Cassey Blue (A Song I Once Knew)


Au Revoir is not goodbye, it could be a simple way we cry, and all this an adieu in blue, a song I once knew, my Cassey blue, my sweet, red white and blue. A world returns to haunt its own, I wish I knew where we belong, and what the words to say. It seems to rest upon a store of hate those with rituals innate, those who pound the hammer cold, and kill to make their god atone. I will not spend the text or time, I will not pretend the time is mine, but I will say bonjour to you, and yes I’ll pray too, a song I once knew, my Cassey blue.

Au Revoir is not goodbye, a span of tears in earths sweet tide, that reaches way beyond the terror vale, that knows the great divide. It seems sometimes that spirit knows why and takes away from G-Ds own sky, our own reasons to decide. I think right now a mother cry’s; a child does look for daddy’s eyes. It’s not for me to invade this pain to say it’s mine, narcissistic gain, to have others look at me, and say so good you feel for me, for all I have is not enough to understand what others had, is gone. Bonjour sweet Cassey blue, a song I once knew.  I hope there’s time to help you through, and when you close the door on pain, it would be your better when you say:

Au Revoir is not goodbye, even when the wormwood flies and sprays the color red across your Paris sky.

Au Revoir is not goodbye, for history bares, that circles fly, and bares repeat of spring will come, and light a darkened sun. But now, I beg sweet Cassey blue, a song I once knew, your flag sweet torn, red white and blue, it is enough to know the time, to know, the minutes going by, and some day when the field is sown, and someday swords will turn to stone, and then you’ll know why.

Au Revoir is not goodbye, sweet Cassey blue, sweet Cassey blue, a song I once knew. – 11.13.2015 –
דָּנִיֵּאל

Regina (Angelspeak)


She said I did a lot of thinking as I drove down 25, and the thing that you were claiming what you saw as your dad died. Seems to me it is a pickle of what you should say or do, I’m thinking deep inside you my friend, he saw the better side of you. For that she was a wonder only twenty-one and rare, from Alaska this soft angel, kept my mind from desperate terror. The curves of this Regina, she was sexual like the heights, of McKinley on a cold spring day, she blossomed all out right. But she never bode me go there for she knew, my promises, said baby in the next life, you’ll take my body there. She kept her figure distant, and she gave of her insight what a friend I had in Gina when my world was not upright.

So it was I cried a cold tear on an early May morn light, and I told her of my father, who had been a greater right. When the wind it came down sweeping, from Cheyenne it rode a plain, and she tucked me in her small still place and in her grace she sang. Yes it’s true you’re like an older friend that for a while, will cry, but listen to your little Gina, and loosen your disguise. For I am not here to kiss you, and I’m not here to take your heart, for it is unto another, where there is that faithful spark. So I tell you, your daddy, knew you better than you are, you are like a chosen sparkler, an apostle of the stars. I can tell you how I know this, I can tell you how it comes, but you listen to your Regina, you are brighter than the sun.

She said I did a lot of thinking as I drove down 25, and the thing that you were claiming what you saw as your dad died. Oh I think he knew you were magic, and from your words you would someday rise. What a lesson she was to me, as we sat and talked that May, and it turned me into something, I would need for coming days. It is true I wonder many times where that young girl went, for I would just like to thank her, she was a friend, when life was spent. For it could be she was vapor, brought on by a risen flame, from my tears for my daddy, may be for that thought she came. So it is now that I write to her, and pray this special word, may you know more than your happiness, for indeed you sowed its worth. – 3.16.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

The Rest


His breath so well mixed in with dew, a frosty hail as last breaths due, and from that ship that sailed on by, it took my friend for then he died. It seems so strange, I walked outside, a rainy day, two boys at play, their hair so wet, they looked to me, like boys us two, what did I see. I went to wave, and hold back time, you smiled and faded, like ghost from rhyme. Forgive this way, lost paradigm, when parts unknown have come to dine, they stagger in upon quiet grief, a bond is gone from life received, and I won’t sleep while in death’s chill, for I’m left running in silence still, and oh my friend, look what you’ve done, you found the rest, while still I run.

When we were young, we wrote a book, rebuked the world while demons shook. We built a house named before death, starved all our fears of all they had, and then we called down all the skies made youth our days, we would not die, but oh my friend, look what you’ve done, you found the rest, while still I run. What ship you sail, I cannot see, it holds my hope, a treaty free, of when you stand before one mast you anchor me in all we had.

When we were young, we broke young skin, mixed dark matter, as next of kin, and by and by the rules of war, we fought our battles and settled scores. We lodged ourselves between tight sea’s became the masters of all belief, by all our books, beneath starlight, great sorcery became our light, but oh my friend, look what you’ve done, you found the rest, while still I run.

So now no trace of your skin glows, you’ve found a trail where starships go, it does not beckon like Tom Swift did to take adventure, you do not live. Your spirit hastened to leave this shore, without your breath for higher storms. May be a boy, a boy I see, his wet hair waving, goodbye to me, but oh my friend, look what you’ve done, you found the rest, while still I run.

For my childhood best friend Jason Stuart Waite who finally found The Secret Panel on Wednesday October 08,2014.  May he rest while still I run! – 10.10.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Martin Begotto


The question he answers with tears in his eyes, how long is she living, what way she will die. The bed by the window still covered by sun, makes Martin, Begotto, see her so young. A bride by a portal of death drawing near, the silence of waiting, the emptiness of fear. For fifty-six years a wife by his side, he turns his back to her, she dies with goodbye. In softness of twilight, that glistens death’s gloom, he searches his pockets and pulls forth a spoon. With ashes he sprinkles and sighs with content, Martin is grieving his sacrifice spent.

Wait, Martin a question as dark fills your eyes, so much has happened and still you won’t cry? For Martin, Begotto, you seem not surprised that death is your healer, your pain now denied, and what of those ashes that fell from a spoon, what gift is your secret, that covered this room? Your loved one just passed us, your sweet Sherry wife, why do you not wallow in angry wet cries?

Martin, his grimace, a pale zippered moon, a worm in elixir, its breath now consumed. Martin an old man, who fought in a war, who lost half his sons in ways he deplores, why one of them died with strange fire in his blood, another was murdered a stabbing well done. Martin Begotto a man with a spoon, ashes of recall poured in a room.

The ashes of letters burned in the dark, from years of division, when love was so hard, his life in Korea, while she held the home, come back my sweet bunny, I feel so alone. The boys miss their daddy, they watch the war news, they walk in your snow boots, and play your old blues. The records have been scratched, I hope you don’t mind, I love you dear Martin, our laughs and our times. He’s burned all the letters of medical creed the ones spelling death with their boys deceased. He’s grabbed the deep spoon that held lintel and rice to spoon memories ashes, where Sherry abides.

Martin Begotto turns and he blinks, his life with his Sherry is now done complete, whatever he wanted has given receipt, an answer to life, that never repeats. This life is now over, the part in this room, his Sherry is glowing, she’s met her new groom. – 07.20.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל