as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.
it comes down to the rain, the sunlight,
the traffic, the nights and the days of the
years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living
it, typing one more line now as
a man plays a piano through the radio,
the best writers have said very
little
and the worst,
far too much.
from ONTHEBUS - 1992

Invisibility;

it need not mean
to not physically be seen,
for eyes look on,
taking in the
loneliness
I don;

crowds and rooms
bursting loud with tunes,
faces happily grimacing,
I am grimacing back,
revelry I am feigning,
as on spins the DJ track;

professional smile-maker,
the most experienced faker,
regarded by passerbyers,
they know nothing of my
insides                     on fire;

room crowded
and still alone,
optimism shrouded
by apathetic groan;

You
see
"me,"
but
you
don't
see
me;

Invisibility.

I should've* put on a fake smile.
I should've pushed through it all.
I should've acted happy.

Maybe then, I wouldn't have lost you.
Maybe then, I wouldn't have drowned myself in alcohol that night.
Maybe then, I wouldn't be dead inside.

I recall once upon a time, when you held me, you said you loved me.
I remember sharing laughs and smiles, making memories.
Now, you're making new memories, sharing love.
Not even eleven days later.

Maybe, you didn't love me.
And maybe, I was just an object that had no meaning, just a title.

Fury found in eyes that glare,
Fuming sheets that smoulder;
Clenched, my fist once did hold
A love, but now a soldier.

     Meet me in the morning,
     Just as the sun will rise,
     And there we'll mark our paces,
     And pledge our love won't die.

Search in autumn shorelines,
I'm standing in the sand;
Found guarding my own pill-box,
With destruction in my hands.

     Meet me in the time of love,
     Will you be my second?
     Relieve my eyes that guard a fancy,
     Release a heart so fecund.

Leave me shrouded in the evening mist,
Help the shooting stop.

Now leaves are yellowed with vericose veins,
And loosen with arthritic hands;
Our one-time love lifts with the night,
I've lost you once again.

She hides her smile
behind black lipstick.
Her voice is low
and in between.
She smells of loneliness
and cigarettes.
She sings for me
when she is high.

She gets me higher
than I can go.
She takes me low
and in between.
Her heart's on fire
when she sings.
Her voice is smokey,
full of pain.

She sings of loneliness
and broken dreams.
Her dance is low
and in between.
She gets me high
and lets me down.
She kisses me
with black lipstick.

r ~ 4/29/14

I stand in the back of the crowd
looking around
is anyone really here
or am i seeing shadows
because surely these people aren't real
With their smiling faces
in the midst of a war
With diamonds and pearls
hanging from their necks
in a time where money is rare
They must be shadows
I can promise you they aren't real

to everyone who's calling me....*i am no longer the person you're looking for.