Think of these as little glimpses into my personality and psyche. Enjoy. And yes, I did write every single one of these poems. So don't take 'em, all right? Thanks. (Just a note, I add these poems at the end, so the newer ones are the ones closer towards the bottom. Also, whenever I post a new poem, I will add a note in the update section on the main page. This way, those select few that enjoy my work will know when a new piece has been added.) All poems © duane carson moody 2001-forever©
© duane carson moody 2001-2005 ©
Silence That Surrounds
It is really strange when you let silence surround you,
It is almost like you unwillingly invite it in,
Sometimes you let it linger beside you,
And sometimes invite it right in.
It whispers like a presence in all directions,
Giving a false sense of what you can perceive,
Inebriating your precious brain,
With thoughts you thought you'd conceived.
So what is it about this thing,
That demands such an important audience,
This mystery rules over the game it plays,
Which initially adds to it's decadence?
This may be why you have chosen to haunt me,
And continuously linger over my ears,
Like luminous blanketing wonderful silk,
Dampened and personified with hummingbird tears.
What is this all supposed to mean,
Why does this ruse commence?
Is it because I am the only one here,
To be lathered in your decadence?
Carnivorous Intent
sometimes I think about my life,
and I look at it deep within,
I feel it permeate every piece of me,
and rot out my very insides.
this thing changes me throughout,
and I am a slave to it,
unwilling and unable to speak out,
there are internal welps that signify my pain,
seen only by my mind's eyes,
though they are felt all throughout my festering body.
only a shaken hand attempts to offer revolution,
but merely suffers under callous rule,
when did it begin to be reformed, unnoticed,
like a boundless lump of molten glass,
fragile, delicate, yet formable and naked.
how long will it sit under the willows in my mind,
laying back on soft, cold ground,
while winds of thought move limbs like feathers.
what is it in there that inflicts this disability,
that allows my own carnivorous intent to consume me?
life lessons
If I could turn my thoughts into a dream,
I'd turn them into a smooth one.
If I could make my thoughts be still,
I'd might as well dissolve them.
I've learned in my life,
that I cannot speak,
and when I learned how to direct this,
I learned not to eat.
Still my thoughts like trying to still the waves,
It seems too monumental to consume.
Remain a mule and close my throat,
these are not ways to be true.
Let me live as life permits,
contrived, tattered, and worn.
I'll not show you how it's been,
from the moment I was born.
Deep inside I'll always hold locked,
a suicidal gun,
that keeps itself bitterly cocked.
just the same
I'll agree to be fancy for you,
Put on a fancy costume of mendacity
And confine my heart to a rusted cell.
Wear a mask I made for this special occasion.
First, I must know,
Is this the beginning or the end,
Should I prepare for an act or a play?
For you see,
My mask is old, worn,
It may not hold up under such conditions as these,
And what if its binding should fall?
Exposing naked, caged forms.
What is to be expected of you, sir?
Chances are, you'd glance,
Perhaps share half a stare,
And continue on,
As if nothing happened.
As if where unnoticed or superfluous.
Knowing this,
Why do I bother?
Why do I care?
If no one would give more appropriate response to the fall?
Perhaps even I do not know.
Maybe I really don't.
Yet, I allow it all to go on.
Just the same.
for Shannon...
I have walked, talked with you.
I have held your hand.
Never could have imagined,
You'd turn out so grand.
Now as a new chapter in your life begins,
And as you move on a new,
Explore, live, love, and fly,
For as always and forever,
I will stand beside you.
the tear
disenchanted by something now unknown,
something left in my heart unnoticed,
my it has grown.
Passing the primitive stage of mere inconvenience,
Stretching further and taking a more apparent attack stance.
It separates itself from the world,
Spending all of this time to live unfurled.
It stretches the very walls of my heart,
To where I feel it start to come apart.
Yet these elastic walls some how keep it in,
and a newfound tear is where it focuses again.
A tiny trickle to expose its truth,
Couldn't be deciphered by detective or sleuth,
So it begins to seep out a little at a time,
While it pushes gentle, then harder, from the inside.
Surely someone begins to notice this atrocity,
But I managed to cover the pain despite increasing complexity.
I knew what the seeping would one day surly cause,
And now that it had began, could never be paused.
And all at once, I gave in to the astounding pressure,
And turned my back and let go to the geyser,
Doing so broke the dam and somehow freed my soul,
And now I can use strength that I used to hold it back,
to work on being whole.
enough for me
I saw you there
That's what they'd say to me.
How can you let yourself be like this?
Are you proud of this?
Are you happy this way?
Why did you choose this life?
But all I can do is look down.
Maybe the answer lies there,
Somewhere on the tops of my shoes.
And then it occurred to me,
As I scuff the ground with my feet,
Everything had suddenly changed.
What was this thing?
Why must it be this way?
Who are you to blame me?
Who are you to judge me?
All of my life, I almost started to say,
Things have been this way.
Hard times followed by trouble,
Only to be chased by more woe.
All of these things worked heavily on my heart.
And led me to say what I must.
It all led me to this point,
To here, right now.
And I started to speak,
"You have no longer have the right to say this.
In fact, you never did.
You have no power over me, any more.
What I am, I am, that may be true.
But everything I could possibly be,
Will be stronger than you."
And just then, I looked up, from my shoes.
And steadied my feet.
"Let me be this,
Let me be myself,
Not chosen,
Not wrong,
Just me.
You will not, and cannot judge me.
I am who I am and will be,
And that is enough for me."
You Just Have To Be
Sometimes times seem bleak
They tear you into pieces, turn you meek
Swell your eyes with hurt and pain
Make you feel there is nothing to be gained
And it can become unbearable
Wrestle your mind for peace
And be beaten as you want release
Maybe what you need can be given
Given away to balance and make you even
Prepare for new harmonious you
One whom has given away to be true
But is this the same meek man
Or is this part of some other plan?
And what you gave comes back
Stalking you like prey it seeks to attack
And when it catches you off guard
Will it leave you unrecognizable and marred?
Do you think times are tougher
Everyday seemingly getting rougher
And you scoff your own heart
Plead with yourself for a different start
Cannot return to those times
Getting tired of the same old rhymes
And just when it seems hope let you down
Then someone like you comes around
They tell you how their spirit is torn
Lost and bothered by ridicule and scorn
Turn to you for hope and guidance
A voice to say, "it's okay", in so much silence
What do you do at this time
Do you say that things are fine
Lie to yourself over again and forever
Because now is your chance to change what never
To change what you never thought was true
That the demon that crushes your heart is you
That the same one that mounts this attack
And the walls always holding you back
Are tangible and tamable
Not something unnamable
For Me
I really wish that I could be
anything I want to be
I want to be true
I want to be real
So let me be me...
Can I ask for this from you
do I need to find this out
can I just assume
what this is about
do you really know me
can you really see
all of the things inside me
and all that I can be
I really wish that I could be
all that I want to be
but can I really be that
can I really see that
could I be what I am
not a lie
not something fake
not what I pretend to be right now
all whole and real
candid and accepted
for me
The Movement
Keep me up all night with your looks
And you can't take me away from this place,
So easily, you see
I wanted it to be always and forever
And you wanted nothing but me
So we dance, and we dance
So eager to see what will be
So eager to see ourselves there
Beauty is what I can see now, here
Beneath it all, through and through
My abounding heart reaches the surface of something
Something that is what is wanted and needed
Something beyond just me and you
It is unfathomable and palatable all at once
Agree with me, and we can be, I say
Dance with me, and be together
Forever twisted, locked moving together
We move over and over, what would
And what should be true
We change over and over, what is
And what it shall become
Is something we have come to love
And have only begun to understand
The Timely Journey to the Present
seek and be heard by the masses, they say
speak and listen for the echo in yonder distance
gaze into the wisdom that is your legacy
and strive to be forever true
let time guide your weary heart
into a place that will comfort and consol
let essence animate your tired bones
shaking you into an active soul
there cannot be a guide for this journey
it must be one walked alone
letting the heart out of its tomb
in order to pluck the very essence, of which we spoke
turn everything over and around
and listen to your yonder sound
it is saying
"i am, i am, i am"
"i was, i was, i was"
"i became, i became, i became"
"i am, i am, i am"
for me this is nothing new,
as it exists within me too
It Gets Harder
They say that it is harder when it’s over
They say that it gets harder now
I never dreamed of this moment
When I would sit and think of the past
But I remember the times we shared
And I remembered that I gave it all to you
I got a call from my heart earlier today
It called to tell me it was hurting
And it thought that it might die
When I got this message
All I could think to do was call you
And all I could do was lie
I told you I was fine
I told you I would be ok
When the actual truth
Had shown right through to me and to you
And I realized why I lied
When I hung up from that call
I looked deep at my heart
It looked back in my eyes,
And together we cried
They say that it is harder when it’s over
They say that it gets harder now
I never dreamed of this moment
When I would sit and think of the past
But I remember the times we shared
And I remembered that I gave it all to you
You asked me just the other night
What I was feeling now
You asked me how I was coping
All alone now
I told you I was doing fine
I told you I would be ok
But you did notice
The tear marks that stained my face
And you saw my heart in its shell
Afraid of the world around
And you asked it what had happened
And all it did was frowned
So then you knew what was real
And felt what I did too
It’s harder when it’s over
And it’s over for you too.
At My Own Pace
Standing here, living lonely
reaching towards the sky
I reach, but all I touch is my eyes
The warmth in my trembling hands
shields me from myself
it keeps me from the world
all I see is part of me
keeping my eyes from looking onward
not seeing the sky, not able to realize
I am standing here alone
And then, all at once, my heart begins to swell
and begins to beat infinitely faster
I open my eyes and see my hands
and begin to confront my disaster
and breathing through my nose
and rubbing my hardened face
I start to realize
I can move forward, away from this place
and move on from it, at my own pace.
The Exchange
I stood there today, looking for my heart
Wanting to share it with you
And I realized I didn’t have it,
And haven’t had it for a while.
You stood there looking at me stupidly
Wanting me to reach out for your outstretched hand
And I saw something in it.
You had my heart wrapped tightly in your hand
And you just smiled
Grinned in this perfect little way
And when my eyes went back up to meet with yours
I knew that things were right.
