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Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
Pose for me. so that I can write a poem about you.
So that I can be inspired.
       So regal, so gaunt, you're going to be a star
            soon.
       With your death comes your decomposition comes
        your rebirth comes your relive comes your
redeath...comes the death of the Earth. Comes the sun, comes the stars,
-and every time I check back in, you avert your gaze, stoicism,
  god forbid I realize you're interested in anything outside your
own chaos theory about destroying the constitution of
   men by raising them right.
                               But you saw me write that in my mind
                     and now you've switched demeanors to
        the disapproving yet ultimately caring parental.

           It's funny that I rescued a parent
                        in you. (Tried to.)
                 While doing my best to provide (the best of dreams) for both of
                 us, I somehow hit a bump in the road
                 that beat me into awareness.
  Now that I'm awake, I can tell you, you're
            just like me: terrified, alone in your body,
            wrought with worry about the possibility of
             your mind never reaching mine.

Neither of us were well enough prepared for this
   to end so soon.
                   Trust me to share in your discomfort in
                   dying with no true heir.
                  But trust me also that I have become as
                   much you as any progeny could ever be.
                 And know that I do NOT trust you
                 to definitely leave me this time...you've
                  Cheated before.
Made me feel like we really were angels, if only for each
other.    You've crossed me for the last time though.
    Like a bridge, I collapse, and I rise.
               Like a breath I am labored, I fall for you,
                          to mark safe passage.  But I DO NOT WILL
NOT CAN NOT Burn away. You will always pass by way of my support.
You're small again. Like when we were young.
                               I feel like I could hold you in one hand.
  Sometimes it takes a lot to make us realize the magnitude
  of the things we are experiencing. It takes stakes
  for us to see that this is one moment we are sharing
  forever and never again. It takes pains to force us to
put these experiences down in writing, and it takes guts
to know. to know.  to Know.  that this love is worth
   having
every ******* second that we breathe.
                           It takes a lot of guts, to know, when you won't be coming







Back.

                                      to a place you call Home.

Because that feeling you were holding onto
                                           went down deep in Earth.
    And up into space.
                             But somehow it's still in you
   when you sleep and dream and wake and eat and breathe and
           live                                and                     die
   and [Move]

                                                         ­                and (swim.)

     Where you belong                        is not a constant.
     Where I belong                              is not fixed down.
     Especially when
                                                what you are, my love
                                                            ­  changes     forms so
                                                              ­               frequently.

                                                    ­                 And you're moving along so fast.
                                                           ­          I couldn't hope to stop you now...
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
To feel this love.   to feel this love.   to feel this
           love.    to feel  this love.    to feel this love. to
       feel this love. to feel this love. to feel this
       love. to feel this love. to feel this love. to feel
       this love. to feel this love.  to feel   this
      love. to feel this love    to feel  this   love.
To feel this love. To feel this love. To
    feel this love. To feel this love.   To feel
       this  love. To feel this   love. To   feel this
           love.
                       to feel this love.   to feel this
        love.  to feel this love.    to feel this love.
to feel   this love   to feel  this love . to feel
    this love. to feel this love. to feel this love. to feel this love.
  tofeelthislove. tofeelthislove.  tofeelthislove.  tofeelthislove .
  ttttttoooooo ffffffeeeeeeeeeeeelllllltttttthhhhhhiiiiii
                      ­   ssssss lllllloooooovvvvvveeeeee .
        .                . . . . .
To feel this   love.
              As if you've never felt it before.

                      or

       As if you've entirely forgotten what it
                                                      felt like.
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
"Get this **** cancer out of me." you want to scream.
      And I want to do it for you.
"This isn't part of me. I don't hurt inside like you do,"
          you laugh: in the face of death, to hide
                       the fact that you're only hanging on for me.
    And I feel like saying the same to you but...
I laugh along and...
                             we don't speak about it.
                                              Because we're men.
                                                            ­and men don't fear death.
                                                          ­                       we laugh in its face.

                        But also because
                                if we speak these things, they might
                                                           ­            become true.
             and so then,       what are we laughing at
                                                        but the truth.
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
I welcome your scars
this time around for
they are the last I
may ever accrue.

You dig.  in . for. dear .   life .
One lasting fight to end all
                         fights.

A big mother battle for
the parents you were
torn from and the
storm that you
             were born
  into.

Onto my doorstep, I
proclaimed this ship not sunk
and spent the night too
               drunk on love to ****
                     to **** it all up with
                                one word: good by-
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
In my moments of release, my letting go of all
attachment to a definition and a romanticized idea
of having a home... In this eulogy of my
origin, I have never felt so complete. I have never
felt so much like a part of something. I have never
felt so close...to a place...to home. My entire
life exists as a fable in the woods. Those trees
that hold so many secrets own me too. I belong to them.
I am a part.
                      "Do not die yet."
                    Only after your whole heart has
                    healed can you prepare for death.
                    Do not give up your precious time
                    here without attempting
                    for this body to get better
                    in every way. For this body is
                    what we learn from and teach through.

You brought me back from
the brink and now I have to carry you
past it.

