Tag Archives: writing

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

Those Riders Four

I bring to you a scene. A fog settles over you. Sirens begin to sound. The sky breathes and heaves with fire and smog. You can’t find your keys, not that you could see to drive. A haze so thick and so permeant that you can barely see your reflection in the windows of a nearby house. A cacophony of sirens and horns that slowly eases into a low drone replaced by not-so-distant screams. You think you feel something nearby in the mist. Something breathing. Skittering, scuttling things in the…

Miasma

A diseased, pestilent miasma settles over the glen

A fog so thick you can barely see your hand

Ancient runes and sacred stones replaced by boils and pustules of horrid ooze

Peace is lost and hardly found

Wear a mask to hide your face

Prepare yourself for the coming race

The sage has wilted, mistletoe rotten

As trees wither and become forgotten

A swamp to take its place

Monsters march in malodorous mist

Forming together some demonic tryst

They watch and stalk you through the smog

You’ve lost your way

Landmarks vanish

Compasses don’t work here.

Everything gone awry

Their eyes watching every step you take

Waiting for your first mistake

Gnashing teeth and demonic screams in cacophonous harmony

Though hardly could you describe their cruel countenance

You must find a new place

Far and away in outer space

But first to win the race

And avoid the demon’s gaze

Another Little Love Story

Guten Morgen, Freunde! Every day is an opportunity for another little love story. Fall in love even more with the person you love, fall in love with the trees and the dirt, fall in love with air you breathe and the little tiny dogs you see walking in the street. Life is often hard, but I’ve said before: You don’t need to harden yourself to match it. Find peace in acceptance of yourself and all things. Find love in your heart where you thought it had left. Be softer and kinder to yourself and those around you. Never give up. The World won’t. Why should you?

It’s A Helluva Lot

Spending months away at sea

Leaving just the baby and she

Thinking to myself about the way they miss me

Hoping happy she will be

Coming home to see her eyes

Reflecting deep blue skies

And her love I need not prise

For with her I won’t capsize

Stepping from the boat and holding her

Hearing the machines choke and whir

And i can say with confidence she’s better than pictures

Sitting at the foot of the bed

Knowing that someday we’ll be wed

Thinking of the life we have ahead

I’ll one day leave this ship and be with her instead

I’ll give up being a sailor and be the one she counts on

I’ll wake up every morning to her smile with the dawn

Knowing when the time comes that i won’t again be gone

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