Tag Archives: love

Could You Find It In Yourself?

Afternoon, compadres. Look inside. What do you see? You can tell me. You can trust me. I am as I have always been. A man in a box, a man outside a box, who knows? Juxtaposed, contradiction, opposition… What do you do when you can’t choose just one? When you have to make a choice? Choose both. Find peace within yourself by making peace with yourself. Maybe that’ll even work. For now, I’m just talking. Please enjoy, most esteemed compatriots.

Little Prince

blithering, blathering, blubbering child

don’t you see, don’t you care?

it’s been a long time since he smiled

your little prince has nothing to wear

sitting, swearing, scaring man

lying to me, lying to you

lying in the sun, working on your tan

your boy’s gone out and formed a plan

you don’t get to be

a part of this

don’t you see

you’re no longer on the list

reconciliation

what’s that mean?

conciliation

on you i knew i could not lean

seeing, staring, watching all you do

from that very early age he knew

plotting as he grew

all the ways to get away from you

blithering, blathering, blubbering man

don’t you see, don’t you care?

your little boy’s gone out and become a man.

If It Wasn’t For The Mist…

Good morning! I have a poem today that was inspired by something very dear to me. The one thing that may in fact be responsible for my accession to the title of “Writer”. Fee free to throw out guesses in the comments as to what I’m referencing. I read every one. Without further ado:

The Rite

Ticking tock

Countenance of the clock

In your hands a mirror

In your eyes, a watch

Sitting there

Something queer

What’s that? Just off the pier?

See so far away the light

Never sure in black of night

Whether you or vision’s right

Can’t tell

So overpowering, the smell

Coming from the swell

Pardon me

That’s just the sea

Though still you’ll have to pay the fee

Do you know the price?

Did you roll the dice?

Asking, asking… Not very nice…

To fear a feeling felt so foul

Makes you think to throw the towel

Please just now, secure the dowel

Composed before some ghastly sight

Hide yourself from trick and slight

Gather your things, prepare the rite

You Forgot To Remember

Good afternoon. I’ve forgotten something but I can’t remember what it was. Gone and forgotten. Dust and sand blow over the ruins of ancient ruins, ancient kingdoms. Jewels of the west, of the east, of the north, of the south. Petrified fossils of trees the only remnants of great forests where emperors hunted plentiful game. Where paramours sat by long-forgotten sparkling waters, lakes now hidden by the changing of dunes whose phantom iridescence eludes even the most dedicated explorers, so far removed from water these old bones now lie. I like to think that if I dig down far enough, I’d find those nobles hunting great game in their beautiful forests. I’d find those bustling cities overflowing with goods and frenzied merchants. Perhaps I’d even find those lovers still embracing on the banks of that crystalline lake.

Callback

So far, so well

Come and gone

Numb at the base

Tell me again

about the test case?

Today a day like any other

Today a day, just another

Upset your mother

Unseat your brother

How the tides of war shape you

Someday you’ll understand too

Fare thee well

Peer again into the swell

Find a gleaming agate still

Remember those pretty little stones

How those little hands held them

How those shining eyes beheld them

History forgets

But I remember

Every memory a painting

To each beloved, a sainting

Frère Jacques

Dormez-vous?

Sonnez les matines…

Wake up!

It is time to feed the machine.

Robinson Crusoe

Afternoon. Oftentimes I dream of the high seas. I am an adventurous spirit, an ambitious man. I sometimes forget how easy it is, how common it is, to be lost at sea. To be lost and never find your way again in that wide blue expanse. I grew up on stories of the Bermuda Triangle, Amelia Earhart, Captain Cook, etc. Adventurers and pioneers and even just regular old people losing their way and never being found again. What adventures they had. Having been lost myself, albeit in a more metaphorical sense, I have come to appreciate the ones who got lost even moreso. They take a path we don’t need to. Trailblazers one and all. Some day I think all those lost ones will be found again. No one is ever truly lost forever. Only waiting to be found.

Sacred Isle

Castaway

Shorn, torn apart and scorned

Tatters and rags

Beggars and dregs

Richest man on the island

Though the poorest so too

See how the stars aline

Blood omens line the sky

So allein, a sign!

Hoping to yourself it’s not a lie

Hereafter, maybe a beer after?

Hearing echoes in your laughter

Of your laughter

Bats and bugs hang from the rafter

Fair seas and fair winds

They’ve gone rusty, all your tins

Your hair’s getting long, friend

“Who’s speaking? Who’s that?”

“Oh.”

Just my head again

Little bug, little bug

How you run away…

We’ll See, I Suppose

Good afternoon, friends. I am very tired today. Very tired for a long time now. I don’t believe it’s quite coming to a head. This is just how it is now. I won’t ever give up, of course. I refuse. I will keep going. Keep doing my best. It doesn’t get easier, but it does get easier. My dreams will not be just dreams. Perception is reality. We can all take a lesson from that, I think. Finding myself never stops. Finding yourself never stops. That’s the fun part. Somewhat sad poem for you today. Maybe I’m easier to figure out than I think.

Self-Sufficient

You want me to be honest?

You want me to tell the truth?

I am tired.

I am spent.

I just need to go home and sleep.

Go home and be in my bed.

To stow and hide away my heart and mind.

To hold my broken heart in your hands.

How it must be to know such power.

Intoxicating, perhaps.

I only wish you would care for it

Cherish it, the way a lover would.

Sew me up

Put me back together

Pick up all my pieces but you’re missing the tape

I don’t hurt anymore

Just the slow thumping in my chest

My blood still flows just the same

Somehow it comes to pass that I breathe without lungs

Pump blood with no heart

See with no eyes

And touch with no hands

All things I give to you freely

That you take and take without recess

So that now I have nothing left

Except that I do

I am breathing

I am Seeing

And I am feeling