A Meditation

Be calm, be still, be silent.

Do not wish for, desire, or hope.

Do not lust, envy, or covet.

 - Be calm, be still, be silent.

Do not worry, or fret, or regret.

Do not argue, or debate, or convince.

 - Be calm, be still, be silent.

Be grateful, be humble, be content.

Be proud, dignified, and honorable.

Be strong, be moral, be true.

 - Be calm, be still, be silent.

Victor Vogt

The Shepherd's Tree

an unfinished poem

The stories have gotten bolder
As I have gotten older
Lost out in the blue of the sea
Of  the mystery and the magic
Events romantic and some tragic
That unfold under the shepherd’s tree.
I was just a lad
When that knight Sir Galahad
Came in from the wild on his knee
They say he found salvation
From dying of starvation
From the fruit of the shepherd’s tree.

It was echoed  far and wide
And it could not be denied
That angels could often be seen
Laughing and crying
At the poor fool slowly dying
Still charging away on  his steed
Lost in the madness and the gladness
His solitude and his sadness
Conquering demons only he could conceive
And when the sun set on his battle
And the knight fell off  his saddle
They laid  him to rest on these leaves.

It was rumored behind palace walls
Of the squire who heard the call
And picked up his fathers steel
But the invaders came like a tide
There was no place the boy could hide
The Hun pierced his armor and shield
But as all the kingdom knows
There’s magic where the daffodil grows
And the nymphs play in the field
And to the wounded brave
The kiss of fire they gave
And under that tree he was healed.

It was whispered by lovers at night
Hidden from the candle light
Of a ghostly moan and sigh
And you could chose to believe
The old which who says it is Eve
Howling when the moon is high
And on the ground she crawls
Clawing at invisible walls
Around the garden reflected in her eyes
And she can’t break the spell
And they laugh at her in Hell
Under the shepherd’s tree she cries.

 La Belle Dame Sans Merci 

John William Waterhouse

gold

I know it was real - because I can still feel...
her kiss on my lips...
and a child's curiosity
in her fingertips.

I smell her perfume on my body
and I see her eyes everywhere
the moonlight glows...
and her kisses and caresses
left traces of gold...

One Legionnaire

(first draft)

for

 Dragon Song

 ***

Victor Vogt

One Legionnaire on the back wall
One Legionnaire at the gate
One Legionnaire on the mountain
One to watch over the lake
One Legionnaire in the great hall
One at the edge of the realm
One Legionnaire at the foot of the sea
One with eagle eyes at the helm

One Legionnaire  looking down from the tower
One to watch over the valleys of green
One Legionnaire at the door of the palace
One for the rivers and streams
One Legionnaire for each town and village
One riding on the great road
One Legionnaire in the forest
One watching out for the heathen horde

One Legionnaire with his musket
One with his dagger and spear
One Legionnaire to carry the banner
One blows his trumpet for all to hear
One Legionnaire is an archer
One with his sword and shield
One Legionnaire for the wounded
One Legion on the battle field

The Hunt Has Begun

 The Hunt Has Begun

from

"Dragon Song"
by 
Victor Vogt

Let the ringing of bells draw them dragons near
Be true to your dream and live without fear
Sharpen your blades and wipe down your spear
The tales of the hunt - will not soon disappear...

Make your soul fire and your spirit steel
The hour of the hero will soon be revealed
Strap on your boots and your amour and shield
The hopes of our fathers - we will not yield...

The sun is hiding - behind  dragon clouds
The breath of the beast is all around
From outside the walls comes a terrible sound
But no sign of despair - in the legion is found...

All we can carry is all we shall take
Leave behind young maidens whose hearts we will break
And look not behind you - the old world we forsake
Out of the fire - a new kingdom we’ll make...

The brave and the strong march with honor and pride
Past the weak and the hungry with no place to hide
Let the banners  fly and the cavalry ride
With the strength of truth - steady at your side...

My quiver is full and my bow has been strung
Let loose the hounds - free them to run
Let the trumpets blow - let boys beat on the drum
We’ve painted our faces - and the hunt has begun...

Illustration 

by

G. M. Richards

from

"Idylls of The King"

let the night fall

Let the night fall
slowly and gently
cover my heart
with the stars in your eyes
Let the night fall
like a feather from an owls wing
floating carelessly
through the sky

Let the night fall
like petals from a flower
from your penthouse apartment
onto the street
Let the night fall
like leaves in Autumn
as sad and lonely as my heart beats

Let the night fall
like the whispers of a lover
calming the butterflies inside
Let the night fall
like the tears of my mother
a ripple that turns into a tide

paper hearts...

