Category Archives: Self-doubt

Exciting Times.

Afternoon, everybody! Super Bowl is going on today and as a Cincinnati resident, I have got to say that I am incredibly excited. Tonight is gonna be more fun than any game I’ve ever watched before. Now, in the spirit of watching from afar, I have a poem about the very thing. Not a particularly long one today but I’d hope it resonates with you like it did with me.

Watchers

many times i have looked into this mirror

never before, in the dark

i peer into this shallow silhouette

lacking outline

betrayal of a third dimension

stalwart, formidable

the sight of this black hole man reveals no truer insight

simply feeling

vacuum

absence

void

he watches

waiting

always waiting

in the dark

Je ne Parle pas Français

I don’t speak french. How can I say it any other way? It’s hard to be understood in a world where communication hardly ever makes sense. Harder still when most of us speak a different language. Half the time it’s even when we speak the same language that we can’t understand each other. I think I find myself more and more able to understand people that I can’t understand more than the people I technically can. How’s that come to be? How’s that come to faux pass? Amusez-vous bien, mes petits poissons rouges!

Hallowed Fields

all these holes never filled

soil never tilled

fields lie fallow

foul beings draw tallow

the wight’s barrow

overseen by the sparrow

filtered through shadow

not quite so bad, though

evermore, nevermore

love lost, forevermore

i spin a spider’s web

with ariadne’s thread

my head’s spatter

as crows gather

caw, caw, caw, they shriek

ever so softly, i hear them speak

above the moon in sky so high

stars above they crowd and sigh

holes and holes they lie unfilled

fields and fields they lie untilled

dying, dying, dying, dead

hanging on, by a shred

something heard, something said

lying awake, in my bed

weathered flying dutchman’s creak

hold thy tongue, lest thou speak

head in hand, turned to beak

some forlorn feather, some antique

the crows they shriek

and shriek they speak

help us, sir, best you can

i’m sorry, friend, my biggest fan

“i’m sorry,” cried he

“it’s alright,” lied she

a clever hand

some sprightly band

fallow, fallow, fallow, fallow

pirates waiting for the gallow

crying, spying, so slightly dying

“i don’t miss you,” she was lying

Bodies in the Bog

Good news, everyone! I have a new poem that I put together last night. I myself have quite a lot to do and I don’t always feel ready for it. Writing these and sharing them helps. My only hope would be that it helps you all feel a little more understood as well. And thanks again to all of you who follow/comment and support my work! It means a lot to me. Now, without further ado, I have for you:

Quagmire

hurting

blood so softly spurting

ghastly caucus

duty bound, they stalk us

heavy eyes

bely silent sighs

unfeeling now, unfeeling then

hurting, skirting, back in my den

nothing feels right

as sirens sing then bite

shadows dance again across a door

blood pools again, on the floor

my heart so shattered

the butterflies… all scattered

i’ll gather them up, in a basket

now everyone, on my back, sit

feeling, ever so softly feeling

over the edge, now reeling

nothing works

zero perks

pros and cons, cons and prose

all through which, i best my foes

all through this negativity 

i only wish for serendipity 

my desire for serenity

to sit before the altar and draw penance, see

i can’t be left to my devices

for i am a man with no vices

i feel and feel and reel and seal

waiting, abating, fearing the deal

sleeping, so tired

my mind, so mired

this muck and guck i wade within

back and forth without a line in

ever deeper, into the bog

ever deeper, into the fog

Peering Inside or Out?

The second of my two poems today, this will hopefully make you think a little more on that previous point: When you look within yourself, where are you really looking? Self-study is a never-ending pursuit. I find what I struggle with the most is trying to find out which parts of myself are me or just reactionary because sometimes your nature is nurture and both can be wrong. Doubt yourself to find yourself (with confidence).

Refraction

it’s hard

it’s hard

so hard

to gaze down upon you and see so stuck within you, that shard

it’s glass

a mirror

it’s only, if only, slightly queerer

the fact you do not know, how this came to pass

the mirror

that mirror

formerly so much clearer

now broken forth into a thousand shards and pieces of glass

you look into the broken shard, protruding from your torso

spotting your reflection, now curious even moreso

how did i come to have this shard of glass so roughly cleft betwixt my breast

my best

i thought i’d passed the test

not so, dear friend 

but knowing you, it’s not the end

so must you now, choose to tend

to that rift within your chest

fatal flaw, bereft of jest

so tell me now

whilst you have your tea

by no avow

what do you see?