Pressed Against My Soul

Deep sleep dreams slip from an image to a place
Lost in time travel, yet it all makes sense
Moment to moment, breath to breathless, deepest solitude
Once I climbed a mountain high, stood at the summit
Reached up, stretched finger tips and grabbed the sun
The only burn I felt was my ego as it shifted
From my brain to my deeply wounded heart
A profound moment shared, one survivor to another
But suddenly like the flip of a switch everything changes
Lessons lived, lessons learned – far to many bridges burned
Pavlov’s dog howls at the moon and the earth sounds an alarm
Scenic view topples into a seductive Reggaeton beat
What matters is how the body moves within a Latino vibe
Memories are glimpses of a time passed and I will stand alone
Bounce back comes around, lands squarely in the palm of my hand
I reach around on bended knee take a vow to up hold my truth
The truth as I know it. The truth as I hold it, unfold it
Shadows sweep over me and off in the distance I can see
It’s been a long time love – I’ve never forgotten your scent
Almost seems like you never drifted away in the light of day
Wrapped in a blanket on a fall night late October
Tears cascade; in the distance the sound of the ocean roars
A solemn reminder time is fluid without boundaries
A kiss as real as your touch; I literally fall into your arms
You held me so close I can still fell your heart
Beating in my chest, intertwined rhythmic bend
Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t; we fade and like a fire
Light slips disrupting what can’t be except on those
Rare occasions when the Sandman adds a little extra magic
Conjuring up sweet heart felt moments that last for days
I can still feel the warmth of you pressed against my soul…

©2018 TrilbyYates


Sunrise Rush

There is something
about the early morning light
the way is bounces and throws
patterns lacy images
shadowy dancing lovers
reminders of times and moments
held so dear my chest aches
held without reason or clarity
purity of the senses
and every song that ever mattered
in my adolescence
playing on an auto rewind
flip switch non-gender sensitive spin-off
and some where out in the distant fog
I can hear a horn blow
and Tom Waits grumbles
something profound; never missing the mark
Yes I wish I had written a line or two
in honor of my own invitation to the blues
or at the very least
a clearer imaginary image
of me and you

Three something in the morning a seagull flies by
hit and run grabbing what it can,
comfort food ahead of the sunrise rush ~

©2018 TrilbyYates

Into The Blue

Sun down, moon rise; sleep comes with a price
And as I drift off reluctantly; I am captivated
Imagery shifts black and white to color
Shadows and night-life illuminate as candles glow
Sweet music shifts and shuffles with ease
I move from my comfort zone cautiously;
…Even dreams can not escape morals or shame
We slip away for a moment as if yesterday
Were a tangible sequence in our dance – all have been forgiven
Years have gone by, a harsh but truthful reality
– that never seems to dissipate
And can only be interrupted by chance
– or a blessing from above
A memory. An image. A breeze that carries a sense of you
And unlike an annoyance it cannot be brushed away
I am submerged in a dream state and happiness washes over me
We step forward. I can feel your touch, see your eyes
Your embrace sets me free. A kiss…is worth more words than I hold
And while we surrender to this imaginary space –
…as in any dream-scape the scene shifts
I find myself across the way and angst fills my chest
Here and there, chatting with him and her;
– waiting and watching…pulse rises as fear becomes my twin
Making my way I press through the crowd – greetings and smiles;
– a familiar face, strangers and friends

Peering from the 2nd floor I wonder what winter is like in Tribeca

As I weave in and out of rooms and hallways; nods of recognition
– you disappear from my view
I can feel my heart racing…I can’t lose you, I cannot lose you…not again
Standing on the porch, magically night turns to day
Staring out into the blue, I am helpless
A weakness consumes me and just as I’m almost engulfed
With the pain of a splitting heart being torn in two
I feel a hand gently touch my shoulder
As I turn…it is you
You wrap your arms around me; tears fall, I can barely utter
…I couldn’t find you, I thought you were gone
Your words like a lover’s song touches a secret part of me
Once again a warm breeze and the wings of angels flutter

“I never left you…”

©2018 TrilbyYates

Wooden Floor

Sunday morning powers out rain hits the windowpane in that way; that way that reaches deep, gut level memory lane emotional kick
A familiar angst; familiar imagery blindsided mind over matter punch, a trigger, time-wind slap back crank
You’re nothing more than a shadow cast across the table; a marionette of fate and foe, as coffee is poured from press to cup
A skeleton figure that slips from the bed at 3AM walks reluctantly to the bathroom; careful footsteps never really touching the floor – glide
The child that would count each breath slowing, each rise and fall, methodical meditation with intent – invisible corpse
Covers pulled up tightly under chin arms and fingers in, dark of night winter chill or summer swelter
Not until all lights in the house are turned out and a sense of safety begins to set in time slows to a nod
It’s a creak in the wooden floor like an quiet alarm set off slight, almost but not…
Sleep lightly, second level never deep or sound; always half way, always with one foot on the ground
Safety rests in the pitch black dead of night, silence; comfort lost in a slight creak of a floor board, a simple rainy day or wind blown branch scratching a windowpane…

To this day I retract from wall to wall and favor wooded floors.

©2018 TrilbyYates

Love Knots

Is it ever just the way the light falls
on the curves of your face
like the waters of the Niagara
– breath taking…takes my breath
or is it the angles of your cheeks
highlighting an ancient place
sacred knowledge inherent lines
a road map introspective of your fathers eyes
and a mouth that speak volumes – whispers, I love you
without uttering a single syllable?

