Can I play a memory
Like a record skipping beat;
Just a memory of a boy I loved
And have that thought repeat,

When he'd hold me tight,
How he'd say I-love-you's
In the middle of the night
And meant them as I still do.

How we'd walk in the setting sun
And sit for hours without it feeling long;
Or when he used to speak to me
And I felt the world sitting in my palm.

I hear the echo of that fleeting love,
Slipping further from my heart each day,
The record needle skips another beat
As sorrow begins to play.

Time will sweep the seas aside
And dry the wistlful shore,
But I'll stay here for you my dear,
And count the graves of war.

Walking along the desolate seashore,
Hand in hand with the breeze,
I think of you and the last we spoke,
Exchanging farewell pleasantries;

The road I walk now along,
Winding with the golden strand,
Palisades of rocky cliffs, you'd love to see,
As I muse and grasp your ghostly hand.

Though you're not beside me,
You walk this path and gaze this shoreline;
For all seas converge, all roads diverge,
And all distances vanish with time.

Don't pick up only when the sun shines;
And don't fall with the pouring rain.

For every night you shall not lay down;
And for the day you should not wake.

Shall you cry, may it be of choice;
And smile no more than it pleases you.

The laws are not all set in stone;
Let sorrow bring you solace, and the departing road bring you home.

You are in no way an angel,
And are careless in most you do,
So it don't matter anyway --
By the way, I love you.

Dear, old friend,
I feel old without you;
While life beats slower each passing day,
With nothing ever new and nothing on the way.

I've grown weary with the predictable paterns of life,
Which you deliberated against,
And made bounding leaps to the rarely visited vegas of existence:
          Journeys we would often make together.

What memories do you forget of me,
And what memories did you create since?
And is it worth it to live and fulfill this epic narrative?
Your life does not have to be like a tragedy;
Always sorrowful and hanging in suspense.

I can pick you back up, old friend;
I'll pick you back up again.

They talk oh how they talk about life,
Pleasant contentment in their laughs,
Carefree pleasantries, their words as they breathe.
And yet, I am elsewhere in another time and place,
Tapping the keys on the keyboard which play the strings of my heart,
And I imagine their heartbeat with mine,
I feel their connection with one another - that is my connection.
And at the same time I think big thoughts about the universe, the stars, the expanse of disorder,
And also, their conversation which slows my mind.

Listening to the rhythm and human intonation of their speech: A casual lull hitting the seas of infinite chaos.

On that autumn evening in 1962
I am falling for you,
And the sounds of jazzy-blue
Rambling lost and smooth.

In this moment I've contrived
While I am there by your side,
Inside of fiction, with you, I hide;
And walk the night under city-lit skies.

But that was an unrealizable time;
This moment was never mine.
Cloaked with nostalgic rime
Inside a Polaroid frozen in time.

All you left behind for me:
This black and white memory
Of a night I'll never see,
And a melancholic question: Who is she?

If for a moment time wasn't at my throat swinging like a pendulum with a cold blade at the end,
I’d challenge the world with that moment and in just a handful of seconds change everything —
but reality pulls back, those frozen seconds slip from my grasp, and I’m stuck in the infinite now;
trapped between the longing past and the hopeful future.

I’ve pondered the certainty of desolation;
The impossibility of the divine forever moments,
Against time’s constant undertowing motion,
we cannot contest / we cannot relent!

But now, as I stand and observe the city lights through the low-hanging mist,
I ponder the dark questions about humanity and what it has become from the early days through to now.
Is there not more wonder than a green blade of grass cracking through the crushing weight of the sidewalk’s concrete slab at my staggering feet?
I may enjoy this night — but I don’t.
I enjoy life despite a sorry excuse for love in a pseudo-relationshitstrorm and cheap *** with a sour aftertaste of pure regret.

I am heartbroken, and heartless.  Trying to make up for it with imagined feelings for a person who was never there.

And when I see all the people around me finding love in a bare, bar bathroom stall, I wonder in all my pity: did I miss out on opportunity?

