I talk to myself

I talk to myself and that’s okay cuz

I like myself

I know what to expect from myself

I’m never ever rude to myself

Or even a little bit sarcastic with myself

I have been known to deceive myself

And do occasionally surprise myself

Though I can usually predict

What’s going to happen with myself

Every now and again I let myself

Down

But that’s to be expected as myself

Is only human

So when it is necessary

To get a grip on myself

I set aside

A little time

To

Talk to myself




...To The Things That I've Learned Along The Way
Carla Marie 2011

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.

I rode the train with my girl today
across the barn swept hollows
Past lush fields of emerald green
with the life and love that follows

The train car tapped out a lullaby beat
which spent our time lost in leisure
The smiles past came by in the peace
small sweet gifts we couldn’t measure

A man had set across the aisle of us
he seemed so different from me
Clothes tattered, torn and weathered
homeless and likely worn hard was he

I couldn’t help but to take the notice
his features hewn and deeply lined
Drawing a map of where he'd been
red eyed he looked half blind

Something alone in his vacant stare
said It was me that he resembled
The thought had taken me a-fright
I looked hard, long and trembled

I saw my lover look over him too
noticed the hair might be the same
Except for straggling beard and decay
I had felt a deep sense of shame

Could that be what would happen to me
what fallen angel had led him astray
A nightmare vision of life’s full truth
eyes of pain in the heart they betray

Then my lover looked back upon me
her thoughts she sought hard to repress
How kind her teared eyes that hid the truth
from her lips that would never confess

Tate

The Man stands up
His face covered in dirt,
but covered with pride.

Proudly He stands
independent,
but alone.

Strongly He walks
stride by stride,
but without companion.

Bravely He fights,
battle by battle,
war by war,
but without gain.

The Lone Wanderer,
Independent,
Strong,
Ready,
Steady,
Scars over scars,
but not a name to share with.

The Lone Wanderer,
he walks alone,
he doesn't need help.

The Lone Wanderer,
is he a result of success?
Or is he a result of sadness?

The Lone Wanderer
walks against the twilight,
leaving only a shadow.

Will you take him as the proud?
Or will you take him as the depressed?
Will you take him as the optimistic?
Or will you take him as a man who accepted destiny and fate.

Is He looking into the future?
Or is He looking into the past?

Is He thinking of something happy?
Or is He thinking of something He regrets?

Every man is a Lone Wanderer,
His duty to find his place in the world,

But how will others interpret him?
How will others accept him?
Or must he continue to wonder alone?

Am I right?
Am I wrong?
Am I walking towards the dawn
Or the eternal night
Seeing my future
Set in stone
The path laid before me
My steps already made
I see the paths of others
Their predetermined fates
Some will rise while others fall
They are always walking
Towards their fate
Following the path blindly
Is this the point of life
To be told what to do
I see the answer
Ahead of me
I know what I am supposed to do
I try to break free
But chains just force me back
Fate won’t lose
I’ve seen my death
It happens now
The darkness grips
I’m pulled towards the eternal night
Nowhere to go
My mind is slipping
My legs won’t work
Nothing left
Before I’m gone
I look behind me
I see the face of Fate
A face carved out of stone
In its raspy voice it says
“This is you destiny
You have no choice,but to accept
Now goodbye”
Fate is gone
The darkness is closer
Swallowing me whole
With my final breath I whisper
“No
This isn’t my fate”
I fight
I break the chains
I break free
I take a step off the path
And find my own way in the darkness
I look behind
And Fate smirks

I wish, I wish upon a star
That I could count the stars
But the universe ends too far
and I am far too small
to ever be regarded by a star
But still, I try.
Endless nights
staring up at those faraway lights.
Each one I count and mark
though the tallies are hidden in the dark.
I wish, I wish upon a star.

Laments of sadness
in the middle of serene nights,
fragmented hearts
wrangle scrambled minds;

shadowed mistakes, open wounds,
profound mysteries of once reality,
myriad eyes failed to perceive
the intrinsic meaning of a poetry;

arbitrary decisions can lead
loud confusions to imprint,
but an ink of a poet's pen
evokes concealed feelings.