Life/Waves

Illustration for the poem "Life/Waves" by Robert Lutz

Life is all
About the waves
That like thunder crash
Onto the shore
And drag the debris
Back Into the sea

Life is all
About landing ashore
Carried by the waves
And returning to the sea
Dragged by the waves
Yet carried by yourself

Life is all
About living in the sea
And riding the waves
From time to time
Never knowing when
But always again

Advertisements

Learning to Float

Illustration for the poem "Learning to Float" by Robert Lutz

I am a decentered circle
my weight shifts and shifts
and falls and falls

I am trapped by my instability
weighed down by my weight

How much a star must suffer

No loose ends swim in my waters
I tie them all to my belt
dragging the load of certainly with me

Always upstream
never with the current
that is my path
my determination
my choice

My will is strong
but its content
undetermined

All I have is drive
but I channel it
into empty ravines

Remembrance and regrets
they too are part of venture

Life is too overwhelming
as that a single voice
could ever capture it all

I love you precisely because
you possess a strong commitment
to challenging paradigms of oppression

Float untied
The knot’s a noose

Should I fly
yes I should
I should sore like an eagle
but there is no flight
no reaching up high
without learning to float

Which birds are stupid
enough to fly carelessly
their flight is perilous
but skill carves out
a space for safety

Greening, Part 3: Bouncing Castle

Illustration for Part 3: Bouncing Castle of the poem "Greening" by Robert Lutz

Terrible turbulence
is a torment for tacit souls

Illicit integration
is illegal for integral numbers

Progressive paralysis
is paradoxically prone to pulsations

The days of my soul
are numbered
According to your
indeterminate pulsations

My pulse got soul
Any number of beats
makes up a series of symphonies

Greening, Part 1: Visitation

Illustration for Part 1: Visitation of the poem "Greening" by Robert Lutz

Make-believe and medicine
Righteous grudge and apt chagrin

Camera obscura maybe
International music baby

Wisdom drowns the swan
Knights yearn for the fate of the pawn

You looked at me
I shed a tear

Honey hugged the grave
Elastic rubber saves

Santa got me a hammock this year
I hear you loud and clear

The end is near
Wish you were here

Organ Recital, Part 3: Reflection

Illustration for Part 3: Reflection of the poem "Organ Recital" by Robert Lutz

All sundials are round
Round things render the world void of sound

Sound is silent when I recall those memories
Memorial houses, sights immemorial

All is metaphorical

Those ice cream cones never kept
Those vanilla scoops properly enshrined

Shrines for the gods
Gold shines in the light

The sundial first draws the circle, then the arc

Suspicious

Illustration for the poem

Let’s not retreat
yet
There’s much to gain
still
We’re wrong to think all is
hopeless

Our courage is yet to come
back
Still, remember we’re up
against
A hopeless cause, a useless
wall

No way we’re going back to the dead
laws
An eye for an eye, against all
expectations
Walls can’t shield from
failure

Lamentation of the Dreamer

Illustration for the poem "Lamentation of the Dreamer" by Robert Lutz

Verse:

What is love if not the vengeance of fate,
burning its way through the gleeful past;
Tying sweet romance to a raging pyre,
Strangling life with misery’s thread,
In a world that’s already dead.

Interlude:

Catastrophe strikes and we all lament,
But one must work to save the day,
lest the fire consume the hay,
we must make them all content.

Doubt must be borne in the face of doom,
Hope drives illusions to clog the mind,
the priest offers closure and God is kind,
the soil demands yet another tomb.

Chorus:

In the face of anguish the lovers chide,
their tempers raging, and love subsides,
hope forlorn, wrath sworn, hearts torn.

In the Sand

Illustration for the poem "In the Sand" by Robert Lutz

I need to wander along
the path, walking stick
in my hand.

The sun followed me across
the sky, dried fruit
my only nourishment.

Splinters from the wood in
my flesh, worn-down leather
covered in sand.

I curse the stick for
its weight, heavy burden
of my establishment.

As I carry it through
the crowd, dark blood
colors my hand.

But then I look into
the future, walking stick
in my hand.

I refuse all help from
now on, I put my head
in the sand.