Tuesday, December 29, 2009


am I just like all the others?
is the illusion I've drawn elusive art
   or simple chicken scratch bullshit?
words ordered to make the appearance
   like fine clothes on a blowup doll
ornate stockings on cheap vinyl thrills
sick fetish glossy mags sold as nude stills
it doesn't fool anyone but the hopeful fool
what have I become then?
am I only a demon wrapped in flesh
   seeking to consume without end?
or is my intent to love strong enough
   a beacon of spiritual light enmeshed
I think what I am can be real
I believe faith can wish it into existance
I hope beyond logic I can be more than my craving
I declare that there's something in both you and me worth saving

– Jason Kichline

Monday, December 14, 2009


heaviness weighs on course piano strings
frayed from the plucking and hitting
splintering skin and splattering blood
the constant torment carrying
stooped over from the aching heaviness
misshapen into a twisted ball of hurt and pain
lashing violence like broken tensions, too tight
madness released as visceral flesh cutting
heightening my sense of feeling the hidden
seeing the unseen, holding the absent hand
crying tears of remote fear and history
tickling ivory of shaking bone and ebony
playing doctor with shattered hearts

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


an act of worship makes a noise
loud above the status quo silence
bold beyond an accepted inaction
as clanging a bell, breaking night
rushing the dawn in lifted hands
we stand as one, a union, church
in one song, swaying and playing
but a family in need is mentioned
and we, the body hear and weep
call for a basket to hold blessings
and one comes forward, clanging
jangles on wood, a stretched skin
dancing, she turns it upside-down
laying down her worship for love
and each coming, carrying money
replacing music from our open lips
with open wallets from their hips
showing what true worship brings
in lives laid down and tambourines

Jason Kichline

Monday, November 30, 2009

To Whom It May Concern

I write to you from the precipice
a frightening prospect ascending
a mound of bound ink rendering
how much I now fear to reminisce
as though if these words cease
the journeyman would release
and I would be lost here, alone

a mailbox stands near the tree
gnarled from howling weather
nailed and assembled together
to house this hiker’s dirty diary
read by those who wander by
and wonder at this backlit sky
where stars that die are flown

living life is not a single line
from point A to B envisioned
charted with a stern precision
geometry mapping the divine
proving God really does exist
found in everything we missed
along our walk in the unknown

what I’ve found upon this trail
from the dim lit bars to theology
and all the weakness within me
is we are made to chase our tail
the sun may rise and fall again
but failing to love will never end
tripping and falling on the stone

I stubbed my toe, it hurts like hell
some have walked with me a while
then left before this marking mile
but you have denied your farewell
stuck with me though feet were raw
and sharing the hurt and heart of all
you, a love I can never call my own

the path circles back into the wood
flesh rising up to grasp what’s mine
my spirit finding brokenness to bind
for I set my mind to do what I could
I leaned towards good, but you know
I let my lust and weakened will show
so looping back I’ll reap what I've sown

then once again there’s a familiar fork
a tired way, I chose correct before for
a dead end lay behind the other door
a promised way always comes up short
and tedium adds nausea to the route
to figure out solely what I’m all about
finding my soul through endless roam

so what do I acquire from this trip?
there’s vistas, valleys, flats and hills
but slowly I tire of those scenic thrills
but this one thing I could never skip
for life is not found among the page
but spoken from the words who age
despite the trial and temptation shown

you’ve walked with me, and I with you
sharing struggles and laughs and such
and not afraid of your warming touch
we strengthen the form of what was true
leaving our regrets to never turn back
collecting polished pebbles in our pack
rejoicing in all of the ways we’ve grown

for you, my friend, are my greatest prize
found in adventure started in your eyes
and ended here on number four forty one
finding that you and I have only begun
for days that end are the end of days
as a music too serious never plays
but we, eternal, are bound always

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Family Friends

hearts strung with handspun love
no bloodlines formed between us
but friendships formed tighter
than what are found in nature
shallow commons, echoed plaster
we are seen as small yet again
judged by what has been last
and not who we have become
because they see us as we are
the men and women accepted
in love and not blood to family
just by the warm conversations
about homes still not finished
for the last nail in the house
will be the first in the coffin
or about the picnic missed and
the lawn volleyball, bickerings
to show me they belong together
or how the Latino highs accent
lows of Pennsylvania Dutch boom
faking an Alabaman southern draw
coaxing laughter from my father
this has become my true family
knit together not from genetics
but from the sinews of chance

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, November 28, 2009


we roll around the time once more
something spiced and sweet before
reminders of moments gone too soon
pressing dough and licking the spoon

sweetened cakes, baked in batches
the counting done until it matches
morsels of memories now aligned
as flavors savored one more time

just a year since you invited me
sharing laughs and cookies and tea
spilled as truth and crumbs and more
than we had expected a year before

across the counter was something new
a different taste for me to chew
I looked and saw the sugar fade
into a place that time had made

I saw it in your scared, hazel eyes
the little girl who was trapped inside
the hopes and dreams, sugar and spice
poured out like eggnog, it did entice

drawn like butter and stirred as dough
the days and weeks and months did go
and here are we, just one more past
the tip of the earth, the tip of a glass

but inside each, have noted a change
that for a moment, life was strange
as the sugar rushed in visceral veins
crystallized into a love that remains

and though I long to see that girl
and watch her as the flurries swirl
released from all she had overcome
chasing snowflakes with her tongue

– Jason Kichline

Friday, November 27, 2009


it sounds a silent hiss
barely heard whispers
highly tuned unspeakables
no words, no syllables
utterings of understanding
of intangible worldly things
radiating as heat from flesh
rush of pain from the soul
shrieking in the spirit
echoes aimed at heaven
absorbed into the clouds
on it's way up I hear it go
like the wind in the treetops
a distant whistle of steam
or falling waters in streams
I feel the cry of your heart
I hurt for you, I make a sound
not aware of a proper prayer
ones that start with "our father"
or that end with a unison "amen"
just a whimper from my lips
just tears dripped down cheeks
into shared memories and care
soaking liquid hurt into a wad
resounding it to the ear of God

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, November 26, 2009


waiting in fleece sweatpants
pink with a soft top below
hair tossed up in a twist
staring with eyes talking
mouth silently stressed
in the grocery store
on thanksgiving eve
outside the bathroom
I stop, look and read
she tells me her story
recited by her maternal
stance and stare, checking
on her little girl in the potty
just tiny blond joy and mommy
serving facades, late for the party

your eyes told a tired story clear
when I looked into yours last year
like a download of your aching soul
splashed cold upon mine, changing
two stories combined, entwined
destined to walk side-by-side
for a reason, for a season
and as one comes to end
another starts again
pain in eyes relies
on me to mend

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


finding the meaning of words
he digs through his mind
sifting sands of belief
raking the leaves of regret
that have fallen from the fall
golden brown and red rubbish
stacking meaning as harvested hay
neat bundles aligned in a random way
and slowly the picture paints itself
like a Rockwell of the farmlands
memories of a more perfect era
contrasting against greying skies
rain and fog make must and mildew
reclaiming order back into black mud
he runs his fingers, fumbled in grime
through grit, seeking a lost locket
pitted gold, sewed shut in time
meshed in the muck, unseen
numb grinding sticks and stones
you, as a jewel fell from my pocket
tossed as words, as meaning as clues
to find myself belonging in you

– Jason Kichline


she holds it in her hand
a band standing for forever
fumbling between her fingers
shaking through her moist pads
she sets it on the bed stand
a circle sideways as a severed
trust, a broken promise now lingers
spinning infinite circles of could-hads
what she had planned
falls as tears that never
finds damp pillows, brings her
closer to counting life which adds
still adds up to one
never really was it two
so how could it ever be more?
this symbol's job is done
removed by fear come true
she can't take anymore
ring in the drawer
hope on the floor

– Jason Kichline


bodies appear
they become aware
themselves and them
pushing through the air
of meat and bone and fear

therefore I am
and to earth, adhere
as if spirit were unaware
of a pressure to persevere
as if I could ever condemn

your essence
beyond compare
within the bounds
of this frightful affair
of living within the seeing

for what you see
the form flowing here
reflects a soul coming near
objects are closer than they appear
the presence of you and me

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Street Lamp

street lamp whimpers, flickers
sighing against the darkness
a summons to illuminate
a hum, a click, then...
brightness waits in bluish haze
fading subtly in dreariness
the warmth casts down
the downcast warm up
drizzle falls and splashed
the trickled flow of promise
just a crystal ball
held high on a tree
cabled to electricity
sight to those seeing
sight to the blind
brightening the road
a journey we all make
no sooner it's all on
street lamp is failing
can't light up the night
can't chase pain away
or warm huddled bones
or hush the wailing
wait for the day
be patient tonight
run for cover and see by the light
tomorrow is around the horizon
darkened and hushed
the bulb cools
out like a

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, November 22, 2009


the turkeys cluck in the grand room
pecking order of pride and prejudice
gobbled like deficient deficit dollars
into fat gullets of their fatter wallets
it's like pinning the tail on the jackass
I mean "donkey", but there are many
good aim in not required at this party
fluffing feathers and cockeyed cooing
showing how big and colorful we are
and the biggest bird get picked first
in this life's little game of dodgeball
smacked in the balls and de-feathered
a beak broken and crushed, silenced
skinned of life, plucked into doom
throats that talked, slipped at dawn
threats that walked, ripped from ones
seated, yet standing inside, unified
scream half truths, blurts "you lie"!

