Lonesome pair of warring stars each toiling against the other,

Immense gravities shadow-spar, the sky-fires tide and tether,

Spiral waves of brilliant sparks spin out on the edge of never,

Shining light gives way to dark, the eyes of heaven stare as ever,

Embracing entropy eon-stark yet twinkling twice as clever,

For that which forces stars apart is that which binds us together.

Ascending shadows free frigid forest
From silently stalking sylvan guest
Lilac light lilting songbirds astir
Crystals cascade from ruffled fur
Halting hoof crinkles tinkling grass
Seeking silver trickling under glass
Softly stifled step echoes eerily alone
Tickling giggling reply from icy stone
Drinking doe darts sight unseen
Elusive as spring in this snowy scene

They were taught faith

under the guise of Stockholm Syndrome

I was lucky to have
a boon companion
on my life journey...
Sorrow never left me

When I broke, it was not her fault

I broke myself upon her, like water on rock

The way a wave breaks itself, eternally at most

Thrashing wildly then crashing blindly, deluging distant coast

Great weight driven by moon, gravity, and tide

Powerless over it's course, fateful in it's dive

Rising restless from it's shifting sleep

Drowning itself dripping upon silent shores feet

Raining it's bulk down on sand and stone

Dragging itself back to dark depths, alone

This heartbreak was an incantation,
Rumor and influence and imitation.
Malevolent power channeled through,
Assumptions and lies deftly hewn.
Harsh runes gouged into bedrock,
Strong shoulders disfigured by stony bulk.
Fault lines grinding thoughts to dust,
Eldritch-enspelled entropy engraving rust.
Mortally wounded by arrival unreported,
Time and space...     by distance distorted.
Lost and found, wreckage on stormy sea,
Seeking our love, stolen in infancy.

I stood looking up under that same moon
More desolate than the lunar landscape
More isolated than the furthest galaxy
More nebulous than any constellation

I stood looking up under that same star
Heart blacker than the void
Love brighter than a pulsar
Tears tailing like a comet

I stood looking up under that same sky
Missing you

-
     I forget about my faith,
And all the things I'm taught.
     I see the end is near,
But all my life I've fought.
     I want to go to sleep,
To never wake again.
     What is this thing approaching,
Should I call it a friend?
     I'm feeling restless,
But I have nowhere to turn.
     Either I go back,
Or go ahead and burn.
     I see my life, my luck,
And I am sure I'm hexed.
     What should I do when I don't know,
Just what I should do next?

I would rather have lived in a trailer with you,

Than to have lived the rockstar life without you.

_

"Let me go, set me free,

I'll come back if it's meant to be."


A pronouncement, not a choice.

Then she said, with tears in her voice,


"If you ever loved or respected me,

Don't call me anymore, please."


I couldn't argue, it wasn't my place.

Plus, she said, "I'll call you, I just need space."


She didn't believe in destiny or fate,

Or being locked to a future that she didn't make.


I don't believe in fate either, it's a moral vacation.

It's my belief that destiny is simply ones destination.


Was it such an insult that I once believed,

That we were so well matched we were meant to be?


Did our destinations just not intersect?

I waited for years, I never thought she'd forget.


Finally I worked up the nerve to leave word with her parents.

She called back, indifferent, but said she'd make an appearance.


Years of silence, now suddenly we're meeting at eight.

Nervous and scared I waited, she was only fashionably late.


We talked and caught up for an hour as we ate,

Though the butterflies only let me pick at my plate.


Just outside, she said she didn't have long,

But come sit in the car, and she'd play me a song.


I sat shaking in the dark van and I listened.

Well, to tell truth I tried, but was so nervous I didn't.


I tried to be cool, but underneath I was a mess.

Somehow I found the guts to blurt, "Can I have your email address?"


I agonized and worried, I tortured myself and fought.

What should I say?!  Bah! Just be honest, I thought.


Heart in throat, I emailed her, I told her I was still stuck.

She replied with an ice bath, "Too bad, get over it, goodbye, best of luck."


I'd love to tell you I was stoic, strong, and poetic.

In reality, I stumbled around like a zombie for years, it was pathetic.


I tried again a decade later, total fiasco of course,

I was lost and emotional and going through a divorce.


She was nice but aloof, she said, "If I'm on your list."

It set me off balance and gave the conversation a dark twist.


I read into her words with my own bitter pain,

And earned the response, "Don't message me again."


Time heals all wounds, after a while, it was OK, am I right?

Sorry, but nightmares still trouble me night after night.


I dunno if it's Covid, or I just know one day I'll be dead...

But I have to try and get this stuff out of my head.


Rip it out of my chest and wrestle it onto the paper.

Maybe, with enough words, I can start to fill in the crater.

I've got dyslexia,

I'm ADHD, and

I write poetry.

It's like a drunk,

One-eyed idiot

Trying to herd cats

That are on ****.

The idea of living life, not just surviving, but actually LIVING life,

Is like the idea of Angels or Miracles or Night-visiting-aliens:

I've heard stories, but it's never actually happened to me.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Please keep your arms and legs

Safely inside the poetry at all times.

