Routinely these words
miss most
and reach only a few.

Some call them trite,
lame
or flat.

Not up to par;
nonetheless they fill this space
and await contemplation.

Bittersweet song
on my radio.
Reminiscing on our story
as if conjured.
Some roads fork
and divide,
others turn to dirt
and get lost in the wilderness.
Still, there's a melody
to be found;
memories fondly held,
despite the lies.

There's beauty there,
willfully beyond my reach,
yet ever so near.
Its light reflects
upon my eyes
and consumes
all clarity.
Not mine,
not free;
nor shining for me.
Still,
there's a skip
a rhythmic beat
within.

Not an ounce of anger
nor arden rage
which typically fill the pages.
There’s a subtle calm
causing such hesitation;
a sense of being stuck.
-Restless, drifting
in a sea of tranquility.

Cupid had no say
between your heart and mine,
it was a different fate
which our paths intertwined.
No chocolate or wine
nor a perfect line to win your heart.
Still all that's true lingers in your eyes,
our love, like clouds;
firmament
where all takes place.

Suddenly
you cast upon me
doubts and flaws;
not a single virtue
as resentment creeps.

Needed someone
to understand
if you fall
you can get up again.
-Why glass bottles
are full of sand,
how it goes
round and round.
Nothing's bound forevermore
not hate nor love.

This mind,
this ability to create,
and study and learn
and teach,
this is the tool which harms us.
This mumbling about meaning,
this world devoid of purpose,
the world from which it sprung.
-the struggle at it's root
and so the Absurd is born.

The one on her left wrist
reminds her of a family member
now long gone.
On her right forearm
a flower, because she liked how it looked.
On the back of her neck
a gecko she got in Cancun
and on her left thigh, one she'd rather forget.
None add her up or subtract
who she was or who she is.

All this bottled up
nostalgia;
pour it
and drink up.
A dream
sustained
in the air;
a star
without
a name.
Ray of light
hides
between
these glaring eyes.

The vast expanse
is worrisome.
The search is futile,
in the end is all very foolish.
Knowledge allows the proposition
that there’s a lot we’ll never know.
While ignorance is loud and obnoxious,
completely unaware of it’s shortcomings.
The struggle
takes place in between.

I hurt just the same
More or less
Still, there’s no rest
And these pages scribbled
Adorned with ink blots
-every other word
And there’s very little punctuation.
---
Scratched a line that was a lie,

Another removed, for it said too much.
Should be simple to understand
Really;
I hurt just the same.

Away from the roots of it,
far from the truth;
there you'll be.
Asking questions no one can answer.
dodging stares,
slurring, launching
slings and arrows
at your darling- your sweetheart.
Hard to believe this could be your reality,
but it twist and it turns all within the bounds.
Yet, physics will mean little to you
as the heart aches.
and the roots of it all
are out of reach now.

There's talk of redemption
in crowded halls,
and as they adjust the dial
there's an addendum.
hard to tell
just who is right
although everyone knows
who is wrong.
no doorway in sight
in this mirror funhouse,
but the poor have TV's now
isn't that nice?

Waves arrive at the shore
tired of such
   entanglement.
Your enamored stare;
Like the moon
    Stares at the sun.

In your hair you retain
White sand and a sea flower.
     You adorn my sight
With a bright reflection.
   and the ocean enraged,
              Mirrors our love.

Akin to summer rain
or words you can't
seem to articulate
or the smile you feign,
The risk you take
once more.
Even coffee with an old friend,
or moments you regret.
‘bittersweet symphony’
on the radio.
And tears from your eyes
- right on cue.

Constant

yet, ever-changing.

Just as waves

on the beach;

so are the years

and us.

As if there is none,
be it by chance
or something other.

A wondering lights up interiors;
Such abundance of articles
more-overs out of use.

No stand is clearer than
a subject nearing sight.
I am.

hollow hearts tear at the skin
lust and passion-idle friends
bottles clink during the day
shatter at night.
whispers turn to screams
as the end begins again

A misplaced comma,
an misused apostrophe;
what some call extra skin,
not fat, but a flap.
The military calls it a redundancy,
although some find it repugnant.
A synonym for excess,
a form of alienation; disgust.

Keeps searching,
Hoping.
If not this one,
The one still to come.
Heart is rapidly beating,
Constantly grieving.
Eyes flickering,
-Always losing,
Gaining years
And mascara infused tears.

I had some things to say
-and as the age wages on
and hope starves
as love lures the moon and the sun,
I find once more
I'm full of words for you.
Simple minded hearts suffer the most;
caring deeply has its cost.

frail bones
barely
holding;
a past as rich,
as the future is poor.
still
everything holds
until.

another ink blotch,
a sentiment in darkness,
timeless.
yet, one you forgot.
just a speck
trying to sound off.
a heart- restless,
learning to let go.
another drip of pen onto paper
and then,
type it up so (they) can murmur
and lie aloud again.

