ENGRAM

It’s horrible, seeing again you leaving,

seeing again your pained blue eyes glaring

at my clueless chant of love, my grieving

later for weeks, self-destruction scaring

me into surviving one more lost time.

Memory surely alters my psyche,

my facial muscles, your absence a crime

of passion like no other. Alters me

through every flexing organ, my skin tone

surely grinding to gray. Neural tissue’s

stunned mauve colonies no longer alone

in their trauma. That last time I kissed you

years ago tears me again, this engram

destroying then renewing our endgame.

Roger Armbrust

January 23, 2020

MOON PROMISE

“I made a promise to the moon,” she said.

“I can’t share it with you.” She was watching

the moon as I watched her, then it. It bled

dark gold, like molten metal, stars catching

its fire. I imagined her whisper sworn

to write poetry, like Bishop, or to

chastity, like Virgin Queen, psyche torn

between passion for humans or verse. Who

or what would I choose? I long for each one,

feel them vital.  Surely she must. I held

back from questions, from uttering a word.

I curled my arm around her shoulder. Felt

her body press to mine. I longed to grow old

with her. Above us, a passing cloud burned gold.

Roger Armbrust

December 26, 2019

PRAYER

Guide us in caring for water and air

for earth and each other. Thank you for crops

you raise to feed each life, for weather fair

and foul, showing energy never stops,

but challenges senses to stay in touch

with Great Reality. When we fear life

and death or poverty, struggle to clutch

all matter, show us what matters. Our sight

clouds so quickly. Our minds hide from our hearts.

Only your invisible hand, it seems, will

touch and clear our path, ease our plight. What starts

as thought or feeling moves to action. Still

it all begins and ends with unseen caress

of your spirit guiding us, whispering “Bless…”

Roger Armbrust

December 16, 2019

MEMORY THROUGH EMOTION

for Michelle Renee

Your new painting portrays us all as we

age…or me at least…my memory through

emotion flashing colors through my psyche

brushstrokes abstract yet specific…gray blue

and golden cherished…coatings of deepest

sorrow…all enclosing that precious white

clarity…or are they embracing? Best

or worst those brief ebony streaks streaming

constantly through my vision…like loves lost

or dear souls I should recall and pray for…

almost recognized then fading from my sight…

basking in reality or dreaming?

I recall relationship’s cost…its pace

and reward…call it honesty…or grace…

Roger Armbrust

November 22, 2019

EJACULATIONS FOR HUMANKIND

To all mothers and fathers

who love and care

thank you for your service

To all teachers and mentors

who guide and share

thank you for your service

To all students of the world

securing Earth's future

thank you for your service

To all artists and writers

who go deep and take chances

thank you for your service

To all publishers and editors

who guide us in understanding

thank you for your service

To all farmers, grocers, chefs and cooks

who feed the hungry

thank you for your service

To all guardians of water

who give us drink and cleanse us

thank you for your service

To all architects and builders

who house us the homeless

thank you for your service

To all doctors, nurses, and medics

who treat the suffering

thank you for your service

To all scientists and chemists

seeking humankind’s cures

thank you for your service

To all attorneys, judges, and legislators

honestly tempering society

thank you for your service

To all nations’ soldiers and police

living as true peacekeepers

thank you for your service

To all public protestors

guarding civilization

thank you for your service

To all protectors of the poor

who understand the soul

thank you for your service

To all astronomers, mathematicians, and futurists

offering us hope

thank you for your service

Roger Armbrust

November 18, 2019

GOT THE MOODY BLUES

Got the moody blues so I’m listening

to The Moody Blues play “The Other Side

of Life” -- music’s driving beat glistening,

honest lyrics reaching that magic ride:

“…the only way to get there is to take

that step…the lovers and the fighters

and the risks they take…” What desire can make

us lovers and fighters? What whispered fear

stops us? Or is it faith sensing wisdom,

hovering in our psyches like Buddha

or Rumi, Confucius, Rilke or womb

echoing the eternal? What good’s a

step to the other side alone? I share

Moody Blues: “I know you’re out there somewhere…”

Roger Armbrust

October 31, 2019

IT’S 3 AM SUNDAY

It’s 3 am Sunday in October

and already I’m playing Mathis’s

“Merry Christmas” album. Playing over

and over. Ultimate love songs, I guess,

in this age of hate. Singing in whispers

along with him…softly so I won’t wake

the neighbors. Singing softly like vespers

in some ancient monastery. I take

deep breaths as I recall all my past lives.

Lost loves. Amazing plans now hidden deep

in darkest clouds. I suppose it’d prove wise

to just be grateful for good health. To keep

promises. To call those I love. It’s fine

to see just what this is: Oh night divine.  

Roger Armbrust

October 27, 2019