Mea Culpa

2011-09-27T02:30:00.000-07:00

What does the body do when the heart is taken?

Does it collapse and cease to feel the sunshine

Hanging well above it?

Does it fold and drop into the cracks of remorse

That litter the house where it sits?

Or does it keep moving without purpose?

A husk that masquerades as a human being

Moving at the beat of its former heart.

The hole where the hand reached in is still fresh

Like the memories of the hand who held it.

Yet she too is now an empty vessel as she holds my heart,

And I now stare at my hand and find a heart not my own.

I have hers; she has mine,

But neither one of us can reach each other.

What does the body do when the heart is taken?

It yearns for its loss to be returned.

Gleaned

2011-08-17T23:50:00.000-07:00

The sun dips down on the violent water

And creates a serene darkness that plunges

Its fingers into my soul

Yet a single blue light on the edge of the horizon

Glints and warms my heart against

The understanding of my mind.

That blue glint takes the warmth of my hand

And walks with me in deep wooded conversations.

It is warmth that slides up my arm and settles itself

As though a moon has found its planet.

While gravity can be turbulent, the rotation continues

to allow the seas to sway the boats and create that blue glint.

No moon, no stars, and no lighthouse can remove that glint

From its affixed position on the edge of the horizon.

Decimation

2010-11-08T01:37:00.000-08:00

The hammer clicks slowly as the words roll from your mind into the chamber.

No doubt the bullet has my name on it as your tongue sets into firing position.

You've picked your target. You've made sure it will bury deep in my heart.

So you suck in the necessary fuel deep into your nostrils, and, with nothing left to lose

You fire....

As the gun goes off, the sound is not deafening or painful, but soft and almost melodious.

The target, hypnotized, cannot move as the bullet travels quickly toward it.

It is unsuspecting, like a child unaware of what a pin does to a balloon.

Each word lands and the target crumbles into a lifeless heap.

With your job done, you slowly pack away your weapon of choice

And begin surveying the damage.

A cold smile licks on your face as you realize you have finished

So it is time to move on to the next one.

Hanging

2010-10-28T00:41:00.000-07:00

The boy stands still in the swirling wind

Looking for the voices he has become accustomed to hearing

Only to find himself strangely alone.

Countless times he has plunged his hands into the fire, the water, the wind

And pulled out each person before the pink moon rose in the east.

Only now the rose-hued Selene rises for him and no one is to be found.

A look in his eyes finds not tears of rage, but solemn understanding

Because the movement of light around him occurs

From his placement of the stars.

Every moment from here to the approaching entropy of his breath

Happens due to his ignorance, his choices, and his heart.

The wind begins to push him harder and harder

Toward a definitive but he resists the scythe and asks for one last word.

One last missive to those he misses and needs.

With his strength ebbing from him and light overcoming the wind,

He conjures their faces and merely says, "Sorry," then fades out

To become part of petals floating on a pond.

8,765.8

2010-10-27T00:04:00.000-07:00

It slowly rolls by like a still river.

(It flashes by in a second.)

It brings with it souls not before seen or felt.

(It takes with it people who stood the line and are no more.)

It creates memories that will stand the test of time.

(It destroys moments that felt like stone but were built of sand.)

It is constantly welcome.

(It is always dreaded.)

We lift our heads high to feel the warmth and joy it brings.

(We hang our heads under the weight it drops on us.)

We constantly count it to build toward the inevitable joy we expect.

(We always watch it build toward the end we may not want.)

It saves the day and crushes the soul... or is it saves the soul and crushes the day?

And that timer starts again at zero and climbs once more

Until we can no longer remember why we truly cared in the first place.

Worry

2010-10-10T19:13:00.001-07:00

Push it down and bury it.

Somewhere deep in your heart where no one,

Not even those who read you

With the clarity of Spring morning,

Can find it.

Let it sink into your veins

And become part of your blood

So that it is masked by the very movements of your mind.

Never show that it hides deep in your being

For the monster that dwells there will surely destroy them all.

Growth

2010-09-24T22:41:00.000-07:00

"You have to open your fist," he whispered to me quietly,

And I did,

And when I did, her hand slipped out.

Like the animals discovering the returning landscape in Spring

She stepped forward into the world without my hand to guide her.

My only vision now is of her back as she took the sun with her

And left me here to figure out what happens next

With nothing more than a matchstick of reasoning.

The cold bite of the wind sinks into my now empty hand

As I push hope around me like a blanket and wait

For the darkness to part around the saving grace of a hand to pull me

Back from the ironic fall from grace I have created.

Te desidero, and go forth into the welcoming world.

Let Orpheus be your guide to a point and make no mistakes.

No man calls me Eurydice.

The hand that returns the warmth should not be yours.

Neighbor

2010-08-08T19:32:00.000-07:00

He never puts on a shirt
As he stands in the fading sun
Quietly rocking back and forth
With the beer in his hand.

It's distracting to man and beast
As the jogger can't help but stare
And her Beagle pulls on the leash
Toward his lawn.

Fifteen years he's sat on that porch
Looking over the changing landscape
Of young couples gaining their first child
And losing their minds.

Like a Sphinx. Like a watchman of time
He holds the answers to random moments
Of his neighborhood. Who owns this lot?
Where is the fence line? Why should we care?

So he stands on his holy ground
In his too tight shorts and too narrow mind
Explaining to no one in particular what should be
And what will be.

A moving statue of a bygone era that no one wants back.
And when asked to put on a shirt
He merely remarks:
"Do I tell you how to live?"

And we live under the names of neighbors...
Even though we have no idea who we are.

Generation

2010-05-11T06:42:00.000-07:00

Your hand fits mine with room to spare
Not unlike the lost moments in my brain.
I'm jealous of your lack of understanding despair.
You are blissfully ignorant to the world's pain.

But my fears are beginning to build anew
As you let go of my hand and awkwardly walk
towards the sun, back turned as time flew.
Pretty soon you'll move faster and leave my flock.

Have I prepared you? Have I made you see
that life is not a race or struggle or fight?
No, life is not a test, but a journey of coming to be.
It's about understanding, not about brains or might.

The distance between us will grow and grow.
You will one day stand above me.
But I will never ever stop loving you, you know,
Because I'm grateful you came to be.

Partners

2010-05-03T20:58:00.000-07:00

In the silence of water

All is forgiven.

In the burning light of truth

Fallacies are denied.

In the corners of long dead hearts

Sparks cannot kindle.

In the corners of your eyes

Loneliness is defeated.

And in my arms

We exist as each others' lungs, hearts, and minds.

Let the murky depths destroy the morning

And let us stay among our silent skin

Until the songs of the sky call no more.

Mercy

2010-04-08T23:00:00.000-07:00

Subdued buzzing returns my hand from the wall

Lights flare and incremental inches become hard to count

As the gnats and daisies of lovelorn locks search for keys.

Was there ever a definition?

Was there ever a meaning?

