The Lovers’ Chronicle 22 September – the words – art by Čiurlionis

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

dream of words…
*He is roused from deep sleep to REM sleep
by the feeling of being transported rapidly
and by the presence of someone watching*
where have you taken me
We are in Mesopotamia, the birthplace
of poetry, seemed a fitting location
for what you want to talk about-
me
Yes you wanted to talk about words-
oh the theme for today
What would you do for them-
i believe i have shown that
Your past pain and dole are notable 


© copyright 2024 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

an homage, an ode
for the reason we are here
“If they hadn’t come, we
wouldn’t be together”
if they had not come, i
would have nothin’
to give you
nothin’ to read to you
“Our favorite time of the day
when you read to me in bed”
they saved me when i had
no one and no place to turn
c’mon, lets see
where the words
are takin’ us tonight

should they do anything, have meanin’ or not, or just be, flow together, pulse with sound and rhythm, take us from one view to the next, oh and this, are we servin’ them or they us, i will have that either way, but not this: listen; seems a challenge for some which baffles, no way to achieve what can be without the words

well, yes certain
but how was i
to account for you

relish the thoughts
with you, bein’
ourselves

no pretense
stripped of anything
other than what we are

lettin’ go feels so good

when i pulled you
towards me,
clothes hittin’ the floor
and the look in your eyes

more please

what has been denied
has only been delayed

Pale Love, Pale Rider

my constant companions
they do not fail me
when i sit down to write
the muse always responds
it cannot be a wonder
that i prefer their company

now here on a Tuesday,
done with all but the best part;
maybe this one, sittin’ at the bar
at Marcel, the vieux carré cocktail
was very good and the dark
ambiance was perfect
for me and my words

the reason
here at the end of a Sunday
to reflect, to remember
lookin’ for bon mots
followin’ ’em wherever

sippin’ a martini, stirred
hold the drama,
still findin’ what i need
solitude continues to please
the way forward clearly marked
as i turn the page on any other maybe

for Tamela

“But how can you be
so sure?”
there are a host
of reasons
why it must be so

and i will not
let it be otherwise
…

she knelt in the dirt
in her garden
and wept,
cryin’ out
at how life had denied her

then he came along
and took her hand
and helped her up
and said,

what has been denied
has only been delayed

for Gina

i was right there
i tasted the wine
i made love to her
i sat in the cafe
that mornin’
wonderin’
what the future held

or if it held
anything at all

i heard the cry
and i felt the longin’

it was all in her letter
funny thing is,
she left it
on the bedside table
and i was home all day
and never saw it

never saw it
until i went to bed
perhaps i had seen it
but had convinced
myself it was not there
because i knew
what was in it

i did not want to read it
i held it and paced
around the house
i drank and drank some more
i waited outside for her
but she did not come

i stayed up all night
and just as first light appeared
from the depths of despair,
from somewhere,
the words started comin’
and would not stop

Sorry y’all
Not feelin’ it

Grew up with cattle and horses
I could be found, sometimes, out there
with the herd. Scared my grandmother
the first time she found me with them
but the vaqueros would smile, nod
to each other, they understood

My world was wide spaces and wind
when that was all there was. Then words
slowly worked their way in and swept
me away; I never turned back

The rider throws a kiss, pale blue eyes beam
The sobs far off in a long ectasy…
Dreams of the only one, pressed tight against

for Denise

He rips off her
Pretty panties
She is so wet
And moanin’ yes
And so damn hot
Tellin’ him, please,
Please do not stop

Today is the birthday of Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis (Stare Orany, Vilna Governorate; 22 September [O.S. 10 September] 1875 –10 April [O.S. 28 March] 1911 Marki, Congress Poland); painter, composer and writer. One of the pioneers of abstract art in Europe. During his short life he composed about 400 pieces of music and created about 300 paintings, as well as many literary works and poems. The majority of his paintings are housed in the M. K. Čiurlionis National Art Museum in Kaunas, Lithuania. His works have had a profound influence on modern Lithuanian culture.

In 1907 he became acquainted with Sofija Kymantaitė (1886–1958), an art critic. Early in 1909 he married Sofija. On Christmas Eve Čiurlionis fell into a profound depression and at the beginning of 1910 was hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital “Czerwony Dwór” (Red Manor) in Marki, Poland, northeast of Warsaw. While a patient there he died of pneumonia in 1911 at 35 years of age. He was buried at the Rasos Cemetery in Vilnius.