walk the high wire without a net.

the poem is life all else is waiting.

It’s not happening as you expected? So what? How do you know that what you wanted to happen was for the best?
Embrace the challenges. Embrace the unexpected. That way, you’re unstoppable.

“I look at you,” he told me, “and I think to myself; now here’s a guy whose got it all: he’s over fed, has a nice watch on his wrist and his shoes, although not my style, are brand new. The only thing he doesn’t have are troubles and worries.”

“bartender,” I shouted, “I’ll take one more and the tab.”

“hey man what about me,” he asked, “mind topping me off?”

“and another one for the poor sap next to me.”

“you see what I mean,” he continued. “you can afford to buy drinks for yourself and for others. as for myself, they forced me into a war I didn’t support and I also got my *** shot off for a cause unknown. I was stripped of my emotions, gutted from my life, they sodomized my psyche, carved the dream out of my head and I was never given a chance at having children or a future. and all this happened before I ever held a beer or tasted a cigarette or had a woman in my bed.”

I didn’t bother responding
in hopes that he’d get the hint
but as expected, he was as
clueless as my ex-wife
and as he carried on
with relentless persistency
each word dug in like a cat scratch
and all I could do was clench my glass tighter and tighter to contain myself.

“I’ve been spit on, kicked out, beat up and let down,” he further continued. “the streets are hard and unkind and everywhere you go you’re unwanted and everything is locked. why do you think I pour into these bars late at night? to drink? naw man, I just need a place to go, a roof over my head you know?”

that was it.
I had enough.

I finished my drink,
got off the stool
and headed toward the exit.

“hey buddy,” he shouted, “can I get another one for the road?”

“no.”

“just one more?”

“NO!” I screamed.

“c’mon man, you’ve got everything and I’ve got nothing. what makes you better than anyone else?”

“now look here you bumbling idiot…”

“but…but…but…” he interrupted.

“I’ve heard your tales of woe and now you’re going to listen to me,” I said sternly. “I look overfed because of poor diet and lack of exercise caused by working 60-80 hours a week with no time to take care of myself. I have a nice watch and new shoes but it came with a price. I’ve traded in my freedom for comfort, my time for materials and any chance of love for success. you say I have everything and you have nothing? I say you’re wrong. you’ve got something I no longer possess and that my friend is soul. don’t lose that. don’t buy into the mold. don’t conform. don’t become like everyone else. most of the people you see in here have imprisoned themselves into their own personal hell. that’s the way society wants it. but you’re free. truly free. and another thing… don’t worry about sorrow. everyone’s got problems and nobody wants to hear about it. why do you think people are in here? for the enjoyment? no, there here to forget. just. like. you.”

“******* *******! I don’t need a lecture from you or your cheap advice. all I need is a ******* drink!”

…and with that,
I walked out into the
dark and empty streets
where they greeted me
with their silence.

Sticks and stones,
blood and bones and words can definitely hurt you.

I thought our love was an endless journey – But no one told me it’s a map etched in pain.

I traced our love like a river – But always flowing away from me.

You were my Himalayas – Breathtakingly beautiful but out of my reach.

When I wandered through deserts of loneliness, you offered yourself as an oasis

You are a brief pause in the storm.

You are a mirage I believed in.

But when you left me.....

I collapsed like a glacier.

Quietly, slowly.

Nothing of me left.

But your reflections in melting waters still echoes.

I studied the geography of us

The fault lines.

The elevation.

The distance.

I cried....

Not because you left me

But because I finally understood,

Some places are never meant to meet,

Some loves are parallel lines,

Always close,but never touching.

Now, the only thing that helps me survive is your memory

But even that feels like a mountain I carry while walking on sinking sand.

Raindrops kiss the earth,
he sits beneath the grey sky—
eyes still on the stars.

Clouds hide every light,
but he whispers to the dark,
“Maybe one will fall.”

Storms can’t shake his faith—
even meteors seem far,
but he waits, and waits.

The world says, “Give up.”
He only tightens his grip—
hope like fire inside.

Rain or stars above,
he believes in miracles—
even if they burn.


Erennwrites

I walked past blue mountains,
Beside the crystal stream —
I ambled deep into the forest,
In a mist of emerald green.
Beams of light pirouetted,
Sol’s fire of purity,
Birds preened their wings,
In a shade of serenity.
Whispers rustled in the air,
Earth, water gushed,
A hymn of wind in symphony,
In harmony though hushed.
Midst the song of the forest,
A murmur in the breeze,
My soul, engulfed in silence,
Yet singing . . . at peace.
I stood on firm earthen ground,
At one with trees and ferns,
Knowing it’s from here I come,
And here I will return.