peephole people

pretending

they can fly

when truthfully

they’re only falling

and falling

harder

for the lie

stewing

over meaning’s

then

nothing but

a tinker’s waste

of mind

since delusion

and diversion

are the only

really

living choices

you can

hide behind

the rest

is bound

to happen

no matter what

might be

at stake

for everything

has long ago

been measured

mixed

and baked

into the cake

there’s nothing

you can do

that ain’t been

already done

because

your ass

is purely

falling

and falling

falling victim

to one

big

black barrel

sun

[tamegaeil]

The Eyes Have It

when I am cold I'm not to shiver or my head full of fire burn

after all I mean

the citizens do not wish to be reminded

it so scrapes their bended knees

for god and country

they huff away in hard sold glory

to numb their surrender in blue light

balm

it is the them in me that they despise

it's their reflection in my eyes

[tamegaeil]

My Heart Is Home

(Steve's Song)

having been quite aimless blown

far from the cold old island where I’d grown

hoping maybe here would help me turn the stone

hiking sunny hills and shady hollows

followed by my friends the swallows

dawn’s choir trilling tiny obrigados

I imagined me to be content

free about how my time was spent

only what I wanted and whimsy where I went

little did I know my steps were fated

heavenly designed and orchestrated

the stars long ago had it all anticipated

tip toeing across the swells of two blue seas

you came to the shores of the Portuguese

a summer breeze teasing at the almond trees

and in the gossip of the rustling leaves

were hints of sweet soliloquies

romance of the sort a soul believes

was then I heard you say

you were hoping it might be OK

for you to walk with me just a little way

the rest has been the making of a love

in which we’ve taken full advantage of

how well we fit both hand-in-glove

now I’ll never ever be alone

seems somehow some way I’ve always known

where you are my heart is home

my heart is home

[tamegaeil]

Ledge with a View

This poem might be considered a poem within a poem or perhaps a poem with an appendage. As such, prior to a reading it may lend some dramatic effect to hand copy onto a separate sheet of paper the brief secondary poem appearing at the end of this piece. While concealing as much of the writing as possible, the hand written copy ought to be folded into a paper airplane. Prior to the read, inform everyone that the paper airplane contains a message. Encouraging all to snatch it from its flight, propel the glider into the gathering. The person who collects it should be requested to kindly hold it in tact until the reading is over. Once finished, ask the person holding the paper airplane to unfold it and read the contents aloud.

at this height

the dawn panorama

is spectacular

a far off

pod

of humpbacked hills

still mostly hide

the squinting

orange sun

as it peeks

past

their shoulders

in the basin

below

clumps of tiny

white houses

stipple the shores

of a bloated lake

sparkling

with reddened rays

closer in

broccoli treetops

stretching

up from

their milky

morning skirts

huddle around

the yawning city

moodily grumbling

to its daily din

distant sirens

growling trucks

electric motor hum

clanging

dumpster lids

and the peppered bellows

of folks

who inexplicably have

such nascent needs

beamed warmth

infiltrating

my chilly cheeks

sinks

steadily deeper

while these high winds

stumble

against my chest

looks

to be another

perfect day

unfolding

better than

I might've planned

the doorman

out for coffee

left an invitation

to the lift

that rose 

forty floors

without a stop

an unlocked

landing window

too

even the ledge

an easy eight inches

obliged my stroll

around the corner

to this brilliant

Sunday perch

now

unpocket a scrap

and pinch

the pencil

behind my ear

for another

silly scrawl

scribble scribble

ish kabbible

dibble dabble

duly done

must have

a tissue

somewhere here

to tend

my leaky nose

though

how absurd

the thought

what a laugh

a heartfelt laugh

let go the flake

and but one

half step

to punch

straight through

into

the Buddha belly

of oblivion

What was written on the scrap and let fly:

to you whom this scratching has finally fluttered please know my simple flight made peace with all the bastard pain that ever brought me down

ish kabibble - early 1900s slang phrase meaning, more or less, "I don't care, I don't worry," perhaps derived from the Yiddish, nisht gefidlt.

[tamegaeil]

Caged

Some cages are built from the inside out.

