Night Terrors

Screaming again
at the top of my lungs
Screaming again
out of control

Scared the hell out of myself
and everyone else in the house
Don't know why I'm screaming
Don't know what I'm screaming about

Jagged nerves
when I wake up
Embarassment creeps in
overtakes the terror

Can't fall back to sleep
can't stay awake
so I lay there quietly
and shake

for while
then sleep wins again
until the screaming begins

and it will

Wind

The day began with a biting wind
I tried to cover my face
The wind still found purchase

The afternoon winds calmed a little
They nipped more than they bit
Still, I remained covered

The evening winds brought snow
Sharp and brittle
As I sought refuge

The night winds slowly subside
leaving a serene, frigid landscape
and a frostbitten lonely man

Waxing nostaligic

It's been a while since I could help a friend
They're a rarity these days
not only the chances to help, but friends
I used to have more than I would ever need
Now, not so many
Joined lives have splintered into a million different directions
High school sweethearts and pals fade with each day
I wouldn't recognize most of the people I grew up with
It's been too long and I'm too far away
Adults don't make friends as easily as children
We're too guarded, suspicious, busy
Children are open, curious, full of wonder
They can forgive most grievences
Adults hold a grudge

Children smile
Adults grimace
Children often laugh
Adults often cry
Children play
Adults rest
Children believe
Adults deny

Children remember
Adults forget

Dialog 2

“I could have sworn my heart used to beat faster,” he said to her.
“How would you know? It’s not like you sit there and measure the beats all day,” she replied.
He looked at her, the same way he did when she first caught his eye.
It wasn’t the same.

“I just know.”

Cold Comfort

The wind carries another day away
As I watch the setting sun
The chill of autumn's stay
Penetrates everyone

Smiling in the fading light
I watch the stars slowly appear
Aware of the chill of early night
Basking in the silence I hear

The dying season arrives
The death and dormancy
Of fully lived lives
and normality

Close the door
Pull the shades
Stoke the fire
As images fade

winter will be here
soon

reply

the smile is nothing more than
a mask
worn to decieve, to convey,to convince
either the reader
or the writer
that what you see
isn't always what you get
and the truth lies there
vulnerable and wanting
like
each of us

connected

Satellite signal
Sends the music I need
And I gotta pay

Satellite signal
Fed through my tv
And I gotta pay

We all have to pay

There is nothing free
Anymore
Nothing sacred anymore
There’s nothing free
Anymore
Nothing under our control
We gotta let it go

Satellite signal
Straight to my brain
And I gotta pay

Satellite signal
Forecasting rain
And I still gotta pay

There is nothing free
Anymore
Nothing sacred anymore
There’s nothing me
Anymore
Nothing original
Anymore

Satellite signal
Tells me what to eat
And I pay

Satellite signal
Tells me when to sleep
And I obey

We all have to pay

Satellite signal
Scrambles my brain
And I'm pained

Satellite signal
Nothings the same
I should have got laid

There is nothing free
Anymore
Nothing sacred anymore
There’s nothing free
Anymore
Nothing under our control
We gotta let it go

There is nothing free
Anymore
Nothing sacred anymore
There’s nothing me
Anymore
Nothing original
Anymore

Acquiring

Satellite signal

abandonment

they were here
I talked with them
mixed messages of life
playful banter
and the like
and they left
they were here
at one time
or another
maybe several times
maybe once
and they left
they were here
keeping me afloat
giving me a purpose
driving me on
and they left
they were here
when my purpose
my drive
became secondary
to them

and they left
me
with
nothing
like
I
will
leave
them
with
nothing
more

they were here
and I lost sight
about why
I was here
I'll stay
and
leave
them
behind

Autumn

The light slowly fades
like his breath
he focuses for one second
on the beauty that is around him
the world ablaze with the remnants
of abundant life
no longer fertile, but necessary

unlike him

he smiles and shuts his eyes
a final time

Soundtrack

Baby, why the Rush?
Who is it you need to see?
You’ve been living in some sort of Dream Theater lately
In such a Deep purple funk too
Are you afraid of some unseen Lynch Mob?
Is life just a torture device, an Iron Maiden only for you?
Why should you be such a mystery, an Enigma to me?
Sit awhile, I’ll make your favorite dish –
You know, the one with the Red Hot Chili Peppers
Afterwards we can take a walk, maybe find that Bush
Where we shared our first Kiss before you left for Boston
You said you had to go, something about some Bad Religion
I understood completely, even if it drove nine inch nails into my heart
You played it perfectly, like those Spin Doctors in Washington
You left me on Skid Row, Smashing Pumpkins
It was a gourd Slaughter, but I started to feel better
Now you’re back, with all this New Found Glory
Better than Ezra, or ever, you used to say
Well, I know you’re Naughty by Nature
And lies used to drip from your Flaming Lips
But after you had joined the Trans Siberian Orchestra
Your days of being a Cheap Trick were over
Our Collective Soul received a virtual Air Supply
We shared some Cake, Meat Loaf and laughs
It felt so very Tantric
I knew I had your Heart
I know this is Overkill, but let me in
It’s Human Nature to be scared
We can go to the Police
They can get a Warrant, you’ll be safe
No need for Widespread Panic
This world is Vast
Not by Default, it’s because I love you
I’d buy you everything from Guns and Roses
To Gorillaz
Or maybe your favorite Jewel
There’s an Unwritten Law between us
One that a House of Lords couldn’t break
Our own Trust Company, you and I
3 doors down from 10,000 Maniacs
You bring the offense and I’ll have the Tenacious D
It will be XTC
I will be your Tool for redemption
You will be my Fuel for revenge
Say a prayer to Ra
Tour this Big Country in Cars
Don’t be Disturbed by the Lost Prophets
And don’t drink the Everclear
An escape is always near, only 30 seconds to Mars
We can take your Atomship with Ziggy Stardust
If we stay here, and this is just a Theory of a Dead Man
The Dead Can Dance on our graves
Before the Darkness falls
Leave the Killers behind
Intergalactic Supertramp,
A few Talking Heads,
And one Def Leppard

We’re going home…

**** Okay this is really goofy and off the wall. I admit it. But it was a lot of fun. ****

Inspired by, Part IV: you

I overheard a comment, maybe a remark.
It could have been in line at the store, at the bank, when you were on your cell phone. It caught my attention, so I remembered it. And jotted it down.

