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
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Force of Nature
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.
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.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Vanish
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.
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.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Most Days (written in two minutes for an assignment)
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Atlas
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.
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
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.
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.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Pained
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.
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.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Control
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Jakey
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?
"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?
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The Dark
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Late
Love
Is a very difficult word for me,
But not when your face
Floats across my mind, and
Your words move across my eyes.
Is a very difficult word for me,
But not when your face
Floats across my mind, and
Your words move across my eyes.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Folly
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.
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.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Ugly
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
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.
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.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Kate
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.
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.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Feline
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.
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
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
If
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.
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.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Vacancy
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.
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.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Grace
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.
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
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.
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.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Age
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.
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.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
First
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.
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.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Soundtrack (4/5/09)
" (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....)
" (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....)
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Sly
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.
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.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Foiled
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.
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.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Grains
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
Release the key, and make sure the door is
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.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tense
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.
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.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Vigilant
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.
"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
Air
Fire in the night
Water
Umbrellas in showers
Love
Shoulders in desperation
Lucidity
These should be your saviors.
Fire in the night
Water
Umbrellas in showers
Love
Shoulders in desperation
Lucidity
These should be your saviors.
Quandary
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?
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?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Spur
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.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Flicker
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Charity
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Moments
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.
"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
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.
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.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Lesson Learned
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.
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
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?
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?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Celluloid
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.
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
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Not an Artist
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?
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?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Rules
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.
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.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Dichotomy
What is passion?
An emotional desire.
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.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Necessary
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.
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
The hardest part about writing whilst drunk
is keeping
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
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.
is keeping
everything
in
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.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Twice
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.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Three Men
"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.
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.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Lillies
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.
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
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.
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.
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