And then, as if uncontrolled, I felt like I was sinking
Into my own very soul
Like the air was rushing into the empty place my heart once was
And then I felt nauseous from your touch
And all at once I took a breath
For myself and for stability in this new place
Where my heart once was, and where you now lived
At once I realized your eyes were focused on my clenched hands
One of them I noticed holding on to something new
Something that I had never felt on my skin before
Something that belonged to you.
I thank you for taking my heart so gently
And giving me yours in return, so completely.
a new journey
You controlled me
Seduced me
Enticed and used me
Left me alone
Left me desolate, empty
And too far gone
But now I see
Where I am
Not alone, but changed
Still a man
Still a feature in this world
And that is enough for me
To know and understand myself
And learn how to complete myself
Sheltered no more
But guided differently
I am my own captain now
And I am sending myself on a journey
That started where we left off
And this journey embarks a new
As I learn to see myself
And I finally start to see you
Sometimes realizing something isn’t what you need
Can be the hardest thing, indeed
Between Friends
I’ve seen you a thousand times
And listened to you a thousand years
But I never knew you
I never saw you.
But one day, I heard your soul
Whispering, like a fading echo
Only it was growing towards fulfillment
And it told me of your wishes
And told me about your dreams
I said that you wanted what I never thought
That you wanted to be with me.
Surprised and slightly bewildered
I searched my own face for an answer
For a clue as how I should respond, to you.
How could I reflect on this emotion
That I never fully knew existed
And how I can I resist this campaign
For my affection?
I searched my face for this clue
And turned to my heart for an answer
When it looked me in the eyes
And gave me this response,
“You’ve got to know I watched you these days,
from down there in the distance.
I saw how you looked at him,
And how you created your own resistance.
I watched you walk into his arms,
A thousand times before today.
You want advice on what to do next,
And this is what I have to say:
You may have heard him and not truly heard this,
But I feel what he feels now, and I beg you, don’t resist.”
Slightly surprised and eagerly anticipating,
I stumbled for the words
To answer one of my dearest friends
And let him know that I had heard.
I heard him for the first time
In the manner that he had always spoken
Offering me affection, caring, and most of all devotion.
So I turned to him, and held out my hand
And he grasped it completely,
When I spoke these words to him:
“When I look in your eyes
I am defeated
Consumed and blistered
From your passion
I feel your heart in everything you do with me
And I offer you my devotion
I accept your love and tenderness
And accept your affection
Now I offer mine in return,
And offer mine with passion.
I want to be with you,
As you want to be with me
I hope that this works out the way
I imagined it would be.”
That night we danced, caressed, and embraced each other,
Now I feel a special bond, that will never again be covered.
As Time
There was a time
When I searched for freedom
A time I reached for life
Looking deep inside for solace
And finding nothing but strife
Living as a shadow
Lurking just behind the crowd
I never thought I would be able
To come out and be found.
This was the time
That I lived in darkness
Locked away in endless nights
Waiting for the freedom
That was just beyond my sight
Leaving hearts to find their way
All alone in plain disguise
While I was partly seeking
To reveal it before lover’s eyes.
There was this time
That I speak of now in jest
That made me a martyr to myself
There now is this time
Which I speak of as it goes
And glance at now intently
Watching as it grows
This time to me is present
Present as these plagues
That kills those weakened for some reason
And sparing others in the same way
I am no longer vapor
I am no longer shadows, dark
I live amongst the pilgrims
In plain sight and in heart
And it is in this time
That I can say ‘thank you dear’
For helping me across the river
I will continue on from here.
That's When I Knew
His touch is brooding.
It speaks to my soul.
It hankers my existence,
And enjoys such serendipity.
My heart bellows with content,
As I realize this day’s happenings
And capture every moment like falling stars.
I begin to understand the appeal of adoration.
I too, learn to feel just that.
Enveloped by possibility,
Caressed by circumstance
I follow that beat in the distance.
Like a galloping group of wild horses,
It dances with such precision in the air.
The battle song of this galloping splendor,
Is my call in the night.
It speaks of dreams, adoration.
I learn the language of it’s song,
And interpret cryptic and seemingly fanciful meanings
About love and adoration.
I too, become hankered by this song,
By this touch,
By his presence.
He admonishes my seeming contempt
That was confused with contentment,
With a single piercing glance.
At that moment,
I saw all those stars, and felt those many hooves in my chest,
And I truly understood adoration for the first time.
That’s when I knew,
And I truly felt love and loved.
And I Said...
I stood there looking at my feet
Seeing what was happening
Only through my periphery.
It was the day of my penitence
Where I wished for nothing but solitude
And received nothing but grief.
I had spoke of days where I was new
I had told them of the a new love
That was new to me too.
I spoke of and to myself, in this day
Looking and longing to be a master to those feet
Begging that they could take me away.
I want to wander
I wanted to flee
I want to go anywhere that doesn’t judge me.
I wanted to leave the scene where I was judged
In this moment my family chose
Then, as I felt unheeded and unheard,
I knew myself to be a piece of chewed leather
That was gnawed to be nothing more than skin
And I felt as if I were a tattered feather
That would drift into the distance.
For I had left the scene entirely
Drifting away from my very presence
I could no longer observe my periphery
I could no longer live my lie
I could no longer have them judge me
I could no longer let myself die.
Just then as if a clatter had awaken me,
I looked deeply into their eyes
And what I saw had shocked me
It wasn’t contempt and it wasn’t hate
Their tears bled like rivers
And defined my inevitable fate
No longer was I “they” or “him”
No longer would I deny
For all at once I had told them,
And there was no more need to lie.
The Mulberry Tree
We sat outside underneath that old mulberry tree
I was looking at you, and you at me.
and I remembered something you told me a long time ago
something I remembered about this tree, and here's how it goes.
You once told me we should cut that tree down
but I told you we shouldn't, cause I wanted it around
I wanted it here for times like this
when we could sit under it and reminisce
about the days when we first moved here
about the times we shared, our laughter, and our fears.
I remember the day we first saw that tree
because I was looking at you, and you at me.
We talked about the possibility of life together
and we ordered ourselves our first piece of forever.
Then we came into what would be our own piece of land
and I saw that tree leaning forth, offering branches like a hand
and for the first time I noticed how it provided us with some shade
and how looking up from underneath, the summer heat seemed to fade.
I thought what a magnificent place it could be
to be sitting under the tree, I here with you, and you here with me.
Enjoying that shade on a hot summer's day,
and enjoying each other as we reminisced away.
And so I remembered why this was my request
it was for you to keep the tree, and it was for the best
for the best of you, and the best of me
to come together under the tree.
To talk and laugh, about our life and times
and how we made through those many landmines.
And so we came together, under the mulberry tree
looking at each other and examining destiny,
our destiny together,
how we could make it forever.
And I know that is why we are here today
talking and laughing out here in the this way.
For when you smile, it's like we have only begun
to live, under the mulberry tree, in love, shaded from the sun.
The Difference
Walking through the park
Hands held, with fingers intertwined
The breeze blew steady on our backs
People were looking
But we weren't caring
Ignoring their ignorant attacks
I saw the universe in your eyes
And heard a sweetness in your voice
That made it all disappear
All of their ignorance
For our normal love
Was no longer something I feared.
All because I had you
right by my side
Walking hand and hand
Without care for those around us
No longer feeling looks of hate
Indistinguishable from grains of sand.
And as we left the park that afternoon
Still holding hands
Still on our own plane of existence
I thought to myself what we had done
And how our flippancy had mad the difference
Cause we chose not to take the path of least resistance.
War Songs
A busted lip and a cold sweat
were enough to make me feel.
Like juice squirted into my eye
from the twist of a lemon peel.
That, somehow made me cry.
Cry for the love and the loss.
Cry for the ones that do not feel.
And to think about all the costs.
Costs of a war on the heart.
A war that could not be won.
A war that cannot be described,
in any song that was sung.
Yet I played those songs,
and I sang from my heart,
the battle cry that was mine
the history that was art.
I catalyzed my own emotion
Into a faster forming reaction
That I had hoped would bring solace.
A substitute for satisfaction.
And I thought again about my lip,
the sweat forming on my brow.
I understand the action steps,
and the direction I must go now.
A stronger sense of fortitude
in my weary, fragile heart
is what holds me standing here
and keeps me from breaking apart.
So I march on,
with thoughts like bonfires in my mind,
springing forth emotions, like songs,
all seemingly, part of the design.
The design of changing feelings,
the design of bitter truth,
the emotion that I sang about,
that came strictly from my roots.
But as long as I understand it
I can begin to make amends,
but the battle cry and war-time wounds,
may be harder to fully mend.
The Puppet
Feverishly shaking, I convulsed there,
Wanting to be anywhere else.
Longing for yesterday, reaching for freedom,
My exercise of freedom, running from myself.
Reaching out for something else.
Afraid to look inside. And afraid to stop.
Must go, must run, mustn't think. At least not now.
Now, I am focused on this, this thing that drives me.
This exercise that brings freedom, NO, that drives it.
It pushes me to change, stop accepting the present,
One step closer to it, I feel it, I know it.
Running sweaty, breathing, harder, faster, more!
MORE! Give me just a little bit more.
Telling myself, I am giving more.
But I don't know from where,
Yet somehow, it appears there.
Like a frail branch that somehow weathers the storm.
Sometimes, some part of me would entertain the idea,
The idea of defeat, of change.
How long can this go on? I would start to think,
But my driving force would cut power to the idea.
Even when stars where all I could see,
And I thought passing out was imminent.
But it was. Passing out was imminent. And it happened.
Then, I was lying there, I did not know what had happened,
I did not understand what went wrong,
I thought I was in control, but even I knew that was wrong.
And even then, after that, it didn't stop.
It grew, and grew.
To become something that I no longer saw,
An unrecognizable figure, following me everywhere,
Always watching, always controlling.
I was its very own marionette, being forced to perform.
Eventually as time wore on, I began to notice a glimmer of little strings.
I looked up to see myself, the marionette, my puppet self.
But I was trapped, you see, on this naked stage
Dancing and running, out of control.
When on that day, I fell to the floor,
Still.
And I laid there. Then, all at once, all alone, quiet, dark, still.
Slowly, as strings began to fall, and coil on the floor around me,
Like a myriad of spider's webs falling all over me, covering me,
I slept there a little while, in complacency, but it was forced upon me.
I began to forget about my dance,
About my leader, about my driving force,
And when I finally awoke, I pulled myself up to a stand on that stage,
And walked towards the edge, turning for one last look.