– Jason Kichline


load up ice cream on the old, red pitch roof
toppled by the weight of added snow and ice
so we'll know then we have finally broken through
and chasing forever the naughty from the nice
save the manners for the dinner table my dear
talk up to me dirty like inhaled, dusty coal gifts
walking on crooked, potholed, ice packed sidewalks
talking to strangers, the most probable of weirdos
the old weathered man in worn old leather clothes
walking sin as a pet dog, a horse out to pasture
wrinkled, u-shaped back, as broken as my will fractured
so I slip up, look back, and behold a geriatric ass
and face down I go into the yellow brown snow
embarrassing, brush it off and stand up to the tavern
whiten thick stone, carved depths thick as caverns
swing the thick oak back to hear big band horns
ringing the thick smoke hung as burnt wick incense
cigars and scotch warm the souls of us beef eaters
and a time back when when "the game" was of cards
waged and gambled, life's moments as scattered shards
today I died and went into the town
where magical memories mingle around

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, November 21, 2009


connections cross the space and distance
electric bits transform, transmit our essence
of who we are, our voice, our intentions and perhaps
a piece of who we are beneath this covering
though the hours shift, the same time elapsed
share we the same soul as a family growing
one tribe, one tongue, one common ancestry
oceans wide, deep and miles cry in silence
longing to hug you again, to share sustenance
to show and yours love without the restriction
formed between us as a digital spiritual connection

– Jason Kichline


a speck, a grain, no more, no less
to me, an inconsequential stain
on an imaginary wedding dress
and yet this speck, I must confess
is small compared against the rest
but the wearer of the glowing grain
sees only growing fear and pain
coming from the mindless speck
which so easily destroys and wrecks
an otherwise perfect cleaned and pressed
white lace and sequenced wedding dress

how do I wash the blemish clean?
or show her that the red will fade?
for what truly is, is not what's seen
but that matters not for those dismayed
by a simple dot that has betrayed
for we slide within the in-between
slowly exiting from scene to scene
so while she may have seen the dot
others don't or at least may not
unless of course she makes a scene
calling attention to that stain unseen

will she ever forgive this tiny blot
which follows her both night and day
and realize that this may be her lot
a history that has made it's way
through trials that she ought allay
not overcome though over-thought
but by forgetting that which time forgot
confessing her waiting call to bless
her life, a beautiful and wondrous mess
that this color adds to her destined plot
and is not really such an ugly spot

– Jason Kichline

Friday, November 20, 2009


she burns into the night
licked by the tongues of desire
lapped by the flames from within
a solitary wick sick with loneliness
staggering in the heat of passion
so hot, so moist, so wild
wet wax dripping down
smooth alabaster legs
glistening and dancing
romancing romance itself
as dim light tugs at passion
like desperate fingers at buttons
you ignite surroundings
illumined by your touch
burning and tingling deep
until desire is too much
and then you are gone
before I can play with fire
until all that remains is the
smoldering scent of you

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, November 19, 2009


goodbye mom, hello dad
looks like amnesia is what I had
recalling trauma my life's forgot
heaven waits in the waiting spot
number's been taken, so watch the sign
bright digits hung for another time
you are the deli meat
yes, slimy, stinky grime
each unique like olive loaf
and the counter cooler
sustains you and I both
sliced just the way you like
weighed out on waxed paper
cold slabs cut, tucked, wrapped
lifeless shades of pink thin sheets
robed in white and masking tape
sticker affixed and off you go
a measured stack of life tapped
slice by slice as eternity eats
a cart full of worthy treats
tasty sandwiches for the King
assembled of Grade A deli meats

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


empty words and filled todo lists
too crowded here for another entrance
stand aside and take a number
go home and beat your fists
keep it private, pumped into air
because no one wants to bother
you stole the china out of the stars
scattered broken shards of properness
high on her horse, too high to jump off
pride, it seems is a dangerous hike
the morning coolness satires
comics come to steal the pen
arrived on the wings of fools
her two feet shimmy and sway
engines rev in a shoddy getaway
so grab your bag of stolen bases
and run like hell back to homeless
we are all stuck in this mess too
so for your information
it's not just you

– Jason Kichline

Monday, November 16, 2009


how am I supposed to do this?
carrying broken minds and hearts
I am so tired
but I can't let them die
they hate themselves
I don't know why
anger just killing them
strangling them in drama
tangling them in confusion
I convinced one
to take off the noose
to not jump off the couch
then another one
she wants to end it all too
is it me?
God why have you placed me here?
to stand in the stead
an impossible task
saving lives first
then maybe there's time to save their souls
maybe later
but for now...
I weep in bed
I am spent
I am weak

– Jason Kichline


I can feel the weakness creep
slithering under my strength
like crawling under my guard
inching along my solid length

it grows when I should sleep
when my inhibitions dissolve
showing a complete disregard
for my fortress of resolve

to fight again I must retreat
to the shelter of my solitude
for a man's reputation marred
is ugly when remotely viewed

Jason Kichline

Sunday, November 15, 2009


she brings a sphere
weathered leather
white and deflated
a portion of the former
like a ghost from the yester
eighteen rectangles
quilted and stitched
for pleasure aloft
memories of camp
beach sand and grass stains
friends I can't remember
when ache wasn't in bones
when we were young
my name is permanent
inscribed in black
highlighted in pink
for some unknown reason
the ball is mine
the memories are mine
how could I throw them away?

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, November 14, 2009


these nuggets of gold
unlocked from my head
wisdom becomes words
and then parentally said
and God willing are heard
and not auctioned or sold

"put the blade down
it cannot possibly help
you, it only can hurt"
love commandingly dealt
stirring broken wills to alert
and raw wrists to unbound

"hush and just breathe deep
exhale slow and let it all go
for my heart holds you tight"
serenity ushered down below
to fractured flailing at night
sweetly lulling her to sleep

"don't be stupid and go to bed
for what you seek is not there
for you know what they want"
like bandits in wait, they dare
her to take off dignity she wears
but I tuck in her spiraling head

"I know that you can do this
because I believe in you and
I don't make bad investments"
a gesture of holding out a hand
and cut through the barbed fence
to show you the promise you miss

as volatile as memories of day
are the sayings of my heart
understood in relationship of
confidentiality and trust
listening attentively in love
and so knowing what to say

– Jason Kichline


this vision I once had, has carooned
recklessly stabbing the eyes of God
to become short-sighted once again
seeing only with these worldly bulbs
my spidey sense has been marooned
pain I see no more, hurt lies hiding
under some eyeliner and hairspray
thin veils shielding the spirit world
work flawlessly, my hope is ruined
as civilizations crumble under foot
mighty kings and lands falling fast
as if the last Jenga piece was pulled
tumbling blocks stacked as impugned
humanity more fragile than sanity
more agile than our failed emotions
grapple with the scaffolded facade
to hear with tears and ears tuned

– Jason Kichline

Friday, November 13, 2009


cursive neon beacon glows warm
the gum smudge on the sidewalk
shuffles jacketed to curved glass
where wrinkles come off the cash
as arthritic thumbs tear at stubs
wafting old lady cooped in a box
an aroma, putrid petunia vestibule
pulls at memories as hands handle
circular hardware below circular
windows in weathered woodgrain
a lobby brief as a pedophiliac hobby
something always forced and short
sicko who deserves the faux carpet
pull again to press into anticipation
like a new pair of Doc Martins for
a cast rubber stench crinkling over
many years of left right decisions
while straight beckons my hunger
signs printed in PaintShopPro plus
some pathetic publishing program
they speak to me of cheap candy
flat glass goodies drooling under
a straightfaced obesity crew cut
breast cancer surviving type but
her two boobs sag like prices fall
towards leopard skin velour pants
the Coke clock ticks towards her
"me time" behind the gold sparkled
counter productive "line forms here"
sign pointing it's dismembered finger
at oversalted popcorn, oversugared
diabetic children in rushing tap of a
fountain drink clicking to completion
suck, munch and unwrap not unlike
two teenagers discovering tingling
in each other's pants or bras or lips
but not here, not tonight or at least
they hide making out pretty well
as the smell of dirty diapers mask
the allure of antiquity painted on
ceilings like murals of the 1950's
and curtains aged in burgundy
sound system humming a tune
red stage streak flicks off. fades
the b-rated cinema into a grade-a
delimited distraction of frugality

