I am turning up the volume
On this symphony in my soul,
I am silencing all interruptions
From the world's static here below.
I am participating in life's mysteries
Inviting new adventures in my life,
I am nourishing my hungry spirit
Pruning my mind with wisdom's knife.
Calmly lost in rich vibrant colors
In life's imagery pool I drown,
Peacefully searching for reconciliation
Of my past, my future
and
my now.
When I look back,
I remember Montpelier is where I started.
Things were simpler, the days were easier, and everything was brighter.
It’s amazing how much has changed since then.
Back then I didn’t worry about school.
Education was free, I loved learning, and recess was invigorating.
But now, school has conquered my mind with questions like:
Can I pay next year?
What about loans?
Can I keep my scholarship?
Will I have to drop out?
The struggle is alive people, and if you don’t realize it will eat you alive.
Over the years, friends have decreased, family members deceased…
Days have grown longer, and the years have become harder.
My chromatic days filled with vibrant colors have faded away…
The lively colors of my youth have faded away to black, white, and somber greys.
Black carries the bad times, the uncertainty, the doubt.
These times are constant…
White carries the pockets of sunshine within your life…
The good days, when everything is going right, or when a certain special person steps in your life.
And, the grey carries those days where you just don’t know…
Those days where you are stuck in the mundane cycle, constantly trying to find your drive.
I just wonder, where did those vibrant days go?
Because most days I am stuck in the greys…
And, simply, I just do not where did Montpelier go?
- j.m.
I was only eighteen when you gave me my first kiss.
I was so nervous I nearly missed.
I was smiling so much you kissed my teeth.
You said after just one month “I love you” and my heart dropped.
I said “I love you too”, but I knew I couldn’t love you that soon.
It was the perfect summer love,
a summer haze.
I was half innocent
and half negligent.
You, were infatuated.
Then one day you moved away and we agreed our love would remain.
I missed you dearly.
It hurt not to have you near me.
I couldn’t take it anymore and I said “baby here I come!”
You said “Shit, here she comes”
What happened?.
You showed your true colors.
Suddenly your words fluttered.
I then knew your feelings had changed.
I thought for while.
You thought for a while.
I knew you were to weak to do it so I did it for you.
I told you “I guess its over, congratulations your the first person to break my heart”.
I had saved my first kiss,
To have it end like this?.
At the moment I was in shock and wasn’t sad at all.
The next day was hell my heart still had your spell.
I wanted to take my heart
out so I wouldn’t feel anymore.
The pain was unbearable.
I would've loved you forever.
Now its been four years and my heart belongs to another,
now my heart flutters.
It’s funny how one nail takes out another.
I saw you once more and my heart felt for you no more.
You called and wrote but sorry my love is no longer yours.
And what’s ironic is that history repeats itself.
Now that other who replaced you is being replaced with someone new.
So now I have learned that life goes on and love kills no one.
You know the kind of sad
That makes your ears ring
Makes your throat close up
Makes everything around you turn to a blur of colors.
The kind of sad where
Holding in all the tears
Still won't make a difference
For the ugly you feel inside.
The kind of sad where
You want people to know
But at the same time
That would mean exposing yourself
To vulnerability.
The kind of sad where everything in your core fights against you
Tells you to stay strong
But in the end
You know it will consume you.
It will always
Get the best of you.
Emptiness got me thinking about you
Escaping my troubles by thinking about you
Tiny fables of your face in my memory
how could it make me this happy
Let me be happy
Erase what exists
Make whatever we want
Whatever we miss
Let's dance till we kiss
Roam the world
explore that and this
Flee my soul
Flee my mind
Go to where ever there's no time
make it okay for us to stay
Looking at each other
Like friends or like lovers
like there's no others
No one to bother
Let's be birds or lovers
Love one another
Color the sky
Color the moon
Color me With all the colors of you
With your scent
With your smile
Color me color my mind
let's laugh the night away
Laugh till you feel the freckles
Feel it tickles going up to the heart
Let's Never stay apart
So Color me
Color me your Misses
how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations
guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.
one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.
my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.
i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did
oh
said i
you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african
childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows
what you'd
look
like
tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family
who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls
wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love
well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep
hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another
but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone
this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood
why
why
why.
the cruelty
but
yet
still
and
for
ever
(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)
you always make me laugh, still
the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives
the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.
siblings
be strong the
good kind of
dangerous
is
the
fire
just be
around
(this is real
hope: in the
searing agony
of human
existence,
the fire of
your love
is burning)
psalm 107
We dance soft, contained, closed-
-careful not to show.
