Ophelia the Young

This Is Not Chess...

Unconventional Coffee

ERASE THE PEN

Erase the pen it is not permanent
Your watery skin’s protected by a force-field,
Like a gas grill’s glow of heat

I see this auric and long to pierce it
To lap up harvested smell of incense scents in
Rapturously doused smile

To hold Your soul in My mind’s moistened eye
A warm flag of flame hovering on My bare palm
We two earnestly tremble

Swim smiles that separate our seas
I long to sense Your seamless sensibilities
Your golden gleam in the dark.

© R.J. Huneke 3/2009

                                    

                     HOURGLASS

                                        Sands     rushing       down       inch       by       mile

                                          Granules, specks...……..            masses

                                              Populations,  ....…..          worlds

                                                   They        ......           fall

                                                       Or          …       rise

                                                          Up side..  down

                                                            Oh sands Oh

                                                           Rafts  ..Of Sea

                                                       The Waves.. crawl

                                                    ‘Cross  .Waves..  voids

                                                Whirlpools…..…of….     stars

                                        Rough         ..white..lights…     masses

                              Time     spills     and      rescinds      and      gathers
 
                                                      Copyright © 2007-2009 R.J. Huneke

"DRINKING THE LUCK"

Yours

OUTSIDE

Television is overrated as being beneficial
And underrated as an impediment to mankind.

© 2009 R.J. Huneke   5/21/09

"STORM"

HAUNTED WITH PLEASURE/PAIN

Her brown eyes haunt me to this very balanced/unbalanced day
Torn tears shake ripple
Rattle water shimmer twisting serrated scenarios
The softest dark eyes
Quaked with the tectonics of vicious smiles’ lines ‘neath Her eyelids
Fault lines:  perfection
And if Her sweat approached those never pallid pupils in rows
Of beads, fields of drops
Regardless of the exultation I would see Her crying
Either carry on
The working local motions of happiness swarming each other
Or I would crash to
Create a dam for those brown eyes to yield before and steady
And as I recount
Her brown eyes haunt me to this very balanced/unbalanced day


© 2009 R.J. Huneke 1:13 p.m. 4/18/09

I Query

I don’t know where I stood but my legs were gone
I queried
I had already thrown myself to You twice
What to think
If you did not know my Dad you might mistake
Looks, harshness
You must understand, absolve him of that, for
He’s too kind
He cares too much; he it was who asked of Her
I said, “no”
He alone who asked through the weeks about You
Now I think
I miss having no opportunity to
Absolve You
My Dad understood the incorruptible maze
My mind’s rage
When a swarm of bees infiltrates the flowers
Pollen weeps
Deep impressions are life whipped around on legs:
Pollen, smiles
See You in my mind’s eye so stunning as I
Leap forward
How can a sad man without legs jump at all
Take a plunge
Throw myself before your riddled way of speech
Reveled in
Such soul You took and caressed my inner ears
Think on it
O do I, O do I, O do I brave girl
Remember
You chose the silence of words and lopped my legs
Off they popped


I don’t know where I stood but my legs were gone
I queried
Because I would still leap from the sharp red rock
Dive to You
Skim the waterfall’s mouth as I journeyed to
Your warm arms
The anywheres of nowheres I do not know
Where I am
Where I stood noting the changing gray color
Of Your eyes
The sapphire, emerald folds of Your soul
Your passion
You wear it as a badge that so few can see
But I know
What drives You is like what fuels me to draw words
All the time
We have such things to live for, but not as one?
Time of need:
We should aid each other in fighting the wind
With shorn sails
You hold me to Your shining winsome bosom
I hold on
Thoughts adrift the whirlpool pulls with the weeks gone
Didn’t know
That I would still be thinking so very strong
Am I wrong?
Did I alone feel the tingle on o’r skin?
Natural
Colliding along the corner of a cliff
A wave drifts
Will it slosh away or will it drift back home?
I query.