An inability to write                                                            ­in great
                                                           ­                                          grief
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
You    

                                  are
   a

                dying


          angel


                       .
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
I know you're trying really hard
   to be ok with this.

                            It's fine. You don't
                             have to keep up
                               appearances any longer.

                            I know death is more
                             painful than you thought
                                      it would be.

We all make misjudgements.

        If you were perfect,
             would I have ever
            learned anything from
                                            you?

Fight to the bitter end if
      that's what your instincts are
         telling you. You were always more
       in touch with instincts than I
                                                        was.


    Still searching, but for
          what?
      What secret were you put here
           to reveal that you haven't yet?

      Too large an agenda for such a
             small body.  Some of the
            universe's mysteries will
           stay lost to you as long
                as you remain here on
                           planet Earth.



   This time around    you drink like
        there was no water left on Earth.
                    
                     I guess we both learned
                     to fight against our
                     own self-destruction around
                     the same time.

"Clean yourself up, we gotta go soon,"
Orion Schwalm Apr 2011
THere is wHere it Happens.
THere is wHere it meets its maker, face to face, and then rips out the sink and sHatters.
An image of (G)god.
THere.                    Do you see now?                          No, you don't.Do you Hear it?


Of course not.                        These things can be forgiven.

Hallways, brittle lit   unwavering absence of ligHt   unfazed face of Hope.
                   unmarred reason of passion          unscarred wrists, scanning the walls

Do you...feel it now?                       Do you?       You do?            Then...
The only trutH is tHat you are full of lies.      

You do not see, you do not Hear, you try to listen but you cannot feel so let. me. kiss. you. So tHat you can taste your own sweet sorrow.

As you drove into me I was like the sun and you were like the moon, a firey ******* ball of fire versus a cold barren landscape, but the only thing close enougH to feel.

It stung like a needle.
It stung like a wHipcrack on a sunburn.
It stings like that first hit of cold water on an open wound.
It stings like when you suddenly realize a (G)god doesn't rule you       and
before you realize that             tHere is a reason        beyond tHat.

It's a little thing. And you're only going to notice it when it leaves, and makes everything so, very slightly
astray.

As you pulled away I was like desert and you were like twiligHt. A cold barren landscape versus a darkness tHat still sHows some false Hope of light. Our lips were like the Horizon.                They were.


You pulled away.      And planets died.           And people died.          
             And the place where my feelings once existed became a vacuum.
Every day I carried worlds on my shoulders. And the sky opened up like an old wound. And if you were the sky, I was the desert below it.  

And there was nothing in this desert.


And there was nothing.


And then I knew,                                     that it didn't matter if I lived or died.
                              But you were dead.
And no amount of remembering can change the world I'm in right now.


So I will make a new one.



Consisting of...




                                                       ­                                                     ...only memories






and that is fine.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2015
As she swayed to the tide of music nobody heard
The ghostly rhythms of my own forgotten soul caught FIRE
Tap dancing tenaciously on the tightrope of the void
Calling forth cascading cataracts, callousing over the mind, a cacophony of Mallards, flying south for the winter,
NEVER AGAIN TO SEE THEIR MOTHERS.
She tied my brain into a rope and swung across the chasm
Laughing like a Mameluke who had just discovered his feet.
The camel was left behind at the gate
The Babble went on till the break of dawn
Till it stopped.
And collapsed.
And felt weak as a Sunday Noon Tide Carolers
Bunchcake, Fun and Dry, Severing again and again the Hair twine
Randal Slappy Blimp map candy man Cadillac attack
A BOTTLE OF WINE AND TWO LEFT FEET LATER
A scumaladdoodalla frigate-splayed poodle-cups
When finally she agreed to let me into her preschool
I had already given up the hope of ever having a career in the arts.
Bean friends. Are the only friends. That accompany you. To heaven.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2015
Here's a light.

No I don't smoke.

See that house?

No I don't home.

We're going in.

I don't know.

Come on all your friends are in there.

I don't care.

See the big one? He's loving on your girl.

Not my girl.

We'll jump the gate, nobody will know.

Not my girl.

Everyone will be excited to see you.

Not my girl.

Well what do you care!

Not invited.

So ******* polite all the time.

Not polite.

Ok stay here.

No I want in.

Ok well let's go.

Wait.

WHAT?!

How do you know?

What?

That he loves her?

I can see him through the window, getting touchy feely.

But she doesn't love him.

She looks like she's enjoying herself.

It tears him up inside.

He probably wants to do that to her.

He wishes he were me.

Why?

Because it doesn't tear me up inside.

That she doesn't love you?

...


Don't know.

Well?

Don't care.

It doesn't hurt you even a little?

Doesn't belong.

What, you?

No, her.

Doesn't belong where?

To me.

And you don't care?

I don't possess.

And he wants to possess.

And he suffers.

I see.

Yes.

So?

Yes.

Let's go in there.

No.

Why not?!

I can't stand to see it.

See she does get to you!

No.

Well what then?

Him.

Him?

Yes.

What about him?

He suffers.

Yeah? And?

I can't stand to see it.

...

