He found himself with painted walls, fish tanks, and a wiener dog.  A place to sleep, a place to eat, a fine couch to rest his feet.  A barbecue that was sturdy and new, a fridge of craft beer the finest of brew.  But aside all the comforts and things on the walls the one thing that was most comforting of all, was a little blonde who would follow him around, who turned him right-side up when he was upside down.  A girl who was worried about only him; and tried everything to set him free.  Free of a troubled mind that could not find the time for anyone but him.  No matter her struggle, her talks, or her love, he would not cave to all the above.  It came to the point where she had to go, she'd lost the person she loved the most. She left in a blink with her head in the fog, taking the pictures, fish tanks, and the wiener dog.  The girl that knew him oh so well could not save him from an imprisoned hell.  The self-inflected wound that would not mend; but conform as the standard of life he led.  A blank canvas is all that he knew, no pictures on the walls, no new barbecue.  No more snoring at night or meeting for fun, this fairy tale was finally done.  It passed so fast and looking back was it worth it for where he's at? Is this the place where he should be?  Two job's, school, and a shattered dream. She was his love, his hope, his home, and now it's just him all alone.

We Turn,
Matching Pistols,
Powder burns,
barrels whistle,

one man falls,
one man stands,
winner take all,
that's how we planned,

mission complete,
or so we thought,
nothing can compete,
with the lesson taught,

scream out loud,
for all to hear,
I thought you were too proud,
to ever shed a tear,

lying on the ground,
searching for the light,
cold red blood all around,
no reason left to fight,

for a life that's been wasted,
chasing after shattered dreams,
victory never tasted,
as great as it now seems,

your loss was a release,
from all your sin and pain,
in Hell there is no peace,
you'll surely go insane,

and beg to be forgiven,
for all that you've done bad,
the last chance you've been given,
to remember the life you had,

with me by your side,
together we've traveled,
all the world wide,
the future unravled,

the only place I've never seen,
is the place that you are now,
what does this all mean,
please try to show me how,

to find the open abyss,
the blackened sky above,
that has ended all this,
that could have been true love,

I never got to show you,
how much I really cared,
all the terrible things you do,
how you ever dared,

to take her away from me,
the way that you did,
did you ever think to see,
we were just foolish kids,

now you rest,
in a long wooden box,
the last real test,
is when the devil knocks,

to claim his next victim,
who has made a big change,
like summer to autumn,
you acted so strange,

from a diamond in the rough,
a ruby in the pale sand,
to a strong and tough,
different kind of man,

please tell me how you feel,
now I see that you were right,
tell me this is real,
did we really just have that fight,

in the end I get the girl,
thats how the story goes,
the rest shall unfurl,
what the future holds no one knows,

maybe love will come in time,
marriage and future like I planned,
watching children on the jungle gym climb,
reaching out for their father's hand,

thats the kind of life I want,
with my new belle,
but your memory haunts,
making my life a living Hell,

I think everyday,
about giving up,
nothing left to say,
left looking up,

to the one that started it all,
hoping he can help me now,
now that I know it is time for me to fall,
hoping he is looking down,

suicide is a selfish escape,
from my living Hell,
better than the mental ****,
of a padded cell.

turning..turning..turning
how it ever
turns


1.
they all pass me by
everyday
and no-one says a word
to me

the earth moves
one more time
and it all
starts again


2.
on their way to work
high-heels totter
they chatter on
birds in smoke
hardly aware

from the evening subway
attachés whisk past
looking so important
eyes down on text
talking into boxes
streaming... streaming
endless

onto the bus
a struggle
a pram is lifted
distant cries of a baby
an echo of an old man
in a park nearby
sitting, lost in thought
counting the arthritic joints
of his fingers

skateboards
in such great haste
as on an almighty trail
somewhere

footfalls go
some clackety-clack
a thousand by the minute

by now
I lose track
of the number


3.
they look my way
and they don't really see me
not anymore, anyway

I'm just there

but I hear it all

the steps..
they clack-flash across my ears
the words..
they flaunt over my silence
the secrets..
they furtively long to share with someone
the awful rush..
they long to shed
the frustrations..
they find no space for
the dreams..
they ache to realise


4.
only *the mendicant traveler
comes by
once daily
with a battered Coke can
to sit and keep me
company
just for a while
a little while

leaning against me
I smile inside
to think
I can still be somewhat
useful

or the occasional trolley-lady
who guards all her assorted treasures
a bric-a-brac of unrecoverable dreams
all neatly piled neglect
reflected in
society's abandoned grown-up child

then, that funny visitor
comes by
to bestow on me
hebdomadary gift:
his customary ****

too lazy for a WC!


5.
I am just
what I am..
on a wall
as pretty as they come
yet half-invisible
and
I am here

how
I keep track
of
all the beings'
coming-and-going

as the busyness
of life
keeps
turning..turning..turning


(once in a while, though...a new pair of eyes may flash upon me and love me for my worth.
then again...just for a few seconds...but it is enough: I may be peeling now, but I am such the fine burgundy-and-green masterpiece, of a rather stunning bird, caught in mid-flight.... that once was the great love of my esteemed master, the eternal artist...long, long ago.

and I can smile...inside)

I dare to smile, yes..




how the earth moves
one more time
and it all
just
starts again




S T, 26 June 2913