Stephen John Kalinich




Photo by L.K. Thayer

Art kills
and builds
levels all fields
strips power
from the unworthy
and thieves.
Art does not
take advantage
of the market.
Does not cave in
or pander
to the lowest
common denominator.
Real Art
is pure intent
in my opinion.
Art does not manipulate
or call garbage or dreck
and lewd expressions genius.
Art is the destruction
of the mundane.
Art must be ever fresh
create new boundaries
that enhance
and bring benefit to all beings.
Stephen John Kalinich
© 2014

Stephen John Kalinich

In dreams
where mortals slumber
in lands unknown
i reside in molecules and seeds
a fragrance
that you sense
aroused not innocent
not drawn to praise
despising mankind
at times
slow to forgive
quick to judge
as my kind
is prone too
i renounce
a separate self
i linger on the boundary
of the invisible ocean
of thought
that swims around us
into atmospheric sea
the triumph and the fall
of all
that come into existence
as sure as it dissolves
becomes the dust
one day evaporates
breaks down
our spirit
all is inconsequential
all is insignificant
all becomes more than
what it was.
My god what angel
wouldn’t long for one breath
of the beauty of this earth
that is so fleeting
yet contains within itself
the portal
to immortal journeys
In dreams
In dreams
where nightmare scream
where none can be redeemed
or given  second chances
where the etch
is the only steady
is the motionless stillness
the mark of passage
of before matter
exploded into manifestation
out of nothingness
in dreams.
(Photo by L.K. Thayer)


Stephen John Kalinich


Omens predictions 
and exchanges
 only sorrow sees its own face
in the image
in the mirror
ignites compassion
and sacred trust
We view but through 
a dim lens
this vastness
the impeccable beauty
of a single rose
half in bloom 
among thorns
grand eloquence shines
etched in each sharp deep cut
of blood freshly drawn
with quiet gestures
we hold on to transparent 
fleeting clouds
the symphonic culminates
where the end is near
and we face our limitation
idle disconnected
 grow jaded 
while the quartets 
the cellos 
violins violas play
the final chords
while poets quote phrases
that do not really capture
what this living is
 fragile existence 
has had its evening
goes into forever stillness
 and weeps
for questions 
are never answered
and only wisdom 
rescinds its invitation
between here 
and far away
for death is always 
here in everything
and the derelicts  
need no words 
a hand reaches 
out to you
 that you do not touch
chills you 
to the gut
kills you 
vile circumstance
suffers long
why do we behold 
for such a brief 
one may never find  
a meaning
in the howl of the 
on Alameda
the call of the wild
gives up its soul 
but not without 
a might struggle
oh divine justice
to be a part 
of the madness
and the triumph
to transcend physicality
to go quickly into
the eternal without fear
or  hesitation 
holding the last fragments
of this sweet journey
in a grace 
we never quite understand
I want to blend into it
become a part of the tapestry.
© 2012

Stephen John Kalinich

A daughter killed
upon a sidewalk
struck down by a cab
A baby mother left with someone else
dies when i am at school
an abortion in Spanish Harlem
Twins  laying in a toilet
that never had one breath
that never came into existence
This self
that we chase
that is us
that we never catch
this fleeting flicker
held together
by such fragile
and invisble threads
that tare
and pull at us
that lift us
like a marionette”
© 2012

“Mistakes” by Stephen John Kalinich

Weak People
Need Saviors
and crutches
To survive
 I Need Tenderness
They are MAKING me crazy
Skunk odors in Malibu
Earthly crawling things
Chop me into bits
A kind touch
cannot stop
This itch
this passion
This lust
To annihilate
The downtrodden
To ignore the urgent signs
Of revolution
A collapsing society
The emergence
Of a new order
 This one will perish
Existence as we know
Will change
 Hurry inch- to
One that moves all
likes and dislikes
Minister to each feeling
that rises
Cautious alienated victims
 accused of heinous crimes
Sex visualized
all take notice
certainty is impossible…
Sour notes
do scattered wiping
thief’s horrendous bigots
cut servants
turn lights out
Own the beast
the colony of dead corpses
In purgatory screech
disease reaches past pain
mild summer nights
The smell   of tacos
that steal the air
lay calm in execution
morn their future
For the offspring
are the devils punishments
the outcast-
Tidy hysterical laughter
bruising the soul
fasting foul animals
From Torrance
held captive
in the wilderness
forgotten kindred shits
 past redeeming
no formula for survival
I nestle on soft sofas
 in the middle
of mixed dangerous strangers
a sign
a fuck
a fight
Clinging to serious sweet problems
extremities not yielding to fear
out of a lullaby
carved signatures
In a declining inadequacy
a never sensed offering
to unknown Gods
Late checks
in the descent of grace
 aged deep tumors
hymns being sung
in empty canyons of Arizona–
All ends here
 there is no other world
side dimensions
an omen
of washed out survivor’s
pristine elements
in no order–
A still sober accumulation
of cluttered thoughts
singing in us called
intended for torture
Organized refugees
 rigid escapees
sucked into hidden strings
of consciousness
pathetic boring
tedious murmurings
All neither loved
or hated
hanging from chandeliers
 in Nightmares
do we know
the scope of solving
saving poetry
saving the world?
Raw damp fertile
wasted indolent
insolent freaks
with blocked arteries
A latent meaning
 an ace of weeping creations
mistakes ?
Army Of One
© 2011

“In All Directions” by Stephen John Kalinich

You and I are
only as good as our source
underneath  every poem
is the reality of spirit
in all directions
without limitation
yesterday is a memory
in conscious grace
originality is in us
and from the Divine
cooperating with us
a brief glimpse
of the mystery
to be alive
is a grand idea
in being
without measure
you need daily inspiration
to enter
the calm tender currents
ordained as potential
before the concept
of time was formulated
I am grateful
each day
for I am lead by the wisdom
of an indivisible invisible power
and know
here a victory
a miracle awaits
as the sun comes up
 by acknowledging
a need to forgive the
inner need for recognition
Vast waters of the spirit
enrich us
you are between
the stars and Oceans
this grand eloquent opportunity
to be alive.
© 2011