Oh.

Yes.

Well.

Yes.

Ok...well I'm going in.

I'll be here.
Orion Schwalm Jan 2012
The first time I saw you. I had to remember it.
That was something I couldn’t see just once.

When we first kissed, was when I first became fully aware.
I wanted to run out into the rain barefoot, and scream your name until I’d squeezed every possible ounce of meaning that could be derived from the utterance of those syllables
Out into the weeping sky.
but It wasn't raining that day.

The last time I saw you, I was fairly certain I had hallucinated it.
You ever see something that’s been a reoccurring dream of yours for several years manifest itself right before your eyes?
I dream so much it’s hard to believe in anything anymore.

The last time you saw me…



I don’t know if you ever saw me.
Orion Schwalm Feb 2012
For those of us who feel like we’re underwater.
When the moon fills the dark spaces we won’t go.
When music is more than more than more than what you know about it.
And in the end of the world as every sun sets, something more is born.
There are good times ahead in the next city.
There are good times in all things.
Connect, cement, the heart in the stories that change, change.
Connect.
**connect
Orion Schwalm Dec 2010
We came from dreams

Arrived in our beds

Having just been separated,
we formulated plots                that would return us to each other.

A switch from the subconscious sparked miles between us.

We talked through wires until it was no longer tolerable.

I went to find you, and found myself with you, the journey blurred.

There were others. They were all beautiful. But then darkness took our
                                                                      sight.

And everything was quiet.


I had never known beauty unseen, unheard.
                                                 but...you touched me

You felt me, like a cloud feels a mountain peak before taking the highest point away from the rest of the world's...sight.

Like a confused thing on a strange planet...but not frightened.
You touched me with want.
                                                       And I wanted you.
                                                                                            To know all of me.
                                             Including the bad parts.
And I wanted you to add to me, things I didn't even know yet...


The sad parts.

And a moment was a year to me. And I was wise for a second.


We left. your room. out into the night. the others around us, expressing such joyous jubilation.
And still I couldn't derive joy from their moods.
My capacity for happiness was overfull. All you.

Bring back the sight. Bring back our voices. Remember the touch.

Undying.

Our souls touched.
       The whole night long.
                Until we had to leave.
                        Because we were afraid of a supernova.
                               so we hurried back to our respective beds
                                         and that was the fastest I ever fell asleep
                                               and I know you did too. because I saw you there
In that room. In my room, in my head, in your bed, full of dreams.

Dos mil y seis. Yo fue yo...fue yo y tu. Me odio.
Orion Schwalm May 2017
He stood on the corner and cried.
Not for his mother.
Not for his brother.
Not for his lover.

He cried for the old world.
A Memory never coming back.
Cried and Cried.
What a *****.
Memory.
My first love.
Was a *****.

He stood at the corner and cried.
Cried and Cried.
Until he died.
A little death.
Mouth agape.
Exhaust. Intake.
Painting his pate with lovers and lakes,
He trembled and raked his mind for a day,
He jumped up and down but could not shake
The way he felt about his own best friend.

The further he was the tighter the tension
It didn't make sense, how could a stupid boy choke him up.
Invisible chains tied to invisible cuffs on his wrists,
but he knew he was free. He didn't want to break, see
He chose the chain to remind his brain, that he could make me
live again.

I was his best friend.

Still am until the end.

Whatever that means.
See,
he sees outside of time.
He knows how he will die.
Collapsing with a sigh,
He sees me by his side,
Attached with arm and knife,
He finally rests his eyes,
on co dependent life.
A gift from the King.
Orion Schwalm Jul 2010
The pathways are so luminous
As I tread this softened ground
Trying to put into words the
Enlightenment that I have found

I must journey on my own
As the white wolf hunts the forests alone
To **** his prey and prove to his mate
That he is of worth, to create
He will **** or be killed for a chance of new life


So much time separates us and the stars
We see magnificent death in the form of light
If something can be so beautiful after it’s gone
The living light must have cast a remarkable dawn
A radiance so bright, is vile to mar
Perhaps I should play shepherd to the less permanent stars
Whose light would be forgotten in a ripple of time
The stars that reside right here on this land
Beneath the flooding moonlight
Which isn’t light at all.
Incomplete three verse version.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2010
Good morning radiance
It seems that we’ve found ourselves
In the midst of another day apart
Testing my patience
The distance it weighs in
As we spend yet another day apart
The border and boundaries
That separate us sounding as one
Are meant to be crossed
Wearing our scars
As if badges of honor
The roadmaps to our hearts
Only show that we’re farther
Then we ever should have been
But it can all start again
All we need is a time and a place to begin
It gets so repetitive
It ends and begins again
But at this point the ending
Is far from my mind
The truth that you find
In these statements is all for you
Many things lack fact
But every word here is true

Good evening glorious
The sun has come and gone again
It hides behind the earth
And it takes all of our secrets with it
So let’s go back
To where we were at
Those years ago
When life was so simple
Living in proximity
The vibes all tearing into me
Our heartbeats have grown  soft it seems
And on that note we take our leave
To disappear, to never see
The sun rise and set the scene
For just another wasted day
As our emotions rot away
To turn to dust, as If to say
I  ride on winds of pestilence
And desecrate the best of ‘em
Don’t feel special when you go

