Sometimes you make it seem
Those tears that overflow
Will stab the heart of
Out will ooze the blood
The painful memories,
Splattered across the walls
Is the pain that won't ever cease
Can you hear the sound of
Can you hear the flowing
The neverending pain
Once you begin
You can never start again.
I feel your presence,
each night that I get lonesome.
I feel your presence,
each morning that I force myself to get through the day.
And I miss you so much.
And I feel crazy, insane, depressed.
That I can't see or feel or hear of you, no more.
Each time I meet strangers,
all I could see, are full of dangers.
I'm so caught up with you.
I'm so in love with you.
But you died in the morning of may.
Just a year ago...
and my thoughts of you, can never go away.
Here I am, just thinking about you, and if you were here today,
I just want you to know,
how much I truly loved you.
But I can't live this sickness of missing you,
I want to move on.
Because you're completely gone.
I want to fall in love again.
I want to fall asleep, peacefully again.
Without having to even count up to ten.
But you will forever be a part of my heart.
But tomorrow is a new day,
and that will be the day we need to be apart.
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
Its the end of
A new eara hope
This Makes it more
Clearer cos when im
Done im gonna disapear
Back to my kingdom
Of freedom I fear none
I am part of a wasted youth
I speak from my heart so its always truth
I found no proof to
Or why I was forced to
Listern to your words which were suppose to be wisdom
All they lead me to was
Prison real nightmares
Your vision of hell but here
I am with this story to tell
I am a sick man with a
And thats to stand on
My own feet and fight
With no option of defeat
Compete at the highest
Cos im righteous with a pen
So I might just come one
Better then them
The rest who have to
Struggle with breath
When there put to the test
I cause stress and aggravation
I will die for this spot I stand on no hesitation
This is my only dedication
To leave the human minds in pre-occuptions
With my rhymes and documentations
No lie.s just facts making
Marks on national flags
Like hoodlumes spraying
Tags on walls but I.ll do it for a cause to free all inocent CRIMINALS !!!!!!!!
Jesus woke me up at 1:30 a.m.
He told me to tell you that
there are some people that
you just can't please.
No matter what we need or
what ask for, we want miracles
and we want them now, and
yet we all have a desire but
we refuse and forget to get
down on our knees in prayer.
Jesus, I want this and I want
that, we want Him to make
a mountain of treasures for
us, sometimes we use and
we're most likely to abuse.
Jesus has a pure and clean
heart and He's a very willing
and cheerful giver, all He ask
is that we kneel down to Him
and pray for it's an easy task.
Some of us won't get to
share all of His mercy and
His glory. Jesus wants us to
know that we can all contact
Him anytime and believing
His incredible bible story.
He doesn't want to be the
only one working fulfilling
our daily needs, we need to
show Him some humility by
falling to our knees in prayer.
Much too late
of what her father
Fay went with you
to the Globe cinema
in Camberwell Green
a right fleapit of a place
but the film
you wanted to see
was on there
all about the Old West
and after it was over
and you came out
into the bright sunlight
your eyes felt
after the darkness
of the cinema
what did you think?
yes it was good
not the sort of film
Daddy would have let me see
well he won't know
you've seen it
unless he asks me
then I'll have to
tell him the truth
why would he ask?
you looked at her
with her fair hair
and lovely blue eyes
he might ask me
what I have done today
her eyes beginning
to show signs of fear
maybe he won't
just tell him
you've been studying
she looked at her hands
he doesn't like America
well you don't have to
like something to study it
I have to do it all week
maybe he won't ask
she said softly
looking at you
fiddling with her fingers
tell him something else
talk about a butterfly
you saw on the bombsite
she looked at you
you don't know him
he'll ask me
what sort of butterfly
and I won't know
and he'll know
I've been lying
and that will mean
she looked up the street
toward the bus stop
we had better be getting back
he'll be home soon
and took her hand
and walked toward
the bus stop and waited
for the bus
if I told my mother
the truth all the time
she'd have a nervous breakdown
it's more kinder
to keep her happy
in innocent bliss
of what I get up to
Fay looked haunted
and was silent
she still held your hand
a fading bruise just visible
on her upper arm
where her dresses sleeve
how about some ice-cream
when we get back
I've got a Shilling
given to me
by my old man yesterday?
ok I’d like that
and when the bus
you both got on
and sat next
to each other
watching the scenes
of passing people
and traffic go by
but a special place
in your mind and heart
next to you
quiet and shy.
Those pretty little words
Tickle my finger tips as I write
Invade my thoughts as I think
Dance upon my tongue as I speak
Warm my heart as it beats.
Those pretty little words
Make sense where sense was not before.
It would be so easy to give those three little
Those pretty little words
Can hurt so deeply as well
So I will wait for the
Perfect time to tell
You I love
Underneath pale spring skies
to everyone's surprise
'The Wanderers' returned telling tales of omnipotence
and the relevance of a divinity
I heard nothing
I was deafened by the noise from the laughter of the girls and boys so filled with glee
that 'The Wanderers' had seen fit to see
to find their way and come home to be
with them and you and me.
I don't know where they went or how they spent those,
lonely days when I would gaze with fear set solid in my heart
and wonder how it is that being apart
is so painful.
I keep my eye on those that take it in their mind to fly away.
But what is day without the night
and night without the dawn?
Storms may come and go but this is what I know
will always be the hope and the guardians set by the gate
of those who wait
Somewhere within the levels of the conscious
between the bowels of the deep and
the deepness of my thought
I am caught
in the secrets that I keep
in the darkness of my sleep where
I cry in waterfalls of tears and joy
the unhappiness of fears
employ and use me
or so it seems.
These dreams see fit to haunt me
and sleeping draughts have no effect.
This dissatisfaction that I feel
peels away and when the day has come
wonder why the sun still lights the sky
and wonder why it does not light my heart.
Do I need to look upon the charted stars up there
to understand myself and know just where and when
I go to then
will that make me a better man
if I learn to understand the master plan
and is there such a map.
'I need a slap to wake me up' but I think that's a fallacy
dreamers like me need no such thing.
Each morning I bring a bucket to the well with wishes in my head
and these are fed up through the day
into my conscious thought
and once again I find I'm caught
my thoughts should pay attention to what is going on
before I even know it
the fleeting hours have run away
The night would say,
'it serves you right you've got what you deserve,
I reserve the right to kick against the night
and rest my case.
Been lonesome when you didn’t enter that university where your closest friends did?
Bet you even cried like a mad kid
Been completely discouraged when you were obliged to take the course which was never your option?
It didn’t even interest you a bit, not to mention
Been upset when you found out that your first love still flirts with a whole lot of pretty girls in his campus?
Surely did hurt even more if he’s still the one your heart does choose
Been depressed when you failed a major subject last term?
But still, you showed everybody that you’re positive and firm
Ever wondered why all those had to happen
And left your mind and soul somewhat misshapen?
If you could control your life completely, would things have happened differently?
Whatever your answers may be, take the following cause there’s nothing much better than reality
If you entered that university where your closest friends did,
Would you meet the circle of friends whom you’re now always with?
If you didn’t take the course you were told to,
Would you learn that you have the potential to create a professional out of you?
If you didn’t find out that your first love still flirts with some pretty girls like other men do,
Would you ever have any reason to forget him, if you wish to?
If you didn’t fail that major subject last term,
Would you have the same motivation you have right now to do way better next term?
We never could control the things that would happen to us like breathing
Cause if we could, life would definitely lose its meaning
We may not always experience the life that we wanted
But we would always live through the seed of life that He planted