You had the most unusual, or pained, or joyous expression. You smiled and laughed, a true moment of pleasure. Or maybe you cried, or bit back the tears of pain, frustration, denial. I took note.

Your eyes left an imprint on my brain, or maybe your smile. Your neck, your walk, your legs.

You showed strength, weakness, honesty, courage, apathy, anger - all those traits that separate us from chimps.

You talked with your child, and listened intently.

You ignored the elderly lady that needed help, practically pushing her down in your rush.

You held your head at an odd angle.

You drive a school bus.

You rushed out the door at 5 pm.

I watched you pick out videos for another sad Friday night; you kept eyeing that couple, you know the ones, holding hands and kissing, with digust. And envy.

I saw you on trial.

I saw you after you were born, and when you died.

You probably never saw me, and you probably never will.

Still, you are all here, living in my words, slowly released from my mind.

I will set you all free.

In due time.

Dead wrong

The weight of my eagerness compels me forth
Even though my eyes are unfocused and my mind is drifting

I will make it through this ordeal, I will finished what I started
That’s the way I live and the way it should be
Unless I die at the wheel. Then you can say you were right
And I was wrong.

unobserved

I moved through the room
and you didn't say a word
I left for a while
you didn't ask where I had gone
I took a nap on the floor
and you stepped right on by
I stared at the ceiling and listened
while you slept peacefully

The soft whisper of each breath
played upon my ears
I could smell the shampoo on your hair
tropical & pleasant
a few strands of hair fall across your cheek
perfect and alluring
the swell of your breast peeks out
from the top of your nightshirt
your curves intoxicate me
- from your jawline to your calves -
no hard angles, everything elegant
like your eyes

eyes that would be perfect
so deep, dark, compassionate
eyes that could have everything
if they could only see me

devil's advocate

some days
it's fun to play
the part of
devil's
advocate

even if it
pisses
a few people off

Balancing

My depth perception is off center
and the universe is growing
smaller
every moment
I feel like a giant among men
a monster to be feared
even if there is nothing to fear
I'm a mythological being with the powers
to create, destroy
and enslave time
I can do wonderful
or terrible things
I can smite or protect
elect or reject
the possibilities
are cliche

I am at the mercy of no one
and everyone

a paradox of ideas
and ideals
that don't meld or mesh
water and oil

belief has left me stranded
and Faith is just a girls name
an old book cannot save me
nor ghosts kept alive by singers
in their Sunday's best
hypocrites who fall to their knees
and sin like tomorrow is judgement day
and they have a get out of hell free card
but there is no heaven
there is no hell
there is nothing to believe in

so don't sell me your bullshit
I know what this is -
a way to control and strike fear
into those who are willing
to follow

Show me, don't tell me
let me see with my own eyes
the miracles you speak of
let me see these vengeful,
forgiving beings you spend so much time
blabbering about
let me witness
a higher power
a being that will make me drop and sing
Praise be

Until I can see it
(and don't tell me about faith -
blind faith is simply foolishness
looking pretty on a Sunday morning)
Until I can touch, and see, and know for sure
I'll stay right here
trying to get myself into focus
trying to understand how to survive
in a world of believers
non believers, and in between
struggling, and at odds
with the force fed rhetoric
that so many have consumed and bought into

a story

or many stories

campfire tales
that the world somehow believed
because they were told to

open your eyes now
open your mind

think about it -
do animals worship a god?

Island madness

I awoke, chilled to the bone
the fire, nothing but ash now
escaped during the early morning hours

People of this village tell me that
the mornings are beautiful
but it takes so long for the clouds to clear

The afternoons are gorgeous too
if you can stand the gale force winds
and the sand it carries

But evening, they assure me
Evening is most pleasant
Sure, if you enjoy dampness and high tide

They each turn from me and shake their heads
Where will you be happy, then?
And I wonder, where will I be?

Or when?

For the scenery may change
and the weather may clear
but I can complain about the sun

And the winds they may die,
and the dampness dissolve
but I will still have humidity

And the sunset may be striking
like it was painted with God's hands
but I will only see the coming darkness

and I will never get comfortable
I will never be content
Until you are here with me

In heart, in spirit, in body
Only then will I be able to look up
and see the stars as beautiful

only then will the breeze feel gentle
only then will the night's coolness draw me
closer, so much closer to you

only then will I escape
like last night's flame
only then will I be sane again

even though
you are only
a dream

Smile

It's amazing how I can still smile
when I know the darkness inside

and how it feeds

negativity

The world may thrust me away
or try, as it may
to smother me
with it's evil vile ways

I will resist
even if resistance is
well, you know
useless, futile, a waste

I spit in the face of denial
and fight the sweeping hands of time
and never will succomb to the heavenly embrace
of giving in, and giving up, and selling out

I shall fight the good fight
and never waver when the chips are down
penniless and broken
I shall rise higher than the phoenix

and soar with greater ease than angels
because I know the secret
I know how to move past it all
I know the answer

It is
?
(Do you know?)

beached

I find myself drawn in a specific
direction
and my instincts tell me I'm wrong, but my
body
keeps heading the wrong way
how can I control myself when there is all this
noise
in my head, forcing me to plod on, constantly moving
oblivious
to the fate I can't see and don't want, I am too
weak
to stop
too stubborn to turn around and too old to do anything
differently
than I ever had
because then I could only blame
myself
for the mess I'm in
again

b4

How many times do I have to die inside,
before I finally pass away?
How many times do I have to lie,
before you'll go away?
How many bonds do we have to break,
before we're swallowed whole?
How many times do I have to die inside,
I would really like to know?