Questions are born and die in the span of furtive glances

Toward her melancholy strings.

A final thought drifts toward the surface:

"Her wings cannot hold my weight,"

And an eleven year battle may finally be lost.

The lack of arms and legs does not phase my foe.

He merely sits waiting for me to no longer fight...

Just ask for mercy.

Ego eram nefas.

Wallflower

2010-03-09T09:40:00.000-08:00

Quietly sitting.

Never once anything more than unassuming.

Pithy comments and bouquets of promises

Cannot capture the sparkling oceans within her eyes.

A wallflower of divine intervention and beauty,

She treads softly to leave tracks

In the four chambers of my core.

Yet her mystique, compelling as that of damask rose,

Is palpable.

It thrives on the very solemn essence that holds

My strings together.

And I no longer understand the world without it.

Why would I want to?

Strings

2010-02-23T07:55:00.001-08:00

Solemn vows are often subdued in the darkness of Heaven and Earth.

Quiet longings become voiced in desperation and dilapidation.

And the solid groundwork built upon love and tenderness begins to crumble

As the harsh light of reality peels back the velvet sky to show what has occurred.

Persephone knew

As did Orpheus, but his was of lamentation, not of contemplation.

The blind boy pulls his arrows back to those already removed from the board.

And the solid music of Artemis forces us to put on blinders....

To what is right...to what is wrong.

And the pillars of Earth, Heaven, and Hell shake as we commit to

Four words of ferocity.

Four words of terror.

"I don't love you," said in the whispers of Ouroboros.

And our answers are not, "Why not?"

No, we instead say, "And why should you?"

Asleep (With NI)

2010-02-12T12:16:00.001-08:00

I meet you in a dream

somewhere in the land of nod

we forget introductions and focus on possibilities

swirling brush strokes of time's children follow

and the indigo moon weeps her joy

surrounded by stars that spell out our future

we stare at our pasts in the embers of cold fires

lip singed scars on our necks the only remaining heat

and long lost touches our only memories

and when we chase the flames again we find them frozen

dead in the four chambers of existence

nothing left but this tiny second of rem

an eternity in my thoughts

as the golden dawn destroys Selene,

my search ends

our eyes open filled with stars and the fresh sunlight

and we step on fresh sand and dew

toward infinite potential

Astronomy (Written with NI)

2010-01-30T13:14:00.000-08:00

Slipshot down a nubile curve toward grateful fog

where I lose my mind between her and reality.

Fingers and lips blend into ethereal ecstasy

and in her heartbeat and breath,

I can see the end of the galaxy.

Stars blaze in her eyes asking...begging me

to search brave new worlds.

I navigate by the constellations

now forming along her curves

and lose myself in uncharted moments.

Without a map or guide,

she whispers new directions.

Her words pulling me away toward darkened stars.

Nightblind, I fully succumb to her seductions

and am filled with the secrets of the universe

as the planets succumb to death.

Falling from Grace (Written with NI)

2010-01-25T19:16:00.000-08:00

The white shadows form frozen ghosts.

They quietly flit about in static light

and in the darkness of negative space,

I find long forgotten vigils to those not yet imagined

scattered across the abyss like cryogenic dreams

and dancing with an angel on the tip of a needle

until their balance sways and heads toward

points of nullification.

A deep void made of ten thousand shadows.

I become the angel on the tip of a needle

pulling off my own wings

and hoping for a soft landing.

The reasons too many to recollect.

The consequences too hard to fathom.

So, I close my eyes.

The rushing wind becomes my bride.

The air whispers truths and vindications

and the blurring world fades past.

No earth will slow my descent.

No touch will deny my destiny.

No names to fog my clarity, only this...

a silent soliloquy to love's loss.

Memories of ghosts drowning,

in rivers of my own longing,

cannot help to douse the fire of green hope.

As the moments push me further,

they won't let me forget.

I plunge through the mirror.

The surface merely ripples,

reflections dilute and then disappear.

The fall gives way to a sickening rise.

When I open my eyes, everything

and nothing has changed

except for the eyes of March

staring down into my soul.

Seeing more than I am able

and pushing the stars away.

I relinquish my ideals

and give in.

Set down among the dewdrops and nettles

a razor takes form across my heart.

Quiet slashes remove malignant memories

of lost love...lost truth...lost moments

and before the sins appear,

I am bathed in the light

of her innocence long forgotten

redeeming the monster within

to almost child-like savagery.

Faith

2010-01-22T22:50:00.000-08:00

Because you have a songbird in your soul

That sings a song of what the universe is, was, and shall be

Because a compass buried in your heart

Points you toward a light beyond the darkened horizon

Because we have to act on faith at times

Or all is lost

Because you have faith

I may not be the monster but the man.

Sinner Man

2009-11-26T01:40:00.000-08:00

Standing alone in the cacophony of life

Sitting alone in the stillness of breath

Moments pass as hearts and wings beat to war drums

Your words drip down my neck and sink into my shoulder

While soft tears are lost among the buses and blurring feet

Solomon stands above fingers pointed at me in disdain...in disgust

Second lives intersect in strewn glass

And absent daughters take a chamber to darkened floors

Because we shield

Because we hide

Because we deny

Because we idealize

Because we are broken as a whole

And like the clarity of reality awaking a dream's death

It burns

Force of Nature

2009-10-28T21:11:00.001-07:00

The dripping of non-existent water

Forces my brain awake as the corn

Blows in the tired wind.

Morning has come, but day is not at the door.

Weak musings of protest escape sugar plum dreams

As 33 separate sides slink together in line and

Move along dusty carpet toward harsh reality.

Quick splash of life's nectar drips into a Colorado bowl and

Wrests focus into being.

The carnival has problems all over, but must be open.

Buttoning denim's second skin, I move through the black velvet

And begin making mountains out of molehills.

As the sun rises, my only thought is the approaching storm tearing down

The work I have done with nothing more than a careless whim.

A thought,

A whisper,

A yip, and I stand before a child of Zeus ready to do battle

Before her daughter takes leave of light and air.

Quick prayers do nothing, and the sun abandons his guard.

Rise and fall over slashed days will keep me here long after the land.

Vanish

2009-09-05T21:46:00.000-07:00

Deep below raging waters

Far from static eyes and

Narrowing lines

Lies the small piece of bliss

Lodged in surging veins.

A small child of devotion

Feeds him in his cage and

Comforts him while the water roils

And the wind howls.

Bliss asks his new masters to let him

Be the father. To let him hold her again,

But reality steps to and proclaims,

"You are not blood."

So bliss rages in silence as his cage is lowered again

With their faces carved into his back,

And reality sets forth to pull the ship through a storm

Of his own creation.

Most Days (written in two minutes for an assignment)

2009-08-28T07:26:00.000-07:00

Most days
I squeak by the mirror
Hoping the wisps fall in place
Like the gods of old.