Would I be correct to assume you are what you do?
I see you watching TV -- oh, you must be a watcher.
You walk across the street -- no way you're anything but a walker.

She eats, so why not call her an eater?
He sleeps, so he must be a sleeper.

Why is everyone so naive? -- they must be naivers.
Cause if they do it, that must all they are. Right?

I may write poems,
but I am not a poet.

I write the same way you watch TV;
I  watch TV the same way you cross the street;
I cross the street the same way she eats;
And I eat the same way he sleeps!

I am not what I do,
That's not even close to true!
And neither are you,
But if that's how you see me, that must be you.

I began as a sprouting blade of grass like Whitman said.
And among the millions of green leaves, I am.

Ground, oh found me dead, rooted where I stay,
I once dreamt to uproot and walk away.
Was I foolish in those days, and in my thoughts;
To dream of Life while Death lovingly held my hand?

Life's short part and Death's long verse,
And I, as they act their roles upon the stage my soul,
Weep for their sense to be sung.

She picks me up,
Dresses me in blue.
Clothes me in lace,
All dolled up, shiny and new.

We play our games,
I always lose;
I'm just the doll,
I let the girl choose.

We play for awhile,
And my threads begin to fray;
With every tug and pull,
She strains me with her play.

To her it's all fun,
My feelings: she's unaware;
But slowly I'm dying,
As my seams wither and tear.

Until one day,
Something finally snaps;
My threads unravel,
I'm riddled painful gaps!

So like the dolls before,
She'll toss me in the trash;
And out to browse some more,
For the next unlucky catch.

A silent sea, reflecting me at eventide;
Oh how I miss the water’s caress,
Flowing over my skin like silken dress.

The Ocean Queen, in Her depths I’ll confide,
I’ll swim deep with Her by my side,
Letting my fears sink into Her vastness.

I've lived a dream
Now let me live a memory.

I desire, and I long for the past.

The present is lonely, always fleeing,
Leaving people and good moments so quickly;
Leaving only memories behind to regress over time,
But the past never forgets, holding tight to the smile on her face, and her eyes as they gazed into mine with love;
The present has forgotten her, but the past never will,
All those perfect memories; all the precious moments,
Dead in the present, but live in the past. Always.

Where I fell,
               you knew that place well.

And as the frost gripped to my sighing,
              you ran fast, and I laid lying,
                               to myself, and breathlessly yell.

I wandered the cold night back to when you were with me,
              abandoned hope for the last time, and finally
                               I am free, and I've stopped trying
                                             to be something I'm not, oh how that was hell.

These days lines express,
A meekness of the heart,
With intent to impress,
No longer for the art!

Loss of honest zeal it seems;
Introspection is in style;
But writing yourself in reams,
Loses appeal in passing while.

“Oh, my sorrowful heart does bleed!”
I read it rewritten by all,
But what purpose do you lead,
Beyond pity for your fall?

If nothing provoking you draw,
Your Passion Play will swiftly fade,
Slipshod, despite your emotion raw,
Worth little, and time must be paid.

If love may be thy sweet rose;
If love may be truly sweet,
As the perfect flower grows
In the garden, how may I greet?

As a budding rose yet to unfold,
Would thy love not be true,
If as somehow it will be bold,
And blossom not red, but blue?

I will never gaze thy rose’s shade,
Lest I tend with care for now;
I take care thy rose and wade,
Until her blooming petals show:

I shall greet her with the same affect;
As with budding roses, love I can't detect.

I lost something within you,
Radiant, high-handed sea!
A loss so great and true,
I cannot let it be.

Great heart of mine, stolen,
When I sail first your deep blue,
Winds had pulled my bowline,
And filled my sails anew.

And as the sea winds whipped
The heart you took of mine,
The bow had sharply tipped,
Against horizon line.

I merely skim the surface
Of your lovely darkened deep,
Search without a trace,
For my heart you hide and keep.

