My mother told me
that God is everywhere:
in the music that she dances to
in the actions of others
in the words that I write, even.
He is the inspiration;
I am simply the means by which
He does His work.
But I don’t want it to be that way -
I want these words to be my own,
from my head, from my heart,
and so powerful on their own that they
sweep people off their feet with little warning and
make them think tender thoughts,
and malicious ones, too.
to make young and old alike cry
because my words have so much power.
But I want it to come from me,
not some deity
who hasn’t even given me the time of day.
Why I Kissed Your Glasses (A Love Poem)
I went to kiss your forehead
misdirected, missed my turn off,
with a seeing-eye tortoise
made of plastic.
Went to kiss your toes,
but the stunning purple hue that
decorated your toenails
shocked me into limp rigidity,
Kissed your lips tenderly, longingly,
but Coco's formulation haunted me the whole day,
Her interference needed, but let it be recorded,
It was you I loved, not her!
I kissed your fingertips so delicately,
with tenderness great,
enjoyed a vigorous nibble,
received a poke in the eye,
accidentally, of course.
Could go on and on,
but decorum forbids further revelations,
worth noting, but not composing,
still laughing at my just rewards,
the bruises resulting from my failed escapades!
All I can say is
I will be coming back soon enough.
because you are my best poem,
and the there will always be another stanza needed...
Memorial Day Weekend 2013
Hand in hand, we ran along the beach,
And free we were, with no threats of war.
You smiled. I smiled. We smiled together.
That day we pinky swore that we'd be best friends forever.
We laughed, and we giggled, until the sun went to sleep,
Then we made our way home, like lost little sheep.
But at 19 you had left and joined the army..
Haven't heard of you till December 12th...
Today They said you were gone forever
were beheaded for some stupid reasons..
I Kept remembering our childhood together...
There was not a single reason for fear..
That day when we had a wonderful day with you and so full of joy,
I dont want you dead.. Really I want You alive in my memory..
and the memories of that day, I'll always remember and enjoy.
Cold and alone on a sunny day full of people.
Where is the comfort for the frozen hands, lost with no other to hold and caress?
Where is the affection to free the body enveloped in ice from its need to feel release and burn?
Where is the spark to rekindle the fiery passion, the searing heat of a kiss to reignite the dying flames within a lonely heart?
Where is the love that screams to be more than just friends?
Where are you?
When tomorrow is a grey day
Nothing is okay
When the clouds blanket the sky
When we've grown cold as ice
It's too late
The clouds, blanket the sky and let nothing pass
Cover up, everything that could have last
A blanket, of sorrow and unending pain
I can't think, the anger I feel blocks my reality
When tomorrow is a grey day
Nothing is okay
When the clouds blanket the sky
When we've grown cold as ice
Like my love
A cold breeze, blows hard from every direction
Surrounded, as I walk down a lonely road
I'm silent, as I search through the memories I hold
Become sad, as the grey from the clouds sinks into the world and makes it monochrome
I sit in the sun room, I am shaded for the sun
is only newly risen, low slung, just above the horizon,
behind me, over my shoulder, early morn warm
Slivers of sun rays yellow highlight the wild green lawn,
freshly nourished by torrential rains of the prior eve
The wind gusts are residuals, memoirs of the hurricane
that came for a peripheral visit, your unwanted cousin Earl,
in town for the day, too bad your schedule
is fully booked, but he keeps raining on you,
staying on the phone for so long, that the goodbye,
go away, hang up relief is palpable
The oak trees are top heavy with leaves frothy like a new cappuccino,
the leaves resist the sun slivers, guarding the grass
from browning out, by knocking the rookie rays to and fro,
just for now, just for a few minutes more,
it is advantage trees, for they stand taller in the sky
than the youthful teenage yellow ball
I sit in the sun room buffered from nature's battles external,
by white lace curtains which are the hallmark
of all that is fine in Western Civilization,
and my thoughts drift to suicide.
I have sat in the sun room of my mind, unprotected.
with front row seats, first hand witness to a battle unceasing
Such that my investigations, my travails along the boundary line
between internal madness and infernal relief from mental pain
so crippling, is such that you recall begging for cancer or Aids
Such that my investigations, my travails along the sanity boundary
are substantive, modestly put, not inconsiderable
Point your finger at me, demanding like every
needy neurotic moderne, reassurance total,
proof negative in this instance, of relevant expertise!
Tell us you bona fides, what is your knowing in these matters?
Show us the wrist scars, evidential,
prove to us your "hands on" experiential!
True, true, I am without demonstrable proofs
of the first hand, my resume is absent of
razors and pills, poisons and daredevil spills,
guns, knives, utensils purposed for taking lives
Here are my truths, here are my sums
If the numerator is the minutes spent resisting the promised relief
of the East River currents from the crushing loneliness that
consumed my every waking second of every night of my years of despair
a denominator that is my unitary, solitary name,
then my fraction, my remainder, is greater than one,
the one step away from supposed salvation...
