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

Tuesday, September 1, 2009


two ships passing
green and red lights
lined up at the harbor
tireless workers load
cargo bound for shores
across the uncertainty
a massive mast affixed
to a handsome hull where
a holy man held prisoner
rough waves and prideful
dashed caution on breaks
the man screams on deck
lashed tightly to a stern
to harbor now and rest
and on they go instead
lost at sea, shipwrecked
starvation and mutiny
held together by a string
a thread of hope snapping
they are no more sailors
our heart and life a ship
bounced on the turmoil
cruel fluidity in motion
without the dock in port
what are we as ships?
lost, lonely, carrying only
scarred scurvied pirates
plaque-ridden, hungry rats
and no cargo to speak of
especially not the important
last loaded lost cargo of love

– Jason Kichline