Old Navigators,
Where they go or dream,  
Doesn’t matter.
As long as there is still,
Somewhere to go.

Meanwhile I'll just sit on the edge,
Well ahead of the crowd,
Waiting for the train to eternity.
Where it goes does anybody know?

While I wait,
I’ll sit on this deck,
I’ll dangle my feet in the warm sea,
Look at the sights.

And I’ll enjoy it all,
With the spirit I was given.
Perhaps I’ll whistle a tune while I wait,
Even if it is bad luck,
It hardly matters.

Maybe I’ll write in the log book.
And if someone after me reads the entry,
That’s fine.
And if they don’t,
That’s fine too.

I was a fool.
A fool that believed,
And on your stage,
I acted my part flawlessly,
The way you wanted me to be.

The tears slide down my cheeks.
It's been a rough few weeks.
I try to rise, to move, to stir;
But all I can do is cry
Into her fur.

Her tail flicks over my arm.
It stings from fresh self harm.
I sob in tandem with her purr
'cause all I can do is cry
Into her fur.

Her rough tongue scratches my nail.
I stifle a broken wail.
My vision's nothing but a blur,
Since all I can do is cry
Into her fur.

I cannot surmount my situation.
I'm fighting a war above my station.
Perhaps someday some change I'll spur.
Till then, I only cry
Into her fur.

i am lost in the mirror
in the haze of a stare
her face is fading static
not to last
the mirror
gets the last laugh

this lyric licks your face,
leaving you-salty-caramel
smiling, while listening to Janis, singing
”(You Don’t know What It Is Like) to Love Somebody”

no babe,
nothing lasts,
not you, not love,
not me,
no matter how hard you
rhyme, theorize,
forget and memorize,
life’s only constant is
constantly refreshing all,
endlessly remembering
and forgetting how to
hold on to a heart, to love...

sometime a breeze, usually a hurricane,
comes along, prying your hands
off what you got, or,
prying your eyes away
onto something new, cause
that’s just the way it is
with human foolishness,
you gotta
“to walk, talk,
rhyme and theorize,
forget and memorize,
always refreshing,
knowing that
nothing lasts”


until it maybe does...









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“To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts, except things that last forever, last never, poems and decisions needing completion, choices, reordering songs loved best, replete all sorrowed pains, uplifting prayers, hallelujah hymns, last rites....”^



—————————————————————-

You’re much like the rain,
You can be soft or heavy,
Or kind to my drought.

Although we can’t be together in this
Life,
we’ll be together in the next
I lay next to a desk
With your picture of you,  
I have a knife,
On my chest,
Waiting for what’s next,
I’ll meet you on
The flip side,
My love.

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

If my fate is to love you
From a distance
Then I'll burn for you
Like a star in your night sky
Bright, steady, reliable
Unwavering
Until the end of time.

Your sycophantic embraces make my blood wail like a siren.
My whimsical musings running amok, did I want you to change?
Dolefully, no! You're my drop of normalcy in a whirling sea of ***!

I feel like I'm living in grey.
The things that once made me spiral
Into a mess of tears or jump for joy
Don't seem to have any affect on me.

Im neither happy, or sad.
I'm just in a constant state
Of numbness, and I wish...
I wish I knew if this was the calm
Before an ugly black storm.

In the washroom
my reflection
and I,
Challenge one another-

A coagulated sweat,
A Combat baby's brain,
A moon that doesn't set-
Ascending constant strain...
Oh Anxiety, Paranoia,
Obsession and Depression,
Still perhaps, a poem just might
set free this true confession:
Confusion and  Delusion
The mirror's blunt conclusion
Pristiq, and then Welbutirn,
Art's  inclusive-type solution.

another one's challenge;
my Reflection , and I
In the

Washroom.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

the stars came from two things
one that comes from dust
and the other from her eyes

Slow down,
What are you running from?
Wait now.
What are your demons?
Rest child.
I promise the sun will come out
in the morning.
Just believe in yourself.
You can make it through.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

Ego is nothing but the insecurities
hiding behind sarcastic raised voices.

Bouquet of pink roses wrapped in conversations
All I wanted was to see you happy and fill the vase
Your door will never be wide open for this affection
But I'm happy that I'm allowed at the doorstep place
Because I'm the lucky winner of past rejections
I'm bad at connecting strings and keeping bonds
Yet the doorbell still rings a welcoming sound
And when I stand on the welcome mat, the world warms
Because I'm the lucky winner in your embracing arms

i'm a crownless queen
left to wander the wastes
searching for a princess
with whom i can replace

Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

The distant hollow of the high mountain pass
swallows the setting sun as it steals away southbound
behind the coastal mountain's tangerine sunset hued silhouettes
Mulberry plashed shadows pointing northward
across the evergreens outstretched dimming,
beneath the waning fade of each fleeting eventide

Sundown ebbing asunder the wafting daylight,
each gloaming of the day, helplessly a moment sooner past,
transfixed further south beyond yesterday's passing azure
The lazy days of summer escape unbounded,
nomadic as the sea I've seen sail away before;
evanescent as the beauty of the bloom summer days beheld
and the memory of the fragrance they exhale

The nebulous weight of the gravity is consciously denied
by the truths a human heart beholds
A moment’s epiphany afflicts like a rogue wave in a calm sea;
the only thing my heart ever wanted remains out of reach

Everything my heart needs consciously surrendering
to the poignant passing moment's beauty,
the falling sun at distance sets more suddenly now
Lost in the undeniable certainty
life's imminent season's change

Eyes drawn stubbornly from presence to a sky so far away,
knowing there'll be no restitution for the welling sense of loss...
A bitter sweet song mummers in the silence of the absorbing spell,
summer's sun stained pages of watermarked soul scribbles,
time tattooed reparation for the indelible ache
of a harsh grey winter loneliness

Perhaps too familiar, this whelming Déjà vu
that tears my soul;     that tugs at these roots
but cannot sever their sacred grasp
But for now, eyes fixed to the sun's
inevitable tightening tether hence —
to wear weary each fraying thread's  impending break

Each sunset leans a deeper angle southward
as it slips down through the firwood shadows;
illuminating other faraway latitudes
far beyond the distant horizon skies

The preordained continuum unfolding what will be ...


someone you used to know ... September 11, 2017 ... 7:30 PM

I am a beautiful imperfection
I am an unfinished work of art
I am flawed and bruised beyond recognition
So many ugly scars covers my heart.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

No one will remember
if it was the ocean
or the river -
just fun in the sun
the sand and the water
under a blue sky -
or the fever
they caught there
on the 4th of July.

I wonder if poetry is
a humble attempt to reduce
the magnificence or terror of dreams
to words.

Healing leaves are now disrobed branches
on the edge of this wilderness.
Many tall Douglas Fir stand sentinel
over 100 foot tall amazing grace — the fleeting leaves
expose the beauty of the moss clad scaffolds
adorned with a lime-grey lichen lace
Nature is my refuge — solid ground to stand
in this harmony and peacefulness.


Jesse Stillwater — December 2018

Wait in your eyes
Looking out of window
Few minutes seem like forever

That restless walk
That slight nod of head
The noisy and the sensitive

The nearing footsteps
The wait is over
Door opens and you're in my arms

"My four legged friend
Your treats are here
And yes I love you too!"

Find me infinity
So we can travel there together.