© 2009 R.J. Huneke 4/11/09 5:20 p.m.

BREAK THROUGH

The broken bay is like mirrors
Falling, calling, denying transparency:
Why can't one see beyond the
Water walls camouflaging Her eyes from me?


Why can't I touch Her surface
Without rippling and losing each foothold?
Dreams swim Her body, mind, soul
Why can't I smell, taste the water Her lips hold?


Copyright © 2009 R.J. Huneke 2/23/09

 


THE DEAD RISE AT BLACKWATER LAKE

 

Through the transparent roof rose a heavy moon

I watched its chalk halo fall dead against the quilted clouds.

A lonely leaf collapsed on the car’s roof, its veins a lifeless brown, and blew away.

Reclining in the molded bucket seat, my legs stretched like Frankenstein’s

And I drew a hearty inhalation of recycled pine trees.

Then my body stiffened, my nostrils flared

The din of horns blowing wrenched my eyes to the forgotten windshield.

Zombies approached my metallic aqua-marine Camaro

A mixed scent of puke in a garbage disposal preceded them.

Their lips split with maggots, squirming coils in violet gaps

Eyes pushed outward in leathery visages, like a mantis’

The dead stumbled toward my car with an insect’s fixed expression:  hunger.

I snapped upright, a suede air freshener bouncing off my head.

Line upon line of suited slavering sallow zombies rose from Blackwater Lake

Where I had strategically parked to gain a better view of my date;

Where she had glistened brighter than the moon

Her nipples grew perplexed at the absence of my curious fingers

She sat up and cried aloud,

“Shit!  Fuck!  Shit!  FUCK!” I slammed the car into reverse 

For the monsters, though slow moving, advanced on the parking lot

Their horrifying ties, two dozen strong, wagged around their necks, like sickles

In ridiculous variations of Republican pink, violet, and scarlet.

My date’s screams echoed in my ears, echoed in my ears

The screeching of my tires was drowned out.

We both whiplashed back as I wrenched the car about and fled…

The street was for a moment peacefully naked like my date and I had been five minutes before

When out jumped the Blackwater’s mercenaries, firing drunkenly at anything that moved,

And all the President’s zombies, all the President’s men could not put him back together again.

For I had stomped on the gas

And said, “Hold on, baby,” and shot my gun:

The Camaro lunged forward and its bumper thumped the powder faced President Zombie

And a line of his grinning private security contractor zombies,

I turned; my radiator gasped and exhaled steam

The three-point-eight liter engine roared and I ran over them again

Until fingers broke off triggers falling to the ground

Their dislodged dripping brains, flat bruised-gray toes,

And spitting ventricles followed with a splat.

The zombies continued to wriggle and fire on us.

I made a disheartened getaway into the sour sapphire of the night

And I shouted, “Baby, the fuckers won’t die!

We were lucky to get away!

But the fuckers won’t die!”



Copyright © 2008 R.J. Huneke
 

HER KISS

Your lips part
Further adrift with purpose
A sight seen
Staring across the harbor
Blue beacons
Your eyes seen amidst the waves
Of Your smile.
Copyright © 2009 R.J. Huneke

WARNING X-RATED WORDS FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY BELOW:

Her Morning Fire

Woke with Her fire this morn
In too often idle remembering arms
Held onto Her journeyed smile
Gold body backs over, Her breasts brush my abs
Slick valleyed sights, She moves up
And down She comes to me with slight parted mound
Enter the warm valley’s slopes
Climb Her, fall from, climb, Her gust moans in my ear
On first wake Her supple form
Seduces morning glow, Her raging fire.

Copyright © 2009 R.J. Huneke

I NOW KNOW

I have a spine.
It’s been there all along.
Went soft with life’s
Fortunes smiling on me;
Let my “sweet side”
Get in the way of it.
I know my spine,
A ridge of mountains that
Can’t be beat down,
That weathers all the blue
Forgotten storms.