A look back at the stage where a part of my life had been played,
controlled by an immovable force.
I turned, walked out the front doors, away from the stage, away from the force.
I left the force wounded, near death, but still alive,
And I hear it call sometimes, even today.
This force that drove me then, drives me now, and may never die.
This may all seem quite sad, but at least I can say this:
It does not have me, by silken strings, anymore
And I am grateful for that, and will be forever more.
the mark
It felt like it was a dream,
when I learned of shared intention,
and then again, when I realized,
I finally found love.
We began by feeling through darkness,
towards understanding togetherness,
learning about our loving,
finally comprehending,
that which we have sought, separately, for so long,
only to discover, it exists within the love I found in and with you.
So, this is my thank you, first; for this time,
so you may know how much it means,
and my second, thank you; for this life,
that you share now, here, with me.
The present is a mark we make, here, on our wall,
that measures the height of us, to now.
The mark speaks of where we are today
it represents how we came to be,
it symbolizes our journey together,
and this mark yearns for fellow company.
I believe that this mark's yearning speaks of our future,
and represents the truth in and of our love.
We go forth knowing that we will continue to grow,
as all good things do, so shall we too.
Somehow, we will make it through pain,
feel our way through the darkness,
and learn balance from each argument.
All of this is here, wrapped and tied in this mark.
And mark above mark, will continue to grow,
reaching higher and higher on our wall.
Continuing to measure our growth and life together,
and we will continue to grow, in love
for in you and with you, I truly have found my love.
anger
There is a fire that burns deep inside me,
tears me up, breaks me apart,
sets me up for failure,
and watching from distant eyes, breaks my heart.
It worries me through and through,
having no control over the blaze.
Festering in silence, it grows and beckons
reaching crescendo, it becomes a newfound craze.
A craze that all of us fall prey to,
wicked beauty that mustn't be seen,
walking us like dogs on leashes through dark evils,
and making us think of it as only a dream.
Wrangling my nightmares into figured forms,
I attempt to justify and see this presence,
for if I can understand and loathe it explicitly,
I may begin to control its existence.
Wrestle it down, like a demon slayer, I fight,
shrieking violently, scratching blackened nails on hardened ground,
I fight the good fight against perilous conditions,
and work through feelings that are new and profound.
For as I thrash and flail through tumultuous battles,
with this unknown devil of fire and vehemence,
a beacon of light begins to simmer in this moment of conquest,
and I begin to understand my unknown continence.
I have fought you before, I say, to a now weakened animal,
and lost, so many times before tonight.
I tried and fought for some time now, to destroy you,
yet all I have done is weakened you, this one fight.
"It is true", he said, breathing heavily, licking wounds, "it is true what you say,
you have not beaten me, you have only weakened me today."
"I always have the last laugh, and I will always come to win,
but today you fought a valiant fight, so I will let you fight again".
But I have won, you see, I said to the beast,
I have beaten you, now to a weaker, almost deathly state,
I have conquered your asinine dealings with my evils,
and hear this too, I will kill you soon, oh yes, just you wait!
But then a unexpected surprise burned white-hot in my eyes,
the creature the stood and shed its blistered and shaking coat,
he lifted its head and turned to look at me,
as if he had turned so that he may gloat.
Chillingly, I knew right then, he had faked his defeat,
and led me to believe that I was indeed victorious,
so that I would move on, live in my blindness,
and allow him to go on being mysterious.
As he scampered away, back through darkness and wet,
he looked over his shoulder and grinned my way,
I realized we had reached an understanding in that moment,
and all was not lost, as was thought today.
Looking back on that day, I learned how evil inside us,
fights so desperately to destroy and control,
but I also learned that we can weaken the beast, at best,
in a futile attempt to gain back my own sense of control.
True, the beast still lives and breathes inside me,
in fact, it burns inside us all,
now that I have seen it weakened, if even in appearance,
I have learned that, it too can briefly fall.
It can cower on the ground in silence,
letting you think that you have won,
but when it comes back again,
you realize the fight has just begun.
Battling your anger, or any emotion, surely seems suspect when you defeat it,
For when it returns to knock you out, you learn that you can never truly beat it.
A Cupid Mistake
Cupid, drunk stupid
followed me home one night.
Staggering and swaying,
aiming for another,
he pulled it from his quiver,
the arrow that would pierce my soul.
The object that would be,
the object in front of me,
that would become that which I loved.
And just like a fool,
he swaggered and swayed,
and some how managed to get off the shot.
The arrow buzzed by many,
there on the street,
even those walking hand in hand.
And just then, the arrow struck me
from behind, digging deep in my back,
and through to the back of my heart.
I grabbed my chest,
wincing in utter desperation
I understood I was defeated.
The battle was won.
And I was the one.
The sacrificed martyr,
And it wasn't even offered to me.
After I held my chest for a moment or two
my eyes felt their way up to that before me,
to him.
Just then, I forgot about the arrow,
who's shaft still stuck out of my back,
and who's feathers were caressed by the night wind.
Pain morphed into disillusionment
excitement, a form of enlightenment,
or so I would begin to think of it.
A darkened shroud fell down over my eyes,
as if I had placed blacked-out glasses on my face.
I knew they were there, but didn't care.
A year went by before I knew,
and just like that, he said, "I'm not sure".
Just then, the glasses began to slip down my nose,
and as they fell to the floor,
I cried.
I cried a tear of doubt,
for I doubted love would come again.
I cried a tear of fear,
for I feared my heart would burst,
and I cried a tear of pain,
for all at once, I felt the shaft of that arrow, again.
But one tear I didn't cry,
that maybe I should have,
was a tear for cupid, drunk stupid,
and his awful marksmen's mistake.
He had shot me too soon, and made all of this pain
but hadn't waited around to gloat.
But slowly, and over time,
I worked the shaft of the arrow, back and forth,
back and forth, slowing pulling out the root of the pain,
till one day, it came completely out.
Surprisingly, it didn't bleed,
and the wound healed, but again, slowly.
And even now, as I have healed,
I keep a watchful, sometimes vengeful, gaze,
in the night,
waiting till I spot the drunken madman,
Cupid.
Maybe this time, I will have the skill to stop the arrow,
should I need to,
and control my own destiny, to a certain degree.
For falling in love is a tricky thing,
but on this night, it was a Cupid mistake.
rebirth
A baby in the world,
not yet fully found and free,
I learned about the good stuff,
I learned about me.
I had focused so hard to see,
for so many years I'd tried,
and once I saw my reflection,
I laughed, winced, and cried.
I laughed because it was funny,
to see how long was wasted,
to discover foreign concepts,
new foods that could be tasted.
I winced because it would mean,
that things would have to change,
and nothing would be the same again,
my life was rearranged.
And I cried for myself,
and the time that I had lost,
years of self denial and doubt,
were the devils and the cost.
I had cast down my skin,
leapt forth a newer man,
never to sulk in the shadows,
I had formed a new plan.
So I went into the world,
as a newborn baby should,
and learned about this different place,
and took in all I could.
The change in me was significant,
from what I learned in this place,
you could feel it in my spirit,
and see it in my face.
And now as a child,
I walk through common lands,
learning this new language,
and feeling for other's hands.
The hands that will lift me up,
and help to me recognize,
I and we are small in number,
a glimmer in Gaia's eyes.
[Back To Top]
quest
Blasted busted,
tattered rusted,
broken in the worst way,
I fell out of line,
and realized that time,
would ultimately dictate my fate.
I worried in woe,
stubbed my mental toe,
I learned I had nothing to gain.
I'd learned and lost,
understood the cost,
and got too wrapped up in my fame.
So moving on,
a delicate fawn,
I learned to play the game.
Wasting emaciated,
but keeping the hook bated,
I somehow walked to the end.
Dangled the truth,
shone light on sleuth,
It showed me how we bend.
Being super saturated,
made it more complicated,
without truly understanding,
that I walk alone,
on my way home,
but remember it was too demanding.
[Back To Top]
The Fourth Horseman
Decidedly, you ruined me,
you stained my perfect existence,
my world was satyrs and faeries,
and you dealt them the fatal blow.
But they fought for air,
and they fought for their lives,
clinging to life, stupidly,
as your pestilence swept their land.
It was like a plague,
sweeping through my population,
breaking down their families,
into survivors and casualties.
But it didn't bother you,
you never seemed phased,
you went on, a fourth apocalyptic horseman,
bringing the worst of four to fruition.
The blanket of your force,
was cast far and wide,
none could escape its reach,
but not without some futile resistance.
And the casualties were great,
even the wine turned vinegar,
trees learned to bend,
and none would be the same, again.
But as night slowly gave way to day,
and those living slowly awoke,
they swept up death and put it away,
and tried to move on.
Stronger now, but scarred,
the satyrs and faeries rebuilt, made new wine,
but when night loomed near again,
all cast watchful eyes towards the sky,
and all kept thoughts of death close by.
[Back To Top]
not to be forgotten
You broke my body, my soul,
like you were breaking bread.
Flesh was torn, bones snapped,
and existence was rubbed out.
As the entrails of my corpse began to emerge,
I believe that you saw the truth,
I was merely a meager human,
not that which you thought was true.
Because I remembered you thought of me different,
you somehow got an idea,
that I was this perfect being, unflawed,
yet truth be told,
the dizzying heights of pedestals high,
made me feel quite sick.
But staring from pedestals above,
I could see the body,
the entrails, strewn,
I separated, as time began to take effect.
Rot turned to crispness,
and as unknown feet walked over my corpse,
my body crumbled like leaves.
Turning swiftly to dust,
and leaving nothing but that which was forgotten,
as in harsher analysis,
it left nothing of you and me.
But during this out of body time,
the time when I saw heights of my devoted idolatry
and this premonition of what could come,
I stumbled, fell, as if pushed by my own heart,
from heights so dizzy,
as to prevent my own horrible, predicted demise.
I didn't want to become broken,
I didn't want to be torn apart,
I couldn't remain at heights so dizzy,
but worst of all, I couldn't let myself be forgotten.
And as I fell down, I saw you kneeling over me,
over that which had been me.
You stared, confused, wondering what had been here,
what was so important about this hollow ground.
I reached forward, and lifted your chin,
So you could see it was me, whole and unforgotten.