The Fonz, Batman, and Roosevelts
Break in the wind
Yet our egos remain checked
On the empty, open range

I've taken the splendor of youth
And hung him next to the jerseys of old.
Someday my son will remove him, but
Not while the door is held in check.

I hold redemption in the palm.

I beg Sisyphus, Socrates, and
The Wall of May 3rd to Wait
For me,
But the ghosts of Mars pull me into
Isolation.

Atlas

2009-08-19T20:49:00.001-07:00

Do not go the extra mile.

When clouds are seeded and wind blows the crowd down

Do not go the extra mile.

When the eyes of perilous youth stare into the abyss, tell them

Do not got the extra mile.

When the gods of olde thinking stare down your ideas

Do not go the extra mile.

Because the crowd will not thank you.

Because the youth will not understand.

Because the gods will crush you.

And your hard work

Your blood, sweat, and tears will be your coffin.

Whisper

2009-08-19T01:22:00.000-07:00

The true purpose of silence

Is not to refute claims

But offer its own answer.

In silence we find meaning and message.

You want the song of my heart to beam out,

But it is no longer for anyone.

The very lyrics leaked out from cracks and breaks

When the hammer of Sekhmet ruled your minds

And now puddles in the mire of the ditch.

Clementia took her leave when your dipped thoughts

Asked for reasons in motives instead of believing in

Aletheia and moving with the stream.

A perfect storm of words, deeds, and loss

Pushing the voice and mind into blinding silence.

So your answer is clear.

Yours is to guide.

Mine is to fade.

Like the petal of a flower tripping on the last breath of the dying.

Pained

2009-08-15T02:05:00.000-07:00

Where bloomed love

Hate has now burned the land.

Where felt sunshine

Reigns a cold night.

Where linked a chain

Lays broken pieces.

And in your heart of hearts,

You now want me to feel the pain and

Sadness of others.

Yet, you don't realize that pain, saddness...suffering

Make us numb.

So what does it mean that I can't feel anything anymore?

What does it mean that I can't care anymore?

Do your worst.

Bubble past mistakes to clear surfaces if you feel you must

Because the soul is removed.

It's gone walkabout without the shell,

And pretty words and hollow deeds won't bring the song back.

Just a mindless buzzing pushing harder toward an ending.

Control

2009-08-09T04:15:00.000-07:00

I live in solitude without ever being alone.

The demon lovers Regret and Doubt have taken residence

Upon my back.

They snicker as their feet attach to my heart

And push visions into my brain with their hands.

My mouth no longer under my control as they

Remove my tongue and replace it with their own.

Soon their plan comes to fruition and their child Apathy is

Born from my brain like Athena from Zeus.

And the husk dies while the Red-Headed Bastard smiles

And nods approval.

Screaming in a room with no windows or doors, I stay.

Trapped here until the last flickering lightbulb bursts.

Too good an ending for someone so malicious, yet

Ironic.

Jakey

2009-07-15T02:03:00.000-07:00

I met a woman under fading lights.

"Virtue falls upon the vicious nature of time's enemies," she cried out

To the moving masses who ignored her in their narrowed lanes.

"A green light at the edge of the dock," she screamed at cliched criminals,

Who snatched hopes and dreams from the zombies outside Caribou.

"Actions don't exist in the mind of a word," she told the quiet lovers

Hiding in the dim lights under the rustling trees.

"The fine line is crossed in a modicum of minutes," she howled at parishioners,

Who allowed the seed of doubt to germinate in their hearts and souls.

"We all have our place in the ether and dance on the fulcrum of daily do's," she whispers alone

While looking over her scarred flesh.

You don't see her moving among you.

You don't hear her making her plight.

Do you notice the smell as you pass by?

Will you notice her now before the light fades out completely?

The Dark

2009-07-02T03:55:00.000-07:00

The easiest part

Of living in the dark

Is being able to design the world.

The darkness abhors the designs

Of heroes and hope.

Preferably patient pessimism

Is your entrance.

In the light everything is

Placed... is...

Locked, like a broken heart

Covered in the tattoos of history's

Weak moments.

Yet the dark savors dreams

and asks for impermanence.

Thus is survival.

Learning to guide in darkness

Avoiding the harsh light

And finding a balance between

The blind

And

The burdened.

Such is the ephemeral existence of

The dark.

Late

2009-06-17T22:50:00.000-07:00

Love

Is a very difficult word for me,

But not when your face

Floats across my mind, and

Your words move across my eyes.

Folly

2009-06-14T21:22:00.001-07:00

If I stand to lose my line of sight

What will the motive be?

Can I continue to hold a thousand butterflies

Against the wind of remorse?

Shall I retreat to solitude and

Overhear lovers' missives?

At what point does the mundane

Become the desired effect?

Five pairs of eyes stare into my soul and

Find no purchase, no understanding.

Just sanded walls and forgotten cigarettes.

Reckoning? Not here. Not yet.

Lost

2009-06-12T01:27:00.000-07:00

Understanding

Friend

Sleep

Pupil

Time

Brother

Love

Another

Way

Spirit

So what can I gain?

Ugly

2009-06-08T23:24:00.000-07:00

Stars wink as the concrete slaps on a cool hug

My stoop.

My home.

"Be here...now," it whispers gently.

My heart attempts to ignore its musings, but

The legs...the legs are receptive.

The arms give out as well.

My eyes attempt to make sense of new positions.

Slightly on the edge of my red labeled reasoning

Sits my new voice in his circled home.

"Relax," he clinks at me. "Time no longer exists for you."

His smooth voice compels me like the concrete to wait out the cicada's song

In crumpled paralysis of tenative dogmas.

The wind cannot lift me, and the songs are drowned out by Venus' rising.

I await the sunrise to burn my soul into the wall.

Point

2009-06-08T03:01:00.000-07:00

Fall...........t

Fail.........t

Fair.......t

Pair.....t

Pain...t

Point

Breathe

A cautious fall pulls me to fail, while I see a pair through my pain. I make it a point to remind them:

Breathe.

And the universe collapses my eyes into singularity of song.

Kate

2009-06-05T00:43:00.000-07:00

Twin jewels moving across snowy set shapes.

Designing full contact Geometry to pass seconds into eons

While protected identities backed each other at guttural interegations.

Promises made

Broken by parted lips filled with honeyed missives.

Never apart. Never alone. Never without.

Yet the sun sets, your face fades, and the fog rolls through.

Your smile now nothing more than a vague moment captured one afternoon.

Died?

Married?

Moved on?

Loved?

Aspects dreamed but never known.

Promises made

Broken by parted lips with honeyed missives...

And you abandon me to hold the wolves at bay alone.

Trust turns a trick and flies away with a small piece of God's gift to man.

I cannot find you.

I cannot try anymore.

More vestiges of my past become erased...

And I move closer to erasure.

Feline

2009-06-04T23:51:00.000-07:00

Small eyes dart about before settling on a target distant.

Try to break you of habits, yet you are resistant.

Almost twelve years on we've been partnered up.