Paper hearts can fade in time
Lose their color when love wont shine
Paper hearts can rip and tear
Even if nobody’s there
Paper hearts can catch on fire
A spark or match or it’s own desire
Paper hearts are not that strong
On paper hearts I wrote love songs
Paper hearts are all around
Blowing in the wind - scattered on the ground
If a paper heart is a heart you hold
You’ve got to know it’s worth more than gold

Paper hearts are children’s dreams
A poets words, a lover’s screams
Paper hearts are your hopes and fears
Paper hearts are your joys and tears
Paper hearts are all I see
Lonely paper hearts chasing after me
Paper hearts get blown away
If love’s not strong enough to make them stay
Paper hearts are all around
Blowing in the wind - scattered on the ground
If a paper heart is a heart you hold
You’ve got to know it’s worth more than gold

it's cheesy... but there it is...

poetic?

though I have never actually used the word fuck 

in any of my poetry... 

until now.

chasing winter...

I run after your foot prints along the shore on cold lonely beaches...
I chase the echo of your voice through wooded mountains and lose it in the mist...
Down snow covered slopes I tumble after your sighs...
I abandon legions of angels in the blizzard to stumble blind in pursuit of your perfume...

The devil and his brood I leave behind in a forest cave - for the magic and the mystery I might find in your glance...
I have left the warm of the fire and the company of the tribe - for the salt of your skin... the moans of your lust... the desperation and the passion of your tears...

I am a band apart... I am that lonely wolf... the brave lost in the wasteland... the madman on the hill... forgotten by God... rejected by the muse... discarded by destiny...
I have only the strength of this mindless... delusional... pursuit of you...

Chasing your ghost... is chasing winter... in the valley of madness...

she doesn't like cowboys

She doesn’t like cowboys - because they always break her heart
She doesn’t fall in love because it always falls apart...
She doesn’t trust in angels - for they always fly away
And she’s left alone with the devil - at the end of the day...

She doesn’t listen to love songs - because they always make her cry
Reminds her of the life - that just passes her by...
She doesn’t dream of pirates - come to take her out to sea
Her paperback romances - shattered like her dreams...

art by Rafael DeSoto

esas viejas canciones Francesas...

inspired by something Isabel said

The day is grey... the colors fade and it smells like rain...

The evening's dark... the grass is yellow - in the city park...

The night is cold... she's not here to hold and the world has left me feeling old...

The season's too long... where did we go wrong... and these old French songs...
          are the only things she left me...

Santiago (with me...)

You can go back to the world you knew - before I came along
When you make up your mind - you’ll find that I am gone...
You can walk away for ever - and never look back to see
If you might be happy here - in  Santiago with me...

If it is love you require - I  have plenty left to spare
And the pretty words you desire - I  can pull them from thin air...
But the passion that you wanted - and  the hunger to be free
Might not be here when you return - to Santiago with me...

You can argue all night - you can scream until you cry
Wouldn’t you rather make love - until the gods are satisfied...
I’m not going to beg - you know I’ll never get on my knees
Hate me if it helps to forget the nights - in Santiago with me...

like a star exploding in Heaven...

And I feel just like a star exploding in Heaven
Like a snow flake falling into the sun...
I’m nothing without you girl
There’s no place left in this world
For a man like me - who doesn’t have any one...
Like an angel with a broken wing
Elvis Presley with no song to sing
There’s nothing girl - and no place left to run...

And I feel just like the devil tumbling down from Heaven
Like a comet burning up in the sky..
I’m nothing without your love
Like the desolate moon above
For what will I be - without you by my side
Like a wolf  that’s left out of the pack
And a ghost that can’t find its way back
There’s nothing girl - and no place left to hide...

Counting Angels

Counting the angels that fall from the sky
I’m running away but I - can’t tell you why
I travel by train to get to the sea
A slow boat to Asia is waiting for me...

The moon becomes clear  - the past fades out of sight
Picking up Angels - cast away in the night
And I’m getting closer to where I belong
Can’t tell you why I stayed away for so long...

The Eternal Empire rises from the mist
I make dragons tremble - when I shake my fist
Business men and sailors great my at the shore
Sweet delicate geishas  behind - rice paper doors...