And all at once, I saw in your eyes,
the happiness that was there, a happiness I share,
and in that moment, epiphany enlightened me,
to your prediction, of sorts.
Our love would not allow me to become broken,
It would not allow us to be torn,
It kept me from feeling dizzy,
And promised that I, and we, were not to be forgotten.
[Back To Top]
a fawn
Parsimoniously wanting,
I felt my way through the dark.
I accepted challenges,
and thwarted a defeat of my principles.
I accepted these challenges,
but not without trepidation, fear.
Walking blinded, was new to me,
and feeling my way through,
forcibly became a newly refined sense.
I had never harnessed its prowess before the darkness.
I had never understood challenge, not like this.
But I did not know where to go from here.
Every fiber of my being fought change,
even the parts that dangled over the edge.
But I sat there, when I learned of new challenges,
and told myself a fable,
about a man who learned about himself,
and learned what was needed from him.
The man learned how fawns grow large,
leave their homes,
gain access into worlds unknown,
yet retain the essence of that which is being a fawn.
Frail, but not weak,
standing, but not whole.
But the darkness was his challenge too,
and he watched as it hunted the fawn.
But powerless to stop it, he held back,
and let the fawn wonder in ignorance of it,
and learn for itself.
And slowly, it did.
The fawn learned about himself,
and who he was meant to become.
He learned that life is the challenge,
and sometimes there are no rules.
No helping hands, other than your own,
and sometimes you have no sight, only feeling.
But he ventured on,
feeling his way through darkness,
growing, and learning.
And from this fable, the man learned about himself,
he learned that he was the fawn,
feeling his way through unknown and the unforeseen.
He was meek, but not brittle,
and he was walking, feeling his way through.
And too, like the man, as I learned about his lessons in life,
and about his encounters with the fawn,
I uncovered my desire to conquer darkness, the unknown.
I had felt my way to this point, principles intact,
and I could only go further.
It would mean an new adventure into darkness,
and at times, I would be as blind as young fawn,
but I knew there and then,
that this journey would begin,
and I headed off, hands first, ideals steadfast,
into the great, wide world.
the conscious dream
Awoken by the sound of nothing,
I rolled over from my dream,
and opened my eyes to a hazing morning.
I misunderstood the importance of it,
a dream that was quickly being forgotten.
So I pulled back what covered me,
and laid still for a small eternity,
only to fall deeply, back asleep.
Almost like I had never left,
I fell back into my dream,
like being awoken during a play
and realizing you are the lead.
With little time to respond,
I quickly took my place.
I learned from my surrounding players,
and their reactions to this place.
At once I saw what played out,
on the stage of my dreams,
what appeared to be a play about war and death,
but not as one would normally see them.
I saw myself being sent to a battle,
that I neither felt nor saw,
a battle that wasn't real to me,
a battle that would be never ending.
And fear swelled inside me,
and broke my body in twain.
Just as it happened and my senses engaged,
I laid newly asunder on that wicked stage,
and my living body crept awake, again.
This time, I awoke into thicker haze than before,
and into endless, blissful forgetfulness.
The dream was gone, forgotten, again.
This time, I felt like more had been lost,
more of this message from a mute messenger.
And maybe this is how it must be,
waking in haze so thick that it shreds your dreams,
so that you will be able to wake free,
free from the chains of your unconscious,
allowing it to work through frustrations so deep,
as it does in your night's sleep.
And given my tiny glimmer of remaining thought,
about this war waging in my dreams,
I actually feel grateful for my ignorance,
for God only knows how deep and twisted that play could have become,
and the hell that I might of known all too dear,
if I would have been allowed to carry it.
confessions of social unrest
Broken, almost in two,
I look down at the bruises on my body.
I have been beaten by humanity,
and violated by existence.
Feeling impotent,
I have no choice but to cry.
Cry for that which is and has always been endured,
for that which is now lost.
No longer free,
no longer wanted,
my primary thoughts are to flee.
Bewildered and disgusted,
I figure I deserve explanation,
I deserve some response.
How could this hate be encouraged,
how could this hate be real?
I almost doubt these happenings around me,
but it is real, the bruises I see are real.
The tears I feel sliding down my cheeks,
they too, are real.
Lying naked now, bruised, in darkness,
I rock slowly back and forth,
holding my knees tightly to my chest,
trying to convince myself that all will be okay.
Would we move past the demons of this day,
and extinguish the hatred now visible in droves?
The choice to flee seems a bittersweet way,
although it does not offer viable solution.
Where could I run,
where I would no longer be beaten,
where I could no longer feel this hatred on my skin,
where I could indeed be equally free?
Not here, that is now certain,
but our choices are limited.
So one must learn how to endure.
I feel like Sisyphus,
pushing the hope of civility up life's mountain,
when a day like this forces me back to the base.
I feel flustered, as I drip with sweat,
only to notice my accomplishments are now none, now gone.
I know I must endure and I keep going.
But for now, I rock, back and forth,
I fall increasingly and more deeply nauseous,
deeper into despair.
But through my despair I can still hear their derision:
"You are not wanted,
you will not be free,
you will be second to one,
or you will be as none."
These words swirl in the emptiness of my mind,
grisly reminders of humanity's choice,
their choices imposed upon me.
And just then, a hand on my shoulder steadies my motion,
and I stop to look up and see this friend,
a friend who knows my pain all too dear,
and exhibits bruises of his own.
"I know what you feel,
but we will be okay,
we can move past the hatred shown for us today."
But I turned blind eyes to those words,
and let them fall and collect around me on the floor.
I did not then, nor do I now,
truly believe in those words.
Things will certainly worsen greatly,
if it even seems possible,
before they begin to shift.
But there are those bittersweet choices that could be made,
one might venture to truly consider,
though still unlikely and virtually inconsiderable.
So, for now, I sit and rock, back and forth,
and try my hardest to focus on tomorrow.
One day at a time is all I have, for now.
I will spit on my hands, and steady my footing,
and start to push the stone again.
I must struggle to make it move,
we must all struggle uphill,
and do everything we can to change this new disincentive form of humanity,
that turned its back on us willingly,
and change the time they wasted on that day.
and this time, change it for the our own good.
the first beat and breath, I felt
I discovered something innocent,
just the other night.
I discovered how my heart had lived,
up until this moment.
My heart confessed to me,
that it had never felt love.
Not until you gazed upon it.
When you looked at my soul,
you saw my heart,
and sent it into galloping fury.
My heart began to beat,
as if for the first time,
like packs of wild horses,
thundering heavily without control.
Lavishly, they danced,
moving rabidly down the land,
gaining speed with every plant of a hoof.
The mere concept of fear,
was shed like an empty coat,
not needed in such heated times.
For as the heart came alive,
and pounding became a new,
Life began to grow white-hot,
and the body began to coalesce,
feeding on this newfound essence.
I realized I was now breathing,
filling unused lungs for the first time.
And it was then,
that I placed a steady hand on my chest,
to experience this movement,
and express some undesired, yet cautious hesitation.
For galloping feverishly could cause worry,
or even dastardly end,
if not watched and cared for,
nurtured properly,
and understood by all those involved.
But this hand learned of love,
it learned of the moment.
And the hand grew proud of the heart,
it grew proud of the lungs,
it grew proud of itself,
for allowing itself to learn.
And as the hand slowly backed away,
knowing heavy breathing,
and racing pulses that hasten swift,
it felt full with enlightenment.
It sighed a heavy sigh,
for it now noticed that it had not left alone,
the hand was held by another, yours,
and it had learned that love was something experienced deep,
by hand, and lung, and heart,
and it was something that would never be forgotten,
and could never be undone.
And even now, I know,
for your hand in mine continues as a symbol of that lesson,
a symbol that could not, and would not be forgotten,
the symbol that guides our journey, ever still.
this time, all on my own
Seasons change,
insight is slowly uncovered,
and I begin to realize,
you were my autumn.
My leaves started to fall,
a little, then more,
deeper and deeper,
the piles of leaves collected around me.
And I stand there, alone,
bitterly cold, shaking in the wind.
Just then I noticed,
for the first time,
I was naked, and infinitely alone.
My eyes closed so tight,
and holding my arms outstretched,
I reached for consideration,
I reached for you.
But you were buried there,
under those leaves,
under the death of autumn.
Under everything that had happened.
But I could not stop wondering,
if you were truly under those leaves.
I could not see through them, now,
they had grown too thick.
Perhaps you were just too far down,
but alas, I had become too rigid and exposed to move them.
So I stood there,
in the wind. Waiting.
I told myself I was waiting for spring,
and I told myself I was waiting for summer,
but what I was waiting for was you.
I was waiting for you to uncover yourself,
and reach up through the thick groundcover,
to touch my bruised trunk,
with a healing touch.
But you did not,
the leaves did not stir,
and you never appeared.
In your place,
I noticed something from above,
as it fell on my nose.
Something white, cold,
colder than the wind,
which had grown harsher these past days.
No, it was something new,
and something I was not expecting.
It started small,
only a few, when they began to fall,
but like the leaves that lay rotting beneath me,
they began to accumulate.
It gradually began to be noticeable by touch,
as it fell on my head and arms,
and it grew quickly, even frighteningly.
And as it grew,
the weight of this winter slowly impressed upon me,
and bent my limbs under its new weight.
It was not going to be disregarded,
even though I needed it to be.
But I still stood there, naked, and still alone.
Eyes clenched shut.
I wondered how long it would last.
I held my breath,
only to feel a pain growing in my chest,
that went nowhere.
It kept coming.
and I did not understand.
But I stood there,
hoping that beneath that snow,
you where there.
Under the leaves, under the snow,
under the death of autumn and winter.
Somewhere beneath the soil, protected.
And that you would reach for me, but couldn't.
But you didn't.
And one morning,
whilst I shivered and shook,
bitterly cold and alone, like many days before,
I sensed something new in my hand,
something which gave me hope.
a newly forming green bulb, which stood out from the snow,
and what my swollen eyes were now fixed upon.
This bulb had grown,
made it through cold and death, to be here.
And like a comforter to my soul,
it gave me the warmth to see the other changes,
the changes going on around me,
and within me.
The sun had shone before, but not like this.
This was a new dawn.
This was a new way.
And it begins today.
And at that moment,
I realized, I was no longer alone,
I was no longer focused on the ground,
I was no longer focused on you.
