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Greg Obrecht Jun 2019
Even in utter darkness
Deprived of all my senses
I can still hear her calling out my name
If I had arms I would reach out
To touch the subtle wave
Of her tantalizing voice
But this is my hell
Unattainable
Untouchable
Forevermore on continuous loop
No matter how hard I try
To claw at my soul
Your sticky sweet voice
Reverberates in the aether
In every crack and space
Of eternity
This is my hell
My hell
My hell
My hell
Greg Obrecht May 2019
Clover and thistles adorn my view;
the tress stretch majestically above.
There's also dandelions, but only a few
the wind whispers sweet nothings of love

The sky stares down into my soul;
the lazy clouds thick with recollection.
I float away from all earthly goals;
to join myself in deep introspection.  

There I find her sitting in full lotus;
batting her eyelashes with rainbow skin
I crawl slowly towards her like a tortoise;
her mind reaches out to bring me in.

She gently molds me like softened clay;
her electric touch raises my skin.
The useless parts are cast far away.
Her bellowing voice says "begin again!"

My eyes bolt open to the sound of thunder;
A soft summer rain begins to fall.
Was that just a dream I began to wonder;
or will I be a changed man after all.
Greg Obrecht Apr 2019
Inspiration is gone.
A starfish left to die by the unblinking tides
Words stopped dead by haunting voices.
Turn and run my foolish friends
Bursts of light trapped in infinite darkness.
The song of hope will never crease my lips again
Greg Obrecht Apr 2019
I remember the day that dad brought you home.
You were barking and jumping after that plastic bone.
Your eyes met mine and your tongue found my face.
You were my first real friend who couldn't be replaced.

We spent the days running around the neighborhood trees.
You were always the first to come when I skinned my knees.
When I jumped in the lake you'd run along the shore.
And then you'd catch a scent and run off to explore.

During my teenage years girls entered my mind.
I know you waited by the window under the blinds.
But even though I barely even scratched your ears.
You stayed by my side during those troubled years.

As I packed up my things to start my college life.
I turned around to notice you with a tear in your eye.
Memories flooded my head with the good times together.
We looked at each other and knew we'd be best friends forever.

A few years later I received a call that twisted my head.
My dad said that you'd fallen ill and would soon be dead.
They took you to the vet to try to find a helpful answer.
After all the poking and tests they said that you had cancer.

Well I came home to visit you during your final days.
I could tell the end was near by your distant gaze.
Although you were seconds away from heaven's place.
You lifted your head to have one last lick of my face.  

Now that I'm married and have a kid who turned ten.
It's time to head to town to start the cycle again.
I can't wait for his eyes to light up when I come in the door.
It'll be one of those memories that I'll remember forever more.
Greg Obrecht Apr 2019
A boy of eight sat quietly behind a closed door.  
He lost himself in his made up places.
Staying put in reality had become quite a chore.  
Sweat streamed down his face as his mind raced.

The fighting had escalated past screams and yells.
Bloodied lips and bruised faces were now the norm.  
He's tried to concoct incantations and spells.  
To construct a shelter against the growing storm.  

One day he learned that she was leaving for another.  
His entire world would be flipped upside down.  
He knew every little boy needed a loving mother.  
He was ravaged with pain as he wore his thorny crown.  

His father made ends meet as a single dad.  
But the bottle soon became his only friend.  
He watched from a distance but was quite sad.  
Not even his hug made his dad’s sorrow end.

The boy began his tumultuous teenage years.  
The father remarried but it was shallow tonic.  
The boy found his relief in a shower of beer.  
The father stood in the shadows, isn't that ironic?

The boy became a man but kept the pain within. Morals and ethics were lost in a strangled haze.  
He decided to move to the city of lights and sin.
There he met someone and was completed amazed.

His name was Mark and the streets was where he dwelled.
He talked of freedom and the power of belief.    
He spoke softly but the exuberance he expelled.  
Changed his life like the color of an Autumn leaf.

He found his purpose thanks to a vagrant man.  
He left that city and vowed never to return.  
As he travelled back his eyes began to scan.  
Somewhere in Utah his soul started to yearn

He pulled off the road and saw a visual scene.  
There were canyons of color and a voiceless song.  
Infinity sat before him as God intervened
He finally found a place where he belonged

He stayed in the landscape for about a week.  
He made promises to the night that he swore he'd keep.  
As he drove away a tear streamed down his cheek.  
It was time to get back to the world of sheep.

He went back home and settled into his old routine. The beers flowed and the good times ensued.  
He had already forgotten what had kept him clean.  
His plan to leave again was a vision that was skewed.  

He got behind the wheel of his beat up car.  
The city of sin awaited with her unfurled legs.
Fortunately for him he didn't get very far.  
The oil spilled from the engine like a broken keg.

Little did he know that fate had stepped in.  
He took a job he planned only on keeping for a while.  
One night he heard the door open and lifted his chin.  
There walked in an angel with a school girl’s smile.

I’m guessing you already know the rest of the plot
He knew he loved her long before they ever met.  
She knew his soul was everything she sought.
To this day he’s forever in a homeless man's debt.
Greg Obrecht Apr 2019
I'm on the verge of insanity.
I'm about to cross over the center line.
Please stop stroking my vanity.
My hopeful eyes have lost their shine.
Place that jacket around my eggshell.
Lead me back to a mournful room.
A fissure runs down the side of my bell.
Give me meds that will make me bloom.
Give me a reason to open my eyes.
I would love to dance at dusk.
Turn my soul the color of sunrise.
Make me more than a hollow husk.
If my weekend stay doesn't ease my troubles.
If my reason of thought doesn't return.
Somehow I'll try to rise from the rubble.
If not give this body back to the worms.
Because my spirit is quite perceptive.
It's only this body that drives it mad.
I'm sure my being is more than receptive.
To lose this shell that is numbingly bad.
Greg Obrecht Apr 2019
A terrible sunrise stains my face;
bloodied cheeks and a bruised chin.
My heart doesn't belong to this place;
lost in a maze of pain deep within.

A rusty sigh escapes my scarred lips;
still trembling from a night of terror.
Why must I always follow the same script;
every decision I make is a fatal error.

Slowly I try to climb out of my bed;
but the glue of fear holds me fast.
Just hurry and bury me, I'm already dead;
my chest moves but my spirit has passed.

Please lift me up to a celestial sphere;
where the welcoming Spring wind swirls
At a cool spring drinks an innocent deer;
This newborn child dances and whirls.
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