Please don't fall into the black hole,

We know it's very attractive,

But our insurance rates will just be unmanageable

If we lose another one...

We eviscerated our love as if on demand,
Like fictional characters with scissors for hands.

If life were a movie, we would have pieced it together,
Using all our hope we'd rebuild it stronger and better.

We'd have a book of movie quotes we could use for a brain,
Then we'd just have to get these claymation hearts animated again...

We'd have them personally reassembled by a Halloween king,
And expertly stitched at the hands of an undead queen.

Our spirits safe, inhabiting invincible dolls,
We could rewind time, so the bombs never breach the walls.

If it was something we drank that made us feel small,
Could there be a tiny cake that would reverse it all?

Could it be the golden ticket to the show where we met?
Or would an offer of friendship bring up confusion and regret?

You may believe that I'm only enchanted by the path not taken,
But I hope, that like me, you too are a dreamer awakened.

Darkened dioramas seen through fading sight,
Wistful shadows of tormented light.

Twilight sifting through waking dreams,
Leaving me bare and clutching at seams.

We once flew on high with spirits of air,
We made light with the sun without a care.

Now I live only at night, sleeping through life,
Disgusted by struggle and sickened by strife.

Living for death but only dying my hair,
Heaven cancelled for the rain in the air.

So I gather my strength and I wish for the power to heal,
But when I give her my heart she says the magic just steals.

I've traded my eyes for a vision of sight,
And traded my soul for a photo of light.

Standing outside looking in,
Running circles with the wind.

Lose the self I've never known,
Chasing light that's never shown.

Forever rise to no avail,
Rusted, bent, and brittle mail.

The rising sun breaks on eager round,
It's dying screams release no sound.

This sadness might pass me by,
If I was ever left alone to cry.

It's not the giving, it's the spirit

But being giving, the spirit gives

So it is the giving of the spirit

I try to show you
A little piece of me
But it's not like I can
Lay out my soul;

A.
  B.
    C.

I mean hell,
You won't even
Speak to me.

Her star is her spirit
Her heart is my light
Weather, far, or near it
Illuminates my night

It wasn't the kind of heartbreak
That you get over with a road trip

It wasn't the kind of heartbreak
You got over with a peyote trip

It was the kind of heartbreak
You carry with you through your life

It was the kind of heartbreak
That makes your heart a graveyard

It was the kind of heartbreak
That makes the grave feel like home

The gentle bite of the stars reflected in the night sea.

Holding my gaze, and holding me fast to my vision,

So that I need never know the difference,

Between your eyes and the light of day.

Turn not away from me, but into me.

So that we might savor the entwining heat of our embrace.

But if you must leave me, know this;

That I shall surely fall into the depths of that same sea,

To perish, still contemplating the wonders of you.

That I should remain, still, beneath such turbulent waters,

Eternally reflecting a love further than the stars,

It would be the sweetest rest,

Suspended in the deepest sorrow.

This frame was built to soar
In the darkest depths of space
In the heart of an exploding star
Dimension defining a perfect state

Memories give way to today
To the weight of the day
The way it was played
Just the trap that waylaid
A debt never paid
On a promise never made

Time is always in the past

Even now

Is in the past

Now

All the years I will spend waiting

Will eventually be one with

All the years I have spent waiting

Still, I will wait

Very Zen...

But it's not because I am patient

I am not a patient boy  hums Fugazi

Or some studied guru or master of meditation

Nor am I Rip Van Winkle, for that matter

But if you ask me if I'm waiting, the answer is as it has always been:

Yeah, I'm waiting....

I feel like some of these small pathetic creatures

crawling around under lash and disdain

forced to listen to droning treatises on how to fly

used to be birds

It's not an altar

If I don't worship upon it

(Even if I still whisper prayers)


It's not a pedestal

If you don't stand atop it

(Only, I still look up to you)


It's not a quest

If you're no princess

And I'm no hero

(Yet, I still seek out dragons)


It's not a dream

If there's no hope

(And I still wake a million miles from you)

Bury me beneath assumption
Obfuscate me behind illusion
Crush me under false proof
I'd love to be lost in your confusion
Where each epiphany and every realization
Is you

I mean, what's 30 years between friends?
                                          between talks?
                                          between hugs?
                                          between kisses?

Silent lyrics sung, line by line,

Page by page, movies projected on my mind.

Words that moved me like waves, washed me out to sea.

Words that, like lighthouses, revealed the shore to me.


Sailors of stars, stories in hand,

Of heartbreak and romance, of adventures in distant lands.

Where words can lift you up and make you fly,

And stand with you against demons that darken the sky.


Whether high [on life] and humming happy tunes,

Or maudlin (in my cups) and singing the blues,

This drunken sailor would doff his cap,

Clear his throat, and raise his glass;


To all of the writers in their own little worlds,

To all of the pencils scratching, and all the pen whorls,

To all of the cluttered keyboards clacking,

To all of the rhythmic fingers tapping,


For all of the dreams and even the nightmares,

For all of the times your words let us know that somebody cares,

For all the truth, guiding ship to coast,

I raise my glass in an old Irish toast:


May the dreams you hold dearest,

Be those that come true,

And the kindness you spread,

Keep returning to you.


