Daniel

Daniel Apr 2013

01/19/2013
100 days ago you dropped me.
I felt like I could never regain,
my strength or balance;
you were solely to blame.

01/20/2013-01/30/2013
All the weight I lost,
and the insomnia-filled nights
left my brain over-thinking
"Why can't I ever get it right?"

01/20/2013-01/30/2013
Initially it was horrendous,
the anger that boiled inside.
Wished that you'd get AIDS
and stabbed in the eye.

01/30/2013 - 4/25/2013
Secondly, I was overcome with sorrow,
which consumed most of these days.
A sadness which I basked in,
a never-ending melancholy maze.

02/05/2013 - 03/20/2013
I tired to win you back,
something I now regret.
We could have avoided that storm
and all the confusion, nonetheless.

02/05/2013 - 03/21/2013
Over the weeks we maintained
(or tried to at least)
to be more-so friends,
hoping the pain would ease.

But you knew I wanted more
I just wanted to have you back.
I'd forgive you for your mistakes
your cracked soul I wanted to patch.

03/21/2013 - present
Then it happened:
You stopped talking to me.
As if you had the control,
You disappeared.Vanished.
****. And so..

I've stopped talking,
the Facebook stalking,
the phone number blocking,
Now don't come back knocking.

100 days ago you dropped me.
It took that long to get up off the ground.
My heart is mostly back together,
I am waiting for a real woman now.

Daniel Apr 2013

There's a Man in My Mirror

There's a man in my mirror
he seems familiar.
but also a complete stranger.

Perhaps in the past
I knew him
and we were the best of friends
but I cannot recall.

I fear this man
for he has grown thin
and worn raw from prolonged exposure
to the elements of emotion.
There is no reflection of me in him.

I should avert my eyes from his
but I know he will still be there.
On the other side,
he is still waiting.

Yet I'm drawn by his gaze into mine
as if he is asking me "Well, what now, Daniel?"
What he means? That I have no clue.

His 1000-yard-stare
magnified from the
charcoal glasses
look back into mine.
Into me.
Right into me...

"It's just you and me now.
Traveling together.
Nobody sees you
like I do.
Nor you do I.
Each time you leave me
know I'm still inside.

We were apart for a while.
We've grown from one into two.
Now that you see me again,
remember that I love you."

His words are simple.
His conviction is true.

This man I fear,
is just a poor soul
wanting to be pain-free.
So, I love this man in return
for that man in my mirror,
is me.

Daniel Mar 2013

Vague Memories

Shapes
borderless shapes
shapes and indefinite shades
are slowly coming back to me.

Shades
blurred shades
shades and bits of color
are all that come to my mind's eye.

Colors
dull colors
colors and images
are depicted in my head.

Pictures
brittle pictures
pictures and old movies
are recalled to my consciousness.

Take those Shapes
Take those Shades
Take those Colors
Take those Pictures
The collection of the senses grow into
Memories

Memories
vague memories
memories of my past. Nay- our past.
good and bad. There's not much left.

Bliss
sweet bliss
our time I will cherish
in fondness and thanks.

Mistakes
dumb mistakes
your mistakes are a teacher
and I have learned an important lesson.

Lessons
valued lessons
a lesson I learned from you
is to only love those who deserve it.

Regrets
deep regrets
regret and remorse
I pray you feel when you think on me.

Feelings
no hard feelings
I hope you discover yours
and no longer bury them deep down.

Goodbyes
bittersweet goodbyes
you finally shut me out
cold, harsh and to the point.

Friends
dear friend
to you I will no longer be
just a fleeting, vague memory.

*"Ta ta"

Daniel Mar 2013

Orchestrate

Medicine induced hallucinations,
body quivering with ache,
and I'm hearing the sweet chime of bells
In this hour of pain my mind orchestrates.

The next drop from the IV,
helps even greater than the last,
a constant drumming in my head
a beat which was not meant for dance.

The others around me dressed in white
say I'm doing fine and that I should rest,
but when there's music pouring into the room
Sleep is what I must detest.

Can they not hear the wondrous sounds?
The vibrations that reflects my pain?
Those invisible waveforms move visibly
or have I just gone entirely insane?

There is no music, they tell me.
It must be a side-affect to the medication.
The ambiguous tune that rattles my brain,
is death knocking, it is by my orchestration.

But who is to say what I hear
is not real?
The tune in my head I wish to transcribe
but I'm weak,
and barely clinging to life.
So no one will hear this stirring melody.
This is the song I hear towards the end of my life.