Within reach

as if a mirage

yet, this time

it's all too real.

tippy toeing around once more,
still all that fails is true
and lies are grand for while,
until, always until.
-alone isn't always solitude
or lonely,
but it is.
I see the words in the air
and when I reach,
they scatter.
I'm keeping quiet
and very still,
maybe something will happen,
or someone might come in and talk
and I can put the pen down
and admit it's useless.

This ache seems to be
like Papa's White Elephants;
valuable in a sense
I've yet to understand.

Busy body, tranquil mind,
a joke I say!
The fishing line
is ever tangled.

Another
wasted morning,
another
throwaway.

Baby blue
against egg white,
silver framed mirror
near the pale light;
exposed bulb,
dust ridden.
~All mired in mediocrity,
stretching the lines
and still
falling short of meaning;
always lacking a certain capacity
to emote.

When all is failing- as it often does.
Laughter might not be enough,
nor beer and alcohol
nor praying to all the Gods.
-No matter,
just keep in mind,
sometimes it's your turn
to lose
and that's fine.
It is a long game after all

Harboring dreams,
those that don't allow sleep.
Like nothing
it is still there
waiting for all
that won't come.

A Chimera
ardent in my veins,
like alcohol to an open wound.
Wakes me in the morn,
keeps me up at night.
These nights no more dark than eternal.

As night quiets the songs,
silence awakes the mindful.
rummaging
through old wounds;
now silly scars of course,
but how they bled once!

Way back when
we knew nothing,
just kids trying to fit in,
to understand;
what's this life all about?
something we've yet to figure out.
Still, we laughed freely back then,
way back when.

aching muscles,
these memories;
a blood stained t shirt.
all the while
pretending
not to feel pain.

Unaware of these scars
for they are beneath the skin.
The air of radiance and joy;
a facade,
one that fools even I.
Still, there's no escaping the night;
the lonesome quiet,
the heart's drumming,
the mind racing,
igniting a riot.
No calm by the sea
or by city light,
by white sand
or gray concrete.
This visceral yearning
will not cease.

The flowers
have been
dying
ever since
I picked them
for you.

The absence of a beat,
an empty seat
dust covered clothes;
a fight concerning who's valued most.
Who is entitled to this or that?
Meanwhile the lawyer stares at his watch.
Little Jenny asks for grandpa,
the room is a sudden quiet
and the temperature drops
and the apple on the desk continues to rot.

Perhaps fearing tranquility,
the quiet calm which is never here;
I stopped drinking beer,
only whiskey
or *** from now on.

less of a gut
and better poems or maybe not,
but it sure feels different.
looked up for a minute
and new words descend;

Tears, smiles
and laughter
along with fingers
pointing and eyes
with much intrigue- staring.

Pale light
shines down
reveals the blank page.
Nothingness; an opporunity
- infinite.
the fool rushed in,
fiddled with some words,
adding up to nothing.
That’s the worst of it;
light wasted
and ink
and paper.

Green smudge
stains
the purple shirt.
The heart nonstop,
and the night uncertain.
The three legged cat searches
for his owner,
and I search for sleep.

thought the park would help,
really thought it would.
seeing the birds,
the trees,
the colors in the sky
and the light bouncing off the lake.
but, I saw past it,
saw the highway
running along the green's edge.

Your absence
is loud
and clear,
It's your
presence,
your complexity
I fear.
It's the
words
you've never said,
it
is the truth
I never
hear.

thoughts are passing cars today;
ever changing,
constantly
on the move.
colors blur
and details clash.
one after the other,
the next
faster than
the last.

Mid-day beers taste best alone.
tv off, windows open
and the **** dog asleep.
Another day halfway gone
and why hang around,
why linger on?
Seen it all before,
days grown bored.
The night gets music and lights,
alcohol and ****,
who could bore of this?

When
At the end of the day
or in a lull of a moment
you won’t think of me.

Yours is a path less traveled.
Rythmic for the love of drums.
Got cabinets full of bills,
things that’ll never keep.

A string thugs ever-so-slightly,
but it is visible you see?
Freedom was sold,
hope you kept the receipt.

Dust sits on the shelf,
no books or papers
only dust,
remainders of life.
-Staring at it,
feeling nothing.
Hoping for nostalgia, but no.
This sudden detachment is worrisome.
The work can suffer
you know?

The youth
has gone away.

Only lines
of fun stay.

When I smile
they go astray.

Vow to live.
To meet the days
in revolt.
Death will come nonetheless;
but make no time for death,
rather for life.

Dawn shed its colors
as night passed by,
giving way to daylight.
Wide-eyed, constantly neglecting
dreams cast
somewhere on the pillow.

Tried, but certain warmth would not keep.
Waiting- traffic and work.
Meanwhile a yearning stagnantly weighs.
Once more committed. Another day to waste
whilst dreams lay
somewhere on the pillow.

They come and go
these passions of the flesh.
Eyes of green,
brown and gray.
Near the big blue
they all look the same.
In the end
it's the ocean
and I
which remain.