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