How many tears do I have to shed,
before I finally go blind?
How many screams do I have to hold,
before I lose my mind?
How many nights will I lie awake,
bathed in a cold sweat?
How many times do I have to die inside,
I haven't stopped dying yet?

Dog days

another day in the heat
muggy, hazy... lazy
like me

I can't find the spark
the drive
the energy

to start another project
or finish one
even though I want to

"the mind is willing"
but not willing enough
and the body aches

with the years , too many
that catch up quickly
no longer young

like the summer
slowly fading
after this dismal stretch.

the dog is sleeping
sprawled out on the floor
I know how she feels

I know too well
wake us up
when autumn arrives

Out Of Focus

I see the world, without distortion
except for the area closest to me
my personal space, where I dwell
My brain processes the images

differently

so that I can see what I want to see
regardless of reality
So I can protect myself
from the truth

I'm not lying to myself
It's more like
unconscious self preservation
even though I'm dying inside

from the reality
of the truth

Nostradamus didn't see this coming

it's been said that "the meek shall inherit the earth"
but they won't
the stupid will
the same people that mindlessly take to the road while
talking on their cell, reading, putting on makeup
whatever
they will inherit the earth
not the rich; they're too cunning
the stupid can outlast 'em, beat them at the waiting game
because stupid people don't understand what's going on
and slither on through life like what they do affects no one else
like their actions have no consequences
or the consequences are not theirs - shift the blame
pass the buck, it's not their fault. ever.
and they convince others of this
they get laws changed, win ridiculous lawsuits
and stumble on, day by day
the geniuses of the world cannot comprehend the power
of the collective group of stupid people
therefore, they cannot combat this great force
like a river overflowing it's banks
stupidity engulfs and overtakes everything in it's path
and when it recedes
it's stain is left behind
covering the planet
it inherited

the market

Forbidden fruit is in season
Temptation falls from the vine
I see no special reason
Not to pluck it and make it mine

No Relief

Chalk outline of my latest dream
Just another wasted day
Life is never what it seems
And it slowly slips away

A step behind - I run faster
Goals slowly fading from sight
Then the slave becomes the master
Days melt into sleepless nights

Can't stand the rain, can't beat the heat
Can't dull the pain, can't find relief

no relief

Walking down a dirty street
Hands deep within my pockets
Head low, afraid of who I'll meet
My loneliness skyrockets

Shy away from friendly smiles
Avoid the wanting in lonely eyes
Move along through empty miles
No way I can sympathize

Can't stand the rain, can't take the heat
Can't fight the pain, can't find relief

no relief

Little ambition leads to sorrow
I try to keep treading water
Will I be around tomorrow?
Does it matter if I falter?

Can't stand the rain
Can't stand the heat
Can't live in pain
Can't find relief

no relief


This is an old song lyric I wrote right after high school, I believe.

Inspired by, Part III: My peers

I read other blogs, as my links show. Often, I'm blown away by the stunning work I encounter. I don't think I'm a hack, but I feel other writers put me to shame with their beautiful works. And it makes me try harder. When I see the way the author can weave such a marvelous tale or evoke such strong emotion, it makes me think my work pales in comparison. Yet, I'm pulled forward, by a big imaginary hand, dragging me to my computer so I may create output as stirring as the others. I know I'll never have some writers sense of space, or other's humor. I know I may have to stretch to paint similar images that I see others create, but their works drive me to do so. I'm moved into action, spurred on by a tug at my heart or mind, pushed by a desire to match their creations. I am not trying to imitate or copy; I am trying to instill in my work the ingredients that will give the reader the same level of satisfaction and joy I feel when I read their work. At the very least, I need to feel that in my work. If anyone else does, that's a bonus.

To all the writers, painters, and musicians...all artists in all forms, I salute you and I thank you.

Position

I tried everything to build a fire
I thought I created a few sparks
But nothing ignited
So I hunkered down and tried harder
Spinning and pushing and pulling
I smelled smoke

But no fire

I looked around, collected my thoughts
Decided to take my time and re-evalute
Nothing new occurred
I questioned my technique, my materials
I took stock in my equipment and myself
and tried again

Still, no fire

I began to panic and lose faith
Man cannot survive without the flame
I worked harder
My breathing heavy, my throat tight
Sweat dripped from my brow
My heartbeat quickened

Yet, no fire

I sat back and stopped trying, exhausted
The solution occured to me
The answer arrived
I felt ashamed of my actions
Of the time and effort wasted
In the wrong place

I was in the wrong place
it would never be the right time
ever again

cranial silica

images etched
in the sands
of my mind
slowly falling
through
the hourglass
that measures the
moments
in regular beats
like a heart
less human
undying
unforgiving
unspoken
from the mouth
of the river
of time
in the canyons
of experience
sailing
down the stream
of consciousness
listening
to the echoes
the melodies
of memories
recording
the images
etched
in the sands

Empty: the lonely artist

each word
a tiny piece of the puzzle
irregular edges
that somehow form
the picture
only I can see

each verse
a thread in the tapestry
woven together
by a skilled mind
and vivid
imagination

each stroke
of the mental brush
on metaphorical canvas
highlights perfect use
of color
and innate sense
of wonder

each form
fills
the void

in


me



briefly

Father and Father Revisited - Your Day

Father

“Why didn’t you ever guide me”, I asked?
“He said there were no maps of the heart
And the journey is yours only”
It took years to understand the wisdom he shared
And he...
…never turned a deaf ear
…shared his time
…never turned me away
…comforted me


I wish it was real
In my dreams, you were a father
The dialog was imagination
You never said that much, ever
Why weren’t you there
Instead of hiding in plain view
Suspicious, greedy
Needy and childish

Why weren’t you my
teacher, my guide
One to reveal the secrets of the world
To show the right’s and wrongs,
Display the tendency of love

Where were you?