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, November 12, 2009


I fear you are disappearing
like a specter from a different time
a faint light of hope floating down the hall
slowly descending behind the open door
into a dark room of my unknowing
to me you were like
a beauty, a sun setting
slipping beneath the horizon
for a flash of color I've never seen
the twilight fading into the navy
will you come again, my lover, my friend?
don't leave me in the cold of night
to shiver as the dead leaves
blowing over my dead soul
rustling as a death knell
and I prop my body against the tree
the bark scraping my fingernails
I claw for the memories
were we met in secret
the eternal hush hiding us
the layers growing shut the carving
the consummation we made in leaves
spilling ourselves out, and all over
spilling ourselves into each other
an accident
don't cry over what was spilt
a fluid heat of union
a frightful tear in time
a serendipitous discovery
a mistake worth making
a journey worth taking
a forsaken waiting
so I will become one with the roots
this wooden stump my only pillow
only grass and leaf to caress me
and here I will stay till morning
when you shine on me again
and this cycle shall continue
because we are not yet done
and the sun ascends again
in this cosmic dance
of unlikely chance

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


the burden
bagged in nylon
seams sewn tight
pulling at the weight
enclosing the hidden
pieces worth holding
or pieces crammed in
the trash and the dirt
"what's in your bag?"
"let me show you..."
zippers ripped wide
fingers dig the depths
things that make me
things that were me
things I don't need
that weigh me down
some poke fun at my treasures
some marvel at my resourcefulness
some wonder why I carry anything at all
but it's what makes me, me
it's because I carry the memories
it's because I carry the truth
it's because I carry you
and through the tears in the fabric
the bright blood of life flows
the beating of your core
the burden I bear

– Jason Kichline


"do you trust me?", he asks
I say, "yes"
that's what we are supposed to say anyway right?
conditioned for the right answer
but not questioning our heart
we get in the car
seatbelt? check.
oh shit handle? check.
our faith is in the metal
we clutch at the dash
we bitch about the speed
too fast
too slow
too dangerous
turn left, no right!
we place our hand on everything
and wonder why we get burnt
trust would be riding on the bumper
in rush hour traffic
it's not following him up the mountain
it's allowing him
to dangle us by our ankles over the cliff
wearing only a smile
letting go of control
letting go of when
letting go of how
an assurance
complete rest
the anti-worry
playing chicken with God

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


deep inside you weep
for all that you want
rusting the hinges in
the secrets you keep
the pleasure you hunt
to feed the her within
starving from the deep
more screaming so blunt
from lightly touching skin
panting filled full of guilt
chanting "yes" at full tilt
the chorus of gasps built
as vocalized euphoria lift
from whimpers of a rift
unwrapping my early gift

– Jason Kichline

Monday, November 9, 2009


golden brown waves of growth
soak in the misty fog of morning
like wheaties in a ceramic bowl
getting soggy in the shadow of
a tall, bright orange container
shining faced of fan familiars

light mauve scarves of sunbeams
burnt along the edges as in a jar
holding a lavender scented candle
flickering pink cream milky wax
buzzing bright with waking day
glowing walls in autumn gold

I wish it would stay awhile
like your touch lingering upon
humming skin, fresh and cool
from the sheets that we share
bathed in senses of morning hazes
and kissed as simple as the rising sun

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, November 8, 2009


lately, I've been filled with a doubt
questions betraying correctness or
learned Sunday School etiquette
proper answers can go without
sliding our slick khaki behinds
smooth on polished oak pews

I raise my hand, bow my head
say the right words in prayer
say the correct word to people
pass for a perfect fake, I dread
that I'm wrong in righteousness
too scared to reach beyond this

cut out colored craft paper and glue
it all together the indoctrined way
but what if we want it different?
then the teacher hollers at you
because you ruined her analogy
you took words out of the box

I don't doubt God, but I do know
I doubt my understanding of the
something beyond comprehension
which cannot be made with hands
or explained in an hour, or accepted

faith requires a doubt to flourish
not blind, but in seeing the unseen
choosing that it exists despite a gut
reaction to the contrary and nourish
the smirking child inside who believes
God will teach him and not a woman

– Jason Kichline


she shines with such serenity
veiled in ancient linen robes
floating so smooth, as silk
streams between fingers

her form hidden beneath
sheer lace caressing unseen
tenderness hovering gravity
pulling at deep, warm oceans

she stands exposed in a slip
disrobing slowly in the night
glowing like some nude goddess
sliding through this slice of space

dance for me, oh pearl of heaven
flirting with stars and the cosmos
revealed and diving onto a mattress
of skies in star spattered satin sheets

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, November 7, 2009


only love because you have to
don't do it because you want it back
but do it because you have no choice

for perfect love is a burden
a weight that crushes your pride
that values action over wordy voice

for what reward is there in trust?
if an unconditional generosity pours out
until nothing you've given can be returned?

our friends and lovers cannot be owned
for in truth, they were never really yours
but bought to soar high, I have learned

I love when it hurts, in heaviness
for a prayer must be crying out in pain
from the hurt in you and in me and in them

it pierces heaven like a midnight shrill
waking others, but mostly God to rouse
and walk down the hall and stairs descend

into your hell, for that is where I belong
rattling the keys of the kingdom, grasped
unlocking cages, raining on the devil's parades

for the purest of love, the really good stuff
the stuff that changes people and the world
gets you whipped as your worldly want fades

your limbs chained as your hope wanes
spit upon as acid rain because true love
is tough, has teeth, tortures your very core

will they beat you?
will they imprison you?
will they watch you die for it?
until you are remembered no more?

or will you stand on street corners and wave
smiling like pageant princesses declaring
the superiority of your pathetic little cult?

the proud will fall like fragile cards, stacked
meticulously into a shoddy house for the eternal one
queens and kings, jacks and aces, fools and numbers

rules of randomness rule the congregated players
who hope in a human institution that they believe
to be of God – lost and blind – we become an insult

how big is God?
how big is Love?
we fall silent and invisible
for we cannot speak the name above all names
kneeling and knowing the harsh truth, even humbler

– Jason Kichline

Friday, November 6, 2009


it hurts, I know, I see you
wheezing air into shallow lungs
hunching under the burden, trudging
old filth and rags to a dirty mud puddle
beaten on rocks with splintered sticks
tattered seams of a worn out love
stains, the smell lingers, drains
your futility is jaw grinding
teeth bit hard into gums
they all see, move on
blind to your hurt
but I can't pass
baggage hauled the same
slightly worn, torn here and there
I kneel down, take the tangled mess
I touch your hand softly
I feel the cracks and callouses
I hold your shaking, shattered fingers
and lead you to the river to clean you
to wash you and wave as your laundry
floats out of view, tumbling downstream
then, I cover your nakedness in thick terry
wrapping you in the whitest of robes
holding you and dancing on the shore
rejoicing that you left the old for more

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, November 5, 2009


passing slowly
headlights glowing
four-way flashers going
highway piercing the grey
as loss punctures our hearts
a subcompact with a few friends
follows an SUV with men of honor
pale colors compliment solemn faces
wheels turn endless against asphalt
chasing death as if to hold it ransom
the living still fooled there is life in it
but no one is fooled now
reality found it's way back home
towed in a vehicle fit for delivery
a hearse, 1960's curved panels
white walled tires on black chrome
faded plastic lamps on the uprights
wrapped in curtained glass reflecting
the corpse inside, seen in our own faces
life fit in a box and labeled
because that's what we do, don't we?
yet through the site, I saw
the origin of, and the destination of all
for the box was draped in stripes
red and white and star spangled blue
a last trip from D.C. to a hometown
so I passed by slow
and dropping the hype
lifted a hand to my head
and offered a civilian salute

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


darkness falls earlier these days turned nights
this daylight savings pulling the wool
over eyes that have seen and wept
upon change whose seeping has crept
bringing sight to our emotional fight
hinting of change as a winter fools
the living to believe there is life in death
the beauty of ice clung to trees
rudimentary nature of freezing
frost suffocating verdant buds
and we fall as leaves leaving
to crumble again into the mud
to nourish the young of these

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, November 3, 2009


a distant church chimes the time
the sound, familiar, but wafting
in and out like my beating heart
oh, how the butterflies flutter on
between remembering her love
and letting a mind forget mine
should my soul put off things?
call off the search, never restart?
is this the way all life has gone?
lost, lonely souls bright as doves
seen and heard yet never merged
to form only one union, no more
limited by human jealousy and lust
thick walls formed around our spirit
locked inside, the cry silent, heard
blowing across this forming dust
and I, with desperate ears, hear it
as clear as church bells on the wind
beckoning lonely souls to enter in