And just like that, I turned,
opened my eyes, and began a new year,
a new season, and a new life,
this time, all on my own.
fear of the void
At times I find myself moving,
tumbling in winds of your creation,
beating down on hollow ground,
but softly, gently.
I turn and twist,
but each time, I miss,
crashing vehemently into the void.
And as I roll,
sometimes seemingly without end,
I wonder about my life, with you.
I wonder how it will be, to be,
with you if this wind were stronger.
Would I tumble,
or violently thrash about,
teetering closer and closer to that void?
Or would I hold my own,
and manage to make due,
by seizing the moment to steady me?
Would the shell around my heart be strong,
Reinforced, and thick enough to make it through?
I tell myself it will.
I tell myself it should be.
Still tumbling,
I think about preparedness,
I take note of the potential need of rations.
How else would I make it through another storm?
But then the wind dies down,
to almost a whisper.
Everything is becoming calmer,
and the thought of the void fades.
But something else looms in my mind,
the mere consideration of the void's existence.
And this, to me, is chilly fear,
that thoughts were of the void.
How real is that threat,
that I feel, but have never seen?
How real can this void be, in this case,
since I believe it wasn't created by me?
I rationalize certain known truths,
that relate and encircle what I have always known,
about you and me.
And as I think, I pace,
back and forth, wringing my hands,
out of frustration for this trepidation.
And as I pace,
I realize something truly profound.
How could I fear this void?
Deep inside, I know it is not there.
There is no moment, not even during the storm,
when the chance of becoming its prey, is possible.
It just isn't so.
I know this, yet feel its existence,
and falter at the very idea.
But I know better.
At least I should.
I know we are sound,
and will always remain as one.
So in a final breath of hope, I ask myself,
is the attention to this void truly breathing?
Does the fear that grows in my heart,
have any chance of survival?
The answer came strong and proud,
as my heart says no,
it is unfathomable,
and that is all you should ever need to hear.
So with that, I lurched forward,
as if shoved by the weight of it,
and brought myself to this conclusion:
Never is there a time when the wind will be too strong,
and the void that I feared is not real,
so now I can focus on the love that we share,
and forget about void that was never there.
out in the open, now
With each step that I took,
I counted.
One, two, three.
I listened as my feet clicked heavy on the ground.
Four, five, six.
I walked back and forth,
back and forth.
Seven, eight, nine.
Back and forth.
Wrenching inside,
I paced,
back and forth.
Ten, eleven, twelve.
How long will this take?
How long will this be?
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.
How long would I last,
walking out here in this cold?
Alone in this nightmare?
How long?
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.
I still walk.
Nineteen, twenty.
With my hands folded across the small of my back,
I shuffled for a moment,
turned on my heel,
looked back for something,
anything.
But there is nothing.
And I am off again.
Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.
I am still staring at the ground before me.
My stomach is churning inside me.
My heart is pounding so loudly,
I know everyone can hear it.
And I pace.
Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six.
What are they waiting for?
Why are they doing this to me?
Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine.
And I turn again.
Thirty.
I could ask myself a million things,
and never seem to answer even one,
right now,
not right now.
Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three.
As if through the walls of a barrel,
I faintly hear some symbol of communication.
Breaking inside,
I listen intently for more.
But I keep my focus on the ground,
too afraid of what I might find.
Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six.
Could this be the moment?
Could this be what I was waiting for?
More questions.
No answers.
Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine.
And just as my heart felt it would leave me,
leaping from my chest,
my eyes lifted from the floor,
and I saw you.
But you surprised me with difference in your look.
Your eyes were filled with utter compassion,
as they locked on mine.
And without a word,
answers flowed into me.
And tears flowed out of me.
And as I looked,
your eyes were swollen with the very feelings I had questioned,
the meaning that I had never known.
And as I lurched forward,
I was no longer counting.
No longer wondering,
if I would be accepted,
by you.
the importance of the difference
If I am as weak as I feel,
I pray that you cannot discover me.
I hide in corners with dust and grime,
in order to throw you off my scent.
You see me grand and mighty,
you see my hand hold steady,
and you may even see my heart beat true,
but you cannot find out the truth about me.
The truth would truly hurt you.
I am weak and naked at times,
and yet, do not understand how this can be.
I feel like I may be spinning away,
even though I smile and act accordingly.
How can I look at myself each day,
and think that I am not in control of this,
given the perfection of my act, for all this time?
How can I lay there among the dust,
and fake my way through times of weakness?
I truly do not know.
I feel I cannot know.
Where does this strength come from,
the strength to get up and go?
The strength the make the changes that I need,
that I so long for with each breath.
And sometimes,
in the distance, with a clear, luminous flicker,
I can see these changes,
I can feel them happening,
but they never get close enough for me to touch,
and they never feel real enough for me to feel truly secure.
So, dazed, I lay here, amongst the dust,
smiling, when you look at me.
So that you won't truly see me.
The weak form of a man,
the man that seems so together and full of harmony.
Each moment takes the enormity of my strength,
just to exist as I do,
and the energy to fake a smile sometimes,
can be more than even I have access to.
But wallowing in denial,
and focusing on that which I am without,
is not the way, I tell myself,
to carry out this life.
For I know I can do better,
I have seen the glimmer of change,
and I know it exists, somewhere,
if not here.
But I cannot let it hurt you,
this change that must begin,
I cannot let you know it is happening.
You might wonder if I was changing for you,
wonder if I was changing too much,
perhaps even wonder if there was truly a need for this change,
since you have seen me weak,
without knowing that this was the state of my existence.
But just as I brush the dust from my face,
and the smile I have forced is spotted by the light,
you turned and focused deeply on my eyes,
and I knew that you saw me,
in my weakened state,
with bags under my eyes from trying so hard,
to muster my strength for this facade, for so long.
And I thought you would cringe,
at the sight that I was really a weak shell of man.
A man filled with imperfections and inadequacies.
So many, that you would surely run away,
and your eyes would burn at what you had seen.
But, much to my surprise, you did not.
And as we became locked in each other's gaze,
I saw for the first time,
something familiar in you.
A crack in the foundation you stood upon.
The smile on your face was like that one on mine.
A smile that you tried so hard to maintain,
that the lines on your face shivered with slumber.
Just then, one lonely bead of sweat,
broke and fell across your brow,
as if it were signaling to me with a message of understanding,
telling me that you felt that which was in my heart all along.
And just like that,
we finally saw each other,
truly saw each other,
weak, flawed, imperfect boys,
standing together on the same side.
We struggle to make the changes we want to make,
we work to transform our flaws and make them no more.
We struggle to fake this smile we feel we must fake.
We know how hard we work to make things better,
and how hard we have tried to "fix" ourselves.
But in your eyes, I see something stronger,
I read the answers to my questions,
realizing that we are not broken.
I see the changes I had forced myself to believe in,
and question the necessity of their existence.
I learn that, though there is still dust,
the effort to maintain a steady hand,
you do understand my struggle.
And just then, we smile a real smile, effortlessly,
for we know that though we are weak, flawed, imperfect boys,
we are standing together, on the same side,
and that is what truly makes all the difference.
your plan for me
As I grew before you,
you watched and wondered about my happiness,
or so you said that you did.
You"d tell me that you are proud,
you told me you loved me.
As I learned about myself,
and tried new things,
you watched,
further over time,
and told me how proud you were,
but not as much this time.
I came home from school,
with questions about myself,
questions about what other kids had said,
but you were working, distracted,
busy,
too busy, right then,
and so I dropped it,
this time.
As time continued to move on,
I needed more from you,
and then more, and more,
but, I would find, much like those times before,
you were not there,
well, as I would later see,
you actually were there,
but not for me.
I continued to grow, unstoppable time,
every day becoming more aware of you,
and you, less aware of me.
I changed so fast,
you said one day, later,
that you could barely recognize me anymore.
And that was true.
You didn't know me anymore,
at least, you hadn't tried to.
I remember that I had felt you slip away,
sometime, long ago.
And I guess that I just let it happen,
the same as you.
the same as you.
But when I look back,
at all the times I had reached for you,
only to reach into nothing,
you spoke to the fact that you were indeed there,
Watching me from the sidelines,
silently cheering me on.
Small gestures of gratitude and pride,
would be hidden in my room upon your visit,
even though one visit would be all I could get.
And I guess these things make up for it,
because I could tell through this, that you feel.
I could tell that you do care, somewhere.
But I still felt the void of space and time,
that was the subject of my youth.
I had cried so many nights,
all alone,
and I had known that I was alone.
How could you let this happen,
leaving me to work this out on my own?
How could you sit there and not comfort me,
when I was so obviously hurt?
Tough love, was a reply I once got,
it was hard on me too, you said,
we do what we can in life,
and that is why I did what I had to.
And now that I know this,
it should be okay, right?
I should be able to move on,
and think that, at least I was loved,
even if that love was tough,
even if that love was silent.
But I cannot help but feel alone, even still,
bumbling through my life,
absent of the core that many cling to for support,
those you turn to in times of need.
And when I come to you,
even now,
to share my life, my dreams, the parts of me,
I find you much the same,
silently cheering me on, from the sidelines,
waiting for me to make the first move, in this game,
and come to you in the end.
But it has been so long, too long,
since you blew on my skinned knee,
that I have learned how to treat the pain on my own,
alone.
And perhaps that was the part that I was to learn,
and in some twisted way,
this was your plan all along.
to ponder irrelevance
Standing here amongst millions,
I often see the speck that I am,
and ponder how I could be so insignificant.
I thought we all were created same, whole,
perfect beings, to dwell here in the cosmos of our existence.
All beings of our own world,
with consciousness that drains energies appropriated to us,
and only us,
by that very same universe.
Acting as agents of our own device,
manipulating time and space in our own way to survive.
All of this equal, none better than other,
with intent to live as individuals with individuals, in societal realms.
I suppose that is, and could be the case,
that feeling insignificant, in this circumstance, must be reality at times.
Wondering what makes me so different and unique,
can indeed be difficult to do,
when all I have to do to understand the amount of matter around, is look.
Open eyes to a bitter world,
full of those that are better, stronger, smarter, and happier than you.
Could this mean that I am indeed, not made from that cosmic energy?
Or could this be that I have somehow been bestowed with less?
Perhaps I am just lacking in one kind of immensity,
but only enough for me to miss.
Only miss, in times like this.
