There are some friends you'll see everyday
You need them, you need friends who you can hang out with, friends that you have your niceties with, ones that the world will so readily recognize you with during the day
The ones who can't know what you did in the dark

There are some you see when there's blood in the air
You need them too, you need friends who you can fight with, friends who can hold their own, ones that the world will know that **** is going down when you're with them
The ones who helped you with what you did in the dark

You need both, because someone's song needs to know what you did in the dark
because your daytime friends are no help in the dark

Beloved*
my heart is brimming with gratitude
for the gift of new life

as tiny hands grasp my fingers
and I listen to tiny breaths
I feel my heart filling with joy and thanks
for the ability to love and be loved

may new life begin in me,
so I may keep welcoming life

Beloved
thank you for helping me walk though the darkness,
so I can bask in the light now

there is an inner light that lives in me and
in the life of this little one that I hold
The only words that rises to my lips are
"thank you I love you"

Here, and over here -
The fortunate sons

Those who made it home
To fields and hills of native tongue
In the soil their people toiled
- They listen quietly when we come


There, and over there -
Beneath crossed lines too many

Still - they man the trenches
Along the Marne and Somme
Below the woods of Belleau
And the forest of Argonne

No sonnets in a foreign language
Rendered where they languish -
The distant rest far and away
In a cold November grave


We should remember
Here and there
The old lie -

And the young.

r ~ 11/11/14

We were both
Lonely ******* in the night
Awaiting something
Anything to come by
So we can pounce and devour.
I crept by you,
Looking for something
Anything to talk to,
To know me as just simply
Me.
But you pounced first,
And I became your something
Anything,
And now here  I am,
With you as more than my
Something anything
But more like my
Everything.

Dying slow in the mountains seemed much easier than simply breathing at sea level.

I've been thinking that maybe I was happier when I was still drinking.

I tried to write a poem called Pointless and never made it beyond the title.

Dying seems easier than breathing at sea level.

r ~ 11/7/14