Bought to make a film debut by sticking your head in the cup.

You've brought me health, early mornings, and drunken advice,

And of course you brought me the bloodied birds and mice.

Constant companion with warmth in the winter for all.

I just wish that warmth would have a summer pall.

Easy alarm clock lying upon my face.

It's amazing that you let yourself be ruled by the human race.

The last of my friends. So easy to speak yet never do I hear a word.

And yet if I told people that, they would call tell me it's absurd.

Protecting my children and guarding my breath.

You sit on high as you move closer to death.

The three were once one, but now have moved on to their own.

Each a king of his jungle; each with his throne.

The time is coming when your winter will come.

But not just yet...of time I have some.

Thank you for giving me the idea and design of love.

It proves that beyond me there is more above.

Now go away you damn cats... I'm trying to sleep.

You felines are great, but stop attacking my feet.

Ditch

2009-06-04T02:39:00.000-07:00

Strawberry secrets

Create difficult choices

Born out of loving pain

And damned innocence.

Lying in the gutter

Staring at the stars

May seem romantic

When you forget the filth and vile nature

Piled upon you down there.

He may smile as pulls down each star for her,

But you and I merely stare at pieces of shattered chambers

That cut to the quick of our blinding sights.

A quick caress carefully kills his customs

But the twin guardians of guilt and longing

Must battle to the death for supremacy.

So I lie here among the discarded dreams

And vanquished monsters pierced with vorpal blades

Wondering when the broken tin will be mended....

When I will be whole again.

If

2009-06-03T20:46:00.001-07:00

If

Is

Winter

In the

Heart of a

Confused soul.

If

Is

The savior

Of

Lost families

And

Loved ones.

If

Is

The drowning

Of

Hope

In a

Damaged heart.

If

Is

The water

Of redemption

In

My

Soul.

If

Is

Why

You and I

Exist.

Doubt

2009-05-31T02:05:00.000-07:00

There is nothing worse

Than hearing I love you

And wondering

Why,

How,

Or

Until when?

Vacancy

2009-05-31T01:53:00.000-07:00

My heart left me.

He packed a bag

(Sweet marmalade made from memories of love)

No reasons left, just a note:

"How is your Heart?"

Brain is furious.

"He's a bastard," he casually mentions. "and a drunk."

I think he's just as hurt and surprised.

So there is a hole. No pain, no joy...just a hole.

And the park benches become more comfortable

As the clouds speed up, the trees sway in the breeze, and the world moves on...

I don't blame him. He was right to leave.

I locked him in a tiny room with a window to watch happiness go on without him.

So he escaped and found what he could, only to be locked up again.

He's gone for good this time.

Probably living on a beach in Tahiti discovering Bronte.

Hope he sends a postcard.

Grace

2009-05-30T21:46:00.000-07:00

Deep brown understanding keeps itself

Hidden deep behind a defense mechanism.

A smile that can light up a room

Stored in follicle waterfalls.

The swords of truth, innocence, and beauty you carry cut deep,

But like St. George, I will not let you fight the dragon.

You have the strength...the tenacity,

But the world needs your playfulness...your ability to love.

My world will burn and tatter before I let

A single hair

be

harmed.

My solemn vow.

An unbroken bond.

And you won't forgive me for it.

Failure

2009-05-30T01:09:00.000-07:00

The cool dark night envelops the humming sound of the refrigerator

As memories flow with liquored ease.

Four pieces evenly distributed.

One stretched over a lonesome grave too many years neglected.

One conversing with painful players over two-step designs.

One saving those around while wilting like a Autumned flower.

One craving to understand the machinations of a world gone over.

And the center stares as the long steel teases with a click.

A half moon within fermented fingers feels no fear as each piece asks for this.

The Reaper sits on his stool waiting for his prize that will not be delivered

For the home will not let its captive audience leave the cylindrical lair.

A salt stream appears as incantations are invoked for understanding.

With a solemn nod the Reaper understands:

Not on this night.

Not yet.

Age

2009-05-29T23:31:00.000-07:00

With time comes knowledge,

but that is no excuse.

With experience comes understanding,

but that is no defense.

We are asked to be patient,

but fix the problems that arise.

Out of focus? Unable to see the light?

Too bad.

Make a new path.

The only real crying shame

is

a

purposely

wasted

life.

First

2009-04-23T05:18:00.000-07:00

Stumbling out of darkness
A cold voice pushed to the deck
As a first breath is taken
Unable to grasp concepts
War
Peace
Hate
Love
Pain
Joy
No words to illustrate movements
Brand new to all like a blank slate
A symbol of Hera
With the wisdom of Athena
The strength of Minerva
And the anger of Latinus
Minutes bring years of knowledge back
While three souls welcome the squaring fourth

An everday occurence where a miracle is seen.

Soundtrack (4/5/09)

2009-04-06T02:52:00.000-07:00

" (My Love) I read you. God, I'm good at it. I'm so spot on," she says

" (Ha. Well) Turn around and say, 'Good morning,' to the night," he says

" (All Ready?) So please put your sweet hand in mine," she says

" (Weird....) I've this creeping suspicion that things here are not as they seem," he says

" (Wait.) You make me smile with my heart," she says

" (Now?) Tactics of another plane is now proven sane, " he whispers

" (You know....) You will look for me, and I'll be gone," she stammers

" (One day?) I’d give my all just to be number one," he says

" (Do you remember?) Sunday was a bright day yesterday," she sighs

" (Again?) Creep under my door and we do it again," he says

" (For you) All it takes is a little faith, and a lot of heart," she says

" (So tired) I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind," he says

" (You're not here) The whole world is moving, and I'm standing still," she says

" (But, mad as I am) There are no victories in all our histories...without love," he whispers

" (You don't know) I'm cold as cold as cold can be...," she says

" (Come here) Close your eyes and I'll kiss you," he says

" (Why do I love you?) I know nobody can do me no harm," she says

" How can I hurt when I'm holding you? " he asks

"Look into my eyes, and see all the lovely things you are...to me," she says

(And yet we don't know how to love....)

Sly

2009-04-05T01:53:00.000-07:00

A masked bandit crawling to no more sunsets
Lies within a dark corner of my home.
No longer will he search through my trash.

Instead I am writing his epithets
As his mouth produces a noxious foam
That ties into his spasms as his legs thrash.

The moment will pass when I am upset.
And his life will pass in the gloam
As I take the blade and thrust in a flash.

My forehead beads with sweat
and I fight tears knowing that his days of roam
Are over due to a quick smash.

The child witness has seen life's roulette
take this animal to become part of the loam.
But I will tuck my pain and anguish into the dark cache.

Foiled

2009-03-16T04:01:00.000-07:00

When you look in the mirror,

You do not see me.

When you stare into the puddle,

I am not the face looking back

When you pass by the storefront glass,

your duckling gait is not my stride.

I find my opposite in reflective surfaces of their eyes,

not in yours.