Father Revisited - Your day

Your wondering where your card is, aren’t you?
Ironic since I wondered where you were all my life
Not physically, just mentally, emotionally
You weren’t there

I think back -
Have you ever sent me a Father’s day card?
Not one that mom picked out and signed,
But one you picked out, with words you wanted to express?
Have you ever signed any card for me?
Maybe that wasn’t your station in life
Maybe that was someone else’s responsibility
Something beneath you, not your place
Or perhaps you just don’t know how

Yet, on your birthday, you’ll
Bitch if my card doesn’t get there
(why do you think I send such nasty ones?)
And you’ll complain if there’s no gift
Like a child
So much like a child

You don’t call on my birthday
(Do you even know my phone number, my address, my birthday?)
You don’t contact me at all

Yet I’m supposed to know better
I’m supposed to be the better person
I’m the one to make all the contact
Down this one way street

It’s very easy to do, though
And I’ll tell you why

You taught me well


I just do everything you
Wouldn’t do

And I’ll be ten times the father
You ever wanted to be

Happy Fathers Day
You bastard

beauty

To just look at her isn't enough;
one needs to view her from all directions and distances,
up close
far away, the incredible profile,
and examine her features
like a fine artifact or precious sculpture worthy of any museum;
Without trying, her beauty effortlessly captivates
her sensual lines, painfully exquisite
In the purest form, natural and untouched,
timeless and alluring
her beauty caresses my heart
like a fragrant spring breeze awakens the senses
with colors, tastes, textures and songs

my soul, my being cries out to her
for
she is beauty

Echoes of the dead

Shadows of the living passing by
With a faint nod, or polite smile

In between those shadows
You can hear what’s been said
If you listen close enough
To the echoes of the dead

The faintest whisper of her favorite perfume
The sound of his favorite album in the living room
Above the things that we most dread
The echoes of the dead

Shadows of the past flitter by
Catch them from the corner of your eye

Underneath those shadows
You can hear what’s being said
If you listen to
The echoes of the dead

The barely audible cry that fades with the wind
The comfort of knowing that death isn’t the end
Believe that there is something more ahead
If you listen to the echoes of the dead

Shadows of what was, once, and what will never be
Finding hope while I’m still here, something to believe
I keep listening
To the echoes of the dead

Alone

Alone
And I don’t wish to be
I’d rather hold her hand
Enjoy her company
Us, alone

The rain beats steadily on the shutter
the rhythm sends me deeper
my mind is all cluttered
I seek and I find her
In a field of broken dreams
I see her beauty and smile
What can all this mean?
She’s been comatose for years
The needle took her away from me
Why these vision in the darkness?
Why is life such a mystery?
We were happy, in love
The days filled with vibrant life
But she couldn’t satisfy the need
She couldn’t be my wife

Alone now
My mind clears as the tears fall
The rain stops pouring
I wish I could erase it all
Make it go away
The machine seems the only thing alive
I hold her pale unmoving hand
Why can’t they let her die?
Her family is not ready to let her go
Let her die with a little dignity
But they cling to hope, and she lies
Hooked to the damned machine
I’ve felt so tempted
To set her free
Turn off the power
And end the misery
It’s not my place to, though
It’s not my choice to make
I would have made it long ago
For her imprisoned sake
There will be no recovery
She’ll always be this way
Yet there is some hope for me
I must learn to carry on
Live life as I should
Do the things we liked to do
Enjoy life like she would
It’s hard to move quickly
I have to move real slow
Take time for me to adjust
And let my feelings go
She's become an angel now
Even though the machine makes her breathe
She watches over me, I feel it
She sees exactly what I see
I lived for her these past few years
Now I live for me
I know she understands
That’s how she wants it to be

16 years

Sequin rattling, jumpy nerves
the tremble before the words
whirring camera racing by
that day is much a blur

parties gather, left and right
split by procession small
(history wiped out by the "Fly")
up in front: one is short, one tall

third floor food, honored guests
golden duster, wagon wheel
tired and happy, take a ride
best feeling I could ever feel

slept so soundly, caught a plane
to celebrate three unions - new
nowadays it's not the same
it's only me and you

the journey has made me who I am
And I would never second guess
if I would ever be anyone else
but forever, your "Gomez"


Happy Anniversary - I love you!

we

we don't have the same fears
we don't have the same thoughts
or dreams
or so it seems

we don't have the same wants
we don't have the same drive
or needs
so it seems

we don't have the same heart
we don't have the same soul
or faith
it seems

we don't have the same strength
we don't share the same love
or pain
or screams

or do we?

are we headed in different directions
on the same journey?
or on a different journey in the same direction?

are we striving for a common goal?
or a goal more common?

do we do what we know?
do we know what we do?

do we?

freelancing

Chicago, shady lawyer - strangled
Souix City, hooker - stabbed
LA, aspiring cokehead actress - OD
New York City, crooked cop - bludgeoned
Quebec, drug dealer - throat cut
Phoenix, mafia turncoat - burned alive
Portland, wife-beating athlete - run over with car

I followed him everywhere, two steps behind
never close enough to stop him, always close enough for the story

I never saw his face, never knew where he stayed
But I knew it was him
In every city
In every town, it was him


I hope the cops don't slow me down,
I might be able to interview him
get the truth about what drives him
why he does it, what he feels

I will catch him and talk to him
I know I can


Kansas City, reporter - tongue cut out

The seconds tick by...

