Tell me His Name/ Poem by Gerald Blanchard


Tell me His Name

I have a lot on my mind
All this time, on my last night
He turned back, I’d drop anything for ya’ll
Tell me his name, want it to to be mine

Flirty eyes, beautiful queen
Age difference, life is short
Teardrops smear down my lips
Ring of Diamonds, shining

He was from the same place
Or, on the other side of the same place
Fairy tale heaven, troubles hurt him
Tricks, conjuring tricks

He broke every you, can’t forget
I don’t need you
But couldn’t let him go
Dreamscape, park iron hot

Gave myself up again
Don’t mind me, no emotion
No comfort, no ocean
Weeks in your troubles

Tired eyes, glowing permitted
Sweep across the universe
Rotten danger, fast cool off
Rip his body into pieces

Farewell drifting smoke
Silent Comparison of hemlock
Whispering Distractions
He was dying for his body

Years of Dreams, greased his body
His hands, his feet, closed eyes
With darkness comforting the knees
Fingertips that touched the other side

Dedicated, torturous position
Reserved arms, greek curl, creek wet
Love speech, leg friction, you
I was always fighting for that perfect tomorrow

Wealth in the blood stream
It was true, sensitive brain
after a time, memories flaked
It all had to change

Past vessels vaporized into nothingness
Just burning particles in the galaxy
Soft denim, decay in his teeth
Once unaware of distant flesh

Precious time, reviewing life, events
Noticing now they occur all at once
Darling, magically, floating together
Here you and I are, in that future

Considered one particular bubble, hiccup
A character, a wanderer
You, awoke in a chamber
And were beautiful beyond alien air

Machine hands, screening, screaming sucesss
Spent too much time on past planets, relentless horror
Frightened, fighting charriot, microscope panic
Eluded value, desired compliments, fear of his death

However, that is only change
He was terribly interested
Interested? To take one minute, moment
Sir, I will now live to win it.

Sidenote: For the last two years I have been jotting down poems in the midst of terror and fantasizing about a  future heaven that kept me going. This is a collection and representation of 30 years of creativity for me.  The poems below and the last above are all instances, moments, recounts and delicate phrases that sum up a good commentary on fantasies, desiring perfection, looking for heavens. I want to create a chapbook/something with the collages and poems mixed together. I am seeking out places to create this wonderful collection of poetry that I want to share. It is tough to share art at times because it can be so personal. I want to have people connect to the words where it will create a feeling in your stomach, a memory falling off your ears. Sometimes a story doesn’t have to make since to ignite feelings of hope and longing.  Sometimes it is just good to see a word that triggers a passed moment.  A lot of the poems have a lot of strain to them because they represent being stuck in a memory/past heaven that can’t be attained again. This last poem almost frees me. A few nights ago as I was posting these poems to the internet I had a thought that I would finish this collection at the end of the month. I wrote the poem late at night enjoying the silence of nothingness. Sometimes writing can release so much pressure and the words were perfect for fitting that mood of completion.

As for reaching a future heaven? I am reminded of the ending of the brutal foreign film Martyrs. But I don’t really feel that way(that it doesn’t exist). Just that, perhaps, heaven or someones objective stance on happiness (a goal) doesn’t always turn out the way you fantasize. In a way, this conclusion is more wonderful than what one can imagine.

Fading Summer / Poem by Gerald Blanchard


Under a fading summer, we made souvenirs.
Impressions. Where time was approved.


I’ve lost our love. Tried to conjure across
a glance. At times. Without you knowing.
Length, years. Are only definitions of time.
You have been gone a decade.
Ripped off your arm, mailed it to myself,
forgot to turn off the plot.
I ended your reign, with a story.
Liked your status, faded from the screens,
got that feeling, early mornings, heartbreak.


All these minutes. Together. Mornings,
Sunsets. Drive in movies, fries, hold on.
Two days later. Miss that unknown. I love
feeling that way again. We could lose ourselves.
We could lose ourselves, not in reality, fantasy.
I want that danger, man with glowing eyes.


