Title blurb

"From one LIGHT come many colors." ~GJ Dürrschmidt

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Easter Rising

Much more
potted lilies,
in a box,
Happy Easter
rising early,
making love 
just our

~gj duerrschmidt

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Friday, March 29, 2013

Naughty List: Way Better Than a Bucket List!

Our short years
have brought so
many firsts,
helping one another
in quenching
life-long thirsts:

for that special
someone to share
the little things,
a best friend,
a red hot lover,
wedding rings.

The hand of fate,
tho’ late for us,
has been more
than kind.
If we only had
the power
to make the
clock rewind.

Were we a little
oh the times we
might’ve had!
That we’re a tad
bit older,
we must hasten
being bad.

I say we make a 
naughty list
of stuff we’d
like to do,
then attack it with
a vengeance,
even if we 
check off just
a few.

~gj duerrschmidt

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Missed Call (of the Church Bell), A Poem

Wisps of smoke
rise skyward,
as the last of
burning embers

Naked limbs
sway gently,
shaking off the
last of winter’s

A church bell
rings far off
in the distance,
calling me to

it beckons;
and once again
the answer’s

~gj duerrschmidt

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Rain in Spain: An Other-Than-Heterosexual Love Story

At nineteen, during the Vietnam War
I was an airman serving in sunny Spain.
I went to bars with my fellow airmen,
pissing away money like it were rain.

They were on a libido-driven mission
to get themselves some Spanish snatch.
I wasn’t able to embrace their fervor,
waiting instead on some better catch.

I was sick and tired of all the drinking;
somehow there had to be a better way.
I needed to be spending my free time,
investing in more sober ways to play.

When Friday came, I feigned sickness;
the guys went without me for a change.
I walked across base to the bookstore,
something happened, a little strange.

I was invited by a preacher to a social
at his home in a small pueblo off base;
said he’s hosting a few college kids
on summer mission while at his place.

When I arrived, all sat in a big circle,
opening a space and pulling up a chair.
They shared personal stories of Jesus,
I tho’t, “Christ, what am I doing there?”

That’s the first time I met him (not Jesus),
his hungry eyes followed my every move;
the eldest son of the missionary preacher,
flirting in ways dad would never approve.

I was asked to help with the youth group;
No way in hell would this guy say no.
All my buddies joked I’d gotten religion;
the truth: a hot crush I couldn’t let go.

He desired much more than a friendship;
struggling with lust and love for the lord.
How sweet the season of secret liaison;
how I miss being so intensely adored.

At nineteen, during the Vietnam War
I was an airman serving in sunny Spain.
I fell in love with the son of a preacher;
when it ended the tears fell like rain.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Dawn of the Orange People: A Poem for Equal Rights and Marriage Equality

Under the cloak of darkness
they journey out of hiding
to a secret place that
welcomes them.
Tonight they gather in the
greatest of numbers,
abandoning caution,
defying warnings of an
immense release of energy
and coming of color.

The joyful reunion unleashes
their deepest emotions,
hidden for so long out of
fear of persecution.
Suppressed passion rises
quickly and intensely,
until the desert air quietly,
yet violently erupts into
bright, surging bursts
of orange.

The pulsating glow
penetrates the night sky,
lighting mountains, valleys,
and the great sea.
This day the world awakens
long before sunrise to
a new kind of dawn,
of a people wanting only to
love freely and openly in
the brightest light of day.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Sunday, March 17, 2013

Bucket List

They may only go
no further than the
inside of my head,
but I’ve a list
of many
I’d like to realize
before I’m dead.

Some only require
gut determination
and energy.
Others will take
much funding and
foreign travel to
experience places
I’d like to see.

I’ll focus first on
simple things like
making pottery.
Most on the list
will remain nice
wishful thoughts,
unless somehow I
win the lottery!

~gj duerrschmidt

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Church: When's the Last Time You Were There?

So, I haven’t been there in a while;
I felt no need to attend any more.
It did little for me when I did go;
getting there was such a chore.