A foil is no more than a fallacy...a false finding in your fevered hopes.

Find your own reflection, your own idea of who you are.

I am not it.

Search.

And if my image becomes your words, fall away.

For the damned don't need the added rage.

Grains

2009-03-15T03:32:00.000-07:00

A grain of sand

Blowing in the desert wind

Cannot affect my vision

Despite its best efforts.

Eventually, however, it will find the...

Fallacies deep within my soul and

Get me to lift my eyes toward

Heaven.

I cannot save your soul,

Just push it along with my

Kind thoughts.

Leave this place.

Move out of the small corner of my heart and

Never return.

One time will hurt us both and give us a dull, everlasting

Pain.

Quickly and quietly, I slam the door to my heart

Shut

To never be opened again except in

Unusual cases.

Voices from my past creep over my spine and

Wake the dead within my nightmares to invade the

Xanadu at the height of my happiness.

You cannot understand yet, but as the

Zephyr blows, you will see that in your life I am only

A grain of sand.

Tense

2009-03-04T02:17:00.000-08:00

If you wanted to,
You could end this with a word.

If you wanted to,
A movement of your wrist would release me.

If you wanted to,
You could pull the drape of night over my soul.

If you wanted to,
A fanciful decision would expand worlds into infinite and enclosed spaces.

If you wanted to,
You could help me.

But the sand never finds its way...and I stop believing.

Vigilant

2009-03-02T04:02:00.000-08:00

There is a soldier in front of my heart.
"Halt," he tells them. "You are not to be here."
As they approach faster, he curses and fires faster than
Goya on the 3rd of May.
Bodies lay strewn across the dark landscape.

There is a knight in the foreground of my heart.
He attempts to be valiant and guide them in, but...
I stop him with Saracens and green ghosts.
His guided visitors become lost in a maze and never find the keys.

There is a soldier in front of my heart.
I hear him talking to me at night when the demons come.
"I cannot be here forever," he whispers.
"You must stand your ground, " I tell him, and then force him to fight
A large demon made of past regrets
Reeking of apologies, stale beer, and burned out cigarettes.

There is a knight in the foreground of my heart.
He carries a banner of misfortune.
Though he attempts to help those around me, he never wavers in his duty
of penance and piety.
To search for the heart's missing veil and mystifying menagerie of memories.

A soldier and a knight patrolling the grounds of a fractured landscape.
And when the floods come now and then, they survive on the high ground of hope.
They guard the entrances and exits and maintain peace.

Until the children of the mind can defeat them forever.

Listing

2009-03-02T03:35:00.000-08:00

Air

Fire in the night

Water

Umbrellas in showers

Love

Shoulders in desperation

Lucidity

These should be your saviors.

Quandary

2009-03-02T02:20:00.000-08:00

The White Knight.

Pure

Innocent

Giving up his life for her, them, and anyone who needs it.

Wants desperately to heal.

The Black Knight.

Evil

Corrupted

Sacks cities for curiosity

Willing to push until all are conquered

Often viewed as the two sides of the coin.

So how did I end up in Grey?

Spur

2009-02-10T00:40:00.000-08:00

Passion's problem.

A snake in the grass with poisoned fangs.

A euphoria

That turns to frustration.

Misunderstandings.

"Never thought YOU would be suicidal," he says. "Never meant to imply."

Passion's problem.

Words misunderstood.

One language with multiple meanings.

"I am sorry," she replies.

He hears a soul upset.

"Don't apologize," he intones. "I overreacted."

Passion's problem.

The simple is complex. The quiet is a cacophony.

Words on a page cannot carry the meaning of voice.

Stuck outside the tower and looking up, he says,

"A rock I might be...but I need firm ground to hold.

Even a rock can slip."

She stares back at his eyes.

The left with a fleck sadness and understands:

It was never his intention to push her, but she now sees

He has to help others for himself.

Ignosce Mihi

And that is not Passion's problem.

Flicker

2009-02-05T23:05:00.000-08:00

You are the flower in the weeds
The bauble in the sequins
In a cacophony of sound.
You are welcome silence.
You are happenstance in a world of figures and logic,
A candle in a lit room
And in my mind...I'm a snowflake in rain.
The room left for me is wasted;
The heart kept underwater.
The mind creates reason upon reason....
The curve of her lips drips honey and vinegar all at once.

The happenstance?

I won't take that room.
The words ring again and again,
"Not in love with you."
So the walls get thicker and thicker, and I wait
Alone.
So it goes.
Yes, you can
Lock the door.
A gossamer awaits me through the veiled shadows.

Falling.

My soul drops,
And God laughs at me.
A hearty chuckle that reveals his plan for me:

Solitary confinement.

Charity

2009-02-04T19:24:00.000-08:00

Quiet, hot thoughts slice up my spine.
A mark for each trip to Heaven.
A notch for each descent into Hell.
Pulling chords as the universal song reaches a crescendo
And silence fills the hearts around me.
Their songs become mine.
A cacophony of discord thrashes throughout my being.
Water cannot quell.
Multiplicity adds duplicity and
Animosity gives way to virtuosity.
A note.

And my soul sings in the darkness of fate.

Moments

2009-01-27T20:39:00.000-08:00

We share a secret laugh.
"Look at that ring," I start to whisper to you.
Your eyes silence me with an almost deafening
scream.
"but the ring," I start again. "It's like a seal."
You try not to laugh.
Stifling.
You lose the moment and hide it.
Cough, cough, cough.
And your eyes come to mine again,
only this time it's not a scream.
It's a smile.
Glinting.
A quiet belly laugh.
And the sun peeks out from behind the clouds for a
moment.
He's been tickled and wants to see who did it.
But the clock ticks forward, and the moment
ends.
So I sit in my corner and pretend to understand what's going on.
The sunlight gives way to the cold.
I step into the wind and hope the four pieces hold together a little longer.
A weight attaches to my leg, and the label reads failure.
Contemplation allows another parasite to attach. This one named compassion.
Willpower is not enough, and fear grows stronger.
The blue glow of hope fades.
As my knees hit the ice, you keep walking too fast.
"I'm here," I say. The scream is stifled like your laugh and comes out as a
whisper.

And when all is said and done, there is a small ember,
hiding,
in the personal hearth, and it will burn soul into tatters.

Patience

2009-01-27T20:31:00.000-08:00

If I could hit rock bottom,
I could push off and start up toward the surface.
Weighed down by the twin stones of shame and anger
I struggle against the murky depths.
"Pointless," the first voice screams.
My hollow chest answers with an echo.
I attempt to pull up again.
"Fleeting," the next voice laughs.
My arms and legs burn with the last of life.
Thrashing.
Seven small rays of light shine through, but are unattainable, unreachable.
"Let go," the last voice whispers.
Still waters pull me to God's face.
And the infinite silence is my welcoming party.

Dream or nightmare? I don't know anymore.