In these last precious moments
laying in my seemingly sterile bed,
the tune haunts me 'till I shut my eyes.
but the tune is my comfort, I do not dread.

So take me with you, oh humble melody.
I welcome your amplitude with open ears
Let's take a listen to what you're telling me,
I dare you to move me to tears…..

The warm blanket of the strings comforts me,
the brass section: a foundation, a rock.
Oh, but hear the timpani? It taps to the beat of my near-ending biological clock.
The woodwinds, a sympathetic harmony that aides my despair.
Their aloofness like the machine by my side, filling me with air.

The main theme speaks to me directly, and I've been worn thin
but I swear the main line is "I've fought valiantly, but this battle I could not win."

I do not have to open my eyes to see,
that the director of this symphony is myself.
I've created this music on my death bed,
and it was not meant for anyone else.

When I close my eyes this final night,
take a somber breath and leave.
I'll have my tune in my head,
and nobody for me to grieve.

Goodbye to this world around me,
now the nurse come to medicate.
One last final wave of my arms.
This song I hear, mine alone, I orchestrate.

Daniel Mar 2013

Marvel At The Moon

Marvel at the Moon
The ultimate protector,
the watchmen of the evening sky.
How the moon comes so stoically,
asks for nothing,
gives all he can,
all because he can.
Illuminating the evening
deep into the night,
Watching over the night workers,
construction engineers,
a nurse's late shift.
Marvel at the moon
the night-light of the dark.
Some ask him to leave
so they may glance at the stars.
His light is too obstructive
and they'd rather him be gone another day.
but yet he holds firm,
with a stone look on his face,
he cares too greatly,
to let those people get him down.

Marvel at the moon
he turns to a sliver to a whole dollar,
without doing a thing.

Marvel at the moon
his light guides the evening,
when we sleep and are washed in dream.

Marvel at the moon.
He sometimes shows up along side the sun.
Out of the suns way.
And can suddenly take day-notice,
by standing in the suns path.

Marvel at the moon,
for his presence is needed for those whom are lonely,
a poet, a musician, a warewolf.

Marvel at the moon.
Marvel at the moon.

Daniel Mar 2013

Pondering

Beard upon my face
Rubbed over intense thinking
pondering my life.

Daniel Mar 2013

Vertical 8 by sideways 8

A revaluation occurred
just the night before
an answer that I could not see
an answer that I could not bore.

It all started
with the simple number 8
at first it did not seem significant
at first it did not seem to translate.

Gradually and gradually
It began to haunt my life
and I began to wonder about it
and it provoked me like a knife.

I watched many flicks
and went to the gym
I did everything I could
I did everything on a whim.

Just to forget
the blinding and boundless pain
that you have brought upon me
that you sought to make me drain.

One movie stood out
and it eased my depression.
I then continued on with my days
I then continued with my aggression.

That movie had a scene
about seeing the solution out of a problem
Could you be the problem I've faced?
Could I live with out them?

Again I thought nothing of it
and week after week went
the number 8 persisted
the number 8 made me vent.

So then, So then
On a drive, in the night
to the city, with my best music
playing to my minds sight.
The answer hit me right when recalling the movie Patch Adams.
How Arthur Mendelson tought Patch
about seeing the good in every day.
How to get out of the depth of drought
Out of fear, conformity or laziness.
and then I thought:

Annie was my problem
I've sought out for a solution
but I was too focused on the problem
and could not look beyond.

In Patch Adams the answer was 8
To see what nobody else sees
To see what everybody chooses NOT to see.
See the world anew each day.

That's when it hit me like a punch to the gut.
The combination of "Big Fish" finale music,
"Patch Adams",
Annie,
8,
I worked it out in my brain.
Was no longer driving me insane.

That this divine message
of constantly seeing number 8,
was not a lucky number,
nor a date.
Nor a month,
or a time frame.
Just a reminder
to not be lame.

If I died tomorrow
what would I leave behind?
Cannot be this willowing self-pity.
What would people say of me?
That my last few months were ******?

So whether it was God, Allah, or a cosmic sign
Annie is the problem, and my solution I must see past.
The 8 was telling me to move on, no more should I whine.
I should no longer look to the past.

Infinitely this sign fed itself
and made complete utter sense.
I am strong, and full of love.
None of which to you I give.
No more, No more.

No no, not any more...