Times when I look and see how well things are for you, he, they,
and wonder why they cannot be this way for me, too.
Seeing one muddle their way through life and time seemingly alone,
and doing so with perfect ignorance of failure or difference,
manipulating time and space seemingly better, smarter, faster, and stronger than you.
This may be what causes that glimmer of hope to burn into a bonfire of anticipation,
one that can and will consume us all, if we let it.
How can the pain that could be felt by burning flames of chance, or hope be avoided?
Or should they be?
How can one feel more than just a fragment in a sea of vigor?
Is this what drives us away from triviality and towards unity within oneself,
and what brings us closer to the fire all the same?
How do we align ourselves to maintain the energy needed to be all that we should?
And how do others manage to do so effortlessly?
The only conclusion that may bring insignificance to light,
can and should only be described as these things being matters of pure chance,
Fate's divine coincidence,
Which now, here, remains all that shines light on my feelings of irrelevance,
standing here, amongst millions,
pondering my seeming inconsequentiality.
the motion of a day
Encapsulated in little pods,
we move quickly through life,
never noticing the mundane struggle of those around us.
We move forward without looking back,
but what we don't know, is that often, you cannot look back.
But some of us are able to watch.
Some of us see ourselves buzzing like bees in spring,
searching for sustenance on instinct,
longing for freedom.
Trapped in little pods, and clinging to that which we know,
we move on, waiting in line,
forcing ourselves to smile at the opportunity to go,
often blurring the edge of reality with our sharp, swift movements.
Most of the time, we move at the same pace,
buzzing and running, just to keep up,
just to function in a busy world.
But when we take a moment to watch,
it is like we are instantly frozen, sleeping,
forged in a place were all this exists,
but seeming only as in a dream.
We move in an almost static sense,
watching you blinking like strobes, as you navigate your pods.
When we watch,
we are like zombies, only more aware of what we see,
yearning for more than our next meal.
And it is during those moments when I realize,
how happy everyone seems,
not knowing what is truly happening,
maintaining the atmosphere in their own little pod,
preventing a meltdown of their core understanding,
blindingly bumbling towards the next free spot.
I realize it is almost like we are bleached clean,
blank canvases that take form, and are painted new each day.
I feel I can truly see how I fit in this grand design,
why I emote in the manner that I do.
But as quickly as I have been able to stop for this moment,
and reflect on what I feel that I see before me,
the reality of maintaining my own pod is re-stressed,
and just like that,
I am unfrozen, only to awaken to the buzzing, blinking, and bumbling,
falling back into my place in line,
so I can just get through another day,
just like everyone else.
[Back To Top]
emotional protection
I was waiting patiently,
and wanting anything to happen, anything at all,
but I did not know exactly what to look for,
or even how to wrap my hands around it.
Broken and emotionless,
I searched desperately for a glimmer of life,
an ounce of real satisfaction, something to cling to,
something that I could fan into a fruitful flame,
any glowing ember that could signal a change.
But alas, I have searched,
only to find empty hands staring back at me.
Deciding I needed to feel was the easy part,
it was practically decided for me.
But, still my hands remain empty.
Challenging myself,
I coerce emotion to return,
pricking my finger with a thorn from a nearby branch,
to force myself to bleed,
and hopefully, force some feeling of pain.
Any feeling that I could register would be welcome, now,
at least I would know that this is real.
But something happened unexpectedly,
the pain I sought never came to me.
I turned my eyes to my hand,
wondering if I had done anything at all,
only to find a bloody nub,
that dripped slowly on the ground.
I could see that I was indeed bleeding,
and still, I felt nothing.
Partly fueled by disbelief,
and for some reason, unknown to me then,
I laughed wholeheartedly,
as if this confused state could truly bring me amusement.
As it happened, I pondered this strange reaction.
Watching myself, I noticed something new,
like light peeking through cracks in walls of a cave,
slowly, forcefully peering through.
It was what I thought I needed,
a relief from this emotionless void.
The prick that would bring pain,
and all of it back again,
regrettably, it was only a small speck of hope,
that delirious laughter to dull it all,
that I had so foolishly clung to,
that I soon saw for what it was,
pure distraction.
Just then, when hope seemed gone,
epiphany rode in,
and struck me to the ground,
with a deep, throbbing blow to my head.
I had felt that. I know I did.
And with this epiphany's actions pulsating through me,
I saw started to see sensation, and emotion through the haze,
who had been there , watching, all along.
This brought me to think about what I was seeking all this time,
what my journey could have meant,
and what end I could have longed so deeply for.
I realized in an instant that this journey was riddled with distraction,
and my lack of sensation was merely an unforeseen consequence,
of my own self,
protecting me from emoting,
protecting me from experiencing any feeling,
just to prevent the pain,
a protection that had left me numb and empty.
Even now that I know this,
and feel once again,
I can help myself from missing the void,
that had unselfishly protected me back then.
nothing for me
I finally broke,
just like you always said I would.
You always believed in me,
but for some reason,
it wasn't what one should expect,
when they hope someone believes in them.
Let's be honest to ourselves,
it was a sense of disbelief, really,
a feeling that you were watching me,
waiting for me to stumble,
waiting for me to fall.
If I were to waiver for even an instant,
I could see you hold your breath in anticipation.
But one thing escapes me,
as I sit here in pieces,
what made you decide on this,
how did you begin to focus on me this way?
Waiting for me to fail,
waiting for me be without?
Was it always like this?
I have always wondered why,
you never reached out to me,
never helped me up,
if I were to actually fall.
And there have been times where I have.
But no, even then,
you would leave me laying there,
bleeding and so often in pain,
so that I could "get up on my own",
or die trying.
but perhaps that is the lesson?
Could this be a test you have conducted,
is this the answer to your cruel game?
That I must be able to get up,
without you,
without you?
If for no other reason,
than for you to enjoy my struggle,
played out before you?
Well, if this is truly the case,
and I believe it in good faith to be,
you have your marionette here,
and you always have, it seems.
So enjoy my pain,
and I hope you do,
as I does nothing for me,
and everything for you.
more than consequence
Merely an unstable cantilever,
I find that I am a stain on your favorite shirt.
Wasting your time, and mine
on semantic observation,
I walk the halls of monotony,
scraping my fingers on walls I walk by.
Breathing heavy, like under water,
I try to make sense of something known.
I scratch my head and ask:
I wonder if people truly feel as they say they do,
or do they speak through clenched teeth?
I wonder if you considered the consequence of martyrdom,
or jokingly acted on seriousness in such haste?
Perhaps it is all just a game to you,
I being some prodding pawn,
you being a noble knight, here to save me.
Always stronger and able,
and armed with better moves, at that.
I feel I am but a child,
only to move when asked, except, perhaps, in this case.
But as always, you stretch your strength,
and flex your ability whenever you feel need.
I wonder how I came to carry this load,
to be filled to the brim with this consequence.
I wonder why I began to make sense of this,
when I had an idea of how it would end.
More importantly,
could I do it again, and maintain this integrity?
We both know this pace is swift,
and I tire easily.
Could I truly displace time,
in order to bring you to a stop?
It is well worth the effort, or so it seems.
But truthfully,
I have been trying all this time.
Waiting for you to see what I do,
make sense of what I know we both know,
to feel more than what you say you feel.
Ah, but I carry your burden only because you need me to.
And I will only continue to do so,
if you can listen to my heart,
because it has been talking for ages without an audience,
and it has been trying to tell you one thing:
Please love me,
far away from projected images,
from shells and masks and things,
love me here, now,
like this.
So I can feel like less of a burden,
and be filled with more than consequence.
goodbye to love
As I watched you slowly wither,
I wondered what would come,
how could all of this be over,
and what good have we done?
I watched by your side,
as you had done for me those years,
applying cold when it is needed,
and wiping away your tears.
It is hard to see you like this,
a shell of your former self,
you told me you thought this strange,
that I would go through this by myself.
But I believe you misunderstood,
that I did not walk alone,
I am here by your side,
and together we are home.
With a touch of my hand,
to wipe the sweat off your brow,
you grabbed me and told me,
of your life, with me, until now.
You told me of the good times,
and how I had been there for you,
and I reminded you what you did for me,
and how you had helped me too.
You helped me to see myself,
as no one had before,
you took me despite many flaws,
and for them you loved me more.
You showed me how I could change the world,
how I could affect anyone,
just the way I affected you,
even though it would soon be done.
And you slowly closed your eyes,
and told me that you loved me,
and I leaned in to kiss one last time,
as you ventured on to what would be.
Just then I started to cry,
missing you already,
how could I go on with life,
without you around me?
I only take solace in knowing,
I will see you someday soon,
when we will be together again,
like the days we used to swoon.
And I dare not say it was perfect,
this life we had together,
but it was how we had worked so hard,
that kept our promise of forever.
And even though all my songs are sad ones,
I am singing them now for you,
hoping that you could finally understand,
that despite it all, my love is true.
Goodbye my love, goodbye.
the careful walk
I worry that if I were to trip and fall,
I would crack open,
revealing the yolk of my soul,
allowing it to escape,
without truly realizing its potential.
I watch each crack in the sidewalk,
carefully counting and avoiding each one,
repeating to myself that it is imperative,
to miss each potential pitfall,
so that I may not mistakenly fall.
for, you see,
it has finally become a realization for me,
that something new is in this soul,
filling it to near capacity,
in some strange unknown way.
I have never felt this feeling before,
perhaps that is why it feels unknown.
it overflows from me,
like biting an over-ripened apple,
and letting the juice run down your face.
I knew it would turn sticky,
but let it happen because it could be wonderful.
it fills me and dances within my heart,
making my regulator flutter more often than not.
causing me to realize that there was hidden potential,
in something once thought to be without capability.
this thread of delight,
sewing a pattern of color and whimsy,
on a cloth that warms me wholly.
but I still think it strange,
only because I have never known such as this,
a change that is so great,
that it took everything and nothing to let it in.
and now that I know of its presence,
believe that I will fight to hold it in.
I will tread softly on awkward toes,
to ensure and maintain this impossible balance.
I will continue to walk with trepidation,
but only for fear that it all could disappear.