Yet, here I am sitting in the sun room buffered from
nature's battles by white lace curtains which are the hallmark
of all that is fine in Western Civilization
I am a survivor of mine own World War III,
carnaged battlefields, where white lace curtains,
were not buffers but dividers tween mis en scenes,
variegated veins of colored nightmares, reenactments of
death heroics worthy of Shakespeare
Did I lack for courage?
Was my fear/despair ratio insufficient?
These are questions for which the answers matter only to me,
tho the questions are fair ones, my unsolicited voyeur,
they are not the ones for which I herein write,
for they no longer have relevance, meaning or validity,
for yours truly
I write poetry by command, by request, good or bad,
this one is a bequest to myself, and also a sidecar for an old friend,
who asked in passing to write what I know of suicide,
unaware that the damage of hurricanes is not always
visible to the naked heart
These hands, that type these words are the resume of a life
life line remains scarred, but after an inter-mission, after an inter-diction, an inter-re-invention
in a play where I was an actor who could not speak
but knew every line, I am now the approving audience too...
But I speak now and I say this:
There are natural toxins in us all,
if you wish to understand the whys, the reasons,
of the nearness of taking/giving away what belongs to you,
do your own sums, admit your own truths
query not the lives of others, approach the mirror...
If you want to understand suicide,
no need to phone a friend, ask the expert,
ask yourself, parse the curtains of the
sun room and admit, that you do understand,
that you once swung one leg over the roof,
gauged the currents speed and direction,
went deep sea fishing without rod or reel
and you recall it all too well, for you did the math
and here I am, tho the tug ne'er fully disappears,
here I am, here I am writing to you,
as I sit in the sun room.
Memorial Day, 2011
I was told once then I was told twice
But when you told me it blew my mind
I thought in you I could confide
You don't even realize how much that hurt inside
And yet this pain and loneliness I try to avoid
I still want to be with you
I will forgive you for what you do
I need to drive this pain away
Maybe just for one more day
So for now take my hand and never go
What happens now we only know
This is my sweet addiction no one needs to know.
she left me
i always knew she would.
and so she did.
bella means beautiful, and somehow even without an L
it meant so still
why can't friendships just be perfect
i would have stayed her friend for as long as she wanted me
she didn't want me anymore.
i walked down a dirt path the other day
and i held our friendship in my hands, i cradled it,
i carried it to her room and set it on her bed
along with pieces of our lives
when i set it down i felt a pain in my chest
i looked down
shards of my heart
30 hours with 45 minutes sleep. Busy day today, much work to do and roll through on a hill that's steep. Thoughts run deep, intoxicated by events. Some things are meant to happen, no use in trying to prevent. I just want to vent, soul exposure. Thinking about people with whom there may be no closure. Head in the sky as people and houses fly by. Acceptance is a choice one must utilize, don't just try. Pandora's box, you know what will happen when you pry. Send me some good vibes, my body's feeling low. Deeply rooted into a sea of cravings and mystery, so I know there's room to grow. Shaken world superstorm, I thrive on the unknown. We'll see how it goes, how one will survive. Count your blessings now, and be happy that at least you tried. I've had to hide, the person I was to please. Through this I've accumulated a vast mass of mental fees. Feel the breeze, it's real and energizing. Beware of thoughts that breed illness, no matter how hypnotizing. Realizing new things on a daily basis. I've pushed myself to extremes, now the nature of everything is making me face it. A train's coming, slowly I step off the tracks. It cuts through the land, reminding you it's best not to go back. Memories are moments, we know they won't last. Just don't dictate your future, based on what happened in the past.
This time it's Fate.
No longer can I pretend
for we have run out of track
and we must stop now
lest we careen over the ghastly drop before us
lest our hearts inevitably smash to smithereens.
There's a small vice on my heart
that you turned incrementally since the day we kissed
Always there was space to manoeuvre
a gap to shift around in and say, 'That's better'
to comfortably fool myself that I was not caught.
But now, my dear....
Now the grip leaves me gasping
and that metal feels cold
and I cannot ignore it.
The trouble is
I kissed your elegant, beautiful face
and I guided your hand to that vice in my chest
and enveloped your fingers with mine
We turned those keys together.
I was so enamoured
and I wanted your love.
I told myself I could get out at any time.
Too late, my love
It was always too late
For we're kindred souls across lifestyles
and my body knows yours like the taste of my tears.
I resign myself, then, to bleeding.
I resign thee to Fate and what she may decide
knowing only that never shall I be your jailor.
I refuse to allow
that wild tempest soul to be anything but free.
I am happy to be caught.
Though I writhe with this pain
and slumber eludes me in my misery.
For one thing I have realised
is the depth of my cowardice.
Although yours came out as tenored and trembling
you still had the bravery to speak the words emblazoned on your heart
the ones that threatened to fall from your lips
as my head lay perfectly in situ against your collarbone
and my heartbeat and breathing lined up with yours
in our quiet symbiosis at 3 a.m.
I danced around the words
flitted lightly, noncommittal
and said 'I think I'm falling in love with you',
which was a lie.
You are far braver than I
and to this day I've run
but you deserve far greater than that which I have meted out to you.
You deserve honesty.
You deserve the breadth and depth of what my heart aches to tell you
though I am frightened beyond words that the vice can go no tighter.
I love you.