Everyday I leave the shore,
Cast off into the sea,
And with the journeys more and more,
You become the heart of me.

Where has the time gone;
Why aren’t the days as long;
Where did all the laughter go;
Why do memories seem sweet from long ago,
Wherewith shorter time passed are not so?

Why did the dreams become so lecherous;
Where are the days that were adventurous;
Why has innocence lost its allure;
Where is the field of flowers so pure,
Why, nothing could give hope an aperture?

Where has the sunshine gone so bright;
Why has the moon forgotten my night;
Where has my innocence been taken;
Why must time left me forsaken,
Where a Dead Boy can never awaken?

Why do we yearn for a silent cry;
Where is the child with the spark his eye;
Why has all the magic died for me;
Where is the awe of curiosity,
Why has the world grown bleak to see?

Where can I find all I miss once more;
Why is it lost, so quickly been forbore;
Where comes that blissful echo;
Why is it so familiar, shall I never know,
Where it comes and the happiness it show?


Once passed, never to return;
Oh, how I wish to relearn,
And I try to see and feel,
I try to keep alive the unreal,
But with every day it slips further away,
As days cross over, closer to the Ferryman, and a penny to pay.

Whether my desert be of sand or snow,
desolation is the same.
Whether my passion be of lust or love,
loneliness is the same.
Wether my sea be of water or flames,
breathlessness is the same.

Now I’ve done what I feared,
I’ve hung the reliable rope.
You may sing to me dear,
But you are no songbird of hope.

i saw a whit rose
and it was you
you are for me
mad4e for me
grrown for me
made for me
a rose so white
it blinds me
a rose right
a rose pretfect
you have become my devotion
my only reason for emotion
my ghost of a rose

Were you born at sea like me?
Love for the ocean winds that blew;
Heart and soul of the deepest blue.

Were you born in the autumn breeze?
In the shadows of the bare branches;
Under cover of the wind leaves’ dances.

Have you seen the trees?
Have you ever felt the forest before?
The forest borne you, our Mother borne you,
And yet, and still, and even, and evermore;
Though we may try time after time,
We can never escape Her omniscient view,
And regrettably, nor Her desolation.

I've been away,
Do you miss me today?
And yesterday?
What about yesterday; when we were something so beautiful?
So beautiful, we didn't even know.
And yesterday, what about it?
Did you enjoy it?
Do you remember my smile, like I remember your's today?
I remember, and I remember it all too fondly— it was the moment I never knew, and became instantly real with you.
Was yesterday your's as it was mine?
It must not have been as fine.
Because I led and you lost the path,
When I led, did I lead too fast?
I followed my path back to the past,
Searching for your love from yesterday,
On the abandoned road to my dismay.

I led with the light of my love;
Did you see it from across the bay?
Was it clouded by the nightly fog?
I tried so desperately to lead your way.
And now, as the darkest night dies,
I wade in the waters of yesterday,
Longing at my sinking heart with sighs.
My lighthouse still shines on your shores with love, now and then,
From my island, I gaze into the new night,
Longing for a ship to sail across the moonlit sea,
Through the fog after a long journey.

"Did you come to see me?" I'd say with hopeless hope.

When midnight dawns will you be brave?
When silence leaves your lips this eve,
Will you be the same as you are today?
And I’d never thought you’d ever leave;
I was naive in my hope, in my mind,
And soon like the tides rolling in,
You’ll be with the Earth cold, intwined,
Greeting, grieving — the passing pin,

As the needle sew, in and out, to and fro,
And into the ground we all go so quick,
Before the reclaiming roots of death show,
And take you deep into the forest thick:
        Know that you will never pass —
        Not while our love for you lasts.

The blood on your hands,
I will make you see it.
The gore of my mind you created,
I will make you see it.
The broken souls of children ***** by your anger,
I will make you see it.
The rotting flesh of the dead boy in the cold and barren street,
I will make you see it.
The black sea of death in the silent night where the castrated bodies sleep,
I will make you see it.
Moloch's divine creation consuming all you have, while your paradise burns,
I will make you see it.
The world in despair, all because of your own doing and your's alone,
I will make you see it.