I can only hope that I may bask and come to enjoy,
the jubilation that has mysteriously come to me.
we are all a little different
I cannot imagine what it must be like,
to be like you, so different,
so very different,
and you do not even know.
you go about your day,
trying hard to do what you can,
even though you are limited.
you work hard to achieve the simplest things,
or at least, that which is simple to me,
but still you do not even know.
you make sure to smile as much as you can,
and genuinely are as happy as you can be,
yet still, you do not know.
you make those love you just by being around,
and make others feel sorry for you, just the same.
I cannot imagine what it must be like,
to be like you, so different,
yet so the same.
In a way, I respect you for what you do,
I know that you try so hard to fit in.
being told what is right and how to be,
cannot be easy on anyone.
but striving to achieve what we do everyday,
are often a result of how we were born,
and how we turn to look and feel.
I am not like you,
and for good reason, I am happy about that.
I am not different,
I am not flawed, as so many say you are.
I feel love differently that you can,
and I look at the world through different eyes.
what you may not realize,
is that I know you see me differently,
as I see you,
and you judge me,
in much the way that I judge you.
I also know, that my judgments differ,
in quality and quantity,
and are motivated by something inside me,
by something you placed in me.
and truth be told,
you are flawed for reasons that you control,
and I know of only one way to change that.
we must come together,
and respect one another,
or this whole thing will continue,
and we will talk around being flawed,
separately, but together, judging one another,
and sorry to say,
but it will be this way:
I will always think less of you for it.
it finally got out
calibrated and cocked,
totally ready to blow,
luckily standing in a window,
open to the world.
the black of shame,
breaking me down,
has worn a hole in my shirt.
pressing on my chest,
the air is pushing and pulling my lungs,
telling them how to think,
how to feel.
focusing on imminent meltdown,
I ready my head for the draw,
steady my back and arms,
and grab on to the pane,
just as I began to let it come.
flowing out in a diluted stream,
at first,
it grows more than I could anticipate,
exploding and breaking this opening,
throwing me back into the room.
but finding no landing is strange,
and falling becomes my stasis.
I look up at the speck,
that was the light from my window,
and wonder what the hell has happened,
how did it actually happen,
how did I even start to fall?
was it within my control?
to harness and control it,
let it out a little at a time,
but it would have none of that.
it wanted nothing but out.
and as I fell,
I felt wholly empty for the first time,
totally purged of sickness,
dried of the sin and regret,
that had seemingly occupied my soul.
and even though I fell,
grabbing my side in pain,
I knew that something good would happen now,
falling was the beginning,
and for that,
I felt good.
second place love
if I left my body,
I wonder if I would miss it
if I find second place love,
would I just dismiss it?
how mature do I need to be
to fully understand
the methodology of happiness,
that I hold here in my hands?
in control of destiny
forced to live and learn
it's a pleasure I should recognize,
not a burden that could burn.
lying awake and thinking
the existential mundane,
is more than what it seems to me,
reputation preceded by fame.
I broke through the vast expanse,
decidedly grew and changed,
let myself finally realize,
that life was rearranged.
focusing on my hands,
which were lined with my fate,
I looked at love again and again,
and saw that it was great.
I realized I had to see it
for what it was and not,
break the expectations I have always had,
and remember what I forgot.
love can burn,
and decidedly so,
but this is what changes you,
forces you to grow.
and knowing this,
I know what it is to mature,
I think I finally grasp the true
and understand the pure.
I know I will wake to find,
a new sense of my self,
and walk with you hand-in-hand,
and love you for yourself.
not dismissing second love,
can be hard to do,
for it too, may not be what you think,
but it could work for you.
to another shore
swept out to sea,
we swam through so much to get here.
I had broken my hands,
swimming through sand.
you cut through vines,
and climbed mountains,
only to be swept out to sea.
we fought and worked,
were beaten and marked.
a continual battle,
a never ending journey.
could we see the end?
would we possibly survive?
we could not know.
held down with force,
we tried again and again,
but to no avail.
and just as it seemed all was lost,
that we were being pulled into abyss,
the sea began to calm down.
it left us naked,
clinging to an abandoned shore.
weakened, but breathing,
I looked at you,
longing to hold you in my arms.
how could we have made it here?
should have been my first thought,
but I wrapped my arms around you,
pulled you in close,
and rested my head on your shoulder.
and it was just then that it all fell away.
and I knew you felt it too.
the sand was being pulled from beneath our feet,
but we did not give way to it.
not at that moment.
and just before we were swept away again,
I remember what I felt from you;
the warmth that helped me swim through sand,
a light that guided us back to the surface.
it was a single moment of happiness together,
that kept us afloat through this.
as beaten and frayed as it was now,
I knew that it would permit us to endure more,
and make it together, again,
to another shore.
sea and shore, no more
you where my shore,
I was your sea.
together we danced
back and forth,
but many times the dancing
was a little more me.
we spent many days together,
many days beside each other,
and many nights apart.
those were the times my tide was lowest.
but we always managed to meet again in the morning,
and see each other through another day.
but finally,
the friction of my waves on your shore,
and the turbulence of my undertow,
caused us to rethink our union.
we battled it out at times,
resting only in the eye of the storm,
but somehow we reached an agreement.
and then we settled it all,
with the sun and the moon,
and I left you sitting there,
and you let me go.
I was to go off,
to another part of this ocean,
cast off on another coastline.
you decided to stay there,
ready to build new castles,
collect more shells,
and seek new tides.
and while our union was strong,
built in nature, and of it,
we managed to part,
still lovers,
molded by one another,
in life and in love.
wherever my waves will crash next,
while I know they will be welcomed,
the sand will feel different under me,
the tides may be higher or lower,
and my undertow may be stronger or weaker.
but I will always be different,
for participating in our dances,
letting nature takes its course.
I may be crashing on another shore,
but I will always remember,
look back,
and rejoice.
[Back To Top]
interal scar
you know who you are
In fact, I saw you again, just recently.
You were waving to all of the crowds.
But, you always were that way.
a boy that saw everyone,
but managed to see right past me.
you kept me like a teddy,
and dragged me till worn,
but not worn too much,
not so much that you would discard me.
I was something that you could cling to,
something you loved to touch.
Deep down,
you knew your heart could ache,
If you let yourself think of all the others,
if you brought yourself to breathe for something new,
and seek recklessly for their attention.
But alas, I watched, helplessly,
as this very thing occurred;
while wondering what I had done wrong.
you could have told me it was you.
you could have warned me you would do this.
And looking back, maybe you did,
by saying you didn't see forever,
and probably never would.
even now, that makes me heart burn,
to see those words,
and hear what you had said,
to realize you really meant them,
and were honest, if only this once.
you must know that you left a more than a mark,
even more than the scar that sits on my brow,
you cut me deep within,
yet still, I cannot believe I let it happen.
and looking back,
I can see you were in pain,
and I had everything to gain,
for which I find nothing to complain about.
you were already gone when I left you,
but that didn't cause it to hurt any less,
and if you realize one thing,
I want you to realize this,
as to spare those who may inevitably follow me.
[Back To Top]
this perfect place
We broke down and did it
Woke up and realized how this would make us.
We defined ourselves.
Made decisions.
Slept.
We woke up refreshed,
Ready to go again.
Came home, rested,
And slept again.
It seems that this routine,
had flattened out our lives.
Made us so mundane,
turned from practice to perfection,
with little to no deviation.
But does it feel wrong, I ask,
did you want to change?
I have grown comfortable to the sensation,
of the routine in which we fell.
I liked that you were here,
And not somewhere else.
What I always wanted,
I have grown to understand,
Is actually this very repetition,
of life moving, and caught in standstill.
A looping replay of the best moment I could ever imagine.
Waking, leaving,
coming, going.
Eating, laughing,
loving, holding.
sleeping, dreaming,
all while holding you.
All repetitious, all important.
But most importantly; the repetition.
It is you that makes this place perfection.
but only to you
We haven’t spoken in months,
yet still, I feel that we have nothing to say.
We are like two strangers making pleasant gestures,
rambling to cover the silence,
rambling to cover the nothing.
Hoping that nothing uncomfortable drifts up,
and feverously treading to keep ourselves below the surface.
Uncharacteristically, when I awoke this morning,
I wondered how you were.
I thought that maybe I should call,
maybe I should break this silence.
But I know better.
I know what awaits me with you.
And I will not go willingly back to that place.
The place is as cold as Antarctic wind,
desolate of feeling,
hard and uncaring.
When I am there I feel heavy,
and my bowels churn with an uneasiness,
a feeling that I may slip at any moment,
like an actor nervously moving across a wet stage,
hoping the world won’t judge him, if he falls.
Lest he not be judged, as it has come from you.
You are the stranger that I have known for so long,
that we have managed to learn everything,
and retain none of it.
But fools we are not,
that is not our whole truth.
For when I speak to you,
you feel familiar and known,
and I place trust in the fact that you know it.
But, when you speak to me,
I feel as if you don’t want to know me,
and you are continent in your forgetfulness.
You are happy being strangers on opposite sides of the street.
You actually enjoy the distance,
and relish the silence.
So I humor you,
and move on.
Walking dead in our world.
Keeping to myself,
telling you nothing of us.
I honor your code of silence, between us,
and keep my distance,
but no longer is it only for you,
for I have become accustomed to being a stranger,
but only to you.
the day that won't go away
I rack my brain,
go almost insane,
to think of ways I can avoid you.
I work so hard,
just to put up my guard,
in hopes I can defend myself from you.
You know this,
and you dismiss,
my ability to work and think and act.
You make me feel,
that I am less than real,
and hurt me with your attacks.
I bite my thumb,
to make it numb,
to the droning on around it.
I want it to be,
that which I do not see,
the dawning of complacency.
Bored and restored,
I feel so ignored,
but you just keep on moving.
I tried to hide,
all that inside,
but it spilled out on the carpet.
But I sit in disgust,
and collect only dust,
in hopes that it will change.
Maybe my days,
will have more interesting plays,
acted out on its stage.
And maybe today,
is just a foray,
into something that doesn’t really exist.
It is a picture I painted,
and one I tainted,
so I can wash it all away.
And now I sit,
full of less shit,
than a moment ago was pondered.
I can move on,
for the end of this song,
has come and gone unfettered.
What I ponder is existential,
not so much elemental,
and can therefore be shrugged off.
This day may be,
annoying to me,
but I delight in the thought that it will soon be over.
the weakness away from we
Attempts to codify this coldness in my heart,
and mortified by the manner in which you speak,
I find myself amused and appalled at the same time.