Because the battle isn’t won by knowing alone
Copyright: Henk vonStockhausen
Seal of Approval: Ryan Schwalm
Orion Schwalm Jul 2010
These bursts of creativity
Come randomly,
And seemingly
Unnaturally
But when I see
My mind set free
I write endlessly
A creation spree
I guess it could be called
When I go from lying on the floor, sprawled
To shattering these emotional bunker walls
Orion Schwalm Jul 2010
Twisting endless all-consuming halls
Drain faith from faceless souls
Drowning fragile minds as a white black hole
Deadening the faint cry of tormented minds’ calls
An ocean limitlessly deep
No bottom, no surface, all sides ever-expanding
And containing, concentrating in this treacherous keep
Forever feeding, and forever demanding

This prison of mind so real in the flesh, always inhuming, never exhuming, always changing, yet always the same. An honest suffering, all who are so free are chained in their own selves. Reality is dementia and insanity is standard, the ambitions of old are long gone to the wind. The candles of emotions are blown wild in the gust melting wick, wax, and burning wooden stand to become one hideous, beautiful, abnormal, fantastic anomaly.


I ferment in this sickening hole
The pungent smell of mindless efficiency
Creates an equality I cannot stand
This nightmarish labyrinth can break a man
The ones deemed just, fuel this travesty
Of false love and compassion, feeds the gates toll
Once I had a meaning in life
But it vanished in the course of a night
In the past I may have had some grand scheme
But eternal freedom has intervened
I wish deep down that I could live again
In the sunlight world away from my pain
In my stormy mind there is always rain
Orion Schwalm May 2017
Entitle.
Breathing in this second.
Been a long time, still no exit.
Still this air, this place, no effort.
Someday when you are are free.
You will no longer have need to breathe
Someday when you are free .
you will become your anxiety.
Someday when you are free.
Transitive motion becomes liberty.
Someday, when you are free .
Signs will be leading you back to the sea.

See you again.
See you my friend.
Milling the fen.
Willing the zen.
Breathing the pen.
Ten thousand offerings.
Never enough.
Sever my soul from like apple on tree.
Fall to the ground.
See the fools drown.
Drown in the tears of the poor of the town.
Loved till too late.
See you in the ground.
When you come around.
Your side or mine?
Sides or time?
You're on my mind.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2011
I was charged with the task of outliving my opponent,
Our benefactor whom I will speak no more than briefly about, has laid these orders before us and we will follow them, without falter.

Since I’ve seen absolutely no sign of my quarry in at least a half hour, and my camp and post is fully set, I may wander into the backwoods for a spell, searching landmarks and anything else that may aid my plight, I will carry the log at all times.

Slightly longer than I expected, took a few extra paths I discovered, still I should be within earshot of my encampment and have heard no sign of trouble. Perhaps, though, I should not underestimate my enemy.

Returned to camp, coldness and fatigue has set upon more quickly than expected. I will lay down to recuperate for a short time.

Awakening. My camp has been laid waste. Trenches have appeared as if by tectonics.
Nightfall.
-The light takes care of its own, even when they wander in darkness
Made spikes for an elbow of trench. My defenses are nearly invisible. Good luck adversary.

4 days since trenches showed up. No sound, but the wind. No movement, but my restless thoughts. Paranoia?
Or Pandora?

A man fell into my east spiked pit.  I watched the snowflakes gently cover his last horrified expression. He is not my prey.

2nd week. I’ve begun to wander out of the trench covers. It doesn’t get much lighter than twilight around this time of year.

The trenches…disappeared. What am I doing here?

Everything on this plain looks the same, I’ve passed several faces, with no names in my memory to stand by.
-What is courage to a death seeker? Whence does fear come if not from the end?
Strangely, I tire less. Perhaps this world has  begun to harden my shell. I am stopping at a small stream, the first defining landmark I’ve come across in many nights. There are no days anymore, only nights. I must judge time based only on my internal clock. My resolve will not fail me here.

Crows follow me at night. I will feign my death…to set their trap. I must sustain.
The most godless meal I have eaten in my life…
-Unbeknownst to historians, here will go absolutely nothing, to change the
tides of existence
Three days by this stream, sadly, it does not run any longer. It has not frozen, but the current has halted. I cannot explain why I am overcome with such gripping sorrow about this detail.

I have taken to painting with a spear tip. Blood drips nicely through snow. It’s as if I’m the first man on the earth who has discovered the means to express himself. And perhaps the only one ever again to
-My quarry must go on to the next generation, somehow, for some reason I do not know, must save. My own. Brood.
Made an altar for the slain crows. Though they are considered the devils bird, no being deserves such a dishonorable death. Trickery
Disgusted.
-How is there so much Hateful in the nonviolent?
Tears plague me, freezing before they can fall from my face. It’s like someone is taunting me, you will never be the man you searched for out here.
-My hand hurts, like a frostbitten oath nearly forgotten
Who am I?