– Jason Kichline

Monday, November 2, 2009


smothered in his own house
fear and jealousy
raging at old friends
sisters unwelcomed
isolated from everyone
but she...
like a black widow
a psychological case study
if anybody is in need
take my wife, please!
send her to the end of the drive
but that's not the way this story goes
he leaves in the dead of night
with nothing but clothes on his back
not turning or longing or missing
a dash for freedom for old friends
not interrogated, imprisoned glares
but true love and acceptance
for love cannot be owned
love cannot be commanded
and those that treat people as property
will have none of it
the touch you attempt to trap
will flee and fly as a dove
it will taunt you as hyenas
it will stalk you as jackals
it will steal away your youth
leaving you used and empty
don't try me, woman!
don't tempt me, man!
I am love, and no man can tame me
I am love, a flame, a wind, a rushing sea
I am love, stop dictating my flow
I am love, get out of my way

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, October 31, 2009


in darkness the demons creep
chased by light into the deep
such evil things made like new
concealed by clever plastic masks
for this time of year, no one asks
why we welcome in taboo

perhaps the dark comes from light
shadows shining ever bright
in between my favorite hue
comes the lurking deep within
playful evil has always been
encouraged secrets between two

gently wondering what I think
guessing closer to the brink
then acting out what you view
that I want, I don't resist
it would be rude, you insist
sweetly seduced by the skew

we accidentally draw astray
each other in this natural way
coaxing pleasures is what we do
as blinded by the taste of sweet
we welcome in the sickening sweet
tricking and treating each of you

– Jason Kichline


as I begun
hardly a teen
approaching ancient doors
stone walls wide
and a victory seen
a battle already won
a battle waged for each one

tall maple bends
a wrought iron fence
on narrow paths explored
a curious eyed
welcome guest
a stranger yet a friend
and strangers yet to befriend

deep inside walls
laughter grows warm
resounding for a score
a constant, a guide
as wisdom that transforms
past now present calls
as a gathered family recalls

and as for the man
shoes filled, footprints
still tracking in the snows
forgiveness cried
and following since
I caught a glimpse of you
a glimpse of Christ in you

– Jason Kichline

Friday, October 30, 2009


in a new place, I step alone
against crumbled limestone
grinding as sand underfoot
turning the corner to cross
a drooped series of cables
strung as hearts to shores
rushing of life between us
I, place a foot upon wood
heel on plank, toe on gap
and you the same, in trust
cables tighten as weights
shift and tug under loads
bore as steady movements
nervous as the wind stops
shy as trees are clothed in
autumn leaves falling away
and we slide into a center
waves of each other closer
hands sliding on bent rails
vibrations in feet and here
inside the deep and hidden
unleashing wells of desire
pent up to be released in
a culmination of destiny
two lost souls meeting
in between the shores
for one last dance
for one first kiss

– Jason Kichline


listen close
a whistle echos
lights burning dark
voices rise, then falls
bubbling as deep water
flowing over foundations
some new, others ancient
this energy passed, follows
attraction in skin and more
hearts look past many hues
of eyes, of hair, and tones
giggles, shouts, or banters
honest teaching of a dad
fryers and diesel fumes
surround us in a haze
of carnival euphoria
cold feet tired on
faded asphalt
but happy

– Jason Kichline


under a contract of love, a hate ignites
intense tongues of flame lapping hearts
burning in selfish accusation she indites
a fallen man, fallen in love. Sharp darts
of stares deep and searching, beatened
for the solidity of truth in word caved
in on lies that rot, like teeth sweetened
sick and brittle the bite, yet he craves
the feeling of being alive, rupturing her
dignity like a swollen corpse in spilling  
an escape from the dust to mud to stir
to life, loins cold from unknown knowing

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, October 28, 2009


in autumn rain, a solitary<br />leaf clings fast <br />leaving a past<br />heart branching beyond<br />life lost before it's gone<br />falling, fluttering free from the force<br />stem breaking free from it's source<br />setting fire a course<br />breezes invisible to my crying eyes<br />guiding gently, dying hues unhide<br />a fragility of<br />descending from above<br />seeking, bringing love

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, October 27, 2009


we all know it's coming, creaking along
winter held off by these guardsman
autumnal sentinels rooted strong
in the barricaded moundings
stiff-necked and assured

earth and clay unshaken
armor clad, their fragile skins
hues brighten from dying shrouds
of dark black scribbles against grey
as skeletons unlocked from the grave

an army formation upon the hills
fluttering as their cheers raise
above the winds of change
into the ground of same
of graves of yesterday

a buried hush wipes clean
the dreams of death and life
rushed in like frost from howling
blistered faces red and chapped lips
dip again into the deep wooded cistern

falling as snowflakes onto black pools
tar upon mosses and moss upon logs
symmetry unleashed from trees
high above and knowingly
fall as passing seasons

– Jason Kichline


I know the feeling so intimately
a wanting to do something of regret
the excitement of it
my pulse quickening
my breath shallowing
my fingertips tingling
into a moisture welling inside
the dizzy haze of inevitable moments
circling as the stars cross the heavens
these direct descendants of infinite light
finite in the dreaded dark canvas
let though as gnats bite the sky
let through as clouds in spring
or dust and smoke in July
my youthfulness sings
as crickets crescendo at night
as birds rest from the flight
and there you are, perched, bright
starlight captured in skin
beauty beheld before
time dares to begin
stroking you like chords
tickling you like ivory
caressing your neck
sliding to your body
touching each fret
with notes of regret

– Jason Kichline

Friday, October 23, 2009


they gather on
weekends and Fridays
they are the days of Eros
they are the days of worship
to the market they trod
ten little piggies
slipped into stockings
slipped into sexy boots
strutting short skirts
tight knit sweaters
the currency here isn't cash
the product is bartered and haggled
silently waging a war for flesh
moving sly to the auctioneer
each one looking for a mate
each one sipping cocktails
flirting with eyes and swagger
women looking for the one
men looking for the many
they dance and move to the sway
of the ancient song of Friga
bolstered breasts and sucked guts
silky legs and keen suits
luck be his lady this night
carried home like fine groceries
slip those feet from the leather
slide the hosiery from her thighs
in ritualized animal instincts
an empty religion of blind gods

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, October 22, 2009


there's a rush of meaning in a blank stare
emotion teaming like life in a stagnate pool
glistening a sparkle of weariness and wear
unmoving, unblinking, disbelief spotted there
behind his stoic strength and pristine cool
deep solemn tunnels wrench and wring fear
into a glazen, brazen sheen of the lonely
of a loss of his love, of his only

– Jason Kichline


there once was a wall
laid between us as brick
between rising tall
we stand curious

water splashing in it's fall
crashing over moist nude
bodies, we inward call
to the mysterious

I hear your voice as it lulls
my concerns of age thick
within my shower stall
it swirls delirious

my mind sees you in raw
a fragile and subdued
beauty of you I saw
in visions spurious

our words echo above all
hands lather skin slick
hidden, we enthrall
instincts to possess

on each side, we each fall
a logic unable to preclude
sensual desires crawling
as joy turns serious

honestly, I only want it all
is that too much, too quick?
to tear down this wall
joining us into us

afraid this life spark will pall
dark, I claw through to you
risking an intimate recall
bearing flesh injurious

but my eternal soul's knowing
is worth a moment of showing
risking depths we could regret
raising consequences we beset
to never forget a splash in wet

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, October 21, 2009


it's a simple solution
to an ancient problem
to wake the mind from sleep
to snap the soul from moments
like a buzzer ringing in the night
less of a bell and more like a hum
a gentle column of steam blowing
whistling like a teapot off walls
brimming over in anticipation
coupling perfectly the flesh
bridging the divine inside

tingling deep within
trembling at my core
crawling below like my fear                  pangs
seeping slowly towards a rear          chilling
opening up sealed passageways  forgotten
then in a rush as a storm strengthening
it closes down my facade strongholds
reducing my oratory to grumbling
deep below in the engine room
and my body wins the mutiny
the flesh overwhelming

– Jason Kichline

Monday, October 19, 2009


each breath
is nothing
sucking of the wind
chasing after the whirls
so small
but each inhale
means everything
without it
we die
rushing intakes
the aroma of life
touching our soul
cold and clean
tickling at impurities
coaxing them to let go
automatic gasps so small
we hardly notice them at all
gushing intakes
the smell of him or her
the fragrance of citrus skin
the closeness of fabrics
igniting the ignored fires
damp wood and musty
smoldering wicks lit
hushing intakes
and I forget to speak
and I forget to breathe
speechless and breathless
without an answer of love
for nothing
like the air around
is the best answer found