Once you kept me turning the page, until
I reached the middle. Empty pages, quick to
pull memories, to fill. Deepest corners.
Location is important, woke up from a nightmare.
Drenched in your sweat, in the black, pulsating.
Up close, that thing.
That thing that kept me together.
We once said forever.

Other Worlds/ Poem by Gerald Blanchard


I’m walking down the street in my thrift shop sweater.
No one does it better. Down the street, later at night.
I tell him, no him, that I love right.

(pause, sighs)

I buy all these clothes just to take them off.
Heavyweight cotton blend. Remember me through
the touching of your fingertips on the landscape of my fabric.
He liked my choices in fashion, references
caution, heroes, villains testing my pop culture.
He rubbed my shoulders.


I spend too much time in the past. I know that.


I am in love with this thing in my hand.
It has all of you.
At different times, You all were there.
In fading pictures, deactivated links, archives.
I kept you there.


You smelled often of drifting wind touched by fire smoke.
Have I said that before? Probably.
You can give a look to someone that says eternity.
Don’t let me go home without your number.
Malfunctioning. Too much fantasy.

It’s a beautiful night. But I don’t feel beautiful.
Locked in a trap where I imagine myself chained to a tree.
Where I can hear the waves but can’t see the ocean.


It all starts in the mind. And goes down from there. Asked him what he smoked. Pulled out those Winston Lights.
Viridescent eyes.
I wanted to be your boy.
All your love was just a word away.


We were never anything other than a quick glance.
But you could have been anybody.
Cause I always needed somebody.

In another world I was yours.
Marijuana cigarettes.
Tattooed face. Silver grin.
Endless catching of stares and stars, stairs to our paradise cloud, hidden you held me, muscles tight with your scruff.
(pause) Scratching napes, beanie half off face. We watch moons fly over into the morning. Do I miss all of you? Do I miss none of you.

Your Pull / Poem by Gerald Blanchard


Ached for his vowels.
Don’t like them shy.
Grab me with your rough hands.
Burn me with your voice.
You can have my tears tonight.
Walked through towering trees.
Smelled of dinner, our scents mixed.
Collapsed on the ground.
Felt your waistband, small hairs.
Groaned with your soft touch.
We know it can be tough.
Saw you grin from my fingertips.
Alone at night, I walk. Awaiting.
You like to talk. I like to hear.
You are the only one.
Love your font, love your style.
Want to meet where no one goes.
Spent the morning with your body on my fingertips.
That mountain the distance.
I need to write you down.
Want that base drop to collide with your look.
Lose my heart with that first step.
How far do you want to go into my soul
Spent time looking for that perfect guy
His breath smells hot, Smoked an hour ago
Hairs soft, short, his upper body heavy
Stares, has no words
Looks instead
Breathing on me later, stops
You are the night I want
Eyes closing, my hands
Your chest exhaling
I want to make this complicated
Glad you are here to be there
Locked in the memory, smile
Recounting how important your love felt
Grinning at your pull

We have this thing/ Poem by Gerald Blanchard

offerings, writer

Spent all my time with illusion
I lie, laying near you
Soft sounds, distance
Backgrounds, pulling, melting.

We have this thing, souls floating together
Much like the last time, different costumes
Scents, glancing, grinning, ear to foot.
It’s all coming back to us

No one knows really. I like it like that.
Turn my head, at that right moment.
In a photograph I am only but perfect
Together we’re both vulnreable to exposure

Both drowning in numbers
Statistics, size play, positions
Many lies used, after all
I was the king of them.

We sit in the same room not talking
We have this thing, handsome.
I had a dream your face melted, brutal.
I just have to write down this moment.

You are beautiful, I am beautiful and hurt
Once I killed you with a finger
Then brought you back with a fist
With the assistance of my hands

Often our fantasies included an empty realm
The clothes were wore to take off
A particular day, a sudden shirt change
Desert sun and the air was static

There was a weekend together, at the lodge
We felt years in days, and never let the taste leave
In a goodbye you kissed me, hard as jets exploded
We have this thing