Kevin Reese , Poet

Kevin is a native Californian recently "exported" to Corsicana, Texas. He is a full-time Production Manager at a window factory there and loves the new life he is able to give to his family. He and his wife Kelly keep busy with their two children, T.J. and Jacob. Kevin is an avid hunter and lover of the outdoors. Along with a heavy work schedule and making time for his wife and kids, Kevin is currently writing both, his first novel (based on the adventures of his Great-Grandfather), and his first chapbook while continuing to write poetry based on an eclectic array of inspirations ranging from his military experiences, historical events, his children, his wife, and his life lessons. If you would like to contact Kevin, you may do so at Windowmaker@earthlink.net.

Anthem of Decadence

Silence golden,
soured by masses
bent on urban existence,
has all but vanished before
these disenchanted eyes.

How do we flourish?
Indeed it seems, at times,
we are but roaches
upon a crumb laden floor.

...Trampling each other,
vying for the meager scraps
we readily accept as life.

Scurry beyond
the road less traveled
until we battle upon
this only road traveled.

Spread your foul wings
and soar to the front
in want of your extra second.
In your eyes, I've nowhere to go.

Foolish pride, upon your back,
sings the song of decadence
while the anthem of our new day
trails from your conforming lips.

Seek not individualistic sovereign
but live amidst the festering nest
we have found fit to label "city".
Right?

Behold the masses to my front
as I bid for my existential position
upon this only road home.
Temptation my only friend
...and my only foe.

Where is this American Dream
we so readily defend?
Shall I find it upon
this gridlocked asphalt?

Shame on progress!
Shame on us!
For we are all
the roaches.

©Kevin V. Reese, 2004

Heroes Have Eyes
For my fallen brothers in arms

Can you not understand this blasphemy
where the ribbon of life is severed clean?

Beyond depths, lost in the caulderon,
are the hearts of heroes lost forever.

These men have eyes that pierce the night
leering at those who spit upon their graves,

With furled brow and lamenting heart
they find their home beyond your comprehension.

You have been found in contempt of liberty.
The curse of surreal idealism has befallen you.

Your sense of home ruled by the passive hand
has cloaked you in the shawl of slavery.

Reap what you sow in the seeds of submission
while the weight of resolve squares upon your shoulders.

Shall you harvest submission for the heroed heart?
No, you shall not offer your coward's reward to me.

I find my way through darkened day,
to the tomb of the unknown soldier.

Well within my humble soul he resides;
ever glorified in his resolve to defend.

There shall he watch his family grieve of his sacrifice
while embracing the night in which cowards find solace.

Raise your coward's banner you submissive few!
Look upon death's face and say to him,

"You are not worthy!"
Be sure you are looking in the mirror.

While I look upon his tearstained face and say,
"My hero lost, I fear that I am not worthy of you."

Thank you for loving me enough.

©Kevin V. Reese, 2004

Silence the Uncivil

Slay the uncivil beast.
Silence his shameful tongue evermore.
He offers not to this concourse,
rather, nearer to the heart of disorder.

Refute the sweetness of his serpent's kiss;
bitter its taste upon discerning lips.
Drink not of his intrepid venom,
but spit upon his mendacious face.

Tender bedlam his defeat by fire.
Stir at his belligerent embers
flickering hints of unruly flight.
Only then shall he be ever extinguished.

Yet, how do I slay this devious beast
when he looks upon me
with such utter contempt
from the confines of my mirror?

©Kevin V. Reese, 2004

Song of the Simple Man

Sing your lullaby to love's fair bride
as your weary legs sink beneath
a ragged web of worn flesh.
This is the song of the simple man.

Rest the hands cracked and calused
upon the breast of love's fair bride.
Soothe the sting of lacerated flesh.
This is the song of the simple man.

Rest your head crowned in plight
upon the pillow of love's fair bride.
Diffuse the bomb that ticks inside.
This is the song of the simple man.

Lay awake in silver light
watching over love's fair bride;
wondering why she harbors you.
This is the song of the simple man.

Welcome the morning cloaked by night
while slumber still tends to love's fair bride.
Stand again upon weeping feet.
This is the song of the simple man.

Lumber heavily down the silver hall
Utter your sweet goodbye to love's fair bride.
Whispers in the dark to cherished children.
This is the song of the simple man.

There amidst the roar of progress
Smile in remembrance of love's fair bride.
Endeavor to return with the silver light.
This is the song of the simple man.

You do not weep on tired knee
or trouble love's fair bride.
You watch your children dance with her.
She embraces the song of the simple man.

©Kevin V. Reese, 2004

Endless Days of Chaos

The Evening air still cloaks this morning's sky.
Heavy the breath that heaves from this languishing soul
as I walk the lonely path down the drive.
And, those stars above me,
singing of my return the night before,
now bid me farewell once again
as my day before dawn yet again begins.
My weary eyes peer through the crystal glass
while my mind struggles to free itself from yesterday.
I, again, find myself thrust headlong
into the abyss of this dreadful day's endeavors.
As this day begins so does the desire
to return to the peaceful embrace of sleep;
Oh, how I long to see my refuge silhouetted, once again,
against the shimmering canvas of sterling light.
As I venture down this lonely road
alone in my thoughts I watch them rush around me,
all peering through the same crystal glass.

All with strained faces grappling with the bitterness
of the marauding shadows of streaming streetlights
in their own way while engaged
in the grievous navigation
towards their day's chaos.
This unyielding wave of intolerance,
gleaning in hues of red and white,
skew my prejudiced vision.
Merciless stream of lights ceases
at the edge of this colorless floor.
And there amidst the dawn's chaos it begins.
The reigning hands of time slow to a daunting crawl
as if tethered to the calendar below;
resolving to count the minutes as perfect days.
Chaos dominates these endless moments
as burdened souls vie for systematic scraps.
The ever-agonizing minute lingers;
determined to suppress the second hand
for fear of what may dwell in the unknown.
But in the end, after every second is registered,
this minute that quells the procession of time so deftly
is hurled unabashedly into fleeting memories.
Alas, all minutes succumb to the same fate;
driven into oblivion by omnipotence.
This bitter morning,
warmed by embattled machines,
births the sweltering day.
As one minute after another
assumes it's staunch position
in defiance of father time,
we labor to temper this tyrant mild.
Chaos suffers its decided blow
as the sun finally descends
below the wanting horizon.
And as I navigate this lonely road,
peering wearily beyond the crystal glass,
I ponder the day's events and the cruelty
in which has commanded my existence.
One by one, the stars find me again.
Beckoning me with their ethereal song
and welcoming me back to sweet serenity.
There, in the distance, I find my sweet silhouette
beneath those stars that have invited my return.
As I enter the door that bid me farewell
before the morning light I find my adoring wife
and precious children with open arms;
bidding me to be loved.
And, as I greet them with open arms
I reflect on this day's events.
To that end I endeavor to ask myself,
"Will I endeavor to face this day again?"
I have found, beyond debate,
that I have but one answer
that resounds at the end of every evening,
"Yes, if this be the reward, I will."

©Kevin V. Reese, 2003

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