The lovers and the fighters
both know that bitter
sweet tinge of struggle.
They are also the free souls
who deliver truth and emotion
upon apathetic servants.
Adorned in empty gray suits,
the mob lives only to criticize
those who rise above
the mundane.

-Ron Gavalik

Laying on my back
in the alley,
drunk and sick,
I gazed at the blanket of stars.
The cosmos above revealed
itself as an endless sea
of lost hopes
and sacred prayers.
In that moment,
I was free.

-Ron Gavalik

There are people who love
what you do.
Others will always hate
what you do.
The majority have no idea.
Those are the souls
I observe on sidewalks
and in restaurants.
They are confused, angry, lost.
They stumble beautifully
through the fire.

-Ron Gavalik

At 6:00, I drank
to remember,
to swim in the nectar
of consequences secreted
over a lifetime.
At midnight, I drank
to forget.

—Ron Gavalik

I was born in a room
on a triangle of land and soot
between three rivers.
Just like the rivers,
I’ve been running
toward the fire
and from the smoke
all my days.
I’ll let you know
when I make it.

–Ron Gavalik

If you seek an education,
go to a university
or a trade school.
If you want to learn,
talk to the bums, the ******
the immigrants in fields.
They’re the experts
on humanity.
Their wallets are as empty
as their stomachs,
but their souls
are dipped in gold.

–Ron Gavalik

The guy who wore a scarf at the bar,
he chose not to write
because he's ‘no Hemingway.’
I told him no one stops me.
Memories of Ginsberg, Frost, Thomas,
and even Bukowski's drunken ghost
make me feel at home in my words.
That didn't change the guy's mind,
so I told him to drink up
and do something else.

-Ron Gavalik

your touch was poetry
in a language I can't read anymore
I still feel it in the core of my bones
the lines and shadows of each letter
drawing out a standing ovation
I had never felt freedom from my mind
you showed me how I could let go
held me in a way that led me to believe
I would be okay somehow
because you'd catch me if I fell
gentleness and death in your eyes
now you speak and your words
disappear in the air before reaching me
on the other side of the room I see
your lips and hands move but can't
make out the sounds or shapes you take on
so I watch the way you create poetry
like looking at pictures in a book
when you touch someone else
in the language we once spoke

your whole body becomes a map made for me
to explore the uncharted territories
conquer the lands where I see fit to leave my mark
to seek and record with eyes and hands what is tangible
but I wish, more than anything, that I could uncover
your mind, your soul, your core, your being
to find my way under your skin as you have mine
the topography of your brain is a beautiful landscape
I want to study your phenomenology
to become a cartographer of your sulci and gyri
come to know the lines and ridges of your consciousness
create new methodology to observe and transcribe
your brain is a fingerprint unique, and yours
all the more beautiful for it's belonging

surrounded in a field of weeds
you pretend to plant your seeds
water something that won't grow
we both know it's just for show

loved it when our fingers laced
miss the way you used to taste
still have you between my teeth
now you're just out of reach

so raise your glass always half full
appreciate what I'd call dull
enjoy all your time away
because alone is how we'll stay

take a sip, give me no heed
find someone else in my stead
know I only drink to you
forget, remember, bid adieux