I peck at pellets of food you left,
walk in water that you spilt.
I feel as if I hover amongst the heavens tonight,
breathlessly braving the cold alone.
The cold calm by which I attempt to translate a dream,
A dream about days and dues you owed.
This bank of emotive energy,
that lays ragged, ravaged, and empty.
The place where luminous love was once stored;
and where it lives now, no one knows.
I barely breathe in this thinning atmosphere,
looking languidly for a shelter to rest.
I feel as if I am beaten brutally by all that has been,
so much so, that I cannot call my callous hands to support me.
They wither and waste below my fragile body,
and I collapse, as the pellets of food I pecked dissipate in my bowels.
I look, but I do not detect your shape in the distance.
and while I writhe and wiggle to free myself from you,
I find I falter when I feel you may not be far.
And there in lies my peril in that power you possess,
I am too weak to retreat and resist,
to fly away far, far from here,
and never look back, not now, not ever.
And you, willful and full of youth,
continue to call me, carelessly,
from so far away, I do not see your face.
Because you believe there is something in us both,
that ties us together in space and through time,
something that binds our bodies and holds our hearts together,
that prevents you from parlaying your power,
letting us leave, let go, and live.
But you only continue to carelessly control me,
because you do not know what you do to me now,
you cannot see how you hurt my heart,
fostering its sadness and filling it with the cold.
The only reason I am able to remain in this reality,
is because I believe in what may be,
and I make myself move past the pain;
all based on my belief that you do not know what you do to me now,
and that if you did, you would dissolve your hold on these dastardly deeds.
excuse me, ma'am, I believe this bag is yours
"Excuse me ma'am,
I hate to bother you,
But I believe this may be your bag.
There is no one left here,
At the turnstile you see,
And this is the only bag left.
I want to help you,
I want to be kind,
But I cannot take this home.
I have a bag,
In fact, a few,
That I must carry of my own.
Ma'am, can you hear me?
I am wondering if this is yours,
The bag that rides around and around.
If you want,
I can call someone,
To help you with your bag."
But silently she stood,
And looked away,
Knowing that the bag was hers.
Persistently I asked her,
Again and again,
What the fate of her bag would be.
She seemed not to care,
That the bag was unclaimed,
And seemed perfectly content,
Knowing it was someone else's problem.
It was almost as if,
She expected it of me,
To take on the issue,
And see it to conclusion.
But I could not,
As I said,
I have bags of my own,
Full of things I have accumulated,
In my many travels.
How could I possibly take on something else?
Something as big as this?
The weight alone might crush me.
But that is exactly what she expected.
She stood stoically,
Watching the bag ride around,
And occasionally glanced at me with sympathy.
I believe she knew it was wrong,
To expect me to bear this burden,
Seeing that I was already tied down.
But never the less,
She could careless,
And expected it of me, seriously.
reluctantly,
I pulled the bag from the turnstile,
Righted it on the ground,
And prepared myself for the increased weight,
That I was now born to bear.
And bear it I did,
As she strolled carelessly behind,
Until finally, I could bear it no more.
When I finally succumb,
To the pressure of her bag,
I sighed, and placed it in front of her.
I apologized for doing wrong,
Even though I knew I was right,
And should be thanked for the effort I had shown.
But I found nothing but contempt,
Again the stoic figure,
Staring away,
In hopes it would take care of itself.
And when I asked her again,
If there were someone I could call,
That could assist her in some way,
In a way that I had failed,
She smiled,
And ignored me,
All the same.
Defeated,
I found a way,
I managed to turn my back,
And walk out of that terminal.
But the added strain that bag brought,
Still haunts me to this day.
because she will stay
I honestly came here with good intentions,
and I all I found was this,
the emptyness.
I came here because i needed you,
I came here so you could help me,
I came here with good intentions.
I felt in my hear that you loved me,
that you would listen to me,
feel what I felt,
and hold me.
Wipe away my tears,
and blow on the cut that brandeshes me knee.
but that is not what I found.
you turned away from me.
you looked right through me,
and showed me a different side of you.
as the tears streamed down my face,
you changed the channel and sighed.
"I need you", I cried,
"I feel all this pain".
but what I got was just the same.
"you say are in pain?
well what about me?
don't you see what I see?
don't you see me go through this?
can't you understand my misery?
as much as you are sad,
I wake to this every day.
I find myself wondering,
If I could change it all,
If I would.
After all,
I did this, for you."
All I could do is cross my arms and cry even harder,
When I said,
"But I need you,
I came here with good intentions.
I know that you are here for me,
And now is when I need you."
And again I met your wall,
The black cloud that would destroy my faith in you.
"You have come in vain,
My son,
You have found out what many will never know,
I may love you, yes,
But I will not help you,
For I have more important things to deal with,
Of my own."
That was all I needed to hear.
I forced myself and turned on my heel,
And went back to a quiet place,
Where I counted only on myself.
I held my knees tight that night,
And lulled myself into a version of sleep.
I told myself,
To know this for myself;
The only way,
For you to stay,
Is make your way,
be on your own oneday,
Because she will stay,
As far away,
As she did yesterday.
why must you do this to me
You moved
Even though it was slowly
I felt it
It was almost as if the wind rushed by me
When you walked out of that room
A piece of me walked out with you
Unwillingly.
Words can't describe
The regret I face
That I face under insurmountable odds
Odds I don't define
Odds I don't decide
And odds I can't control
Why is it that you hold all the cards?
Why is it that you hold all my tears?
Why is it that I give you the power
To turn me into a pile of rubble?
I am changed
Possibly forever
At the very moment you made your mind up
At the second you walked out on me.
I clutch my phone in hopes you will call.
I clutch my heart in hopes that it will mend.
I clutch a picture of us,
In hopes that it will be again.
You bastard,
You fuck,
You tore out my heart,
And left me a shell to go on.
You bastard,
You fuck,
I love you,
Come home,
Why must you do this to me.
a burden I bear
Bound by burdens,
Bored by boundaries,
I worry about floors and things.
I worry about lives and rings,
I worry too much.
All I see is new to me,
Unreal to me,
Too far from me.
All I feel is sinking appeal
To a thoughtless, heartless beast.
Burdened and beaten day after day,
I try and search for a different way,
But my own worry holds me,
I am chained to always remain,
In my cycle of indecisiveness.
Blinded by blackness
Burdened by boredom,
I halfheartedly search for truth
I make small tears and split fine hairs,
And convince myself I’ll find it.
Still unsure of a lot of things,
Anxious about what futures bring,
I lose sight of the mundane,
I can’t feel the air that’s everywhere,
And I constantly feel without.
A burden to bear
Is my life where,
I fruitlessly bumble about.
It’s sadder than sad,
And it makes me mad,
That I can’t, don’t, or won’t pull out
But the fact is,
That right now,
I honestly just don’t know how.
next steps
I forbid myself from thinking,
I forgave myself for dreaming,
To focus on my pain.
I waken what’s been weeping,
I wrestle what’s been wailing,
But I feel it just the same.
No better now,
No closer to how,
And too fragile to touch.
Just need to move,
Like I have something to prove,
But I honestly don’t know how much.
A fine piece of china,
A constant reminder,
Of exactly what I’ve become.
Scared of being broken,
And not noticing I AM broken,
Makes it harder to overcome.
But I forbid myself from feeling,
I cut off the revealing,
I hide down in my cell.
I need to break out,
But I can’t move without,
A drink from an empty well.
I get tied up in thinking I’m fat,
Wondering how I look in this or that,
And let that distract me for a moment.
But underneath the distraction,
Is a needed overreaction,
Or is it merely a cry for commitment?
Committing myself TO thinking,
Committing myself TO dreaming,
And focusing on my pain,
Wakening myself and moving,
Pushing myself and proving,
That only I can effectively gain,
That only I can effectively change,
That only I can rearrange,
That which I see,
That which is wrong with me.
forbidden love
A salacious sense said he
In the utmost care and grace
A tufted beard
Rough and worn
A soft embrace
A caressing face
All together, they wept.
Seeing what was out
Seeing what had been
And knowing it was forbidden
Yet it was all they had ever known
Knowing was all they had
Being was all they understood.
Luckily, he was strong
But gentle
And he was wise
But kind
He felt the rise
And he felt the fall
Evenly matched
wantonly patched
They rise and recall.
Meet and retreat
To only begin again
They had endured so much pain.
Over the years
There were many tears
But they always saw it through
They somehow always knew
That it would be
Him and me
That would meet up once again.
Against all odds,
Overcoming all that was insurmountable,
They would come together again.
They would be together again.
They would realize the love they shared,
And they would live the life they had desired.
Together.
For real.
Without massive upheaval.
Life between two.
Love between me and you.
hiding buried thoughts for you
Learned to chain up my feelings,Lock them safely down,
Be a good boy like I should,
And turn my frowns upside down.
Wait for forgiveness,
When I have been bad,
And pretend to ignore,
That I am still sad.
They don’t want to hear,
Is what they will say,
That you are unprepared,
For another bad day.
But sometimes it isn’t easy,
Being misunderstood,
Especially if they knew I would change,
If only I knew how, or could.
But that is happenstance,
Because it still appears,
That I will march on,
And hide my tears.
But in the end,
I know it will be fine,
You will have yours,
And I will have mine.
Speaking and saying,
Showing and knowing,
May not be what is wanted,
But it is definitely growing.
But I will do my best to hide in the present,
And give forth fake offerings,
If it is only to make you comfortable,
Around me and my suffering.
hopeful promise for enlightenment
I feel autumn breezes
Blowing past my ears
I may still feel all my doubts
But it registers more than my fears.
The conspiracies as of lately,
That prepare me in strange ways,
Somehow fall to the wayside,
These lovely autumn days.
It must be the seasons change,
As the hot turns slow to cold,
That helps me feel more alive,
And frees me from this mold.
I want to break out of my shell,
And behold my world anew,
I’d even settle for before I sank,
In my overexposed shade of blue.
It this glimmer of hope,
In the form of that breeze,
That lightens the load on my heart,
And fills my mind with ease.
Perhaps the summer of unhappy thought,
The summer of worry and doubt,
Will fade into a season of change,
And make my depression fade out.
I can only hope this theory be proven,
Which hints at hidden excitement,
And perhaps my foreshadowed thoughts,
Will turn to true enlightenment.
All poems © duane carson moody 2001-forever©