I will make you see what you are.  I will make you weep until your eyes fall from their sockets.

Once you see it all, you may leave at your will.  

A single door and four walls,
           Are all that stand between you,
                            and the Gates of Hell.

Now walk,
Whenever you wish,
Through the open door,
And into the fires.

And burn. Forevermore!

Sometimes you just have to let it die
Sometimes you just have to let the it burn and watch as it all goes to hell
And at some point you'll eventually just stop giving a ****.

When I hear the music of my past;
          An echo of the person I used to be,
          I wish I could speak to it as it does to me,
And tell it notes to play so it may last.

A melody of perfect beat and scale,
          Imperfect as I play it back now;
          Music then, and broken hearts now,
Still magic of the moment, never fail.

And even with the sorrowful notes,
          The change from G to E minor, slow,
          And my love for the symphony grow,
As I play each beautiful note I wrote.

My life, is a lament to Her creation,
          All the happiness that seeds,
          And the sadness that breeds;
It is all true, and never imitation.

And when Her music plays with mine,
          The harmonizing ring of morning bells,
          Of forests, creatures, and ocean swells,
She rules 'til the end of time, with a single line:

Remember the men before me,
And remember them fondly.
I am not of their kind,
And nor are you;
We are among the living;
And the dead are they,
But living only yesterday.

I saw them walking true,
They walked proud too;
And Death they needn't mind,
I wonder if they knew,
When they were living;
Did they see Death, or him hear?
If they did, they showed no fear.

You and I, we are living now,
But someday and somehow,
We will have our name signed;
Carved in stone so true;
That marks where we're lying.
So I hope you remember the men before,
Because someday you too will live no more.

Scorn memory of the Hallowed Day
When under company of friends
Stolen a leaf from the frozen tree
And taken in your own attend.

However, nigh far nor long you rested
Until were you wrongfully contested
For such display of lecherous feelings
Unto a heart of another beating.

Struck down, but still noble and undefeated
Gathered your courage but strength depleted
And still even later, hunger for the sea you feel
Cries for more: "Oh god, the craving is real!"

The words you have spoken bring joy to us all
Despite spoken unknown in the intoxicate sprawl.

This is for you,
The Roses, the Orchids, the Lilies of the world,
Your colour, your fragrance, your perfection unmatched,
This is for you:

It is for you that the sun rises everyday;
It rises so that you may bask in it's rays.

It is for you that the rain falls down;
It falls for you and seeps into the ground.

They are for you, the birds and the bees;
They prune you of your wilted leaves.

And they are for you, my deep blue eye;
To gaze upon you all until I die.

It's not all bad, if you can still smile at something
And have a moment of commonality with someone
If you can still talk without fear, it's not all bad
And it's not bad at all if someone listens.

Imagine that? And if someone agrees, well you're ahead of me
And if They agree, well then you've got something there
And if you've got Them hooked on every word you say
Well then you've got yourself an army there.

It becomes a movement, just be sure you're aware
That when it's bigger than just you, and you alone
Someone else can lead the way, so take care
Because now you've got a movement of your own

And when a movement moves, you can't control too much
Even as their leader, you're just another man in the rush.

These words they cannot be rewritten to bright beat the minds of pop culture fiends
Against the steel wall of the infinite Hollywood signs, dripping blood,
Until the creative mind is bled dry.

Then working the street corners to pay the corporate copies far too much for a strip tease by a fat transvestite, night after night;
But we never realize there is no end,
No end to the ***** **** being shoved down our throats —
Though we think there will be a ***** at the end;
Except there's just ***** hair stuck in our teeth,
And along the way we've forgotten what it is like to have an empty mouth,
Without **** coming out of our mouth and *******,
Such that now it feels right.

Look up at the man in a suite holding the camera,
Like the attention you get from the broken world. 