It's hard for me to believe that I have been posting (pretty regularly too, I may add proudly) for a year now. When I started posting here, I wasn't sure if anyone would ever read what I posted. I'm pleased that I have a few loyal readers/commentors and several people that peek in from time to time. When I started I would check my posts every day and get disappointed if no one commented. Today, I'm more relaxed. I still do look for comments and I try my best to reply, but I do not get upset if my comment counter reads zero for a post.

I've been surprised that pieces that I considered some of my best work didn't garner any responses, while other pieces really touched a nerve in readers. Readers have had nothing but nice things to say about my writing. Even if someone had some criticism, I'd listen. I enjoy this very much and I strive to be entertaining, sometimes thought provoking but never dull. My poetry may never amount to anything (like a book, for example), but I hope everyone who stops by enjoys their visit and is inclined to visit again. That is enough reward for me.
Thank you for stopping by and I hope to hear from you.

DayDreamer

Wishful thinking

I've heard you say it before
"What I wouldn't give..."
for something, anything
that you found important

I wonder what you'd do
if that wish could possibly come true
What would you exchange
for the happiness you seek?

I wonder what you'd sacrifice
and how you'd pay the price?
For that defining moment in time;
would that complete your life?

Is there anything so important
that you'd give up part of yourself?
Something so significant
it's above everything else?

I know I cannot do it
it's not the way I live
spending my life saying
"What I wouldn't give...."

I choose to live and dream
instead of wish

In due time

I don't have my 1000 words
or my two pages of text
I don't have a catchy opening
I don't have a clue what comes next

Not a single interesting phrase
or word has garnered my attention
not a singluar useful idea
has come to full fruition

but I won't give up or whine
I won't curse my muse
there are a billion wonderful words
that I could always use

I will be patient
and I will wait out time
for the moment will arrive
and it will be all mine

without a map

where was I
at that moment
when the words found me
rather than I
searching
fruitlessly
for them?

where was I
when the emotion
unleashed, unbridled
broke the surface
and the ice
within?

where was I
when the anger
the love
the fear
and the desire
retreated enough
to see the truth?

where was I
when I put pen
to paper
fingers
to keys
idea
in motion
without fear?

where was I
and how do I return?

Inspired by, Part II: Stephen King

Okay, this may seem a little odd. Stephen King writes horror, right? He doesn't right poetry (or at least doesn't publish it.) That's true, but he was a huge inspiration to me when I began writing. His stories grabbed my attention and wouldn't let go. I'm talking early King, the days of Pet Sematary, The Shining, The Dead Zone, and Firestarter. After the Tommyknockers, I lost interest in King's writing. It didn't keep my attention as much as other writers. But those early books blew me away. I would read any King book I could get my hands on. It freaked me out with the clowns and drains; the coming back from the dead in Pet Sematary - I had trouble sleeping because I wanted to finish the book. And all his books were better than the movies (and the movies were awesome!)
I'm adding him here because I learned about writing with, and about, emotion from him. He uses fear, one of life's most powerful emotions, and takes it to a new level. I tried to emulate that with my early writing. I would dream up scenarios and storylines and write what I think he would write. Most of the stories were never any good - too predictable, too copied, too tired - but I learned the technique of using my emotions and getting them in poetry. I don't have King's patience for pounding out page after page; I like to get it done in simple verses and let the reader fill in the rest. It works for me right now; it's not that I'm lazy, my work is better in those short bursts (at least I think so.) Like Neil Peart, King showed me that I was only bound by my imagination and my willingness to try. I'm sure both writers are very critical of their work; show me a good writer that isn't. But they learned that even though you are critical, you have to let that baby out into the world and see what happens. Sometimes the results are less than satisfactory, sometimes they are stunning. And again, like Peart, King inspired me to pick up a pen (or typewriter, then computer keyboard) and get something out there. Try to entertain someone, even if only for a moment. Since those first few, feeble attempts at writing, I've learned so much. I learned to write for myself, but never settle for the first draft. I 've learned to dig deeper and translate the feelings I have into words. I've learned that not everyone will like it or even care, and that's okay. I've learned, with the indirect guidance of two masters, that I do what I do because I love it, because I can and because I want to. And as long as I do that, I can achieve anything.

out of season

the whisper fades faster than a summer day
the emotion swells like wheat in the Montana winds

radiant heat rises from an embarassed heart; cheeks blossom
the harvest, green and anxious, is reaped too early

and spoiled

I'm still here

I'm not sure what I am doing most of the time
and other times I'm in a bit of a funk
I try to focus but the edges are all rusty
like that nail that one summer
I'm trying to do the right thing but it gets all
upside in and outside down
and tangled like that slinky I used to love
and like that toy, some things cannot be untangled
unless you cut them, snip them, and sever the knot
or the cancer or the darkness, pull it out and cast it away
leaving a little less, still serviceable, but nothing quite the same
as the original
if it doesn't make you stronger, it'll probably make you fat
and ugly, because that's the image they project
those that mean something to someone, shallow,
perfect teeth, perfect chest, perfect abs, perfect lies
the disguise of beauty that hides the disgust and perversions that dwell
in the dark recess of the human psyche, even in those beautiful stupid
creatures

I'm still here

no more bitter than before, no less either
I see the stupidity and laziness and meanness and I feel sad
and angry and ashamed of us...the top of the food chain
the bottom of the dungheap

I try to teach but the willingness to learn isn't there
I try to guide but the directions are not taken
I try to understand but the impulse is lost to me

so I write and I watch and I think

I'm still here

Why?

The question so easily answered

I am smarter than this

(unscrew the cap and fill the glass again)

Clock: 12:38

Shit, I have to be up in 6 hours.