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, October 18, 2009


are these differences nurtured?
   the ones between boys and girls
are we not the same?
   made from the same image?
   made from the same mud?
   we amplify nature
   we magnify the smallest things
stereotypes and pigeon holes
   neat compartments
filled with
   pink ribbons
   soft gentleness
   flowing fabrics on frames
   underhandedly coddling weakness
as if strength does not exist
strength is in her
   more than in me
another woman speaks
   of not writing to a man
   of not talking to one either
   as if there is only one way to go
a downward spiral of toxic words
   am I toxic?
do my teeth have fangs?
   am I thirsty for flesh?
I ask the deep questions
I prod for the answers
I want to see your strength
   bite me like a dog
   show me your teeth
   it's natural to have anger
you were not born to be ruled
you have given birth
   what have I done?
you have beauty
   what have I done?
do I steal it from you
   and cage you like a dog?
is it right to...
   hedge you in with a fence
   cut you like the grass in the yard
   beat you like bushes until you submit?
you are...
   wild as the fields
   fiery as the sunset
   free as the skies
I cannot contain you
I cannot keep you
I can only hope
   to unlock your wonder
   to love you as equals
   to love you as one

– Jason Kichline

Define Love

to compare love defies us
to dare the heavens above
to explain it belies reason
to tell the truth in lies
to well up tears in eyes
to speak over butterflies
to breathe slow
to sear one's soul
to hear one's heart

it cries out for another
it courses blood in veins
it forces new buds to strain
against the frozen ground
against the chosen bound
against the bodies wound
tangled in a tightened chest
dangled in a heightened caress
angled in a frightened request

a love beyond acquaintance
a love further than friendship
a love longing more than laughter
a love needing more than a notion

souls clamoring at the locks
fumbling in the pouring grey
feet splashing in soaking socks
tumbling in our adoring way

and one day...
hidden from worlds
written on the scrolls
sealed, waxed and rolled
unrolling our from pasts
seeking out what lasts
kissing lips that far surpass
the law of all that's okay
the call of child play
seduction sublime
innocence divine
love redefined

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, October 17, 2009


we are but a mist
hardly there yet seen
swept up by the winds
driven by breaths billowed
of ancient words commanding

as weather we risk
against the crashing sea
vapors rise and then rescind
a fog filling mountainous gaps
by the grace of one demanding

and in this wind brisk
that scatters us in routines
swift against the cheeks of him
who created and in me bestowed
life as his gift of fluids withstanding

so I pour with might against the face
of a God of grace who guides my place

– Jason Kichline


shaken hands hang frail
fingers torment, impale hair
tugging at deep sinking roots
of the pangs of awakened pain

square center of the wheel
his forehead imprints the logo
empty parking lot lights sparkle
on crystal drizzles of wronged rain

still and silent, he gives pause
squinting through tears in a stare
kicking a past in steel-tipped boots
as the radio plays love songs in vain

exhaust rises as hot breath fogs
enshrouding in shame-drifted woe
her shadow catching glimpses of all
the ways she hurt and cut him, insane

in his car he's free yet locked in chains
to dwell in memories the heart retains

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, October 15, 2009


memory handprints on a heart
markings made through touch
the worn finish on the rungs
of a favorite wooden chair

fresh and new from the start
pulses jump over the not-so-much
pristine breaths from our lungs
fresh as the new love we share

but the years have done their part
squeaks soften the springs and such
paint flakes fall as we have begun
another course of time we wear

these common scenes change into art
like a comfy blanket that we clutch
or the softened fabric found among
other jeans that are not "that pair"

though through our days, colors fade
the cotton thins, or the textures vary
when all the ways before me are laid
I'd still pick you, the girl I have married
as proved in a whispered promise made
two words in morn: "happy anniversary"

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, October 14, 2009


on the ground below
made of dirt
I lie still
close to that which made me
freezing void spinning earth
planets dizzy over head
worms busy under foot
they salivate
aching in my bones
my chest a cage
my beating convictIon
my heart wanting to leap
tearing down the towers
crushing the gate house
scaling the barb wire
but God made a way
removing just one
from this prison
love outlawed
missing bars
an open invitation
a doorway to escape
like a filing tool hidden
smuggled in a bible or cake
a covert gift of freedom
built into each man
a little hint to
let it escape
and hold

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


the weatherman in my head
has a very strange sense of humor
dry as the plains on Thursday
with a 50% chance of precipitation
which is obvious to all watching
as the dark fogs roll in green skies
monitoring his blotches of pixels
flowing up like a groovy lava lamp
over indistinguishable land masses
he props his leg up on the bar stool
he folds his arms over one knee
he melts into a friend of knowledge
from the free-love 70's professor
look he had reinvented accidentally
intuition, academia, balls-of-steel
he decides the fate of the population
do they run in rain without umbrellas?
do they sweat today in layered shirts?
his mustache cocks crooked below
his nose powdered for action
his eyes gleam in the spotlights
his teeth revealed like mysteries
his suit surrounds calm swagger
his poise is sure, steady, certain
the director points, counts down
the camera flips on with red bulbs
he rattles off half truths and lies
he sells them like a vacuum cleaner
and I believe him without question
because it's what I wanted to hear
because when I get stuck in the rain
at least I can blame someone else
at least I can mock his bad jokes
at least I can say it wasn't my fault
but no one ever argues with his lies
told with such certainty and laughter

– Jason Kichline

Monday, October 12, 2009

The Path

the way is lost
blind wandering
seeing only trees
amidst the forest

the eternal cost
his legs pondering
believing he sees
a path before us

sunbeams blind
autumn blazes
on painted bark
unending mazes

lights lit to find
another amazed
entangled in dark
touched and gazed

moon beams toss
a dream wondering
we as gentle as breeze
mingled as nymph chorus

breath turned frost
my poetry squandered
as our two muses embark
soar dancing through sorus

and we, our hands bind
in love, pale flags raised
submit down on our knees
for ways revealed as days

until the ground smooths
or the painted wood guides
I am lost with you this wood
I, lost in you, this heart abides
until the thin truth crosses near
I'll hold your cold hand, my dear

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Ancient Ways

ancient doors seal the semblance of seasons
kept in dusty chambers in the darkness of time
rooms feared if opened as vacant nurseries
pink and blue welcoming an empty womb

the door stays shut: slam, echoing yesterday
old pains converted to questions of distrusting
new cultures unwilling to be tasted like sashimi
although we have been invited to the table to feast

the old made new dies quick, pierced with a spike
traditions deemed taboo by the elderly watchmen
young experiences wallow and yearning new ways
still crying as new hearts for the ancient of days

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Willow Road

the willow road passed
over their heavy heads
a boy on tattered vinyl
staring sad from a back
seated sorrow overflow
of remnants of life with
no room for toys or joy
only for a cramped child
growing too fast for play
learning too much pain
a father absent or drunk
a mother focuses ahead
the road slow and mean
tears streaming silently
over dark skin, unkempt
frizzy hair from a tangled
escape on her white pony
no knight, no shining armor
just a rustbucket oldsmobile
a cutlass struggling against
unyielding headwinds of
immense dragging weight
of their life, starting over

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, October 8, 2009


enclosed in cellophane it rots
wrapped in foam and labeled
"organic", though store bought
it's liquid belly innards molded
so I toss it in the garbage can

but it whispers from the beyond
when mom and dad had taught
in a garden carved from a lawn
our planted, self-sufficient lots
fed from love and labored tans

memories far but never gone
a summer I had almost forgot
if not for spoiled squash upon
a shelf in life and left to rot
but fate required I understand

overwhelmed, the vines spawned
from many seeds sowed in hot
moist earth and dew at dawn
and grew more than we had sought
overflowing our tiny patch of land

lush and green rolls of chiffon
the more we ate, the more we got
until a table with signs we had to don
with scribbles "4 Free" at the one spot
where passersby could see our stand

the extra crop that we passed on
to the passersby who cared to stop
were blessed by us and yet all along
if you dared to follow my fabled plot
were blessed back again and again

so as I write this rhyming story down
I feast upon a delicious blessing caught
by spreading the fruit of my life around
savoring homemade zucchini bread, not
made for something coming out our ears
or bought or sold for funding our peers
but a thank you for sharing what I can
by pouring out a heart of a simple man

– Jason Kichline


his borrowed wine pours
in the deepest of nights
as the moon star soars
you bear commitments
behind unlocked doors
hidden newborn lights
teenage flesh as words
speak of adopted parents
repeating "oblivious obelisk" for
only expressed alliterative rights
and annoying a daughter
trapped in meaning meant
to stay as common as lore
or as random as flying kites
turn chasing wind into chore
they dart into empty flights
just as vaguity of hopes adore
her receptive ears and sights
her father found in flailed fluster
her friends drudging in wet cement
and she held captive by her core
striving to decode chaotic blights
noticing random is the tenet of order