Who sent me, who was I brought here to find…nobody.
Would I know if my task has completed?
No, I must stay vigilant. I’ve dropped my guard and my attention.
-We’ll see, foe, we’ll see whose wounds heal first
I have left the stream behind. Along with all the memories I had left. It’s time to move on.
-The task at hand seems far away now, like someone put it on the backburner for a minute, any minute now someone’s going to break me out of this dream life
I now stand before a white gale, seemingly a barrier to some sort of inner fortress. Unmoving. Bitter, cold, wind and snow. This testament of nature’s wrath beckons me,
And I cannot turn back.

I must reach the center now.**
-As feeling returns, so too does numbness, trading turns for turns, blow for blow, eye for eye, tear for tear
-There must be something in this mad storm
Orion Schwalm Apr 2011
This is not a hopeful poem.
                                                  This is hardly a poem at all.
                                                  This is based on true events.


I can taste you in my mind. Even in memory you're sweeter than anything I could have presently.
        and        I         will           follow        you       to           the         brink


My New Year's resolution is to finally talk to my dad! I've never gotten to know him but I swear I'm gonna get him to open up to me! I know things must have been awful for him ever since his daughter died. Parents shouldn't have to watch their children pass away. But I'm going to talk to him about it when I come home for the summer!

Hey, how are you?
Doin' good, stressed from school =/ but good
It's just a lot of work and I get homesick sometimes.
I would visit more but gas is really expensive, I'm gonna try to get a job soon.
Yeah, they're raising tuition soon too, but I know I gotta do this for my future.
We should hang out this weekend when I come home.
I understand, you're busy with work and school and stuff.
Well let me know if you're gonna be free. I won't have much to do.


the best friends are the ones you can talk to about the most random ****, and the most serious ****. Like you know you've got something real when you guys stay up all night and can't sleep, and he can't sleep because he's thinking about giant bumblebees and Halloween costumes, and you can't sleep because you're thinking about a girl you love but are distraught over, and you can just go off on either of your thoughts at random and be completely comfortable. I'm so glad I know....


I have been hanging out with the most amazing girl. She plays guitar and she sings and she's so good, and she's beautiful, and she paints these awesome Indian looking paintings, and she just makes me feel so happy every time I'm with her. She's really sad a lot of the time though, and she's really shy about talking about stuff that makes her sad, but I'm gonna work on it, and hopefully she'll tell me about her life. The best thing about her...is the things she does tell me, it's all the truth. It's the most truthful talk I've ever heard out of anyone. I think I'm starting to fall for this girl, she's truly really realistically literally amazingly beautiful.


They had separated five years ago. He really did follow her to the brink. And well beyond. And she loved him the whole time. But she never went back to him, she was too scared of the brink that she couldn't let herself follow.

He watched his daughter take her last breath. And he was silent. He drove home. In silence. He took a beer from the fridge and swallowed it in silence. and another. and another. and a shot of fernet. and another shot. and a piece of bread. and another shot. then the bottle. every shot he finished and hurled against the wall. unfeeling. until there was nothing left but a sea of broken glass and a pale face. He had more children. he forgot how many maybe to make up for the empty spot where she had been. maybe because he didn't want to wear a ******. more wives. he forgot how many. he forgot what countries they lived in and how many he had. He almost forgot he ever had three daughters. Then someone asked him one day...it was a boy...blonde, blue eyed, pale...like she used to be. The boy asked him what he felt.         He couldn't answer.            
The last thing he remembered feeling was the coldness of glass on his lips, and the fire in his throat.     that night he tried to feel it again. only this time it wasn't glass on his lips. It was metal.   He tipped it up to the back of his throat. And took the shot.


One time I went to college
To get a cool degree
And get a sweet-*** job
And make my parents happy
But then I realized
I missed my life back home
I missed some girl I loved
And here I felt alone
I figured I'd go back
And try to work each day
And that's when I found out
I'd have no place to stay
To my parents I was just another source of cash
That would keep them comfortable in their old age
And if I wanted to follow my dreams and my heart
I'd be stuck on my own without home or wage
So then on my spring break
I found out something sad
The people that I missed
They didn't want me back New Story!

We spent an entire summer together. The moment after I first said I love you I promised that I'd spend every waking hour that I could before I moved away with you. You were sad and happy at the same time. And we partied every night like it was our last night, destroying bottles of *** like we were ******' pirates. Blasting our music and singing like we were at war with our lungs and our ears and our throats but it felt so GOOD! I remember when I got banned from the apartments, I'd sit out in my car and just wait for you. Because you still had to drink. You had to numb yourself because there was too much inside you. I remember after I'd drive you home, I'd lay in bed with my best friend talking about how amazing you were, and how much I loved you, and he'd tell me how happy he was that I was finally happy for once.  I remember the night I found out you and him had slept together once. It hurt. But that was before I knew you, and I loved you both too much to be mad. I remember the night you ****** him again. And you watched me cry, and you were speechless. I remember when you told me you loved me, and I believed you...but you said you were free and it was beautiful, and you wouldn't give that up ever. I didn't believe you were free, and I never intended to shackle you. When you told me you loved me your words held no truth, but when you told me other things, your eyes were screaming I love you. I know you love me. I know you've told me more than you will ever tell anyone about yourself ever again. I remember talking to my best friend about how much he hurt me. I remember that being the first time I had ever wanted to fight someone. I remember him saying how much he loved me more than anyone else. I remember when you ****** him again. And again. And again. I remember the night you were 10 feet away. I remember the blanket you gave me the day before I moved away. You said I needed something that smelled like you.
That blanket...is in my closet. Underneath all my suits, and my other blankets, and my didgeridoo where I can't see it. Because it scares me. It scares me how much betrayal I can feel from an object, and how much I really really really just want to burn it or get rid of it somehow...but I can't.

PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF EACH OTHER. I know her past but not her present. She knows everything I think in the moment, but nothing about my life outside of her and I. I used to feel perfect with her. I probably still would. She won't come close to me now.
**** this ****.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2010
I don't want you to judge me anymore.



And you won't.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2010
From the porch to my heart
As it skips and it starts
Building memories eternal
Even though you are so far
The stars in the sky
I’d rearrange if you desired
And I’d sell my scars and soul
If that was what it took to find her
But here she is before me
And she fills my eyes with radiance
Struck dumb by your beauty
Now just what do I say to this?
I say that I hope you forgive all my flaws
And simply accept us for what and who we are
The sole time we met
I think I know you well enough
To forgive the foreplay, the silliness, the pestilence
For now we’ll call the distance
A heartbreaking test of this

My life has been defined
And I don’t even know your last name
I just can’t wrap my mind
Around the way that you move
or the things that you say
Each day the distance between us is torture
I’ve known my destination
Since the first time that I heard your voice

I know that this must seem awfully forward
But I hope you can understand all the allure here
This town Is much too small for you to grow
And your heart is too big to remain here alone
From the first time we locked eyes
I knew you were different
Felt something inside
But it wasn’t resistance
It told me that I should approach with persistence
And not just confess these things
But insist them
So when we leave please hold these memories near
I hope I speak for us both
By saying “I won’t forget you my dear”

My life’s been defined
And I don’t even know your last name
I just can’t wrap my mind
Around the way that you move
Or the things that you say
Each day the distance between us is torture
I’ve known my destination
Since the first time that I heard your voice
I hope you move on to better things
When someday you find them
Just remember who you are
Copyright Henk vonStockhausen
Orion Schwalm Aug 2014
Go to sleep, ****, ****, ****.
**** and sleep. Bleed and weep.

Stop.
Examine yourself.
Am I safe?
If yes, ****.
If no, yes.
Change positions.
Am I safe enough right now?

Check on that thought. Is it ok? Can it live here? Will it **** me?
No? No. No...

No...

Say alive. Say it.
Stay astride giant tantamounts of muse, Icarus flew too soon.

Silence freak. The silence freak.
Science, cheap talk, pseudospirituality.
Shut up that mouth, babbling on and on and off.
Off. Offal in the pig soup broth.

Charm her. Charm her. What else?
Charmed her. What else? Shut up, that's all.
Shut up and enjoy life fully, be abundant, free, intelligent, silent.
Keep it in the pants. Keep inside your ******* pants.

Feel the need to breed. The need to spill obscenities. You breathe in every other scream, to **** in dry, **** and dry, blow out all the seeds.

Aw **** my eye. Right in my eye. 1st contact. Claimed. In the Name.
Oh his Father, His Son, His Holy Zeitgeist.


Bigger words make a happy family. Tipping urns spill the trappings of the elite. Learn from our mistakes. Do not mistake taste. For feeling unafraid.

Goodbye, goodbye, I'm off the **** and sleep. The dose was too high, got right in my eyes, and several bars later the rhythm has faded and no tears are left with which to weep.
With a definite driving and subsiding of rhythm.
Orion Schwalm Jul 2010
Dreamer


As I lay amongst sweat drenched sheets
Staring at the solemn shadows on my ceiling
Unable to move, my legs broken
I envision a sea of leering gleams
So dreary and unseen
And we
As dark it seems
Bright stars in the sky
While the universe dies
But still we’re held high
Ever falling, entwined
Shelled from the blustery, unwinding seams
Held within my conscious dream
I turn on the light and walk out of the room

As I stare at my self in the sheen
Breathing in sporadic spasms at the sink
In my eyes, an almost believable disbelief
Nearly collapsing with each new breath
I know not my own blood
My passion for you has weakened me
Sapped my physical energy
Forever I’m trapped, but eternally free
My own eyes, a river
A whirlpool, the sea,
An earthrent galleon, the flood
A deep black hole in the dark
A shipwrecked city, the flood
An inhumane dosage of love
I turn on the light to see

I have covered myself in the sodden filth of the truth
Wash off my skin, and suppress my dream
Wash you from my thoughts, and become mendaciously clean
Orion Schwalm Jul 2018
There once was a time
Gone by, gone by,
Picking blackberries till the vine was plucked dry.