Lesson Learned

2009-01-19T03:28:00.000-08:00

Your hand in mine,
Like a gnat on a truck.
A snore as loud as a mewing kitten
Trickles in my ear and wakes me.

The hands are soft while enclosed in mine.

You are the proof good exists;
The answer to the question of why we are here.
Your time here is a fraction of mine, but you are stronger
And aptly named.

A moment, and my eyes are reflected back at me.
A knowing smile to say that all is well before returning to Nemo.
Fear grips me again as the full timeline plays out,
But a sigh and small hand alleviates this.

This is a journey taken with each other.
I will battle the monsters;
You will teach the lessons.
Together we will help her.

You move in a zig-zag and constantly call for catching.
The crowd bows to your charm and bends to your name.
But I thank you for your real lesson.
For the very essence of why you're here for me

Thank you for teaching me the three words,
of wisdom, of caring, and of existence:

I love you.

Now go to sleep.

Babble

2009-01-19T01:38:00.000-08:00

Our words don't mesh.
Up is red,
Black is purple,
Right is blue,
Lies are gold.

Our views don't sync.
You see a hero,
I see a villain.
I see a good heart,
You see flaws.

Our ideals aren't met.
My ground is firm as rock,
Your sky is limitless.
Your soul sings like the sun streaking across the sky.
My soul no longer exists. A casualty of benign dictatorships.

And yet, we both are caretakers.
Me of you.
You of them.
We for those coming with us.
And the rest.

Words die off the vine, and I can no longer hold on.
You cut with the stronger sword and leave me vulnerable.
A bleeding stone, a sinking island, a dulled knife.

The mirror cracks, and I shatter.
With no glass, there is nothing there.
I'm on the wrong side of the skin.

What does it matter?
The words are not understood

And the tower is finished.
How can this be?

Inkling Wordled

2009-01-15T21:16:00.000-08:00

The poem, "Inkling", put through Wordle.

Celluloid

2009-01-15T20:54:00.000-08:00

The movies say two people fall in love and are
together forever.
But the movies always end before the real life begins.
Fighting.
Struggles.
Jealousy.
Bitterness.
Regret.
Sometimes.

The prince cannot be on a white horse if he's holding down a 9 to 5.
The princess can be a great beauty but only if she let's go of her insecurities.
The villain sometimes wins.

So the princess has an affair with the villain to regain the thrill,
and the prince dies when his horse throws him awkwardly.

But daddies don't tell their little girls these stories,
because hope is the only currency of youth.

So the painted prince and drawn princess constantly smile
the happy ending
for us.

Dull Edges

2009-01-15T20:25:00.000-08:00

It takes a mere second

to end a happy moment.

It takes a small movement

to create the ripple in the pond.

A dark shadow

hidden

behind a pretty mask.

I stood there to hold your world.

A small trick, and the world tilted.

I reached out to catch, to hold, to save.

As ripened fruit

Plummeting.

Not fast enough.

A glance of your face passing by into nothingness.

Not nearly fast enough.

Hercules winks, and I cannot move.

Fire burns deep within and cannot be satiated or quenched.

You leave me here, a failure, to hold up the others.

And the only reality is the pain of your absence.

The world keeps spinning, the sands of time keep flowing,

but the color is drained.

So am I.

Not an Artist

2009-01-14T20:10:00.001-08:00

This is a poem about nothing.
There is no point.
There is no hidden meaning.

This is a poem about nothing.
There is no allusion of silence and sadness.
This is no simile like the clipped wings of an Eagle.

This is a poem about nothing.
The art of words is lost.
It's just words flattened out on a page.

This is a poem about nothing.
Don't read deeply because you won't get lost.
A meaning is nothing without heartless words.

This is a poem about nothing.
Is est a poema super nusquam.
Nothing about this is a poem.

This....

Now do you understand?

Rules

2009-01-12T18:34:00.000-08:00

A quiver.
A moment.
Like a needle being pressed to the flesh, the muscles spasm.
The bow is plucked.
A heart soars with an arrow.
Plunging toward an empty soul.
Nowhere.
Someone.
A strike that is felt within me.
Awash.
I feel your tension within release
and stand naked to intentions.
Darkness masks the desires that are unleashed alone.
Forgoing a punch-drunk love and scoop the pieces back.
Proper places.

And the still life remains perfect to the discerning eye.

Dichotomy

2009-01-10T20:57:00.000-08:00

What is passion?

What is lust?

A necessary part of a relationship?

An act of nothing more than primal nature?

An emotional desire.

A physical longing.

To connect at the center of being.

To make two become one.

Love.

Desire.

Her heart.

Her body.

Yet which is stronger?

A relationship needs both.

But one will inevitably win out.

The heart?

The body?

The soul?

Her being.

But these two rule the gender to which I belong,

And they make us stupid.

Necessary

2009-01-08T20:39:00.000-08:00

I wish to release this skin.
For my heart and mind to separate and go their own way
like the man moving off the overburdened horse and finding
a new path.

I wish to not be trapped.
Choices abound that hurt someone no matter what
like walking on miles of hot coals.

4,000 hooks dig into my soul,
pulling me in different directions.
Do this, no this, no this.
What is right? What is just? What is fair?

Make this person happy
Make this person ready
Make this person yours

A list that grows with each day.

A hook pulls, and I am at peace.
Another pull and a choice for my soul is to be made.
A third tug, and I am the keeper of secrets.
Another yank. Time to prepare my replacement.

With each hook removed, another takes its place.
No rest
No weariness
Ignore the pain, just move.

So I stand over the clear water and stare deep into the life's mystery.
Faces waver and disappear. Ripples moves along like goosebumps on the skin.
I start to plunge toward that silence and movement,
but hook 2,623 yanks me back to reality.

I wish to be free, but real freedom must wait because I am needed.
I am loved.
Loved.
And that means I keep swaying in the breeze as the hooks become chains
and the chains cover my mouth.

Slipping

2009-01-08T20:15:00.000-08:00

The hardest part about writing whilst drunk
is keeping

everything

line.

Your mind begins to drift through fog.
Might be red,
white
her hair so brown
dark amber like the whisky that sits on the bar.
Time slips away
with gravity.
And the pen slides
down.
Her legs
The empty bottle slips to the floor and shatters like into
pieces of me.
Lost happiness drips on the side of the glass.
And the room
moves nearer and nearer

quicker

and to her

quicker.

Spinning into butter that seems to be helping my stomach climb.
Higher and higher he rises, until he knocks against my teeth and
SCREAMS.
"Let me out!"
He lets his children join the glass in a menagerie of sorrow and regret.
Beautiful when fractured.
In daylight not so needed.
Her poor judgment...or is it mine?
But the radio tells me love is all I need, and the walls echo the solitary.

So I sit, the intellectual, the poet, the lover, the loner, with a Fat Bastard Hippo,
and we share stories of what should be, what could be, what never was, and
what never will be.

The hardest part about writing whilst drunk is keeping everything in line.
And keeping your soul off the page.