Though I miss its vaulted ceilings,
benches made from hardest wood;
stained glass windowed artwork,
above where pious statues stood;

Its fine linen-draped marble altars,
chalices with accessories of gold;
tall candles of purest bee’s wax,
waiting God's message to be told;

Sinners and saints under one roof,
congregating to worship the Lord;
singing with the passing of baskets,
giving to Him all they can afford.

I once stood, knelt, and also prayed,
trying my best to embrace the game.
But, I never felt God’s presence;
I quit attending, but felt no shame.

I then traveled the whole world over,
met Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Jew.
Each claimed their god was the God.
But, the God said this was not true: 

I am the air, water, earth and fire,
all the forces of nature combined;
not restricted by man-made religion,
never man-owned, nor man-confined.

I am there on top of the mountains,
the valleys below, and upon the sea;
there are no places you may venture,
where you will not encounter me.

I haven’t been to church in a long time;
once, getting there was such a chore.
Perhaps I’ll go for old time’s sake,
and walk with God through the door.

~gj duerrschmidt

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Letter to a Dear, Young Friend (or, Doing Versus Imagining)

My Dear Young Friend,

Most of what I experience
from now until the end of
my life will be imagined.

I’ve no longer the looks,
the body, the energy,
the will, nor the time left
to do most, if any of it.

Most of what you imagine
from now until the end of
your life you’ll experience.

You’ve got the looks, the
body, the vitality, the hot
desire, and the time left,
so, don’t waste a minute!

I once had all the time in
the world, and was afforded
many great opportunities.
I passed over most of them
because of one thing, and
one thing alone: fear.

Push the envelope, reach
beyond your comfort zone,
seize each moment as it
comes, be bold, and live
large on wide screen and
in Technicolor!

With much love, and envy,

your old friend,

~gj duerrschmidt

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Cock Block: A Rooster's Tale

One day the gate was left opened,
and the old rooster decided to flee.
For the very first time in his life,
he knew what it meant to be free.

He could go any where he wanted,
no old hen was holding him back;
explore lands beyond the barnyard,
the very depths of his soul, in fact.

For years he searched for answers,
there’s so much he longed to know:
what was being a rooster all about,
what really put oomph in his crow.

Surprise! He favored young cocks;
he truly never loved old hens at all.
Clucking hens destroyed his libido;
youthful crowing made it stand tall.

Soon came along a young rooster,
wanting to marry and settle down.
At first, life together was heaven,
but then began turning around.

Spunky crows of a young rooster,
became cluckitty-clucks of a hen.
“Be still. Go to sleep. Just roll over.
Stop it now. I’ve a headache again.”

All he was mounting was tension;
his very roosterhood was at stake.
Night after night: no satisfaction.
How much of this could he take?

Once a rooster, always a rooster:
born to jump it, hump it, and crow.
Be it with old hen or young rooster,
he’s sick and tired of being told no.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Saturday, March 2, 2013

20 lbs in a 5 lb. Bag, (or, Living More, Not Longer)

I most likely could’ve 
stretched my life out
twenty more years if
I gave a shit;

If I cared at all about
what I ate and didn’t
drink so much booze
on top of it.

Living more healthily
wouldn’t guarantee me
that I’d never get hit
by a truck; so,

Deep fried everything’s
the way I choose to go:
eat for pleasure and
not give a fuck.

Pleasure in this lifetime
is what I’m living for;
seizing each moment if
and when I can.

There is no more pleasure
awaiting once in the grave,
so if it pleases, just do it,
now is my plan.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Friday, March 1, 2013

Key West: The End of the Line

Pseudo legends in
their own minds,
kings of their hills,
walks of all kinds:
doctors and lawyers,
or Indian chief,
admirals, generals,
or corporate thief.

They drive taxis, wait 
tables, or tend a bar:
has-beens, burnouts,
coming from afar.
Please ask, they’ll tell;
do lend them an ear;
it’s sure to impress,
may bring a tear.

Most often there’s a
woman to blame,
did them dirty,
brought them to shame;
blissfully married until
one fateful day,
he lost her Jesus, or
found out he’s gay.

Once filthy rich,
now  broke as a joke,
they hustle beer, or
an occasional smoke;
the would’ve, could’ve,
should’ve boys,
fallen heroes on the
Isle of Misfit Toys.

~gj duerrschmidt

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