One man ***-***** another then gets ***-****** himself;
Then bumped further in by a third,
Till the world is united by **** and *******.

The touch of the rain
Soothing soft embrace
I can't remember happiness
When my heart craves sorrow
And the craving is bliss
Even still with a bitter taste
Still worth the cold, wetness
Because if I may feel, it's better than not
And I will enjoy it, not with haste.

Distant,
Reality has become recently,
Detached from my body, mind, soul,             , most of all.

It comes and goes, goes up and down on a sporadic path
And,             , was once beautiful a moment ago to me,
but now she's different, and tomorrow I'll love her again, then I'll hate her, then I'll forget her -- hell! I've already forgotten.
And I've already loved again.
And hated again.
And forgotten.
Her name:            ,
I don't want to remember, and I wish I never met her!

It comes and goes, goes up and down on a sporadic path
And, Love , was once ugly to me a moment ago,
But now I love her, and tomorrow I'll love her, and then I'll love her, and I'll never forget her.
And I've already loved again.
And loved again.
And loved forever.
Her name: Love,
And I'll never forget her, and I'm grateful to have met her!

It comes and goes, goes up and down on a sporadic path
Again, and again, and again, and again, and again / / / / What a desperate coil of emotion!

And I had no idea that you could bleed so much for me.
When you're tied to a feeling,
And it's hard to believe, I don't in anything,
And I trust my heart when it says:
"Let it go, let it go. Let it go, let it go."

Standing in the shadows healing the scars you endured for me.
I can't see you're still bleeding,
And it's hard to believe, I don't see anything,
And I trust my mind when it says:
"I don't know, I don't know. I don't know, I don't know."

Swimming in the seas of your blood you spilled for me.
I never notice the tide's rising,
And it's hard to believe, I don't feel anything,
And I trust in my lungs when they say:
"Breathe in slow, breathe in slow. Breathe in slow, breathe in slow."

And it's just another day;
I don't care anyway,
If I drown in your care;
Because I'm not aware.

Oh sweet Cordell, I stand by your grave
In autumn leaves, with blood you gave

Colder it seems, the winds that blow
As you're buried deeper, first fallen snow

Sweetness of the summer orchids fade
And with the fragrance, down you laid

I'll bare the winter your death has brought
Despite the frigid dark days it wrought

Cordell, whilst you lay in peace
Your frozen beauty has ne'er ceased

Burdened me with sweet memory
I'll gladly keep, if you wait for me.

Gilded strand on the silent shore
Without a wave to break upon it
The sea rests calm, my heart at war
In wait of the tides to consume love writ

Waters rest though and my love will stay
My love will decay on this fading strand
Before you wash away the words I say
I'll have written again with my weary hand

Even as the sun descends fast on your blue
And the moonrisen glow my night softly lit
I'll shed my feelings to the sand anew
In case your waves break at dawn to it

And once you find my love that lay here in sand
My only expectance is for you to understand

Why is it that you shine so bright?
Brighter than all the other stars in my sky
Somehow blinding is your twilight
Yet so distant from my reach, but I'll try

Even the deepest of my seas
Are wrapped in your light
And my darkest forest's trees
Can't cast the shadow of night

Without any part of me able to rest
While you shine intensely upon me
I'll be wakeful every second lest
We collide when your next passing be

This voiding air between us, oh star of mine
Will disappear quickly, all in due time.

The poet woke every day
With rekindled hope of revival
Desperate for a word to say
Sweet words that are vital

The white washed ruins or shattered possession
Tell the story of material obsession
The war fought over useless gold
Making young grow old

I go out into the wastes of yesteryear
In search of food and water
Cold winter wind whips past my ear
The snow will fall
And with it my world.

I will write again soon,
But for now I must rest.

Someday, I wish to have my love for you written completely;
Someday, I'll write no more because I've written all I can,
But I'll write until my weary pen is dry, not of my inability,
Because it would take all of time to write all for you, and time again.