We are safe within the lines.
Seeping out between the cracks,
coming to the surface,
are the real colors:
Wild. Beautiful. Broken.
Courage is in the simplicity:
bare feet on wood,
air in our lungs,
-a tiny beating-
a calling deep within our bones.
We dance imperfect and raw,
our bodies finding the voice that shouts to be heard.
We dance freedom, vulnerability;
the struggle of sunrise.
Unraveling,
we let ourselves be seen.
We throw, crash, release, open.
I feel your hand grab my arm,
and the way you hold me sews my heart together.
We are one.
We are separate.
Pulling back each piece
from the animals,
humanity,
the stars,
we are humbled by what we’ve created,
by each other,
ourselves.
Sweet things have no words,
only nods and sharp giggles
over gasping for water.
In these moments
I know there is something more.
the corner of my fetal
mind paste
what about the skin of demons
the shadow that turns away
a slow placid individual
hollow from everywhere the caution of snow-wheels
cling to manifest
the picture burning inside an apartment for rent
outside walls carried memory of days
eyes and bones demand face
what if nobody’s here
the idea
myself as sunshine with so much to offer easier
what is the difference
the sentence that defines
unbelief the chain
breaks I wish
dilate the never-belief
wondering effect paste my semen on your voice
an animal feel i cannot deal with your sense
an unborn skull
the wallowing feet under cypress
skies of fleece and miniature dogmas
slices of fragments red purple green crows sound
the deep drum beat i accept
where i fall
a flashing voice collapsing towards the inside
throwing punishment the idea that i am foliage
corresponding thought process that machines never
agree
pale doledrum insomnia my hands
the lines of another car
the breath of being manipulated
killing instant
the shoehorn a new salt visiting magnolia
a knee high minute falling upside
my carpe diem fuck fist theory
and all day i plead for the corrosion to move within you
the system eating itself into oblivion
i announce it when ears are in rooted to the floor
i had a dream of a jesus picture on a fanbelt
curved penis shit on the outside
apocalypse on my lips
fumes down on the floor
a few hours’ days
gone
i am stripped
speechless walking home
for me
can this be your silence pregnant with strange
looseness in its belly
stars fragile your arms
pins forced into throat calming
touch faking the vomit sounds of avocado
thursday lust
driven into soiled ground
crumbling face in another room they lay your hands on
me
a fragrance of wings missing
an unexplained
dense and unchanged
kind of melting from you
i give in
the shoulder manufactures what is real to the sound
life is liveable
nothing accepted when offered
the thought process of engines
an angry naked shout
the underbelly of hanging
to what i show you
baking soda explosives
cake walk fixations on the vaginas of modern andromeda
i hope to never be lost with your sanctuary
dog sized emotions
a world punching out its timecard from the slot
a season for betrayals
the mantra of your dreams
dead enough to explain myself
a sunken cheek caring for the sun
a sweet lullaby placing of hand
the round syndrome between the
whores thighs
the strings attached are anything but labeled
upstairs is another passenger
first name last name
instead
mute all that is here
ashes
unnecessary you
the collective harm of all those images which if excluded contain
the replacement address of my kidney being
molested
or is it the usage of hiding
anything
dove’s postage junk mail
what you’ve seen before
the cost of being asked two days late
my fluorescent teeth the talk of spit blood
and shit
magnification of insects
the body moves
fondled colors blend
a nipple
the cervix the cortex of beethoven
no answer yet
on the verge of letting
go
wall of trees
a crowd of tongues the simple denial of light
my envelope seed
in cornucopia grinding
teeth machine a pullover switchblade
wake up from me
given the distant sun wrapped in
pissed on clothes my miracle
tomorrow
your fingers in me contemplating the ounces
of an inch thick sore
calmly anything in surrounding
distortion a weight of idle hands
needles
the acid belly
fortress within
your tourniquet
the victim of my believing in you
silent dead motionless
butterflies cradle the eyes
in the slit of dawn’s early malice
complacent and mind full
the choke hold is apparent in you
i wanted it
heart and throat convulsions the situation derives in itself
the wondering thought
your sickness dives among our pussy oiled mouths
spread like a homeless saint
save your self from the outside of me
as i look up you dissolve
the undeniable number of times
i spent inside you
it beats on
one short felt breath
my time is gone
everything’s alright
on my back
seeing unreal reasons for wanting
a crawling thought a
slip off the hand
grinding small animals the
door opens still life asphyxiation
the roundness of my echo
inside this explosion I ask for
blind allegiance to your vomit
the simple duration of lust and gasping
acquaintances I have had
but all in tiny dreams that
eat away at my intestines
and rows or birds wait for their turn at me
for empty boxes cold whispers
and dead words
are what is left
**Another Marvin O'Hannigan Fillimigroo Write
.............................