How can I be so weak?

black

the urge sulks away, leaving me empty and unfulfilled
basic sustenance will have to suffice for now
i try to open my eyes and fail to notice they were never shut
the stench of denial fills my soul, I mentally gag
and my eyes adjust to the watery light of a solitary
truth, yet it is too obscure to see clearly
it fades, ebbing and flowing into the eternal vacuum
lapping the alien shores of distant emotions,
never ending
like dying dreams with no place to rest, moving
from one entity to another dimension
beyond comprehension and reason
above the prayers and pleas
into the realm where all are equal
into the darkness
where I dwell
nowhere everywhere
no one everyone
nothing everything
they all fade
to
black

Sorrow

The silence deafens and the darkness blinds
weightless word pass from mouth to ear
eyes seek the floor as heads and hearts hang low
neither can face the other's fear

no one finds answers when the screaming prevails
and the confusion grows more and more unreal
as razor sharp tongues cut and slash
broken hearts take longer to heal

Minds (and hearts) wander to find better times
looking into the future or past
the future's unpredictable, and yesterday's gone
How can two souls make it last?

Anger rises and tempers flare
crushing a moment of retreat
The feelings are withered, there's nothing to share
the end makes the circle complete

When it started they'd die for one another
Living those special moments when they could smile
One grew apart and the other took for granted,
What's left to save and reconcile?

They both want something different,
yet something quite the same
One searches for it in the other
the other searches elsewhere in vain

Nothing can retrieve yesterday
nothing can guarantee tomorrow
The memories are all that will remain
when love melts into sorrow.

Inspired by, Part I: Neil Peart

I heard the song a few times, and it struck a chord. I was always a Rush fan, but this song grabbed me and it wouldn't let go. It was "Subdivisions", a song about peer pressure and life in the burbs. I was blown away and moved, moved so much that I picked up a pen and started to express myself in song lyrics. Over the years I thought of publishing those lyrics, but I know they really aren't that good (hey, I was 17, a walking hormone and in love for the first time. What did you write about at that age?) Maybe I'll publish them on the blog under the title "Songs Unsung" because they never actually blossomed into a real tune. Either way, those first few lines sent me down a path that I am grateful to have walked.

Like I said, the song inspired me and I started reading all of the lyrics written by Rush's drummer, Neil Peart. The man is truly gifted with drumsticks and with words. I had never heard a drummer of his caliber when I started listening to Rush, and there are very few I have heard since (the legendary Buddy Rich and Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater are exceptions.) But it's his perspective, rhyme and structure that rival the greatest of poets. He's clever, sharp and concise; he pulls you in and you relate. He paints such a vivid picture that one cannot help to see. Here's a few lines from Subdivisions:

"Subdivisions
In the highschool halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
Subdivisions
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out"

When I heard those words, I had chills. He was writing about my life! And about life in general, of course. I figured I could do the same, and I do. Not half as well as him, if I must say so myself. But that's okay. His words gave me the courage to pen my thoughts, spill the emotions out in ink and own up to what I felt and feel. I grew significantly from that, at least internally. I was still shy and somewhat awkward (hell, I still am sort of awkward) but I have more confidence in my abilities. I felt like I got to know him through his words, and it's a friendship I value today (even though he has never heard of me.)
I recently purchased two books that Peart wrote. He has had a lion's share of tragedy in his life and he coped by writing and traveling. I'm looking forward to his story.

Here are a few more of my favorite lyrics from Neil Peart and Rush.

From The Pass :

"...it's not as if this baricade
blocks the only road
it's not as if your all alone
in wanting to explode

someone set a bad example
made surrender seem alright
the act of a noble warrior
who lost the will to fight..."

From Resist:

You can surrender
surrender without a prayer
buy never really pray
pray without surrender

you can fight
fight without ever winning
but never ever win
win without a fight"

From Freewill:

"If you choose not to decide
you still have made a choice"

Anyway, I could go on all night.

To Neil Peart I say thank you, thank you so much.

From the ashes of my life....

the self effacing humor
the digs toward oneself
get old and tired
much like life itself

the underlying problem
never breaking the facade
boils and builds below
it's just a huge charade

wearing masks a plenty
comedy, tragedy, pain
wearing out your welcome
like a dog stuck in the rain

Open hearts and open minds
never seem to dwell
around this very humble place
my personal private hell

don't you judge and don't you point
at me or at my ways
the end is coming soon enough
I need none of your delays

just remember this one thing
when you turn and walk away
tomorrow will begin anew
a chance with each new day

weep no more, shed no tears
and wash way the pain
move along, there's nothing left
the memories are insane

build upon the lessons here
never looking back
keep on moving right along
you know the right track

I will leave you with this wish
a promise in the stars
carry love with you everywhere
and you will surely go far

guilt devours and hate distorts
and jealousy is a flame
to burn within your very core
and leave you just the same

love endures, all of these things
love can last forever
nothing else even comes close
nothing else can deliver

Roulette

the finality, the promise of nothing more
the hopelessness, the want of relief

the bottle, half empty
the gun, half full

spinning round and round
round and round

heavy and cold, pressure on my temple
sweating but unafraid, finger resting firmly

on my fate

it's too late now
it's too late

Behind the curtain

I can hear you every now and then
when you are cleaning the house
or hanging the laundry
you sing beautifully

If the breeze is just right
I catch the heavenly aroma from your kitchen
savory scents from heaven
my mouth waters

You work in the garden on the other side of the fence
(It may as well be the Great Wall)
You sound happy tending to your flowers
fragrant when they blossom

I can feel the heat on my face
and I wonder what you like to wear
One glimpe
it would all be perfect