Counting the angels climbing out from the snow
I’m hiding from the world but I - can’t say where I’ll go
I could get lost in Brazil or the North of Thailand
But my heart is breaking -  my soul is aching...
                                                  for Japan...

maybe it's just the japan in my dreams...

for my broken heart

a 

poem

for my friend Isabel

...

There’s an army of angels
at the edge of my bed
A choir of sailors
Belching chanteys in my head
And deep in the valley
A lonely wolf howls in pain
As the cold winter snow
Turns to cold winter rain...

There’s a legion of demons
Surrounding my room
A defiant sparrow
circles around the moon
And deep in the forest
The muses gather in the dark
To conjure up a love song
for my broken heart...

There’s a tribe of gypsies
dreaming ‘round a fire
The Santeria queen of the market
Brewing potions of desire
And down at the pier
A pirate sings to the sea
In Kyoto somebody -
Paints inspiration for me...

Legionnaires hum a ballad
In a slow march off to war
A cowboy rides the range
Until the stars shine no more
And deep in the desert
Before the morning starts
A shaman calls up his magic
For my broken heart...

pagoda

ink and pencil

by

Victor Vogt

no more broken hearts...

No more broken hearts
waiting at my door
No more broken dreams
sulking 'cross my floor
No more promises
I never mean to keep
No more love to make
That did not come too cheap...

No more sighs released in vain
To echo in the night
No more whispers of romance
To hold back the morning light
No more songs of love
Left for me to sing
No more reason no more rhyme
I’ve abandoned all these things...

letter to Edith

ink on paper

Slave to the muse

A whisper a sigh - the truth in her lies
The promise of fortune and fame...
Her kiss and her touch - are now my crutch
And I love her but know not her name...

She comes to inspire - and quench her  desire
She leaves me a weak,  broken man...
But I give and I take - my heart she can break
For those riches I’ll do what I can...

Sweet seductive words - phrases no one has heard
Visions of  love I require...
And I tumble and fall - on my knees I will crawl
To her alter to light her holy fire...

I’ll raise demons from hell - call down angels as well
For my mistress demands all my passions
In return for my soul  - she has promised me gold
And young maidens in the latest fashions...
                                   
For my art I would bleed - go insane, yes indeed
The Muse will grant gifts to her lover...
And they will tell my story - lacking not in glory
For the treasures of fame I did suffer...

not enough time...

Not enough time to learn all your dances
Not enough time to sing all your songs
Not enough time to chase all those romances
just not enough time to find where I belong

Not enough time to let go of the sorrow
Not enough time to forget your name
Not enough time to chase after tomorrow
Just not enough time to heal all the pain

Not enough time to tell you I’m sorry
Not enough time to find the right words
Not enough time to tell you my story
Just not enough time to undo all the hurt

Not enough time to find out what love is
Not enough time to show you my heart
Not enough time for another good-night kiss
Just not enough time to make a fresh start

just come back...

Cold December moon climbing over the mountains of Northern Mexico

The dessert wind howls through the night... the smell of mesquit

burns in the valley... you roll over in bed... and mumble words

I did not understand...

Before I crawl back into bed I light a candle at my alter...

At the end of the hall... my little alter... candles and flowers

sitting under a black velvet painting of Raquel Welch... that

I found in the old market in Juarez...

I light a candle and burn some incense and a poem on

Japanese paper in a little bowl... I call out her name...

I whisper it low... I say... “forgive me... for whatever

I have done... just come back...”

I listen for footsteps...

I close my eyes and try to sense the presence of an angel...

The devil... her ghost... I can’t find her shadow...

I can’t find her smell... I don’t hear her crying...

In my room... in the hall... in the kitchen... in the den...

In my dreams...

There is a small scar on my wrist... next to my vain...

It does not let me forget... it does not let me go...

It will be there for ever... but she... she always needed

more love than I could ever give her...

I don’t pretend that I ever loved her...

But now... I feel I love her...

There is a woman who’s name is Elena sleeping in my bed.

And I am writing poems in blood on ancient paper...

In hopes of seducing the ghost  I have tried so hard to abandon...

“forgive me... for whatever I have done... just come back...”

take me to the valley

Take me to the valley
Where the tall grass grows
Let me play in fields
That no-body knows

...
Take me to the valley
Where God's light has always shone
In fields of memories
Where I will finally find a home

...
Take me to the valley
Where I'll lay me down to rest
Where hearts aren't broken
    And no dreams are stolen
And no sorrow to confess

...
Take me to the valley
Let my creator walk  with me
Where  sailor songs echo through the sky
Like the rumblings  from the sea