Marvin O'Hannigan Fillimigroo
Did not like the color blue.
It was far too blue,
To suit his taste.
He would have preferred
To unblue blue
Post-haste.
He did not care for the color red,
Or the shade it made
Inside his head.
For it was far too red
To suit him, so
The red, he said,
Would have to go.
Every subtle hue of purple he
Disliked with such intensity
Both his eyebrows would curl tight
And he'd grit his teeth with all
His might,
Insisting, as young
Marvin would,
That the color purple
Was of no good.
And in his own clever
Point of view,
Marvin O'Hannigan Fillimigroo
Believed that orange filled no purpose.
And that pink was nothing but a circus.
Both dreadful colors,
With shades and hues
No eight year old
Would ever choose.
He was, of course,
So very clear
He did not want a yellow near.
That color racked inside his head
Of things his Uncle Phil had said,
That yellow comes from garden slugs,
And oozes from the ears of bugs,
That yellow is what's left behind
When a katydid sneezes on the window blind.
It is the shade of yuck, as Marvin would say,
And he planned to keep that yuck away.
But on Sunday, May the twenty-third,
Marvin was certain he had heard
A greenish sound from way outside,
Beyond the neighbors subdivide.
He took the stair steps three by three
And ran out back under the tree
And looked as high as he could see,
When he noticed first a honey bee.
It buzzled up and through the dew
That glistened off the young bamboo.
Then disappeared into the light
That made the morning seem so bright.
He closed his eyes and listened more,
Which gave him ample reason to explore
The ups, the downs, the highs, the lows,
And wherever the greenest green-thing grows.
The sound he heard within the breeze
Made its way through the sycamore trees,
And he hunted low, then hunted high
This green-green sound that whispered by.
It harbored near the kettledrum,
Which was now the haunt of old chewing gum,
And he crept upon it from the side,
Without a sound, his brown eyes wide.
There was a charribbit, then a snizz,
Followed by a brumping, breathing whizz,
And he followed that collumping sound
To the kettledrum, and looked around.
There it was,
His green-green thing.
'Twas the greenest green
He'd ever seen.
With eyes that watched him watch it back,
As clever as a yellow jack.
It had four green slimy feet
Hidden in the loaming peat,
And plops for toes that plopped to here,
Nothing an eight year old should ever fear.
Marvin O'Hannigan Fillimigroo
Nodded primly deep inside,
Stared down at the green-green thing
With an inkling of real pride.
"Now that's a color," he said at last,
"The very best I've ever seen!"
And from then on the only color he liked
Was the green-green-green of green.
..................................................
Copyright © 2010 Richard D. Remler
......................................
“It always looks darkest just
before it gets totally black.”
-Charlie Brown
.......................................
without you in my life,
the world becomes nothing,
a colorless place where life ceases to be happy.
the sky goes gray,
clouds shift over.
all the colors of the world leak out,
away from everything.
the most beautiful flowers loose their brightest hues.
air grows thicker as it gets harder to breathe,
almost like loosing a lung,
though assured my body is whole.
trees leaves look dead in spring,
brown and dry.
the sun beams down hotter than ever,
the moon brings the coldest weather.
the stars dim in the sky,
like they have lost their inner fire,
so the darkest clouds cover them,
as a thick woolen blanket.
all beauty dies or despairs,
hidden away for better times.
when you are around.
....