If I could only move this curtain

of blindness

bastard, now

this blanket of discontent that warms me
will someday suffocate me,
the unwanted embrace of death follows me

i search for the truth elswhere
beyond the invisible, undeniable and plausable
i seek answers to idiotic questions,

they're my queries and they concern me
don't tell me what you think, i don't care
about your self delusional opinion

if i cared, i'd take my own interests into consideration
just let me continue my quest
stop wasting my time with your nonsense

i stopped asking you a long time ago
i was tired of non-answers, lies and fabrications
the multitude of which broke my heart

and tore me from this place
of contentment and warmth
and belief

into the storm of denial, rage and insecurity
my only treasure, my last possesion
this blanket of discontent that warms me

One child's perspective

Mom, can you please stop yelling?
Dad why are you so mad?
The door slammed again, and broke the frame.
Again.
Curses fly, why?
Don’t you love each other?
Don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand; show me so I do.
I know it’s not easy, but try.
Is that what’s in store for me?
Please, don’t yell at me! I want to know…

Does love always have to be so loud,
and hurt this much?

Men

a broken man
tried to piece together his shattered dreams
and all of his hope
unraveled at the seams

a lonely man
tried to tape together a broken home
it fell apart
he’s now all alone

a hurting man
tried to question the pain
he heard no answers
he loves in vain

one single man
tried to make a difference
he was denied
with plain indifference

a desperate man
tried to take it all
it wasn’t long
before his fall

a righteous man
once believed in love
but he learned the truth
with no help from above

a broken man
with a tear in his eye
and broken heart
gave up an died

Epitaph

Epitaph

“Move on. Be brave ,
don’t weep at my grave
because I am no longer here.
But please never let
your memory of me disappear.”

From The Spirit Carries On,
on the album Metropolis PT 2: Scenes from a Memory By Dream Theater

Have you ever seen the deaf sing?

I'm not trying to be funny, or malicious or amusing
I'm asking truthfully: did you ever see the deaf sing?

I went to a concert, but I didn't want to go
Turns out I'm a moron, I really enjoyed the show
I was impressed; beyond measurable doubt
The deaf , they can sing, without a single shout
They sway with the rythum, they move with the beat
Hands moving everywhere, the show was a treat
Maybe you're thinking, that I'm kind of dumb
They couldn't be singing, It just can't be done

I'm here to tell you this one and only thing
Without speaking a word the deaf could sing.

Okay, the poem was kind of lame. But I did attend a choir concert and the deaf did perform. They were excellent. So was a group of six teenage boys that sang a capella - they were incredible. Moral of the story: a handicap doesn't prevent the impossible, and punk ass teenage boys might be okay after all. Well, some of them, anyway.

About

About

It’s not about what we said
Or the places that we’ve been
It’s not about the hopes and dreams
Or the “what happens when…?”

It’s about this moment, now
And the others that will follow
Living our lives happily
And forgetting all the sorrow

The promise of the days to come
Can be brutally taken away
That’s why is so very important
To love each other today

I want to love you like each day will be my last
Just in case it is

And if I’m taken away
You will never have any doubts, or regrets

And I'd like you to do the same
So I will always be sure

About us, & about love

Happy Valentines Day, babe! I love you!

In the Meantime...

I've been rather busy lately, and haven't had time to sit and work on anything new. If you have read only some of my recent work, I'd like to ask that you go back and read some of my earlier work. I find it interesting that some of the pieces I've written that really move me never get commented on, while other pieces that I feel are good (but not my best work) really struck a chord with the readers. I'm thrilled that my words can evoke any kind of emotion, and I'm always happy to hear comments, positive or negative, about my work or how to make this site more interesting to you, the reader.

Again, thanks for visiting and please feel free to browse some of the work listed under the History Bites archive. I hope you enjoy the time you spend here and that you visit often.

daydreamer

Muse

I stare into the abyss, the limitless depth of the blank page
I close my eyes, dream of nothing…open them again in the murky fog of frustration
I pick up the pen; a magician’s wand, a talisman against unseen evils, a mighty sword
But the magic has failed me, the demons lurk elsewhere, the metal rusty and useless

I replace the cork in the bottle, extinguish the flame, and leave the table
The solitary piece of paper remains, centered, ready, mocking me, taunting me
I stare at the starless midnight sky, marred by sullen clouds of no shape or form
Formless, like my paper; naked, vulnerable, hateful and severe

Lying on the lumpy cot, I pull the patchwork blanket over my threadbare nightshirt
Sleep teases me when I hear a rustle on the table, the unmistakable sound of a muse
Quietly and eagerly I rise, invigorated for the chase, anxious to catch a glimpse,
A momentary peek at the process of the assembly of life on the page


And all I see is a frail old man, replacing the cork, extinguishing the flame…

Yulunga (spirit dance)

Surrounded by the rhythm
pouring out of their souls
the spirits moved with a grace
that we will never know

until our bodies fade...

A shadow of a whisper

The glow of sunset on a summer day,
Fading into the limitless darkness

The warmth of a lover’s pillow,
After they get out of bed

The texture of our favorite wine,
Shared at dinner and candlelight

The scent of a jasmine candle,
Seconds before blowing it out

The notes of a favorite song,
Fading as sleep prevails

A shadow of a whisper
Of the words “I love you”

33

Intense preparation and concentration
You never left anything to chance
Unrivaled perfection and superstition
In terms of hockey excellence

Steady, agile, mobile and quick
Graceful movements performed with ease
Utilizing blocker, pads and of course, the stick
And the famous “statue of liberty”

Shutting down the opponents
And shutting out their dreams
You’re a living legend
Borne from two different teams

Raising the bar with stellar play
Crushing the records of past heroes
You definitely played your own way
As anyone who watched you knows

Now the spotlight has inevitably shifted
And your skates are high on the shelf
The game plays on until the grail is lifted
The one you hoisted four times yourself