Slainte!  

Keep writing! <3

You're much stronger than any antidepressant I've ever been prescribed.

I want world peace and hoverboards too
But those ain't happening anytime soon either
So much for childhood dreams, I suppose

Although to be fair, we do have watches that can make video calls.
So I guess that's 1/1000 or so.
Yay the future! 😕

Hell threatens no pain,
I have suffered it all.

Death hides no fears,
I have seen them all.

Anger hoards no fury,
I have wasted it all.

Life offers no fire,
I have burned it all.

Longing loses no sorrows,
I am them all.

You might have been second in line,

But you were never second place.

The things I miss the most
From the life we never lived

I grew up moving from place to place,
Usually about once a year.
It is very difficult for a child to form friendships,
When they are never in the same school two years in a row.
Military brats go through this, I'm told.

My childhood was a series of disasters and moves.

Like the apartment building in Alexandria that caught on fire every other weekend.
Where my step-dad lost control of the car and tried to stop by sticking his foot out of the door.
My sister almost died from an allergic reaction to soap.
I fell off the jungle-gym and nearly bit off my lower lip.

We moved.

The townhouse in burke where my step-dad went through the sliding glass door, face-first.
Where he got Tiger, the 75 lb. German Sheppard,
Who was crazy and scared the **** out of us constantly.
Let's see what else?
I knocked my sister out of a second-story window,
Our babysitter was a ******,

We moved.

The townhouse in Fairfax where I first saw my step-dad hit my mother,
Where we lived when they divorced.
This is where we lived when the 300 lb. redneck enjoyed trying to **** me on a daily basis.
Our college student tenant had to stand up for me.

We moved.

Basically to make a long story short, not a lot of ****** stability in my childhood.

Disaster.

Move on.

Every single adult relationship continued this pattern.

Whether this is because I unconsciously seek out these situations, I don't know.

Probably.

I sometimes think that people need their disasters, so they have a reason to give up.

I am sick of disasters.
I am tired of moving on.
I am sick and tired of giving up.

And of being given up on.

Are you afraid to get close to me,

Because I'm not how you expected I'd be:

Because I'm not what you told yourself to see?

Could it be that you avoided remembering me?

The cost of a soul is never cheap
A heart broken whole sleeps ever-deep
Healings toll is inclined to be steep
Heaven toils, devils reap

She would stand in the path of an avalanche and yell, "Stop!"
Frack me if she wouldn't actually expect the avalanche to respect her.
She'd be thinking about how to teach the avalanche manners,
Safe inside her brand-new igloo.

She set me on fire and asked, "Why's it so hot in here."

See, the thing about lies is,

They just don't make for very good poetry.

Poetry works just fine if the words don't rhyme,

But it's worthless if the sentiment doesn't.

They all start the same,
Three stars on a page.

Well, they're not really stars, are they?
Just three circles with some extending rays.

But they must bring luck, or maybe inspiration,
Since I can still write with my muse on vacation...

Three hours I searched for that airport, lost on the highway,
Man, if I'd have found it, I'd have parked right on the runway.

I didn't, I stalled on a service road, out of gas and engine dead,
And laid on the cold concrete, contemplating blowing off my head.

I need not have worried, or wasted my time on doubt,
'Cause when her plane flew over it obligingly tore my heart out.

Three days I waited to hear if she'd landed,
It'd still be another three weeks before I felt abandoned.

Three years later I was still waiting, did I give up too soon,
The night my heart broke under the October moon?

I knew she was standing under that same autumn sky,
But I finally understood,
That she stood under it with some other guy.

These stars are all I have left of her, nearly three decades later,
Three thousand stars on a thousand pages,
That are really just the holes in old notebook paper.

-Scratches face-

"Y'all got any more of them rhymes?"

-Scratches face-

"I'll give ya a cheeseburger for some rhymes!"

-Scratches face-

My unintended snark
adds terminal velocity
to my words sometimes,
like when Captain Kirk
slingshots around the sun.

Maybe I can use Kirk's
Slingshot Maneuver
to travel back in time
and apologize for each one.

Renegade, rebel, foul-mouthed malcontent
Abused, abandoned, discarded, youth misspent
Smoker, toker, poem-writing music maker
***-sellin', ****-it-oh-wellin', no-****-taker

I'd probably have had a criminal empire if I'd kept my course
Instead of being an estranged father and statistic of divorce
Unemployable, unstable, emotionally unavailable basket-case
Polo-shirt-khaki-wearin' fashion-victim of the corporate rat race

I coulda been a gangsta, a rocker, an actor, or even a ****-star
It woulda been easy with my childhood and my broken-*** heart
I coulda had money, mansions, cars, endless drugs, and ***-on-tap
Instead, I gave that all up for a hopeless hope and a lonely fap

I guess that sounds kinda pathetic, but even that's alright
Because it won't be long before little man yells, "Dad, let's play Fortnite!"