
     Northwest Poet E-Magazine 
                                  
             1  Hands                             ۲    ۲
             2  Gadriel                           ۲    ۲
             3  Sleep                             ۲    ۲
             4  Ferociously Rampant               ۲    ۲
             5  To Wait                           ۲    ۲
             6  Scandinavian Blues                ۲    ۲
             7  Cassandra                         ۲    ۲
             8  Transformation                    ۲    ۲
             9  3-29-85                           ۲    ۲
             10 Gray Sleeves                      ۲    ۲
                                                  ۲    ۲
             This issue features the poetry of    ۲    ۲
             Zuriel (1951-1985), Poet & Artist.   ۲    ۲
                                        
    
  







                         HANDS


               If ever there was a hand to touch
               Yours would be the one reaching 
               Out for me.

               And if ever there was the need
               To wrap myself in the arms of love 
               Those arms would belong to you.

 

                         GADRIEL


               O' sweet Gadriel,
               Angle of Chimera,
               Soft as midnight rain.

               Was it another dream
               Or a vision of warning
               on a flight of fantasy
               ending with the approach
               of morning?
               I know not but the dream
               Of my sweet Gadriel
               And the love I chase.

  
                    SLEEP

               Sleep
               Blissful sleep
               Pulls firmly on my heart
               Like the moon upon
               The ocean waters

               The tide of slumber
               Washes away all my pain
               All my worries 
               All my troubles

               What a healing balm 
               Is this thing called sleep
               For pain and sorrow
               Are slowly taken away
               With each nights visit
               Of Doctor Nocturnal 
               And Physician Sleep

               Come
               Come to my bed
               And let me drink
               Of your healing ways.

 
               FEROCIOUSLY RAMPANT

               Alone
               I reach out
               In the darkest
               Night

               No one
               Is there
               To take Hold
               When I'm in need

               Dreams
               Run rampant
               Fever 
               Burns ferociously

               Body is damp
               As consciousness
               Returns
               With the light of day

               And here
               I'll face
               Another Journey
               Lost in emotion


               TO  WAIT

          The evening approaches
          And there he is waiting
          For the one he loves
          The one he desires so

          Night falls after twilight
          And there she is driving
          Headed for the arms
          Of the one she truly loves

          There he is drinking
          Sliding into silent depression
          Amidst the laughter of
          A smoked filled bar

          Trying to hide the tears
          That begin to show
          His head rests upon the table
          And his heart cries in vain

          Dark are his thoughts of pain
          When suddenly he looks above
          And there she stands with a look
          Of relief for a journey's end

          Morning light breaks the dawn
          Dreams of passion spent with 
          A gentle embrace, a loving kiss
          And all is right for now




 
               SCANDINAVIAN BLUES

          I walked out into a Scandinavian sunset
          And my heart screamed and wailed with pain,
          But the pain was not as loud as the tracks
          Of your nails burning across my bloodied back.

          The wheels in my brain cut very deeply
          Through my muddied dreams, the night
          Is getting longer and the champaign;
          Pretty pink and pretty stale.

          Meanwhile, the surf comes crashing
          All around me as I stagger through the sand
          Toward the waters edge and your words
          Breathe into my ears jasmine and myrrh.

          But, the rabbit did not die and Saskia waxes
          Rhapsodic with trappings of youthful wealth 
          And the pillow you lay your head on 
          Is to small for my head anyway, and
          All I hear is Scandinavian Blues.



          Now on a motorbike in Madrid,
          I spied the bitch in furs and nets.
          Her kiss was bourbon and coke
          Her breath jasmine and myrrh.

          She says "Come to my room and I'll 
          Lick your wounds and you can lay
          By my fire where it is warm."

          "Now, you know very well," I said
          "It is hard to refuse when you
          Look the way I feel, and the infection
          You gave me is only three weeks gone."

          She says, "bring a bottle of champagne along
          And a raincoat if you must."
          Says I "Ah, well, Yeah, I think it might rain some" 

          So she dusts me off with a wink of her eye
          And says "You know very well there ain't
          No cure for Scandinavian blues."



 

                    CASSANDRA

          Goddess of earthly delights
          I summon thee this very night

          With simple prose and simple rhyme
          I call thee forth from time to time

          With slender hand 
          the lines are filled

          Your wit and wisdom 
          is soon sealed



 



                    TRANSFORMATION

          Behold not an old sun setting
          But a new sun on an endless journey

          Ever rising onto distant lands
          Ever bringing a new dawn


          Treasure up not
          That which has passed

          Unlike the sands of the hour-glass
          Time cannot be turned back

 


                      3-29-85

     What kind of a creature am I,
     Stuck in a dwindling vortex.
     Struggling to survive
                                        Through intense abdominal pain.
     At times so bad I can't stand erect,
     Never ceasing constipation,
                                        Relieved only by endless diarehha.
     Rare visions split reality in two,
     One I know is real
     Just one,
                                        A mocking yellow apparition.
     Both are placed neatly,
     The yellow one above and to the right.
     Distorted hearing,
     Reminiscent of a mono AM radio
     I had as a child,
                                        Fades in and out.
     Close your eyes.
          Breath.
          Relax.
               Recognize.
          Be here.
          Now.

     Touch the desk or the arm of the chair.
          Hold the pen
               Feel its smoothness
               How easily it fits in your grasp,
               How warm does it feel?

 



                     GRAY SLEEVES

          There once was a girl from eden
          She had golden hair so very fair 
          Eyes of far away manganese lakes
          Love as strong as iron and steel

          One day he who came not far away 
          To capture the heart he wanted so
          From the girl with manganese eyes
          He dreamed long and came to steal

          But evil did covet the slender lass
          He demanded her attention and ass
          He never gave up nor would it pass
          Till he who came not far away alas

          Upon the tower did they battle hard
          Tonight they played their last card
          By morning the loser would be barred
          From the young girl in the backyard

          Upon one thrust in vain attempt
          Triumph did evil over rival love
          Succumb did prince on rival sword 
          Manganese eyes visioned contempt  

          True love vanquished in disgrace
          Her heart cried out silent rage
          Legs dangled above tumbled stool
          She hung silently in god's grace




 

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