I have a spine.
It’s been there all along.
A lesson learned:
Nothing can take away
The hard edges
That have carved up my life;
And I am now
More of a man among
Strayed silent sheep;
And my spine won’t be lost
Next time around.


© R.J. Huneke 2009
1/29/09 11:07 p.m.

Monumental

H
I S
TORY
IS MADE
1/20/2009.
A  MAN    IS
HERE      TO
LEAD      US
WHITE      -
WASHED    -
WALLS      R
PRESIDIN   ’
OVER    THE
1    MILLION
WHO     SEE
&       HEAR
ONE     MAN
GIVING   AN
EARTH   SH-
ATTERING
TALK      OF
EQUAL  ITY
&  WISDOM
&    FAMILY
IN THE U.S.
A  HISTORY
OF  SLAVES
WHO    DID
BLOODILY ,
ON    THEIR
...BACKS…
BUILD ONE
DC  WHITE-
HOUSE    &
1   CAPITOL
NOW  FREE
AT      LAST
MINDS ARE
TO    START
OPENING UP
DR. KING  IS
GETTING THRU
GOOD         LUCK
MR.       PRESIDENT
BARACK          OBAMA


© 2009 R.J. Huneke
   1/20/2009

The Ants Go Marching March

The Ants go marching march
                                      Down
     Wielding their workloads
  Down
     Entered hole in head
                                Down
         Such an open door
     Down
         Red line upon line
                                Down
       Their feet uncoiled
    Down
       My entrails, their trek
                                   Down
                   Over and over
               Down
                   They hiked, searched for blood
                                                             Down
                        Climbed the mesas’ heights
                    Down
                        With razors not packs
                                                    Down
                       On their jointed backs
                   Down
                       Found the upper guts
                                                  Down
                          With rose antennae
                       Down
                          They brush the walls with
                                                            Down
                                 Razors on their backs
                             Down
                                Sliding and scraping
                                                         Down
                              Tunneling with hands
                          Down
                              They do not have packs
                                                             Down
                                   Just razors on backs
                               Down
                                   Ripping my entrails
                                                            Down

                                               © 2009 R.J. Huneke
                                               1/13/2009 4:50 p.m.

Pour It

We are creatures of habit
Sometimes we take for granted
The pleasures of daily lives
Simply seeing certain shapes
Feeling for frosted flakes early
Smelling sensuous meals’ steam
Holding crystal (glass), tasting thrill
Combing crimson (air), hearing song.

© 2009 R.J. Huneke
1/2/2009 10:18 a.m.

© 2009 R.J. Huneke 
R.J.H. 12/2008

Blinded by the Guinness Descendant from the Light

Coercion


Giftedly Conniving
Ingeniously Warped
Into Planning, Plotting
She’s Panting softly
Rubbing Up Against Me
Begging Attention
Nailing My Frame Of :Mind:
…
Quotidian Turns Into
…
Auteur’s Brooding Angrily:
…
The Dog’s Hunt
For Table Scraps.



© 2008 R.J. Huneke 
12/18/2008 7:02 p.m.

VAULTED

Vaulted dreams
Swallowed whole
Assimilated in body cells
Bouncing bravery by balance beams
Digested
Part of You
Invisibly driving You alive
Headstanding on the faded brown dock
Brilliant blue
Sky's are sharp
Slicing the backdrop of real and not
Dancing dedications dare daylight
Keep them in?
Win them out.


Copyright © 2008 R.J. Huneke
12:15 p.m. 12/11/2008

"Planned Results"

Intricate puzzle box
Become afraid
Fear that it may no longer work
Take what you have and love
Fear that it may no longer work
Throw it away
Two hands beating in clock

Hearts knock, pulsing, as one
Become afraid
Fear that it may no longer work
Wrench apart - separate
Fear that it may no longer work
Throw it away
Remains are out of sight

Our business:  busy
Become afraid
Fear that it may no longer work
Plans, books’ worms, papers, weeks
Fear that it may no longer work
Throw it away
One’s time cannot be shared.

