Tell me about your troubles

and I might just tell you about mine


Tell me about the trigger to that gun that shoots right through your veins to your brain and fires you up

And sometimes it shoots you down

and you just crawl to a corner trying to heal those cuts
And sometimes the bullet stays there
The cut heals but the bullet lingers in you guts

You have found refugee in me ?
I was an open door
let you into my core
For a while it was your home
and you just messed it up

Now you tell me your story
Like a historical movie
you tell me about the blood the war the fight and the glory
Stating before every painful explanation a
"You know when " "you know how"
Yes I know how it feels when you care too much and you give your all to someone but they wouldn't do the same
When you get put second third but never first
How your feelings and troubles get ignored
how you feel worth less cause they don't really care about you
I know how it sets your insides in flames
How your love hate is like a horrible never ending game
your stuck in it so you keep playn'

I know that cause your my trigger
I'm looking at you waiting for you to figure

while your waiting for my advice ....

To write, to write.
Even to write this, tragedy
finds the difficulty to be impossible,
unending.
The crunching sound of its bones with
no cartilage is
at such an eerie, unnerving volume.
The shrill nervous laughter
encased in dry shallow sobbing is
crippling.
To mutter the words that may carry
sounds of joy are nearly inaudible.
Conversation with a "friend" is a forked road;
One to speak and tragedy will hear.
A lover of the mind, a scholar of the scar tissue
or a prophet of misfortunes grasp
is the only reality for this
dear tragedy.
To sleep or rest these worn out eyes that
cannot escape the horror never ceasing to follow them,
would be a euphoric sense of helping oneself...
Now to make the sleep last
an eternity or more.

"We met on a sunny afternoon a short time ago.
It then became a yesterday when we parted,
and replaced with a heavy soul.
The day was filled with two lives,
and what life had to offer,
grabbing every second we had,
hoping it will all last forever.
Days do end, but Yesterday's are Forever.
The food, the wine, and you, blending in with
the ocean view.
Can it be some what of a Miracle given a day so beautiful?
Or more so a Miracle that can never be taken away.".....

On your poems I linger.

Long after they’re gone

Leave their mark
On my work

Residues of their thread
Buzz in my head

Deep they sink
To color my ink

Your thought
In me wrought

The way you bleed
The way you seed
The way you need

They get into me
Beget more poetry

Your pursuit of joy
Of pain
Of sorrow

I borrow

Fated to be forever indebted

I steal your tune
Like a roadside singer.

On your poems I linger.

Seated between the two boys
her ring of laughter rends the air.

She has heard all they had to say
and now left with no way to choose either!

The boys too engrossed in their trance
see them victors in this game
missing out the signs of lost chance
and her heart having shut for them.

In the gathering tears of her laughter
she wished they had soon
left her alone.