The Poetry of Cyranos DeMet

Find here a gift, given to me, shared with you, 
the gift of the muse Erato. She is as the legend describes her: impossibly beautiful, impossible to 
deny and beyond mortal strength to endure. 

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

Other Then  
   From the Dreamweaver archives 

Lay me where the cleft moons rise
Script lay of love in language high
Drawn fluted rune a verse devise
Writ poet's tongue to shallow'd sky
Till bolder comes the rise and call
Seductress tempered feral sound
Birth chanting chorus begs the fall
A dancers leap lands lover found.
In candled ways cold days rewarm
Fire buried wick flame froth'd a foam,
Sans pain congeals conjoined form
Mold mate of man to forge a home
Entrain'd in woman's begging moan
Plea echoed heart to loins to bone.

Nah, can't happen, don't be a damn fool. 
You're mature, pragmatic, cynical, immune…

She was never more than a dream image anyway,
A fiction born of vulgar base biological urges
According to those sterilize the world in morality.
A man can't lift the weight of a crown off a dreams head,
Lift the heavy mantle of expectations off her shoulders,
Grant seventy two hours as woman instead of dream,
One hour for every year accorded the life of man
To make love to her, with her, laugh and play,
Make a symphony of delights in the nerves of her body,
Hold her warm while she sleeps, dry her tears,
Give back to her a bit of what she gave so many
Before she has to put that damn crown back on
Go back to being the Queen of Dreams,
sanctuary for the lonely and displaced…

 I don't miss her, not at all…

Yea, right, and if you believe any of that?
I have some prime real estate
 for sale in southern Florida…

Lover's Secret…

Oh darling sweetheart lover mine
God twas sweet, so fine, sublime,
But here we are all warm and wet,
Little chance much more we'll get,
So lover we should rise and dress
In smiles await the evenings' best
And since we have us all the day
Go out in search of other ways
A happy love might laughing play.


How can you make a map of life
   to show the roads need walked,
   people and places along the way
   and the lessons to be taught?
What color a pin marks the hobo
   who filled one beer soaked night
   with pirate tales of deals and sales
   smuggling opiate dreams of might
   consoling the angers of little men
   who bemoan their life's lost fight?
Find me a symbol for afternoon lady,
   who mostly worked clubs by night,
   her wisdom of sadly sin sullied love
   from confessional pillows laid tight to
   comfort she vended in sexual ways,
   for both lonely genders same price.
Where is that line will twist and curve
   to be measure of courage and heart
   dwelled in a body so broken and frail
   just standing was championship part
   seen walking one morning a hero…
   laid waste to self-pities weak mark.


Me?  You gotta be kidding…

I'm waiting on an axe to fall,
A shoe to drop, a voice to call,
I'm waiting on this rock to roll
When high tide turns free a soul
From achy itching angst-ish scenes
Prison gates forged sluff't off dreams
Of life lived large in movie memes
Dared killer cool'd assassin queens,
Tame the shrew, renew the scene
Ne'er will leave a silver'd screen…

But sure, why not… deposit is paid,
Undertaker ain't going nowhere.


see here world LOOK at me
see the way I am
bolted marred the open scar
wounds by mine own hand
REFLECTING what I think of you
your ways set sad as sand
scattered on an icy road
before my day began…

watch me world at my play
games of pain and shame
some feed my INSANITY
and some just hang a name
on moves among the HOPELESS
drones conforming to the lame
AFFLICTIONS as the coin earned
that buys a claim to fame…

oh doctor lover make me well
you with dirty hands
slice away with scalpel LIES
cut future failures stand
mantra molded to the SHAPE
of pauper parents bland
DESPAIR cinched tight as any wire
bound blood vain virgin clan…

NO… fuck you world go away
you'll never get it right
pale horse a-riding painted up in white
blindfold captive HOPE of love
will penance serve each night
in gleeful SINS of dirty sex 
scream cum alone cum fright
pay terror for the children's HURT
your world dealt for spite. 

Mea Culpa

I who speak so oft of love
oft chew the bitter rind
of what the fates left above
drowned canyons of her mind

and I who speak so oft of peace
do battles full fierce start
with foes my fears offer lease
as wardens on my heart

and I who speak so oft of hope
despair will hang for blinds
around sad truths I can't dismiss
wounds time ne'er go to bind

and I who speak so oft of free
wear chains of clan and kin
shackled every morning sun
compassions' brutal whim

and I who speak so oft of dreams
oft ration sleep to parts
that bodies rest be not the mark
where nightmare's race will start

and I who speak so oft of life
roll life like dice benign
that tumble up a tiny score
against deaths' running line

and I who speak so oft the code
of logic sans Descartes
amend my days to hold the way
Pray God will take my part.

LaMH 42

A magic man and a major muse
Went out to lunch one day
And over the tea and strumpets
One heard the other say
"Sweetheart we've a lot of power
In how these children think,
They who live within the walls
Their shamans twist and shrink
Until the little darlings crouch so low
In misery and drink
Crying for the faith they lost
Before they learned to think.
So lover shall we take a hand
In helping them to see
That all the things they're pining for
Are generally quite free?
Should we put it on the street
And dare the merchant man
To try and claim a copyright
On verse pen’d God’s own hand?

Santa and a Stern Lady

Santa you know it just isn't fair
When is you who keeps the list
Your own name's never added
To one says made or missed
A full year of being good lil boy
So now you must answer me this:
Santa my love will you trust me
To know if you need be kissed
By leathers to lay on a stinging,
Reminder of time spent remiss,
Or will you be such good lil boy
Should I now surrender my wish
I’ll suffer soft torment rescinding
A gift of deep lips…descending.

Shackles gold there she wore,
Abiding mark from fetters torn
As freedom won for passion's core
Compels a dream of loves reborn
To misted moon by hunting horn
Soft sound the cry all sisters form
Balms willing pain of virgins torn
By thrust of lover quick and warm.
Beguile she now dreamt hunter's heart
His hunger fanned from coals to flames
Full lights the forge of carnal art
Love's secret smith eternal claims
That pride melt down to mold the part
Of lover's shackled heart to heart.