Twice

2009-01-07T19:13:00.000-08:00

Photo via

A phantom.
A ghost two times over.
Letters on the page as footprints in the snow.
"C'est la vie."
A return when lined walls are the only ears.
Twice.
Two times twinight tryst.
Once on Heaven's cold ceiling. The other with The Raven's master watching.
Twice.
A heartbreak that spreads across the nerves.
Lights a fire that burns, smolders, and destroys the hope dwelling within.
Twice.
The sun rises and illuminates a charred landscape.
Alone.
Quiet footsteps through blackened grass leads me to sanctuary.
A glass house resplendent in false light.
And I stand here waiting for her to return.
Twice.
And as the light plunges into the ground, a short breath escapes into the ether.
Once.

Three Men

2009-01-05T22:00:00.000-08:00

"What should I do?" the brown nymph asks me.
And the three men begin to go to work.
On my left, a man with harrowing eyes and a kid-skin briefcase hisses into my ear:
"Tell her to leave him. Tell her to go. It may be a bad idea, but...how would she know?"
His tongue is forked and filled with honey fire.
I must listen as his argument is compelling and makes my heart swell.
A cooling sensation runs over my nerves as I look over to the right.
A tye-dyed hippie in blue jeans sits with a guitar. A halo over his head.
"Man," he begins, "You have to help this girl's soul."
Desire burns white hot through me and then fades with cold reality.
The right, the left. The truth, the lie. The correct, the false.
But of the three men, the choice belongs to the man in the middle.
Me.
Alone, even with a voice on each shoulder.
So the man in the middle speaks:
"You have to leave him," he says.
And the Nymph bows to the wind and listens.
but...but....There's always a damned but.
She strides away from her former and clueless beau, but...
she goes to the red bastard.
Worse than the first man on my left, the red bastard taunts and tantalizes.
His words are hollow, but the nymph is deaf.
His actions are empty, but the nymph is blind.
She is enraptured.
In creating my own failing, the three men stare in disbelief.
The man on the left wipes his glasses in envy of the red bastard.
The man on the right pulls his halo down and whispers a silent prayer for her soul.
The man in the middle is unable to move.
He asks, "What about me? I love you too...."
He is met with a silence, a stare, and a touch.
The nymph says, "The time is not right. You are my rock, but he has my heart."
A hole.
Darkness,
and the man on my left laughs.
A cackle that reaches into my soul and cuts my heart string.
The man on the right merely states, "This will happen again."
The red bastard has his way and breaks the nymph. And when she returns,
the man in the middle puts her together again...and watches her leave
for a second time.
The wheel spins.
The three men move on to the next choices.
The man on the right strums his guitar,
and the man on the left adds to his briefcase.
The man in the middle collapses under their weight.

How sad that this story is mine and yours.

Lillies

2009-01-01T14:52:00.000-08:00

When love dies, it usually gives birth to hate.
A twisted desire of joyous pain, of delicious torture.

When hate dies, it usually gives birth to understanding.
A stark view of the whole picture and the whys and wherefores of actions.

But when romance dies, there is a hole that cannot be filled.
Not by flowers, chocolate, or good intentions that pave the road some of us are on.

Inkling

2009-01-01T14:31:00.000-08:00

Some people never feel fear,
Never know the darkness that can envelop the heart and the mind.
They see the sun shining and ignore the smiling snakes at their feet.
Me? I let it wash over me like a cleansing rain that anoints a clear pattern of life.
It soaks in through the pores and powers the machine to rise,
To move in delicate footsteps, and teaches humility.

Some people never embrace sadness,
Never tremble with loss of jubilee.
They wish the good times to go on forever.
For the Lost Boys to be their inspiration.
Because funny and happy makes you loved.
Me? I revel in my depression. Like a second skin,
It allows me to breathe.
It blocks the rope that my body hangs from.

Some people never feel numb.
Never lose the emotional stake in life.
They hold on to humanity and pray, fuss, scream...
For love, or happiness, or a dream.
Because emotions are what makes us human?
Me? I find numb to be safe. Numb makes confusion,
And confusion allows for perceptions to be built.
Like a puzzle built on a train track.

Some people never let go.
I feel sorry for those people.

They have never really lived.

Hidden Message.

2008-12-30T22:21:00.000-08:00

falling further from a rEality that never was,
i twiSt my body To rendezvous with a frigid mAss of resentment.
Lies turn smiling eyes into daggers that pierce deep.
twist.
bleed.
joints cracK as brittle promises waIl of sweet nothiNgs.
a mind Grasps for air that IS not existent.
Blunt traumA of a Docile creature.
Yet the idea is found in the mountains and large masses
among the small ideas.
Search.

Broken

2008-12-22T20:05:00.000-08:00

Pushed too far,
She falls toward the rock hard surface at the heart
and looks to an image of what never will be.
The Man of Fells Point won't speak.
His tongue tied in a meeting of shattered minds,
and two souls stand bewildered: one in pain, the other numb.
A dancing shadow moves across his face
as intentions are laid bare on the backs of
pestilent promises.
A turbulent walk out of empty and screaming halls of nowhere
The echoes betray the footsteps and the feelings of honor
A constant battle between Andreas Bartels and Semir Zeki and William Harvey.
In the end, one face alone rises and then sinks back into the dark...
Waiting, watching, loving...
but it is not mine.

Changes (a Haiku Variant)

2008-12-17T20:33:00.000-08:00

If the blue silence
Takes my breath to heaven
Will I still be here?

Find me a new way
To deliver my own soul
To its rightful place

She will drink in life
Protected by her true god
A divine woman

I cannot see her
I cannot feel her hand yet
but I love her so

May the infinite
Guide me to a true healing
For him and for her.

Namaste.

Deeds

2008-12-15T21:05:00.000-08:00

Impossible black hook taunts the dancing metacarpals.
Slow.
Numb as the cold bites in and turns red to blue.
Help is asked for and granted.
Cold fire as the hook laughs.
A break.
Teeth flash in surprise and the cold swallows the sound.
Grateful eyes stare in disbelief and question why it was done.
The soul merely shakes and moves on into the bitter landscape
like the cowboy searching for the sunset.
Like the moth searching for a candle.
And still those eyes watch.

Other Children

2008-12-14T20:19:00.000-08:00

Chasing Amy flirts with me to be Better Off Dead.
No Braveheart here, Jake. It's just Chinatown.
A Backdraft to As Good As It Gets for Citizen Kane
goes Home for the Holidays.
I might be F for Fake, but Mr. Arkadin will leave me Unforgiven.
A veritable Metropolis for the People Under the Stairs who need a Lifeboat.
Vertigo takes over as I am Leaving Las Vegas, and the Last Waltz makes
me the Man with One Red Shoe.
"M," she calls...then The Lady Vanishes.
Triumph of the Will helps the Real Genius overcome a Raw Deal.
"Run, Lola, Run," the floor cries out as The Salton Sea turns Sideways and
motions for a Quick Change.
Children of Men stuck in a Permanent Midnight think, "One, Two, Three," and
attack the Rabbit-Proof Fence.
But it is the Quiet Man that will make you Scream.

