words describe

that song fills my ears
and always reminds me of my trip
to the southland
cajun french
and mardi gras

that long drive across The Ponchartrain
is clearly set in my mind
walking on top of the levee
and crawfish mounds
daily ferry rides,
making my way to the French Quarter
red beans and rice

a new friend, who showed me
Watchman Nee
many words traded, then
she's faded
into the heart of the night

later, my lone trek
across Texas and Louisiana
that reporter who wrote that letter
to my mother, as my proxy

The music gives me comfort
a feeling of home
when I wasn't at home
a feeling of something to grab on to
to hold
though it wasn't mine

but I'll take the feeling
and hold it close
as one of the gems
of my life

© October 2010 by Marc McCune

http://youtu.be/-7JSTHldGpE

seek

12/2/2009 3:27 am

gospel music
erotica
rum, neat
this odd combination.
this part, that makes me
at least tonight it does.

part of that search
that is endless
in me
"there's something that you should know" he sings
"only if your life He holds"

Oh, He held it
for a while
a long while, much too long

and answers failed to emerge
the ones that are important

and I left
no more faith
no more belief

only began to emerge
when the box opened
and I found answers to questions
that I was afraid to ask
and He could not answer

yet here I am.
wanting Him to free the fire in me
but..who is He?
where do I find Him?

Here I am
sitting with all the things
that move my soul
a spiritual need
mixed with desire
for a carnal fuck

the burning desire
that has borders that blur
as the minstrel sings,
"all by myself
I don't know where I could begin,
I'm just a spark that quenches
like a candle quenches in the wind"

and I feel
nobody knows the answers





© December 2009 Marc S. McCune

like Indian Summer

I heard someone sing about Indian Summer
today feels like it could be such a day
or the real Spring day that it actually is
either type of day is the same
invoking the same kinds of feelings and thoughts

remember when, my full day could be spent
boyishly laying in the grass, with breezes blowing over me
and thoughts and questions filling my mind
all day laze
breathing life

I used to fish in the Ohio
not with complicated gear
only a simple spool of black coat thread
plain hook, a metal nut for a sinker
worms for bait, a piece of stick for a bobber
no need for complex systems

I used to swim in the creeks
just jumping in from tree limbs
no diving boards, or shower stalls
no chlorine or olympic lanes

these late years, questions beget more questions
former easy answers revealed as fog
Society seems to eschew the simple answers
as life turns into a virtual Rube Goldberg machine
what seemed so simple in Indian Summer
is complicated by crazy unnecessary systems
of rules and taboo
protocol and tradition
religion and honor codes

at the end of the day,
life doesn't need to be complicated
by the layers that we add to it.

©2011  Marc S. McCune