One’s time cannot be shared?
Become afraid
Fear that it may no longer work
One’s time cannot be shared??
Fear that it may no longer work
Throw it away
One’s time cannot be shared.

© 2008 R.J. Huneke
12/6/2008 4:42 p.m.

I will bare my Heart to the World

Despite it:  being the chink in wrinkled armor,
The bare hollow in the scales of Smaug’s left breast,
The King on a marble board bereft of pawns,
The cement sails on a boat without wind…
I will bare my Heart to the world.

Despite it:  housing Hope – humans’ power aid,
Learning, living, sharing, creating Life Love,
Carousing carefully measured Courage-shots,
Barring the way to pain – a glass prism…
I will bare my Heart to the World.

Despite it:  being the centered Soul’s cavern,
Delicate beacon of One as everything,
Driving force pumping broken blood – aired red paint,
Circulating the glow of rosy cheeks…
I will bare my Heart to the World.

Despite it:  freely given – returned tattered,
 Heavy-handed marks from being held too hard,
Open to be ripped from chest leaking marrow,
Defying logic – fragile – saving all…
I will bare my Heart to the World.


© 2008 R.J. Huneke 9:19 p.m. 12/04/2008

"I Hear"

Her smile stands alone
It sticks to my mind in its
Multitude of forms and guises
But the SOUND!

All of the Sound finds me
Her whispers, coughs, small and GREAT
Her anchoring words, released cries
Drowned out waves.

Pushed on, “Go Robbie Yeah!”
Race’s shout still echoes, throbs
Her intricate exultations
Shelter lands.

Rain poured last we discussed
Her laughter splashing my soul
Her dreams, exhaling, calling out
Never deaf.



© 2008 R.J. Huneke

DRIFTED THROUGH MY SUBCONSCIOUS DESERT AND STILL YOU FOLLOWED

Your name crept over dry lips
As I turned over to sleep
Without thinking my last thoughts
Chased Your breath from my lone ear
Standing I feel gravity
Ignore its effects, forget
Yet when I lie down yield to
Sleep I can’t push You from me


Last night I took rest
Focused on unfocused visions of my day
Myriad fractions
Where until I lie falling, You were absent
Your word passed my lips
And into the clouds of my mind wondered,
Wandered asked for You,
“How was your (un)wavering life without me?”
“Why?” I asked Her.  “Why?”


I fight to cast You away
Day after wheel grinding day
Scar won’t form, wet wound won’t heal
And Your Wildwood smile
(You were nothing but joyful
Walking duck, duck, goose on Sound)
Looms fresh in my sweating mind
Are You forever lost?  Kissed.


R.J.H.  11/14/2008  9:05 p.m.


© 2008 R.J. Huneke

Thirst For Knowledge

I can feel the grain of the wood of my desk, its grin
Smooth, yet delicate, myriad one of a kind finds
Ridges living pathways to the very soul of it
She’s for view, all amazing, on the outside to touch
There is so much to know and learn, Her wooden surface
But I want more:  to discover grains hidden within
Feeling the fluid callused feet, line upon soft line
I desire bare glimpses to the sap that makes Her

R.J.H.  9:20 p.m. 10/23/2008


© 2008 R.J.Huneke

POEM Published in the EAST END ELEMENTS LITERARY JOURNAL Spring 2008
      
        MORNING

        Awake

        Rise painfully

        Seeing double

        Hum the Beatles

        Think

        Jo Ann’s eyes

        Silky brown waves

        Smooth round islands

        Stir

        Late to work

        Drive, hum, think

        Seeing double

         On arrival

        A wake

        Smell

        Vanilla memories

        Time to leave work

        Race home to Her

        Absence


Copyright © 2008 R.J. Huneke

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