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