Sheik Hazi

My Honey,

Every side, every place, everywhere,
For me your smile is there,
‎You are ocean of brightness,  
To drive away my life's darkness,
Earth, sky, sun and moon,
Universe without them we can't assume,
You are my blood, you are my breath,
Without you I have only death,
My honey for you God has given me birth.


I do not know whose eyes perceive
my finite movement toward light.

Each letting go, a small cry,
each forward move my life's
migratory assurance of what
none of us can ever know.

The genetic certainty of cells
propels the forebrain
with its stumbling feet,
while a heartache of hope
wins each moment even
as it is lost to the next.

And we must accept
the impermanent flow
that is like air, necessary
and sacred; tears are not
the only the salt of sorrow.


The lazy crescent moon,
drunk on a bellyful of night,
hammocked in bare branches
while I watch the dark sky roam
panther black, counting stars
as sheep, not close my eyes
forever, or ever in disbelief;
I would lean into that cloud
of darkness, let it catch me
in its lap that I might know
mans' suffering, where it comes
from, and where, like love
it always seems to go.


To live a life in perspective
I’m told you need to define a horizon
line eye level to the viewer.

From my hill of years the view is fluid
as in watery, but also as in unpredictable.

On the sea’s face a wall of fog moves in
and out like histories remembered
and forgotten.

Sometimes silver striates the sea
with such a glitter of insight
I am bedazzled and cannot look.

Sometimes fogbank and ocean merge
with such blue-gray unity it seems
the horizon rises so that I stand on
the shore, dwarfed by a surf of knowledge
that pounds at my ignorance.

Sometimes the sea becomes invisible,
the white air a questioning emptiness,
a finger-touch of damp against the cheek.

Standing in a sea of people
As a lone island
Floating around
In the endless nothingness
Drifting away and drowning
Falling apart
And piecing yourself back together
Over and over
And over again
Every single second of the day
Wishing for it to all stop
Helplessly knowing
Nobody will ever hear
Your silent cries
Noone could ever save you
Because how could they
Ever save you
From yourself
It's hearing yourself talk
And move
And smile
Maybe even laugh
But knowing
It's all an act
With noone to yell "cut"
At the end of the scene..
Because your whole life
Has become a giant play,
Where there could be
A thousand people
And a thousand lights,
There could be a thousand claps
And a thousand great nights
Still all the while
You'd be a thousand times lonely
Drowning in the lights
Drowning in the laughter
Drowning in yourself
All because
You've become too good
At acting
Like you could swim
Depression is killing yourself
Every day
Every minute
Every single second,
From the inside out
Because you don't know
Who you are anymore
Except for an empty body
Defining disappointment
And a burden
And a void of fake
All wrapped in one.
Depression is Loneliness
Depression is Acting
Depression is Drowning
But most of all,
Depression is Me

Excerpts from a journal entry a while back. I forgot I even wrote this as I hate going back and rereading my own material but I found it and it described how things have been lately. It hasn't been edited but some parts have been edited out... feel free to leave your thoughts.
Life has its valleys but it has its peaks too even if you can't see it, so keep holding on. And if you ever need someone to talk to I'll always be here to throw you a lifeline...

(Front page 9/16/17)

You make me feel happy,
you fill me with hope.
You've changed my life
in ways you'll never know.

But I want to know...
how do I make you feel?
Do I make you feel special?
Do I make you feel real?

I want to know,
if I make you smile wide.
If you long to reach for my hand
when you can see the tides.

 Sep 10

I'm more fragile than you think.
Like a chalkboard, I've begun to screech
because I can't take anymore chalk on me.
I may have a cold and smooth surface
but you see me as ugly until you start erasing
all the cramped up information that surrounds me.

 Sep 8

It was a slow rainy day
down at the Double Drop D
I was taking a smoke break
watching the weather on TV

The band on the jukebox was playing
an old favorite of mine
and the words the man was saying
took me back in time

Long as I remember
the rain been coming down,
Clouds of myst'ry pouring
confusion on the ground

The new girl, Irma, was dancing
I liked the way she spun around
like the storm that was advancing
while all the boys gathered 'round

Good men through the ages,
trying to find the sun;
and I wonder, still I wonder,
who'll stop the rain

When the song was over
and Irma gathered her clothes
I had to stroll over
and ask if she'd do one more

Heard the singers playing,
how we cheered for more
The crowd had rushed together,
trying to keep warm

She looked me in my eyes,
gave me a peck on the cheek
and said Boss, that ain't my style,
now be a good boy and buy this girl a drink

Still the rain kept pouring,
falling on my ears; and I wonder,
still I wonder, who'll stop the rain.

For Sjr1000.

*"Who'll Stop the Rain", John Fogerty, originally recorded by Creedence Clearwater Revival for their 1970 album Cosmo's Factory.
 Sep 8

I got close to sleeping,
but stress has decided
on having a sleepover,

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