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, October 7, 2009


on my mind
in waking dreams
you sing softly to me

a Celtic tune
whispered truth
as fog rolls over sea

the waves roar
ever chasing the shore
rushing, they never meet

lips weaves threads
on looms in our heads
fine fabrics of destiny

to and from
your melody goes
tongues entangling we

between the rests
breaths heave breasts
caught wind, my eyes see

continuing on
I hear your song
echoing over knelt trees

your silken dress
drifts off into mess
secrets revealed to just be

under the moon
your song in the nude
unveiled and given to me

we make our home
among edges of known
our two souls singing free

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


sleep won't come
hiding behind shadows
staring at my restlessness
with all my being
I want to drift away
sweet seduction of slumber
my body presses
against the door jam
refusing to go into peace
my mind stresses
thoughts and paranoia
of demons lurking beyond
I have found for you
a jewel within treasure
boxes opened from forgotten
memories playback
like a spinning ballerina
songs played on metal tangs
spinning discs
songs for twirling lives
dizzy imperfections perfected
this ring of hope
uniting across ethereal
gaps of cementing purpose
this focal colloquial
ringing truth above noise
sorrowful lies stealing abundance

– Jason Kichline

Monday, October 5, 2009


the words may change
but the meaning stays the same

I see red letters crossed in red ink
I see the oppressors struggle to think

then in a stroke, appalled
their broken agendas flawed
are deep fried in religion
trans fatty oils anointing
the word of God like a donut
stuffed with sickening sweetness
powdered, glazed and put in a box
and consumed by round bloated kings
too fat to see their own hypocritical toes
too blinded by the piles of things
sold in temples of self-gratification
while puttering around in Walmart carts

we, fat asses consumed with ourselves
if only this ass would talk as Balaam's
the whirl of the electric motor hum
silenced by drained batteries from
the obvious revelations, hidden:

we are the word
we are the light
we are the way
we are the sight

and if we bother at all
to scribble on the page
the poorest of penmanship
the illegible writings of God
fresh ink for those
living eternal words
struggling for breath

– Jason Kichline

Scared and Lost

many people to not know
inside I am a fearful mess
though my shaking doesn't show
the reasons why are yours to guess

at everything I aim to do
at love or life or work or prayer
I'm constantly reminded by the cue
that losing's reserved for those who dare

"loser" is what I call myself
though "cocky" is what others see
though told otherwise by my wealth
in the things of life, love and liberty

so, for now, I press onward on
driven by my becoming to be
sorry that all I do as wrong...
sorry will you please forgive me?

humbly, believe I don't have a clue
I'm as scared and lost as all of you

– Jason Kichline


to souls, time has no bindings
memories free of ticking chains
and I, caressing your smooth wrists
watch whole lifetimes appear at once

I see you, as a little girl
unaged, unchanged by the world
raging, relentless, the push and pull
now tearing at your simplest features

I remember you in prophecies
I recall the non-existent days
I smell the sweet wild flowers
the ones I had plucked
the ones I had tucked
behind your perfect ears

yet I never knew you then
nor do I know you even now
yet you drive deeper within
seen in a fog of distant years
of white hair and wrinkled skin
an essence, still beautiful somehow

I forget the lifetimes delivered
I foresaw you before it all began
I taste you like the cold autumn air
the feeling of life perishing and then
the feeling of life rebirthing again here
the feeling that I have known you forever
and miraculous indeed our ageless souls, have

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, October 4, 2009


sometimes words do not express
no matter how hard we try
to deliver in written form
every moment of life

sometimes my mind is impressed
caught up in the silence of
experience that remains
unspoken and unbroken

sometimes I cannot simply stress
the edge of eyes or sullen sighs
to capture life in squiggles
like dissertating giggles

sometimes I must cleanly confess
that life is so filled with life
that capturing fragments
only stagnates it's flow

sometimes we marvel at the mess
mesmerized by it's near necessity
as basic and as unstructured
as we mimicking future woe

– Jason Kichline

Friday, October 2, 2009


dots of wonder, specks of awe
waves of splendor drowning out
the swaying of short surrender
grass and mud mix in dew swell
to nostrils enlivening a glorious
recall and the pride of childhood
bright glares stand proud on poles
light stares on a graduated green
hard fought impact hurts muscles
and bruise the resilience of egos
but the band plays on as they do
continued on as a victorious song
modern remakes set to tubas and
snare drums snapping in a valley
the true fight of wills lifted up as
horns in brass and pounded heads
shouting repetitions from mouths
simple choreography dancing for
those resting on aluminum seats
basking in the victory of this life

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, September 30, 2009


an ache that ebbs as the tide
a pain mingling with warmth
circling my heart on the right
longing to press against your left
it ascends, rising up a coarse neck
it clutches at the lump in my throat
relaxed only by your imagined touch
cooled only by your whispered kisses
sighs carried over chasms of dreams
hot blood coursing through the endless
pathways to seek the center of souls
as beacons of bright blood in darkness

– Jason Kichline


the conclusion of a matter
   is better than the start
the confusion of abiding
   secure within her heart
the winds of autumn swirl
   as ravens echo screams
the beginning lust for life
   saved in released dreams
the body falling to earth
   as earth and water flow
the lot we cast as stones
   as mirth thrown down low
then shields the azure sky
   as overcast memory bends
the temporal question "why?"
   as meaning finds it's ends

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, September 29, 2009


against the bare metal hinges
rust of time waits as a missing
halftone child haunts the sides of
pressed, bleached cardboard boxes

sealed ancient doors of a sealed faith
a grand gateway to the forbidden city
of an immeasurable depth and height
and I, cursed to stare beyond destiny

what is, is not what was meant
to be, despite the truant efforts of
random lottery or pure chaos bent
at picking at the lock of old doors

are we trapped in the unalterable?
the world a prison, cold steel bars
our lot in life, circumstances tolerable
a barely containing cage under stars

the walls collapse in and the ceiling
caves in on our heads, a claustrophobic
trauma, tracing the corners revealing
the lacking of earth dust layered thick

I shatter the silence, I pick up the rock,
in a promise striking rebellious against
duty and sanity and crack the clock
face, to rip tears in fabric forever hence

– Jason Kichline

Monday, September 28, 2009


the perfect grey
the loose jersey knit
the hugging assurance
of the confidence zipped

shades of indecision sway
against her fragile feeling way
holding close against her chest
comfort fleece and simple rest

the chill of air
the cheer of night
the fear of his thoughts
of the uncertain fright

suspense transforms into joy
in chaos of a crowd deployed
this boy performing his basic plan
says the phrase and holds her hand

now cast aside
her fleece fabric doubt
deny the instinct to hide
and go tonight without

leaning close to close the void
moist lips transfer a hope enjoyed
his hoodie wafts his perfect scent
surrounding her in acceptance lent

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, September 26, 2009


the strength of the mighty fallen among
   the taste of fresh love
      still luscious on lips
   the sensation of warmth
      still wrapped around hips
the eerie silence of a silent tongue
   the presence of glowing
      still shining in eyes
   the knowledge of knowing
      still confounding the wise
the restless wonder of the wordless young
   the joy of acceptance
      still coursing in veins
   the ploy of a romance
      still removing the pains
the beauty of belonging has only begun
   the souls of the ones
      still yearning for twos
   their hearts are undone
      still turning as hues
the song of September longs to be sung
   the lungs in her chest
      still gasping for air
   the scent of evening
      still trapped in her hair
the moments of autumn
   in a carefree caress
leave love falling as colors
   in a solace speechless

– Jason Kichline

Friday, September 25, 2009

Free Love

my heart sinks softly
weighed with compassion
pregnant with this passion
crying out to free love
wanting to touch you
to warm the lonely chill
to take away the pain
given without condition
and without expectation
though the price is too high
I would gladly fork it all over
to release you from bondage
to break off the rusty chains
for your love is held prisoner
a damsel in distress
in the tall tower
against her will
I'd ascend a thousand stairways
I'd search a million passageways
this stone grey dampness
flickered flame diminishing
darkest stone bed found
balled into a fetal mess
surrounding the naked parts
pressing against clammy skin
wiping the dried tears away
chipping away at the fear
melting loose all emotions
and you whisper it in my ear
as I carry your atrophic body
your voice hoarse with crying
repeating simply, "I love you"
I know that truth already
it drives me as I free love

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


always is a long time
some would say eternity
a promise to never leave
a covenant made in love
a decision born beyond
not bound in a contract
nor found in conditions
a forever made by souls
existence formed whole
by moments cut from now
stored up in the heavens
two of us amazed at how
simple truth forms magic
leaping joy from your words
tingling pleasure in our chests
keeping each other held close
to hear your heartbeat
to touch your cool skin
to feel your warm breath
to marvel at mortal bodies
that may never truly meet
but will ascend to the clouds
and make love in the skies
raining light as pure rays
shining now and always

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, September 22, 2009


I think not.
In the tribal culture of humanity.
Nothing is sacred.
Everything is in flux.
The idea I had?
You say, "but it came from your mind!"
I say, "malarkey!"
As a profanic replacement, that is.
It's yours really.
I just carried it.
I just voiced it.
I just wrapped it in words.
We are.
One organism.
Us, a massive amoebic mass.
Six degrees and that is all.
Maybe seven depending on who you ask.
But still.
Veins of emotion.
Sinews of ideas.
Tendons of strength.
Held in balance by conflict.
Harmony. Here?
Peace is the betrayal.
Iron sharpens iron.
I get cut beyond belief
Life support cord too short.
Hook it up and yell "CLEAR!"
Hearts live on more than juice alone.
Souls gasping for breath not my own.
Shock me with your life.
Zap me with your love.
Please, please, please don't stop.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…. (fade)
Cue station identification.