Pricked finger and the blood of kings
washed the riverbed clean again
paving path for new bled love.

Story of my life: Hot Hand-Grenade.
Tripwire tickled by trespassing travelers
Red wire arteries
clipped and clipped and clipped
and simple minded times when birds sang songs to other birds
and chirped lyrical lines in the dusk.
More wonder. More trust. Less wanderlust.
Dust in the air. Still in the sunlight.
Through glass.
Broke. Fall. Cut. All roads lead to home.
Wood, River, Stone. A guide, a path, alone.
We all walk on our own
Striving for independence
Together.

Now is a time of faded glory, daffodils in freshly-mowed fields.
I still catch myself wishing I had the words to share
The bigness of what's out there.
I still hear myself singing your song of longing.
Still find myself longing for days of childish peace and ignorance
when we could pick blackberries from the bush without bombs falling in our basket.
Still a long way to go to hear the sound of surrender and the silent unfurling of egos into how alone we feel.
Still my heart, that lost love long ago, and surrendered a savior forever.
Hart, of dreams, slip into the stream.
Interstitch the seams.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2010
The drugs, oh the drugs, what do they do?

They don't bring me any closer to you.
Orion Schwalm Sep 2012
The call me...Captain Swurve.
They call me Captain Swurvey
They say my heart's half gone
As it's plagued with rot and scurvy!
They said I'd chase the sunset
And drink us all to drought
I said nay boys, I'll follow the tides
And leave no liquor-starved crewman without.
Now, as the legend rests
Just like the setting sun
I'll dream of pretty wenches
That did my poor heart shun
And raise my flask o' whiskey
And tip up my old gun
And wish that it was ***.
Surrounded by the sea
Of people looking over me
The captain that I've always wished that I could have the ***** to be,
Is not exactly what he seems.

I'm the captain, sodden and somber.
I own no land, and I owe no man no man's land, which is a place I've chosen to wander.
Take that as you will, I take wasteland as a million metaphors, dried up, littered on, desert that used to be a golden shore. Back then Bikini Babes would just come to right up you and ask you to rub tanning lotion on their backs, and you somehow didn't even have to flirt to feel attractive.
                                                     ­             This place doesn't exist.
                                                      I made it up. That beach never had any water.
There was no such thing. Like perfect pitch, or total bliss or uncontrollable mental disorders.        

Yeah, I owe barrenness to y'all. I'd never get any peace and quiet, or the zen of a much needed vacation
                                           without that feeling you get in a crowd of total isolation.

It's hummmmmmming....of a million minds, a crowd of buzzzzzzing bumble *******, deciphering my metaphors.
**** metaphors, listen to what I speak, when I'm not up on a pedestal.

You know I used to want to be an astronomer? Just a fun fact.
Not because I never had enough tact to be an actor,
Just because I was always rather apt
                    to just sit back
                                   and watch the
rapture.

Bowl of popcorn over here on the left.
Bottle of **** right here on the right.
And the most beautiful woman God could create, raining down her fiery scorn on me, loving every minute of this cataclysmic *******.
I am Captain Swurvey       and       I        like      to      ****.
Everything beautiful is useful to me,
Everything else just *****.
And whether I want you to or not, you'll probably believe every word I say.
STOP.

I am Captain Swurve
And I am sailing swervingly
Unsettling the neighbors and uprooting your search for worth and immortality.
I do it because people with a purpose make me nervous,
Looking only at the surface
                                           You never go much deeper
                                            And I'm skimming along on that surface,
                                             But all I ever yearned for was the chance to dive overboard
                                               And drown myself in the deep end of your ocean.

I'd like to see your coral reefs, and be swept up by all sorts of riptides, and undercurrents, and
maybe
just maybe
I'd really love to see the bottom before I die.

I imagine all beautiful lights. That no one has ever seen. It's another world down there. And well...

                                                        ­                                          You know I've always wanted to see your Marianas Trench...

Switch around, we're in space, I'm sailing through the sun storms, desperately reaching as far out as I can only to crash on the rocks of your atmosphere.  Reeling off, and spinning past millenia, knowing there would never be enough space in the universe to keep us apart for too long. You couldn't hear me scream, but if you'd let me in there...you would have heard the battle crying inside me. If your brain's synapses are stars, then your heart is one insignificant little planet amidst the skies that by some stroke of hell managed to create life as I know it.

That metaphor
has been done before
I'm used up
i'm not original BUT
GOD
**** IT
I can't be the only person who's ever fallen in love.         I wouldn't ever want to be.    
Because then you wouldn't see much in me. Without these seeds... It'd be kind of like a wasteland.
But *******,
I am so glad
That humans learned how to plant.


Talk about self-absorbed, this kid writes a poem about his own celebrity persona which he pretty much invented! Well, there have been some modifications I can't take credit for.

You choose what you want to believe about me.
But I am just a person
My name is Captain Swurvey.

...
Orion Schwalm Dec 2015
Every little dream,
sitting in a swing,
swinging the days on by.