Friday

2008-12-14T20:06:00.000-08:00

Trapped.
Like the duck in the bottle,
my anger rises in clouds that burst forth
breaking glass.
There are passing moments of distraction
but my mirror image never lets me go.
"Leave me be. Let me have my peace."
Under a frozen mound
sleeping
waiting
watching
five became two
one stands out
Yeats grabs my lapel and screams at me.
I can't hear
Take your snow
Take your moments
Fenrir comes to move me
You have your apocalypse
I have Ragnarok.
Fleeting
Never-ending.
A pain and sorrow that binds me.
Precise as the scalpel
Sharp as the vows
Quixote steals my soul and rides.
Trapped
in my own vengeance

Truth

2008-12-11T21:05:00.000-08:00

A stabbing pain in my side is replaced by the pain in my heart.
Your words fly out on silver strings.
They dig.
Iustus
Deeper than loss I begin to feel.
servo
The wall grows higher as the family burns.
Sors
A picture torn asunder as one becomes five then two.
volvit
The father becomes a phantom.
suus
The mother evolves.
tergum
And Orff moves the wheel.
in
Stand like a stone and wait until the voice pierces the air.
mihi.
A dead language that saves the soul.
Propinquus vestri pectus pectoris pro is exuro.

Carry the Line

2008-12-10T20:01:00.000-08:00

One foot slides.
A limp.
The hand moves into the arm's crook and holds the line.
The next foot stumbles.
Hold the arm in place.
A red swatch moves in and out of view.
The lion in winter looks to the summer winds to carry the scent and rage.
Two hearts, one damaged, move through an antiseptic wilderness.
"It's not so bad," the old lion tells the wind as he surveys the landscape.
Burnt flesh and tattered dreams litter the floor as the lion stumbles.
The foot slides again.
The lion seizes his mortality and attempts to assert his position with a roar,
but the wind cannot keep holding the lion and brings him home.
"It's not so bad," the lion weeps as his eyes slide back.
The wind can only watch.

Push

2008-12-10T19:54:00.000-08:00

Round and round,
moving like Obree.
Breathe, lean in, take the punishment.
It's only a few moments, a breath in a circling hour.
They don't get it. The mind plays tricks.
Keep moving.
Pedal harder.
The world will blur.
The pain will melt.
The people will fade.
No matter what they say, you keep moving.
No one will understand....
The shadows move into your eyes as you lean against the wind.
Finish.
The hour ends...and the demons come with the night.
Push back. Lean in.
Lean in....

Charlie Don't Surf

2008-12-03T20:19:00.000-08:00

There are times I wish I could be like Kilgore.
Forget that I care to the point of hurting myself.
Forget that maturity and the mind develop so slowly.
Sliding into a corner and placing the heavy thoughts on the desk
is how I become Jacob Marley.
To see the dead piling up in front of me and blink with nonchalance.
But I can't.
"Nothing in the world smells like that," he says.
Perhaps the true meaning is that it can't be like that.
Expectations too high, product too low.
I'm failing. Myself and them.
And my heart will give out if my liver doesn't first.
There are times I wish I could be like Kilgore.

Float

2008-12-02T17:59:00.000-08:00

Tread.
Breathe.
Never stop moving or the dark, briny deep will swallow me whole.
Tread.
Breathe.
Which is worse: the rain pouring down on me or the siren call of the depths below me?
If Odysseus had not heeded his heart, he would have let go of the mast, but I'm not that strong.
Visions of what's to come begin to slide into my mouth with each salty taste.
Nine circles dance to the forefront...icy cold, but replaced by the burning in my arms and legs.
Tread.
Breathe.
An amorphous figure in the distance. Land? Hope? Fate.
Can't stop while so many need me.
Pain proves that my paucity of energy has not forced me into the whirlpool.
Tread.
Breathe.
Alone but with the ghosts of those who have come and gone, I circle and cut the water over and over.
Have to keep going. How many angels dance on the head of the pin? Can't stop until I know. The pain continues into my side, but I can't stop. Won't stop.
I will float toward salvation in the hope that this water will spill out of the bottle and free the duck trapped inside.
Tread....
Breathe....
Tread....

Logic

2008-12-01T19:33:00.000-08:00

To be the center of happiness
is to be the calm in the middle of a maelstrom.
Wishing for daylight, wishing to understand a flawed logic.
A diamond that sparkles in all the wrong places.
Perception becomes reality, and reality is the nightmare of lost hope and broken dreams.
The rock begins to shatter and fall into the deep ocean of question and solitude.
Like an empty lamp, like a star in the sunshine, the idea begins to fade and is lost in the
hustle and bustle of a never-ending mob.
You are you. I am I. There can never be a We. That much is clear.
Quietly whistle a tune for a smile that is nothing more than a shared knowledge of God's universal language.
I cannot trip the light fantastic when the moon is my constant.
Fall.
Fade.
Forget.
And in the end...finality.

Rotation

2008-12-01T19:18:00.000-08:00

He smiled, because she is beautiful.
She smiled, because she likes being noticed.
He wanted to get to know her.
She wanted to get to know him.
He stared at the golden strings attached to her heart and began composing.
She sang the song of the siren to lure him into a false sense of hope.
He stayed because of love.
She strayed because of convenience.
He picked up the pieces of his broken heart and placed them in Pandora's Box.
She played off his insecurity to obliterate her own.
He crumbled.
She rose.
She left.
He lost himself in the fog of ether, corn, wheat, and rye.
She returned to him with veiled intentions.
He fell again, like a newborn soldier, like a child's dream.
She broke him with a double-edged sword of malicious love and pain.
He turned for help and found a vast emptiness in urban jungle of dreams and fantasies.
And the world spins spins hope and heartache into all that is, all that was, and all that will ever be.

SOLIPSISTIC by IT (ML)

2008-11-24T20:09:00.000-08:00

If I fall toward an opaque future,
quietly questioning the coursing surges in vein,
and forsake time and space
to again be with her, will choices be undone?
With a whim lives remade.
As illusions are rebuilt, reality crumbles,
and past dissolves with the wind.
Time unfolds.
I find her waiting in the most turbulent depths of dreams.
A line in the sand returns to her, and
the dark veil of air covers desires,
but there they are clear...damasked romantics,
and the ephemeral resolve of her face.
Her love becomes no more than a whisper,
solace and solitude become my ravens,
flying, swirling irritants of what could be.
A false promise of hope... of love... of water to the dying man,
yet it is nothing more than a drop of rain in the ocean;
a petal in a valley of lillies.
Unmistakable.
Unforgettable.
Untouchable....
And so I return... alone ...to the stasis of being,
to the peace of no promises, no hope, no love...
just living.

Namaste.