– Jason Kichline


religion rears it's ugly head
a heavy hand raised instead
against this ragged standing army
as if a single serving size of bread
were rules made in God's own stead
crammed down swollen sore throats
a game of chicken made with chicken
body parts held in a baggie for when
the cubes of white loaf betrayal end
ripping broken hearts in broken dread
jammed up tight orfices to be led
to cooking the dove fallen before me
pure peace descending like raven hens
eaten at face value, we then pretend
that the meat won't rot in us like goats
we whisper to each other "I think we're dead"
unfit for this divine communion that we're fed
we sicken ourselves on the fall fruitless lull
filling the empty time with darkness fled
beyond the dull dignity of our own bed
as love replaced with regulations raw
letters form words on pages dead
lifeless verses are ritually read
without a comfort for her head
lonely longing for better years
spinning room and endless tears
nauseous heaving anger flashing red
towards unheard ears of what was said

– Jason Kichline

Monday, September 21, 2009


fractured hope, ruptured dream
color viewpoints of what is seen
in a life as fragile as her own
small mistakes, now full grown

anger flashed as heated steam
scalding skin from pressure mean
pain raw and tender to the bone
beaten down, picks up the phone

for "I" does not belong in teams
especially when it comes to teens
with dreams, deciphering your tone
that "I" resides in "bitch and moan"

– Jason Kichline

Sunday, September 20, 2009


a kiss? superficial
lips pressed warm
parting entrance to
tongue tracing teeth
breaths hot and moist
engulfing senses in both
we melt into one another
juices and nails combined
scratching under the skin
where you reside in me
this dance of biology
tickling at my core
knocking at the door
trembling at my knees
representing an invisible
longing of a soul's unity
charged young energy
entwined underbrush
undercurrent forces
a kiss is only skin
meeting mouths
mingled haze
and always

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, September 19, 2009


even the chair challenges
as the stairs do
as the stares do
squeaking under strain
bolted joints ache pain
laughter without refrain
a bag lady's harsh laboring
luggage without wheels
and carry on carried
double airfare for
her and dirty looks
from her neighbor
a cockeyed surprise
of damage of outside
of crushed wills inside
prolonged waste of time
piled up like sand bags rolled
damming unwelcomed floods
of restricted belts and bands
flabby laps overhanging
bright white cellulite
still lacking fight

– Jason Kichline

Friday, September 18, 2009

Autumn Saturates

autumn saturates senses
generate wait commencing
to flow change in nature
with a glint of chill on skin
prickling hairs hint within
the harvest and rapture
capture a solo crow cawing
echoing spanned hollows
tall rooftops and empty sky
over a burnt green tinge
on brushed trees singed
by God's steadfast sigh
as if to say, "rest comes
soon in days of the moon
traced branches in nude"
and the fields of corn strip
old fashions worn, slipped
intimately off Indian beads
and leaves float down gentle
like orange mental rock-a-byes
sung softly on the fall breeze

– Jason Kichline

It All Started

it all started with belief
from her shun-stunned heart
flailing quietly in the quicksand
surrounded by who don't understand
standing to helpless watch silence depart

it all started with a cry
a scream unbellowed by lungs
loud to transcend from her spirit
commanded desperation a this tacit
recollection of intimacy yearned young

it all started with grief
death to life filled mistakes
joy replaces sorrow with change
dark turns towards light's rearrange
hides pain for acceptance a truth makes

it all started with a sigh
dropping heavy bags weighing
down her energy and inner beauty
breaths of heaven exchanging dull duty
brightened eyes opened by a faith praying

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, September 17, 2009

He Never Left

he never left
tousled sheets
bunched dreams
scattered pillows
like the aftermath
of pre-teenagers at
a slumber party tussle

he never left
tired feet dipped
between cool layers
refreshing combining in
moments of moist warmth

he never left
still waiting in dark
fogged memories of them
flannel over down comforter
elongated yawns and worn jersey

he never left
still surrounding her
holding curled up curves
hands hover on a lover's hips
warm touch pressing on her chest

he never left

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


a world of secrets twist down the shaded street
the sheen of lamplight gleaning crooked off of
thick cobble stone slabs smoothed by old wear
many have gone down the path but never ever
the same path once this discovery of love was
found hiding in familiar places far from hidden
she is a world unto herself of complex carvings
sculpted moss gracing deep passageways into
damp caverns of fragile knowing and treasure
exposed by the key and latch hasp underneath
etched pain in each crevice and curve towards
marble and limestone hew from rare quarries
shadows of exposure summon the dancing as
guides of torchlight refract in dew soaked ivy
like porous skin, sweet beaded midnight glory
always searching and never finding destination
only new sensations, eternal, ceasing unknown
and within this world of wandering water ways
confusion sets and cares evaporate like liquor
at lips and slips undetected by moral direction
lapped on tongues behind sealed kisses, hope
to capture her essence in a jar of his memories
but no one can grasp her changing patterns or
levels comforted by line crossing crayons, wax
poetic in words better off silenced as the voice
who summons a magic, melting walls as cream
poured into hot steam of black coffee dripping
and run down cold eyes, and surprised thighs
knees pull together today feet turn inward and
fingers run through hair in a disbelief disarmed
by one coming quickly like a warrior charging
in conquest with spoils for his ransomed king
bringing handsome gifts of gluttony in the dark
and scraps to the scrappy dogs who can't bark

– Jason Kichline


forces tug at eyelids heavy in
gravity and the draw to sleep
keeps bodies falling together
warmed in distant presence

honesty sweeps as moist kisses
lips touch ears exposed hearing
quiet whispers of truth and love
held tight in arm's deep pretense

lovely in ways that sight betrays
alone in the night demonic chaos
torment a mind confused by cares
and he tenderly rushes to her side

cold youth comes alive in old bones
rocks sing dirges from lifted temper
sans microphones hands raised high
caught in an act questioned outside

because inside motives pure as lace
cover in a white naivety, a virginity
fingered ring casts stones of doubt
bound to shout death and disgrace

but tonight the silence held a vigil
soul lit as solitary candles around
a bed of our making, in our room
romance staking claims to chase

chasing you to stop and breathe
holding you, spirits weave ways
uncharted through tangled webs
words found in a speechlessness

stop shaking my sister, my bride
know you are special among the
lilies of the valley grown afresh
attest to pluck a reachless mess

– Jason Kichline

Monday, September 14, 2009


lay me low to smell the kindred of dirt
the loose soils moist in nurturing depths
caressed of dew and shadowed canopy
gripped of rocks and roots holding loose

like an animal she tests with her feet
nude toes grope forest floor and the
mud touches her in tenderness return
pressing firm in between and on sides

her heart is holy under her bare body
flows under her garments like smooth
boulders under rushing falls of autumn
thin fabric brimming with hoped reveal

then by the waters she pauses to feel
soft brushes of soft bristles on arches
wiping caked filth from heavy travels
she slips from human to angelic form

toes toss her thin gown down on moss
and she slides into the crisp clear blue
pale and pink flesh blurred from waves
she makes love to nature and becomes

dripping she rests her exposed known
across a bed of green lush, surreal now
quivered white skin and auburn flares
her hair damp and gleaming in freedom

the ground holds her tight and grips
as roots rip and the ground shifts to
sanctify the most simple bed of union
filling each other on the mossy clay

