Tag Archives: writing

Reminisce and Recall

Afternoon. Nothing I write here feels quite right. That’s about how I feel right now. Like I’m trying to remember something but I can’t quite do it. I can’t quite manage to find the room that memory lies in, walking down the halls of that castle in my mind, seeing all those forgotten portraits and paintings of things I’m hiding away. Seeing the door at the end of the hall that I know not to open. I don’t think I’m ready for what’s inside.

Dreams and Memories

Fading fast to sleep

Try, try again

Try and take the leap

Think of birds, a wren

Owls on the walls

Hooting, hooting

Picking at my flaws

A path by a pond

Fallen trees

Memories far away

And closer still

Too many pieces

Not enough glue

Renew the leases

Not something new

Panthers playing rock n roll

Dancing to the music

Lying next to vampires

On the floor

Little whining dogs crying at the door

Bring me back to Zion

Promised land to die on

Make me tea from the dandelion

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.

Everybody Just Do A Little Wake Up

Good morning, all. A poem for your thoughts? A poem for your feelings? I long to share and share too long. What would you have me do? What would you ask of me? A man in a box, a box for a man. What’s inside? Even if you shake it, beware the cat! For it may not be dead. Oh how it feels to receive a gift. Today I have for you a poem I wrote yesterday, thinking of my favorite writer. Please enjoy, my many friends, allies and associates. (Those not in the aforementioned categories may perish).

Mana Burn

Heart’s desire

A gun for hire

Taken care of

Oh so gently

Oh so kindly

Compassion’s sweet embrace

A mercy

To you

Must be done

Suffering must abate

Won’t be long

Winter’s over

Spring is here

Thy will be done

Down a pill, just for fun

Far away from the pier

A single little lit lantern

Lightning strikes a lonely light

Focus from the fire

So too does your soul burn

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