Ever wanted to capture an Image?
Take a Picture?
Paint a Gallery?
By words.

Ever wanted to empty a Heart?
Cry a river of Tears?
Grow a garden of Bliss?
By words.

Every one of us here.
Are here.
Because we Wanted.

I’ve never felt so alive
But trying to save you from yourself
Will eventually be the death of me

In the morning I'm mourning the evening,
Because in the evening I take leave of that morning feeling,
Only briefly mind,
As I've got nowhere to go but somewhere to find,
Still lost in the dark, I can see that I'm blind and hear that I'm deaf,
Just waiting and waiting for that final breath,
For the black to consume me and devour from within,
This is my Karma for living in sin,
Not quite a suicide note, just a farewell,
I'll see you around, probably in hell.

I don’t want you to leave
But forcing someone to stay
Was never my way
So if you must leave
Don’t be afraid to go
It’ll hurt
Inside I might cry
My heart my ache
But I won’t stop you

" Don't walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Albert Camus

                 ~              ~               ~    

The telegraph road circled through the foothills,
rising towards the majestic mountain high
It’s been a long and twisting passage soon forgotten,
with the pavement abruptly dead ending,  
just below the timberline

The dawning blue heavens look so much closer now
Just a step away from standing within reach                                  
The birds uplifted on the telegraph wire rest atop me;
perched on the final material traces
disregarded by a digital world

My awakening soul is ascending beyond
the distant alpine meadow horizon  
At the threshold of an untrodden wilderness wonderland,
climbing up above the meandering clouds

It’s exhilarating to look back and know
there is no turning back around;
I’ve never been higher
and can never get back down

What unknown frontier lies in wait before me now?
Just on the other side of the impossible dream?
The last step forward to find the next step beyond the bounds
There is not that much that changes,
when we just repeat the same old song

The atmosphere’s thin air leaves me gasping for wings
Like dust and ashes free to soar with the tempest breeze
If only time would sever these loathsome ties that bind
The ones that enchain the weight of this load unto me

While understanding the pace to a long journey’s rhythm
The only barometer you have to trust is in your heart
Adaptation is at the core of freedom's survival
But it feels almost like running away  

I have felt the fear of falling with nothing left to lose
I’ve climbed as far as flesh and bones can reach
I've come this far always feeling subtly afraid
It has been a great distance back from the beginning;
knowing I must take these last steps alone.

Understanding it was love that brought me here
Naturally tugs at the spirit in my soul encouraging me on
I'll keep searching for the shining light of guidance
Listening for a voice that softly beckons me home...



written by:    harlon rivers ... May 24th, 2013

The last time I saw your face
It was naked
Now you bare a beard
It’s weird to see
How much you’ve aged
All your black hairs, outnumbered by the grays
The skin on you face seems to sag
Even your gold tooth looks beige
But what you fail to notice
Is the rage in my eyes that’s hidden behind the black shades
I don’t hate you
But the resentment in my heart
Makes me want to serve you with a right hook
And I wouldn’t be satisfied
Until I felt the snap of your bones
And crack of your teeth
The adrenaline blazing through my veins
Would convince me
The throbbing in my knuckles isn’t real
But as much as I want to inflict pain on you  
I can’t
Because today is my baby sis graduation
Which is the only reason
We’re standing here face to face

Daylight is over rated,
showing the weakness
         that caresses  the darkness.

Where strength is whoever walks,
                      when the sunrise knifes
                      at every vein of existence.

Haemorrhaging the beauty of silence,
                  daylight is the noise of an
                  awaking purgatory on life.

His head kept bumping on my shoulder
and he was not my father
or anyone I knew

he smelled as if a bath was overdue
and slept like wasn't a place better
than the ***** briefness of my shoulder.

Breaking down was my brittle patience
needled by his bristled cheek
brushed by his shabby dress,

was for rest the man hard pressed?

Wouldn't I have been nudged by pride
if the head on my shoulder was my father
happy to have him by my side?

as he gets older
does his blurry mind miss
a place where he is not alone

one or any shoulder
for an untimely nap in peace
a quiet stranger to rest upon?