Jason Kichline

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Grandmom's Barn

the thick grass leads up to the door
rough cut boards on thick barn paint
gold Yale lock next to galvanized pull
the doors swing open revealing ramps
heavy steel plates bolted to polished
two by tens laid across the timeless

the smells surrounds me like barn walls
gasoline in faded red and yellow cans
shiny wood floors with mouse turds
in corners and the smell of dry grass

ancient doors of antique cupboards
wide to waft the aroma of all-purpose
oil in squeeze cans or grease in tubes
an old awe and wooden handle Phillips
screwdriver on the abandoned workbench

tools propped in the dark corner with
splintery handles and forged purpose
clutter of mysterious objects in a pile

but we crawl into the ceiling above
on boards hovered over labor and toil
on trusses trusted with containment
we build castles in the childhood sky
of the pure energy of entertainment
and imagination knowing hard work
provides the stepstool to free thought

and barn doors open and the tractor
freed makes room for these memories

but the tractor came home, dinner time

– Jason Kichline

Saturday, September 12, 2009


dusk falls onto this place of mystic ruins
crawling over dim rust cast iron warnings
creaking porches of abandoned mansions
under her face I peer as if into hauntings
lace of black threads brush behind eyes
like flapping thick vapors of burgundy
webs of dread form symbolic wings
in shades of gothic hues under dust
like an inverted fairytale the seen
unfolded like dreams in nightmares
curtains cannot contain it's advance
embraces her like a corset tightened
color runs from fading rays of fright,
flees to find refuge in unnatural eyes
a Victorian dignity disrupted to pale
forsaken ones exchanged for blood
red lipstick, pale moon in night
drenched tears of midnight
ruining priceless ancient
fabric running tears
down eyes dark
into boning

– Jason Kichline


overthrow the tyrant
drag Him away, He who
oppresses the people
defenseless and hurt
they cry out to him

rise up in strength and
compassion that burns on
coals of love smouldering
reduce my pride to ashes
and smear it on my face

in zealousy I've gathered
heads of steam in bellies
rage of jealousy to defend
this two-faced tyrannical
nonsense thrown in sacks

empty me of my concepts
void me of my ideologies
wrap me in the hollow bag
mourning for humility lost
for He wars against war

the tyrant rises to be
the subject ascends
to become in struggle
to lay down weapons
and wrestle with God

– Jason Kichline

Friday, September 11, 2009


emptiness comes as hawks at dawn
ravens black as nothing, peck corn
in harvest fields with no fruit left
only volatile paper shells in flame

emptiness as vacant as her womb
scraped of life, void of innocence
shame floods the valley of tears
dry from years of hidden regret

emptiness collapses in on a vortex
emotions circling the swirling black
cradling air suckling arid breasts
holding her unnamed phantom boy

emptiness tortures in this solitary
confinement in airtight chambers
alone with what we can't get back
staring the missing into existence

emptiness rapes her joy, taking her
again and again, against her will
but half deserving, she wants pain
and straps herself to the bed frame

emptiness devours, but love comes
flips on the light, scares him away
reaches for her cold hands and feet
kissing bruises on wrists and ankles

emptiness exposes nakedness secret
love holds beauty in warm blankets
celebrates her body and her future
confident to stand in failed moments

emptiness grips hard to hold us captive
love holds us so we grasp for freedom
the bright blue sky shining tomorrow
holding the named son she never knew

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, September 10, 2009


scorched common fields
earth and clay trampled
dead weight deader under
the lighten flows of steel
concrete sparks blasting
forth sweltering ribbons
fill the sky high in haze
rush of rushing hushing
winds and rain or birds
heard distance, Simplicity
calling Progress the liar
that who feeds us, feeds
a poisoned plum for plenty
sins we bear for decades
sucking on us like hunger
draining joy for worry
taxing wails of babes
crying for Eden again

– Jason Kichline


she says it in plain rough words
a gruff voice accustom to this
like being beat up isn't absurd
like dad just got really pissed
angry, hauled off and hit her
more than a few times I hear
pain she hides as bruises deter
anguish inside a princess heart
bent tiara on coarse dyed hair
eye shadow thick to cover bags
filled with sleepless night's air
longing for something as different
as her own style of individualism
turning dirty rags into bitchisms
covering all the hurt of parents
with one-way pain pressure vents

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


it's at night when the romantic comes out to play
embellished inspiration like woven cricket songs
layered to intertwine souls in a candid serenade
on intimate truths passed on brisk autumn breezes
covered in dark, hiding wandering gazes of questions
they see only the black as echoes of silent giggles
merge into the symphony of nature's fine sentiment
laid sprawling as adolescent innocence at midnight
splayed as raw purity of found friendship in flight

– Jason Kichline


true beauty hides
packed away like
delicate fine china
or pure alabaster
fragile and white
purity uncorrupted
packed in plain
cardboard aged
squarish crates
weather stains
under newsprint
captured stories
of tragic times
yellowed but read
in white and black
holding in the dust
taped in thin trust
for beauty resides
within a flesh box
tucked from view
in an attic forgotten
awaiting Curiosity
the boy wondering
to crack the ceiling
dig through the neat
stacks of memories
to find the treasure
she hides under pain

– Jason Kichline


in a mist of mourning
she prepares her day
grapefruit cup on lace
makeup applied to face
grey light of morning
conceals what to say
in tangs of citrus bitter
pangs of "why" hit her
then numb fingers race
to fidget for that taste
to coax another cigarette
and recall forgotten regret
to take her back to the place
where hell fell from grace
strikes a tinder on the catch
lights the second to last match
and draws the fire to her face
puffing hurt through the base
smoke causing eyes to tear
lingering "could haves" of fear
yet the present cannot chase
memories of hate meeting haste
lipstick thick of the one she misses
blotting them on a matchbook case
gives her passed brother retro kisses

– Jason Kichline

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Take Off Your Shoes

take off your shoes
drag dirt across your heels
small pebbles nipping balls
of feet, pads thin and timid
new and pink turned deep red
over to the smoldering edge
hot coals signal red and blink
forced to walk ancient paths
burnt flesh and vapored pain
ripping through to tampered
minds crazed with utter agony
hands bound tightly tethered
to past weakness and history
and they all watch the ritual
smiling faces masking grimace
clapping hands at the final feat
kneeling on heat hobbled shins
bandaged on oozing burn scars
shattered teeth beset within grins
tear ducts dodge producing tears
as the smell of screams fill the sound
so take off your shoes
for this is holy ground

– Jason Kichline


green glances back then down
rays of hidden sunlight dancing
like shouts screamed from above
and bounces off ferns in lush fields
reflecting and refracting around
drops of rain on a ladybug's wings
or a dragonfly's dazzled violet blue
buzzing alive surrounding deep pools
in circling the source of life where
the deep fishes swim and tadpole
translucence floats on the edges
of water and land near secret hedges
of snapping turtles or ground hornets
danger stinging a remembered youth
confused as creation in chaotic order
then her eyes gaze up again beaming
telling truth in natural beauty teeming

– Jason Kichline

Friday, September 4, 2009


the place unmoved changes
old house of character built
so many stories in just two
steps hinged unhinge memories
storing more than mere energy
lights and batteries underneath
sitting on the stair's landing
stepping up and yet backwards
to simpler times if remembered
but faulty recall forgets tough
times pass and the good remains
as unique oddities of this flawed
house perfected over years gone
by what I see from where I sit
the flicker shines in different
faces of these youth and the past
rejoices in the truth that lies
in forgetting and not regretting
but only letting the dust polish
surfaces into smooth memoriam
of the goodness to be retained
as new tales of good triumphing
over the evil of familiar things

– Jason Kichline

Thursday, September 3, 2009


the kettle sings in the morning
as an unearthly forced holler
steam fades the wrinkles again
hot collared white on pale neck
the day begins in vigilant vain
routine shielding ever changing
lives and situations handled in
a psychological prolific facade
worn down like button threads
sliding in and out of cotton slits
plastic opalescence failing falls
like edges of a house of cards
meant for play but stacked up
in fantastic forms of fragility
and the slightest touch or word
claim casualties in chain reaction
head down over the waxed rags
sobs drip over the paper facade
of strength and mastery of life
highlighted by the fallacy of it

– Jason Kichline


a life lived forward rolls
it started out as pack snow
patted by tiny mittened hands
bright colored wool for warmth
forming ice orbs on fine strands
and they run in circles, rolling
gathering girth from grace
the child forms a man
proud and tall and fragile
sticks and coal and carrots
and soon the fake man breaks
standing tall for all takes effort
fractured fragments of white
round and sculpted on the hills
and not on Mount Olympus slopes
his pieces begin to tumble down
accumulating speed and mass
bulging bellies of runaway life
baggage and worry gathering
not formed of a child's dreams
but by sheer gravity and chance
of the stark reality of natural law
of time unharnessed by discipline
driving his body onward, unrelenting
down the steeps to crash or
collapse or melt away just as
the cycle of eternal snows

– Jason Kichline

Wednesday, September 2, 2009


chilled air courses over green
laying thick fog over the hills
stilled memories shared unseen
rosy canvas skies form chills

lush turns a page towards fall
crops fade to leafy tan vellum
hush heard over dim dawn dull
rising warm for harvest to come

a child's cheers silenced by school
cricket chirps shushed by change
and in the passing summer cool
the seasons and times rearrange

a hint of orange and brownish hue
glaze the edge of nature's bounds
closing drapes of a drama through
applause as rushing winds resounds

– Jason Kichline