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Several years ago I became depressed
And fled from my independence
Into the seductive arms of my home
In the hope that it would cure me of my
Chronic feelings of discomfort, angst, and misery.
In my head, it was a sanctuary,
A place I could go to free my mind
And find warmth and comfort.
Nothing has changed in my head
And I had forgotten how much of a nomad
I actually was and that home is just a myth
We tell ourselves to make ourselves feel
Warm and fuzzy and not so desperately alone
And now I'm wondering why all I found here
Was perpetual headaches and continued heartache
With the added benefit of cake.
It starts off, I suppose,
being an escape.
From harsh noise,
from the crushing weight of suburbia.

Somewhere along the line
(a month, two years)
the reason changes.
It's gratifying having a secret;
the gas station clerk doesn't know,
your parents, your girlfriend,
your professor, your little sister.

They don't know you have enough dope to last three days.
They don't know your only concern is getting another score.

You smile, you sigh,
you meet for coffee,
you dig through the thrift rack,
you go to see a movie.
you don't smack in their view,
you don't snort in their presence.

That's your secret.
You no longer receive pleasure from the dope, the high is only to chase away the low.
You're different, you're set apart,
you have a secret and its consistently exhilarating.

Eventually, if say, you leave for three months, they'll notice the twenty pounds you lost, they'll notice the paling of your skin, they'll notice the apathy in your gaze, and they'll say
'Hey buddy, you doing ok?'
and you'll say
'Don't worry about me lover friend, rice and beans, rice and beans and easy living'


Phillip K **** says he can fairly well sum up sober living with one quote he heard from an ex ******. That quote is "if I had known it was harmless, I would have killed it myself"

you laugh until ya cry
I'm fine friends, don't ask about me
Cruel Summer**

It’s a long cruel summer
since you’ve been gone;
starless skies
greet dreamless nights
and shadows eat my sight.
I thought it would be easy
not ever seeing you,
but everything I do
calls me to unsaid words
unwritten
unspoken
in many colors, but mostly blue.
~~~
Life is mostly hard,
filled with pain
abuse that makes no sense
and leaves us hollow sometimes.
Whether it’s at the hands
of those who raise us,
or the one who promises
to love us forever.
And worse, we sometimes lose
the ones we love the most-
gone
like mourning dew
on a warm summer’s day.
~~~
I know all this,
honestly I do.
Yet I never thought
it was you I would lose.
Don’t ask me why
I can not explain
my Daliesque dream
that you would remain.
Perhaps it was my penchant
at windmill jousting;
or reading too much into
Cervantes’ and his chivalrous
Dulcinea desires
that imaged you
dancing from chandeliers
or around those gypsy fires
on cool spring nights;
teasing me into submission
and confessing my “sins”
of falling for you.
I have no words
or rationale for any of this.
I just know
it’s a long cruel summer
since you’ve been gone,
leaving me all alone.
~~~
Maybe today,
while it’s sunny and warm,
I can find my sanity,
the rationale
to get out on my own
and sing some silly
80's songs.

Aztec Warrior/redzone 6.26.16
....thanks for reading...
music is "Cruel Summer" by Bananarama
link:    https://youtu.be/9ePIZugahFc
 Sep 2016 Little Bear
Stephan


“For in your light I dream, as evening takes my hand”

Silently I find my thoughts illumined by your beauty
In soft shimmers of dancing silhouettes
and patterns allowing breaths to sigh

Eyes peer into velvet skies,
visions set in motion eternally, find me
stranded within the confines of my heart, longing for you
Desperate for but a breeze, a movement of shadow,
a hope of wishes made upon the early arrival
of this crested view

Lonely among the maples, towering soldiers
lined at fielded boundaries, claiming wisdom
as they too reach for your smile

“And I yearn the knowledge of your distant view”

Do you think, do you feel, do you dream of me
from balconies high above hibiscus footpaths,
candle lit in passing moments which flicker, enchant

Drinking from a porcelain cup caressed by your hand,
a touch my body pleads, soft fingers on smooth surroundings,
ripples following moonlight sonatas,
days of spring blooms and whimsical showers,
flooding affections to wash over me,
carry me to you

This moon, suspended in charcoal heavens
upon a beaded blanket of perfect pearls,
beckons our dreams in simultaneous fashion

“Does your heart share this moon tonight, with me”
These days it seems
I remember my early childhood
Better than the contents of my last meal
Dementia creeps.......

Right now,
I'm remembering one early evening
With four of us small boys
Sitting on a wall
Discussing the realities of the world
As we knew it

The moon was pale but visible
And a subject for discussion
As serious as old men playing chess
We wondered how far away it could be
One lad said it was farther than London
But we knew that was obviously wrong
After all
We could see the moon
No-one had seen London

                                       By Phil Roberts
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