It's been a long time
and I have no fire for you.
We must sit here
in the damp, against cold stone
and listen to the soft feet
tread the earth above
like the lonely,
Soon we will forget too.
The sun will no longer know us,
and the wind will be too busy
chasing the waters.
All we have is stone.
So let us wall ourselves in
and sink down into
its heavy sleep,
down to the place where
the heavy weight lifts
under the spell of dark,
down to the blackness of forgetfulness
where there is no memory.
Hypocritical to annoy.
The poor man's Rolls Royce
is the pessimists one good choice.
They live with fragility,
and rarely tranquillity.
Some weep at morbid memories,
those others at faithless fantasies,
do they (or you?) see precipices
between the then, now and will be?
So what if you take a blue bruising back-slap
for regretful whining,
miraculous hopes of a future shining
because you are wasting your time
and not even minding!
So listen, or in duller cases, read;
thoughts are nought but mares and dreams,
man made mind transparencies
physicality is reality
will's the sum of immediacies
like a life long chain reaction
you control what happens
current words for fitting actions
Pessimistic man, forget it
then time has past,
the green has faded and the light has cast,
its shadows on my path,
where then shall i wonder now to ponder how i see this life,
all in a gasp of air at night ,
under moon and stars and night owls cries and birds that sing and do not sleep,
through teary eyed lonely streets
and cold in my heart and cold in my feet
and all the people that i have known and all the places i have been shown,
a throne a harp a zither a loan ,
a painting made to make me whole,
a song a drum a passage of time,
a melting crystal a message in rhyme,
then where is this that i find myself ,
in misty morn in this old hell
and yet its warmer than the stealth of never being true to my inner most wealth,
so ways lead onwards and yet its so dark,
i see a glimmer i see a mark thats been made truly and deeply hurts,
the bare the loneliness.
So, I hear that there's a sailor in this ocean.
He's lost his way.
If you see him, hold him close
keep him warm
and tell him that he's stronger than he thinks he is.
Make him smile, again.
I have the secret code tattooed in memory
of the way
I used to know the things to say to make him smile.
But this time, the promise of eternal distance killed us
I dropped his anchors.
And tied myself to them,
Swim in these depths and chase the waves of his ship.
Drifting so deep, the darkness turns white.
I keep my distance because I know that it's best.
Miles and miles never hurt this bad
when our hearts were still aligned
And love was still kind.
I felt the ocean in my tears
and I thought of what
I never told you,
that we're from the ocean.
I read A Finger, Two Dots, Then Me.
Pilot lights, darling.
Stay shining, even if it's not really for me
I want to find you somewhere
and recognize you by your voice.
Out in space, where the planets align to play us our history
I want us to fall in love again here,
Whisper, “Oh, there you are”
There's too much to say
for this to mean anything.
This was merely a chapter in your story.
New bodies birth potential
All doomed to expiration dates
Time-stamped, good until
The date specified on the lid.
Stop wasting time
Trying to peel away the sticker;
The residue will always stay,
Collecting dirt and dust
And little strands of hair.
How many miles do feet walk
Over the span of a life?
All those inches
Use every inch.
Mandela was in a ten by ten cell
For twenty years, I think.
And when they asked how he
Survived, all that time, he said
He walked 10,000 steps a day.
All those inches in 100 square feet
Walked, generating energy from
All that friction
Enough to liberate a nation, a people.
Time stamps, expiration dates and
Inches under feet heating friction
Into energy, into life
Use every inch.
I saw a shadow moving there
beyond the trees and the grounds.
Floating slowly through the air
he came closer without a sound.
Up he came treading on the lawn,
his eyes the same hue as in life.
The picture of a time bygone
of blood and war, tears and strife.
Before him I fall on my knees -
John, the brother I could not save.
Where strong was taken by disease,
that muddied field became his grave.
Silent tears drown my anguished face.
I am sorry I failed you, John,
far from home in a foreign place,
I left you there, thought you forgone.
I wished that I had carried you
through the trenches of long ago.
I did not stay as good men do,
I left you there, I chose to go.
Without a sound, he bids me stand.
I know my time is soon to come.
I drop my cane and take his hand,
we march on to the beating drum.
Beyond the grounds, across the veil -
distant now the world lies past.
Above the sea, through the dale,
I know my time has come at last.
My day wasn't unsuccessful.
