These were never an option
never going to happen
we cannot change the past
why do I entertain the possibilities of what if?


Tempting me with an alternative
alternative what?
outcome…
was that alternative there when I was living the moment?
no..
what if ...dancing across my…


What if I…
said
walked
hit back
shook it off
didn’t buy into the lie


Following the path of
What if…
working through the flow
of choices
branches of
paths that will never be
can never be


What if is a...
madness
trapping me…
in the past
in a falsehood
in a maze with no exit
an infinite fallout
a theory of string


What if…
never was …never will

#thisjourneyofdays

Pleiades,
hot blue and extremely luminous.
From across the blackest ocean
seven sisters call, but
just three are putting out and
only one loves me.
That's okay...
She's been my favorite
since she said,
"It takes a mighty rocket
to pierce the night sky and
****** into space."
******* right.
I write my atheist gospels
using only the letters of her name.
I collect the relics
of long dead nova clusters
to construct The Grand Heart Emoji.
And if I never make it back to space
maybe one day
we can hold hands
in San Diego.

Look at me now
Rising from the ground
Taking everything with me
No regrets
No remorse
No shame
What didn't **** me
It sure made me stronger
But it left some cracks
All of them are apart of me
Of who I am today
Scars of a battle that I've won
Medals that I carry with pride
Because if it wasn't for the past
I would never been this brave
Now I've regenerated from the ashes
My inner light shinning brighter than ever before
I've been reborn

Fight, always fight, always,
One must never yield, not ever,
For I have kissed death, yes,
Lift the veil, the hidden truth,
He is not welcoming, he lies,
He is rotten, corrupt and stinking.
I have felt that cold embrace,
I shuddered, choked, rejected,
Came screaming from its pull,
Denied the dark allure, so cold,
And reared to confront my end,
I fought back, struggled, kicked,
Punched, bit, clawed, wrestled,
Until I was free, heated breath,
And now I know, understand,
We must always fight, always.

Inspired by a writer on HP.

©Paul M Chafer 2016

come follow me
down the road
to the old oak tree

no one has to know
what we do
or where we go

just you and i
our hands entangled
my hopes fly

your kiss so sweet
i'm so glad
we got the chance to meet

even when summer ends
i'll always remember you
you were my best friend

so do not cry
smile because it happened
this isn't goodbye

If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
I would already have exhausted
Every existing note
And created some new ones just for you.
I'd master every instrument
And grow extra arms
So I could serenade you
With a symphony just half as beautiful as your soul.
If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
I would already have exhausted
Every combination
Of our twenty-six letters.
I'd master every language
And grow extra tongues
So I could serenade you
With a symphony just half as beautiful as your soul.
If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
It'd be a duet
Because you play too
And I don't like how my voice sounds
Without yours accompanying it.
We'd play together
So we could serenade each other
With a symphony just half as beautiful as our love.

A block from the office
the city is tearing down an overpass.
Today they're beating the **** out of it
with a pneumatic hammer
the size of a freight train.
Its pounding
in time with my heartbeat
like the worlds largest metronome
suspended from the end of a crane.

Bang – Bang – Bang – Bang

I keep wondering
what’s going to happen
to all those buskers and hookers
who peddle their wares under that bridge.
I'm not seeing it though and
no observation means no poetry.
No poetry means no catharsis, and
my guts are full of hornets.

Bang – Bang – Bang – Bang

It’s the great whisky **** of the spirit,
the all-encompassing lack of passion;
the longing for old friends;
the desire to lean on old habits
the chinks in something resembling old armor.
the crease, the seam, the fold.

Bang – Bang – Bang – Bang

Misfire on eight.
Misfire on eight.
Misfire on eight.
There’s this pain in my head;
behind the left eye
where the secrets live.
driving and grief stricken.
(misfire on eight.)
The headache has no name, but
it sings a song.

Bang – Bang – Bang – Bang