Silence is a profound aphrodisiac
if not a holy experience as a catholic genuflects
on bended knee hand to chest tap tap
that only the pure of heart, soul, thought
have the openness to experience, absorb – deepest breath in
and hold onto it…I know this to be true
As holy water drips from finger tips

And if my “true” is universal
And I believe it to be
And a kiss is a captured moment
Held gingerly between us held like a mirror
Reflective bounce back and forth to and fro swing
Is it a mere possibility or plausible excuse
That what ever else is shared
Eternity is nothing more; ever more, ever more
Than an outdated expression word drop fracture
And a night will always turn into a day
And your hand will reach in touch my heart
Each note passionately played sweetest strum
…of your guitar drift and sway
String snap love will set the pace
Dancing tangled up love knots that binds us…

©2018 TrilbyYates

Drum Beat on the Table

Walking the shoreline winter winds toss sea foam into the air –
(Yes I digress) a familiar tag line used so often,
the past collides with the present –
life and all of its ups and downs and glory.
Glory, its intentions; seriously not lost on me.
…and as if on autopilot (yet another cliché) I close my eyes –
in a dream they turn from brown to blue
a reflection in the rear view mirror
while driving the New England coastline;
I don’t look away – but admittedly puzzled and charmed.

Crackling emotions have a grip on me
touching my core twisted knots
another hand to the heart moment,
not a gentle tug but more an aching angst;
what can I say as I attempt to medicate the sensation away.

Love blends into the distance,
the horizon always remains the same
like the dreams that never leave me –
like the gentle strum of a guitar
or tapping fingers a drum beat on the table…my chest vibrates.

A bouquet of lavender is left in the door’s lock;
a new vision from the rear view mirror – stop and fade a vivid memory
Recalling a scent that surrounded linen and lace
and while time stands still for no one not even the driver of ones own fate
its alter ego can hold a tight grip – the hands on the clock remain the same
tick toc tick toc timeless without reluctance or pause
I reach a point of almost getting close but not quite there…
The pieces fall with perfection into place and the dreams continue…

©2018 TrilbyYates

Heart and Heart

Eyes close take a deep breath
deep breath through the nose slow inhale
never letting go never letting go
filling the lungs filling the emptiness
in hallowed walls muted color soaked sanitized
lack of smell
lack of individuality
lack of who I am
color soaked sanitized

Form A form B circle one cross out one two
all the others the others that don’t apply
what does apply when the chest rises and doesn’t fall
what applies when you are shuffled in different directions
more questions more questions more questions
answers come to slow answers drift into the abyss
or they never come at all they hang in mind air
eyes close and I ask the cosmos I ask the goddess
will I ever see you again
will I ever feel you again
I drift away deep out of body drift and dreams

A nonsensical arbitrary paper trail
the imperial order of a healthcare hierarchy
that moves in white lab coats and clip boards
that holds an oath to do no harm to do no harm
I drift in and out now and then lights flash I drift
I drift away deep out of body drift and dreams

My hand on your chest your hand on mine heart beats
my love my love I hold your gentle heart in memories deep
I count each beat I drift out of body drift and dreams
you reach inside my chest my heart in your hands
you count each beat you whisper as I drift
you whisper my name you hold my heart
it’s not my time you let go I drift out of body
dream twist you let go another time love another time…

©2017 TrilbyYates

Pull the Trigger

Yea, I can’t quite shake the dreams that haunt me
those images that play out slowly drag on
black and white as if from another time
another sliver between now and then
a wedge between the past and the present
moving forward is a monumental task
and I’m spent man worn to the bone
sitting at a bar lifting a shot bartender’s special poison
like a gun to my head a little voice is whispering
pull the trigger
pull the trigger
but instead I wipe the sweat from my brow
hesitantly thankful for the distraction this time
it’s too warm in here the fan is stuck in repeat mode circulating a stale breeze and thoughts that don’t drift
hover like a helium balloon without the party high
they remain hyper focused details small minute
details – smell, senses, hot, cold, wet, dry, etc, etc…
old song mist the street I used to live on, lived on
searching for salvation self forgiveness God
and failing continually failing
shuffle buzzed stepping down a boardwalk
roaming around pinball wizard arcade
lights flash and maybe just maybe
I can call this hole in the wall, home.

©2017 TrilbyYates

Berklee Story

A moment a shuffle throw one back
gently put that baby down
every musician has a Berklee story
none as poignant as mine
and you spin storytelling to a new high
I can’t recall the last time I laughed so hard
the last time I laughed…the last time

Memory lane dims and time fades
agony adds humor to anecdotal flamboyance
yes color sound sit back close your eyes
it’s all in the details not weighed down by accuracy
arbitrary facts and truth stretches
morphing into a piece of history – unlike yours and mine
hard times weave in and out of love hope
and death spirals 180 degrees slam on the breaks spin out

Back to my story mine not yours
you had your turn as the door opened
the sun hit your face you pulled your shades down
covering the clarity in your eyes and walked
kicking up some dust as a smoke screen
to what you were leaving behind…

Guitar in hand notes float nerves are razor sharp
slice a vein left wrist I can play that tune
six string benders sit high imperial wizards
academia brain teasers lost faith
when the gigs were few and far between
ivy halls Berklee stories credence to their talents
play three songs comfort zone lost in a jazz piece
too many bars long gone the acrobat
the riff moves on a fine wire tear drop
perfection to the bleeding hearts
unplug sit back and listen as vibrations continue to hum
lingering in the air paying its dues to the faithful
and words drop like petals from a lovers bouquet
clearing his throat he comments on three notes
that sound reminiscent of another day
and the great influencers carry no weight
in the grand audition halls of Berklee

©2017 TrilbyYates