Prologue:  As classmates a young co-ed and a late-to-college guy in his mid-twenties began the same program of literary studies together. From the outset it was clear that they shared a strong mutual attraction. However, his married with a young child status posed a large obstacle to any notions of their entering into a romance. Over the course of several long and unusually candid conversations, the pair eventually resolved to be friends of the not too close kind since neither wanted to be pegged as pathetically unrequited. For the next three years they observed and participated in each other's intellectual development. Nonetheless, with very like minds and frequent daily proximity, their feelings for one another bred an increasingly irresistible tension. During the final semester of their schooling, with certain separation looming, the two relented and engaged in an affair that they vowed would end with graduation. Remarkably, despite severe heartbreak, they both managed to honor their pact with grace and following commencement went their independent ways . The end of the couple's liaison was the impetus for the accompanying piece. 

in the delphic depths 

of this new moon past 

a shiver

nibbled at my spine 

and told me in its chilling way

today would end your coming

we have only now 

to bundle our belonging 

against an aged autumn's breath 

that soon

shall have its way with us 

as leaves flung 'cross the grass

cornered by sunlight

half asleep 

curling up inside my dreams 

when first you lingered at the rail 

so swollen in your youth 

and sleek about your look

something sailed

between us then 

that tugged the hairs around my neck

enough to stiffen every muscle tight

with blood pound from a heart

taken by surprise

days on end

it was your custom

to stand beneath the oak 

watching as I paced 

knowing everything

knowing nothing at all

and odd evenings 

after all had left

to reach between the bars 

with stroking hands

that felt like freedom

on my face

everywhere

branches scrape 

against the rolling sky 

until a sudden stillness

lets your racing footsteps

trail into the night

the globes along the walk 

wear their frosted rainbows 

shimmering in the icy air

as the creature sways

in rhythm

with the stars

Epilogue: 

A little over a year after their parting, the once lovers crossed paths by sheer happenstance. Each freely admitted to sorely missing their former relationship. So they promised one another, come what may, to maintain their exceptional connection. Over the span of the next thirty-seven years they exchanged letters, eventually e-mails and now and then a few telephone conversations. She was married through thirty-four of those years until her husband unexpectedly died. After his passing, for whatever reason, there came no further word.

[tamegaeil]

In and Out

In his voice.

Gary

hanged around the store too much

barely had a home I guess

mostly on his own

tried to chase the kid away

so many times

we had to make him mascot

he had conniptions in his brain

not smart enough to be afraid

rode his bike all crazy

bungied that radio

to the handle bars

damn thing always blastin'

one day

Gary got dead

runned over in traffic

I snuck his radio

it still plays

that's how come I remember

Gary

Gary's radio was placed on a high shelf at the store as a memorial of sorts. Dusty and looking a lot worse for the wear, it was still there when last seen decades later.

[tamegaeil]

Skin Thin

This piece is presently being revised.

[tamegaeil]

Grand Hoax

there are just so many summers to a soul

a certain sum of breaths that may be taken

and every midnight pillow’s pulse

tallied well before the first one would awaken

epitaphs engraved in the four letter language

that rolls off a double twisted tongue

each accomplice to the grand expanding hoax

absurdly ancient but barely just begun

so we form among a froth of obligated suds 

exquisite senses gifted yet cruelly sentience cursed

cellophane sacs fattened with life’s relentless greed

carried on encoded currents only waiting to be burst

[tamegaeil]

I Should've Known

Seems we hardly ever do.

went by the house the other day

funny how I always find myself driftin' back

seems no matter where I'm headed

it's forever on the way

just restin' there all big 'n' white

with everyone set right out front

Gram in her wicker chair

wearin' her favorite purple flowered dress

that battered garden cap

'n' those dark clip-on sunglasses

Honey, the devoted daughter

stationed close by

readin' the newspaper out loud

Aunt Mayna slouchin' on the side door stoop

my Dad roostin' on the hood

of his prized two-toned Buick

lip jugglin' a long Pall Mall

with his signature two inch ash

'n' the two young boys

sittin' on the stairs at the end of the walk

smilin' 'n' wavin' to traffic

countin' Chevys 'n' Fords

been just so

as long as I can remember

'til the other day

the smaller boy was missin'

'n' when I hollered over 

to ask about him not bein' there

the folks only looked at me

as if I should've known

'course it happened to Uncle Ralph

'n' we'd heard all 'bout Buddy in the war

then the rest

one by one

but it never seemed it'd come to us

not to us

for Christsakes no

not after all that growin' up

was me who creamed you

with that length of pipe

'n' you who shovel slammed me 

when my back was turned

I remember the day you won

the homecomin' road race

lungin' over the finish line

all foamy mouthed and pukey

in record time too

I was so fuckin' proud

you 'n' me

we made the Reardon girls

'n' watched the dawn crashin'

after all night talkin'

on dreams to come

and things we'd done

what about the time...

yeah the time

just didn't look right though

at the house the other day

that kid sittin' on his own

I should've known