Ceremonial Mask

Ceremonial Mask
Circa 2800
“What’s that?” The boy pointed toward a dimly lit display case. The father took the boy’s hand and led him to the case.
“Let’s find out,” he smiled weakly, “then we have to go, okay?”
He hated these museums. He tried to hide his disdain. Who cared about these relics? Well, his son did, for one. The kid couldn’t get enough of them. And the endless questions he would ask. There would be no peace tonight.
“Wow, look at this mask. It looks really fancy and scary at the same time.” The father stared at it. It looked pitiful with it’s rough feathers and shoddy painting. His robots could do a better job.
“Ceremonial mask, circa 2800. Dad, what does circa mean?”
“Uh, what? Oh. That means that it uh, circled the planet on display at least 2800 times.”
The boy wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, why would I make that up?’
“Because you make things up when you don’t know what it means. You do that a lot.”
“No I don’t!”
“Yes, you do.” He turned back to the display. “I think this mask is beautiful. I’ll bet it’s really old. What’s it made out of?”
Hi father shrugged.
“I’ll bet ‘circa’ has to do with the time frame that the mask was used.”The father grunted, “Maybe” Angry at his son’s remarks, he stood powerless. The boy was right. The boy was always right. He’s smarter than I am. And I’m smart!
“You’re right, I don’t know what that means I don’t know what it’s made out of either. Maybe it’s a plastic biopolymer resin or a mass produced lightweight metal or something.”
"It’s very rough and ….dad, what does wood look like?”
“Wood?”
“You’ve never actually seen wood, have you?” The boy looked shocked.
“Sure, of course I….no, no I haven’t. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. Wait a minute…Trees, that’s where wood came from, trees. I have seen images of trees.” He beamed at his son, proud of himself.
“I know it came from trees, dad. What kind of tree did that wood come from?”
“What kind? Well, ah…You ask too many questions,” his father said irritated. “Always asking about this and about that? Why do you care so much about this stuff? "
The boy looked up and asked “Why don’t you care?”
“Because it’s old, it’s dead and it doesn’t matter anymore. I worry about today and tomorrow, not yesterday.” The man’s head started to ache.
“If you don’t learn from yesterday, you’ll make the same mistakes tomorrow…and the next day…and so forth.”
“What is this, philosophy??? Soon you’ll want to learn about religion! All these ancient ways don’t amount to anything now. I don’t have to remember yesterday because I don’t make mistakes!” What an incredulous child!
“That’s right, the robots and cyborgs do all the work.”
“Look, I make sure they’re working and they do their jobs young man. Those robots do what I say. They are real and important, not this...junk.”
“What happens when they are able to take care of themselves? What will you do then?”
The question nearly floored the man. “That’s unheard of!!! Robots taking care of themselves! It’s not like they’re …”
He stopped. He was going to say “smart”, but couldn’t. They were smart, smarter than him, and maybe smarter than his boy. Artificial intelligence exceeded natural intelligence. He never thought about it before. He always assumed he was in control because they never stopped or took a break, and he stood at the helm, watching. He monitored their levels and voltage, recharging and adjusting as necessary. What if they learned to do that? What if they already did do that, but still needed people just in case?
“Dad, Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. You ready to go?”
“Not yet. I want to look at this mask some more.”
His father nodded, blinded by the realization that he didn’t have the control he thought he had. I’m in charge of them, I can shut down the plant anytime I want! Can’t I? He wasn’t so sure, though. Would they try to stop him? Could they? Would they know what was going on? Several of the robots were wired into the main operating system. They programmed updates into the operating system. Of course they would know what was going on!
“Dad, what was earth like before all the robots and cyborgs?”
“I don’t know. I guess it was uncivilized, people living in the dirt, killing each other for food, wearing masks like this one. Religions killed one another in the name of their god’s. Eventually, the governments faded, religions died, and technology ruled. Just like today. That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”
“You don’t really know for sure, do you?
“No, I don’t really know. Who really knows for sure? Maybe the person that made this mask knows, but where is he now? You make it sound like I don’t know anything. Well, since you’re smarter then I am will you stop asking all these questions? Let’s get out of here!”
As they walked out, the boy asked “Dad, if I stop asking questions, how will you ever learn?”

Enveloped

The future

When I’m little…give me love
When I’m learning…give me answers
When I’m weak…give me strength
When I’m sick…give me care
When I’m lonely…give me company
When I’m thirsty…give me liquid
When I’m tired…give me rest
When I’m sad…give me happiness
When I’m hungry…give me food
When I’m broke…give me cash
When I’m stuck…give me a hand
When I’m busy…give me space
When I lie…give me an alibi

When I want…give

Because I’m entitled

No, I haven’t earned anything yet,
but you owe me, the world owes me, for debts unpaid
Give me the respect I deserve, even though I’m just a punk
I don’t got to earn nothing, stupid, this gun is all I need
So gimme, what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine
and whatever I want is mine, even if you worked hard
I’ll take the easy way, I ain’t no fool
I’m a powerful mofo, me and my piece, no, not peace
I didn’t ask to be born, so I ain’t gotta earn nothing
Just gimme

Internal revolution

The revolution is calling, hear the leaders scream
Counter-revolution beckons, on the fashion scene

Politicians on the runway
Models in the White House
The world is upside down
Life is inside out

The revolution is stewing, like a really bad dream
Counter-working geriatrics, dying to make a little green

Politicians on the take man
Models snorting up their 15
The world is all askew
Life dying out

The revolution is building, packing heat in school
Pint sized murderers, mug shot cool

Politicians turn a blind eye
Models fade away and die
The world is too rude
$60 for crude

The revolution is here, pouring out of my head
culture clashing off centered wisdom, then I'm dead

Politicians don't know me
models could care less
I'll just turn to rust
die with my lust

the revolution is over, the insurgency gone
Counter clockwise movement, broken heart song