I got what done what I needed to get done.
I think the same song has been on repeat all afternoon.
Wine drunk, staring out the window.
And I mean really drunk.
And I certainly mean really staring.
It's so foggy here up on this hill.
All you can see is a blur.
The very bottom of the blur is orange,
But that is just because of the streetlights
That are out in the parking lot.
The rest of the blur is purple,
But an orange-y purple.
It kind of hurts your eyes to look at it.
But it is beautiful and sad,
And not sad like how your mother hits you
Or your cat gets cancer
Or you relapsed after four months.
It's sad like when you realize
You're 4/5ths through an amazing movie,
Or when you see a surprise military homecoming
Or you unpack in a new home.
My room mate won't be back
Until much later.
I don't mind.
I need some time
To get wine drunk and stair out the window.
And be sad.
But it's not quite as beautiful as the blur.
That's okay anyway.
I'm in love with my fiance.
And my best friend.
And my cat.
And my little sister.
And all my new dresses
That I ordered on cyber Monday.
I'll be doing just fine when they come in.
When I make it through the orange-y purple blur.
Pray for me.
Because my toes are cold,
And so are my arms, and my cheeks, and my chest.
But my eyes and my outspoken tongue are on fire.
Mark Twain asked this,
And now I want to know, too.
Why didn't anyone ever pray for Satan?
Hundreds of centuries have gone by,
And no one prayed for the man
Who could have used your kind words
The very very most?
No one is praying for Satan,
Someone better pray for me.
Maybe one of your gods will take pity.
None of mine have.
But they say I'll be doing just fine when those dresses come in.
When I make it through the blur.
I'm gonna leave it for the morning in the afterlife
And she's drunk by the day time
I bet she feels it just the same, not anymore"
You're on the other side of the internet
and I know what you believe is true
I love your writing there is nothing
that I"ve seen that moves me so
it may be only words but words like candy
all the sweet words in the world I've got
this sick feeling that I'll never get to taste
you but I never lose teeth or money when
I read your words. This is something I doubt you'd
want to hear anyone say, but I've never been
moved by any words like this. Moved to enslave
or capture their essence in you, there's a reason
why most people hide their fears so people like
me can't pry them open and drink the madness
you know this so you only leave calculated
crumbs, your pain is an addiction that I would
like to cure but I want to make a you slave for
me that makes scared sounds all day as well.
This is how I feel, true even while I'm
whispering sincerely sweet words in
your general direction and you get the
hint that I think you're pretty great for
what you've created to hide whatever it
is you think you are
I'm ready to take those
insecurites and make new scars or maybe
even open old ones for the sake of the new blood
sweeter twice sweeter then flowing
out a second time more permanently, more
of a routine. But I like you all the same but
I long for your pain to make it my pain for
I see no you only you in me I want to harm
you before you leave I cannot love you're
here in front of me you're nothing in front
me and you're words not you I'm sorry, South Park
is on, Titties and Dragons can your pain match
the distractions? I'll meet you at 2 am when
my need for release is greatest and I need
your sweet words to get off to, if you're in
to that sort of thing, too bad, because
only my needs are important. I know I
only know your face and a few hundred words you've written but in
concept you are already my slave.
If you're in to that kind of thing, listen to my words,
I will hold you till you burn
I remember before I was born
And everything was black
Before any clothes were worn
And the world gave me slack
I remember playing in the stars
Wandering in the sky
Before I knew about cars
I never knew I would die
My bliss was as large as space
I dreamed in waking and in sleep
There was no time there was no race
And in that peace never did I weep.
If love was a game I'd lose.
The pain of love is too much for me to
understand the pain of lost trust is
enough to kill your friend enough to
end your name and your life end your
being, but the gain from love is the
feeling of pride and happiness when
you look in their eyes. The feeling of
joy when you realize they are the one
you want for the rest of your life, but
Of the love
The love you crave is now the love you craved.
The joy you feel is no the joy you felt.
The love he loves is now a love he once knew.
You see? Love is a gift and a curse a pain and a spell.
What is love?
Love is a four letter word just like Pain
Just like hurt
Just like that one feeling
that you swear should never be felt...
because the last time you felt it your heart.....
"Love is pain and pain is love"
Pain shouldn't be heard in the love you deserve
The love you deserve is what will bring
You back to what you need.
What you need to be......