There is not enough words, nor enough time to express;
Though try may I with eighty-nine letters of love,
Still incomplete, and insignificant I must confess,
In the shadows of your beauty from the heavens above.

Stella shines for me still, every night still;
Guide my hand and confirm my affect,
And forevermore, I follow Stella's will,
As I see her in your eyes in waters reflect.

And here is another endless verse from my loving heart:
A call to your's, a line on the shore, to pull when apart.

The Atlantic blue, the wonderful shine
Skies pristine, caress the horizon line
Beautiful shore, with sands of gold
Crashing sound of the waves as they roll'd

Reeds of green grass to hide the rest
Behind me I forget the land unbless'd
But it's not all bad, and it never is
For without the land the sea can't exists

I'll stay until the sunset, I'll gaze upon the scene
Taking in all I can and leaving behind my dreams
For next time when I visit, I'll live them whole
When I cast off the shore, into the ocean's soul

It will be something more in the morning light
But for now it's for enjoyment, the stars of night
And when the sea is silent, the sirens will weep
A lament to my heart; the new child of the deep

My journey goes far across the starlit sea
With my dreams and memories my company
But still with little time away from land
The night ends with my feet firm in the sand

Reborn with the beautiful break of the day
Well-rested and at peace with all you say
My Ocean, I long for your cathartic embrace
As I gaze the horizon with sea winds in my face.

1
A child asks me, "Is there life after death?"
I wish I had an answer that would not crush him infinitely,
But I can't bring myself you say, "Yes!"
He is so ignorant, so empty of knowledge happily,
And I'm so filled with envy.

I am unsure, that is the curse I bare,
At least with a definite leaning to fact or faith,
Onward may one go, but I am stuck at a crossroads

Is it real? Is what's real good?
My mortal mind can never be sure
In the end I will know,
I cannot go on until the end when I cannot.

From what I've seen,
Not a lot but enough to question,
I do not know, yet my mind is keen,
If I don't choose, from both I face rejection.

What are we,
Fact, or fiction?
That is the question.
What are we?

2
In the beginning, god created the heavens and the earth,
A vile creation, abandoned long ago by the Lord.
The place which so violently ripped apart with all mortal hurt,
Our blood and guts hang out for ridicule of our gore.

The soft green flesh of the world, eaten off by humanity,
It reveals the cold stone skeleton with flesh all gone;
It smells of cold black death from years before we.
We roam the dry barren wasteland, walking on earth-bone.

See our half-life is also merely a half-death,
Be what we can, but ourselves we should always stay.
Whether, we succeed, fail, wither, prevail,
It is beautiful that dream in the night, of better days.

Whether we are divided with many around us,
For with others then we may share,
Or united with none in sight of us,
With ourselves we may stare to the empty universe
Go forth into the abyss, singing a human verse.

3
Before I go, I cannot sleep
Until I leave myself painted on everyone I know
And all the paper is writ upon by me,
telling my story forevermore and completely so.

I will never leave a verse within myself,
Expel every brilliant word from my head;
So that I may one day be taken from a dusty bookshelf
Long after I am dead.

Whatever we do in the moment is nothing,
But not to us.
Whatever we create in the moment is everything,
But not to us.

It is you to me,
And me to you,
And the world to come,
If stay us true.

We are all gods when we create.

4
So this be it,
My final verse to be writ;
Nothing left to be said,
Only a song of myself to be read.

When the snow melts away,
What is there beneath it?
Fresh blades of grass stay
As a renewal on life is lit;
A new beginning, but a sad one.
Where did the wonder go?
The awe that filled my heart: gone.
Where's the magic I used to know?

My years gone by,
They've made me forget
Regretfully I sigh
I can't feel it even yet.

What has happened to my heart?
Have I lost my love for life?
Am I missing my soul in part?
When did I lose my sight?

I hold this moment tight in my mind
For I don't trust it to eternally last;
If I let go now, never again will I find
That magic of the moment that fades so fast.