Couldn't help but notice,
you were in a trance,
just thought I'd stop and try. (my bad)

Tell me, what's your reverie,
what's in your past that's flickering past that's going so fast that only your eyes can see.
See that's the worst of me,
prying to see why you're crying, you see how I'm trying to break in and steal something?

I must say that nice coat of numb would look much more ravishing on me.
I think I'll take it just to see you shiver once, and watch you watch me leave.


Anyway it's okay if your own steady gaze leaves the ground for a moment or two.
It's a moment of sun in a blustering gail when your eyes reflect light from the moon.

This is cute.
Look at the moon, dear.
Moon the onlookers.
They are cute as well.
Cute and small and cheering you on. Cheering your bare-assed attempts to be new.

Wait for dawn and the dream will be over.
One silent night after another
But do you really want to know
What it feels like to be
Your own lover?

Open your eyes and see-
I'll open mine too-
Look at them, what's there?
Reflected light
Everywhere you look
I can see you
Getting by
but I can imagine you
smiling
at the tiniest little things
every little dream
is flickering past
your eyelids
Orion Schwalm Jan 2017
Fire Watcher.
Spark Guarder.
You smell of ash and the past.


Yea, burning your brother's shirt on the side of the street.
Stamping the spare sparks away with the soles of your feet.
Doesn't it hurt?
Sending souls beyond into the mist?
Turning the flesh into Flagships adrift?
Burning to be with the burnt.
Returning the souls to the earth.

Watching tiny flames ride skeletal monorails to work,
  wearing a brother's shirt,
    clutching father's overcoat...
      fan, release, stoke.
When we become tinder, Fire Watcher guides the cinders.
Tender eyes and mute mouth.
Ember skies and waking owls.
The wolf is allowed to howl again.

Spark Guarder waits for it all to go out.
Forgiveness in flame.
Orion Schwalm Jan 2011
Will what's worth way out there


Find me..?

Or will I find nothing ever to fill the within
You have the nails the hammers the boards the posters the pins
To take this town to the ends of earth and back again
Never feel what I feel, it makes no sense
Never learn what I have learnt, for shallow waters full of
Men
Come and go with the tide and the common like the wind in the autumn
Never feel my words, we're in

Tents broken from the inside that **** looks like shelter but you'll find

                                                                                     Dents in
Rocks
And cars
And trees
And faces
And ribs
And women and men and maybe me if you look harder than a machine would.

Be.
Because in the end, the nature of the being
Is beastly.
Wow. I never thought I could wish so much for another being to be happy with and in themselves.
And you know the giveth taketh rule?
I'll giveth
If you taketh to flight.
Don't look anywhere
But.
       Up.

Get of the ground. Go.

You know where I'll be.










Right behind you.
Dedicated to Camille Frick.
Orion Schwalm Mar 27
what are we


floating

in

air

full

of

empty space


grasping at each others hands
hoping for
for a small touch
to move the hair on our spines

trembling to stand
daring to
to walk away
afraid to die
alone.



we are worms

sightless soundless
sensual

alone.

rubbing fingers together
hoping to
conjure control

we made fire and what else?
endless boxes to isolate in
obsessive walls
invented power
aeons of escaping
our simple claws

our feeble knees

bend

and straighten


our spinal fur

curls

and straightens


when our hands


touch other hands.





Holding anything


but empty space.
Contemplation from the bunker. R U safe?
The disease was already inside us. It was loneliness.
Orion Schwalm Oct 2011
Where do I begin.
It's been so long since I've been so close to the end that I could smell the earth around me.
I think I've been playing both sides of the field so long that I can't differentiate between a graveyard shift,
and a cold dead sunrise. But I wouldn't know the difference between differentiating and diffusing dreaming
Dead dawn rises opening up this world
Dead dusk down on a twitch throe, circling the fence around my collapsing line of vision
Sorrow and ***, the two things I like best that I want less of the more that I get.

If I could go back...I would have kissed you on the river. I would have shown you with tenderness, what it is like for your life here on this world to be wanted. I would have given you what love feels like beyond the shade of fear of loss, the ultimate gift I would keep on giving.   And then I would've stricken you with my oar until your beautiful body no longer broke surface intentionally. It would have been the gentleman's way of settling things. Instead I chose the dreamer's.

I've been in camouflage, hiding well from you. hoping to escape within the community of a seemingly functional
system.
Found it hard to keep my cool when utterance of a simple name or phrase could throw me into breathing lasps,
When the sight of a single stone upon the ground could be a city in the sky, my last gasps are playing and
rewinding and then playing, and rewinding, and then playing, and rewinding and then playing, and rewinding and I'm laying down the sheets upon the floor, because the bed reminds me too much of the perfect story memory     I'm
                             alone.    In a
                                                   building.  In a
                                                               ­              desert. In a
                                                               ­                                  deadlocked staring contest between me
and my reflection in the moonlit water memories that make up all I am were was are is will ever ******* be
If you can't escape in a ******* dream then where the **** else am I gonna go?

I've wasted my life, observing, becoming less a part of all the things I spend time looking at.
                   Removing myself from the final edit.                Hoping somehow,
                                                        ­                                         That total abstinence,
                                                     ­                                            From your world,
                                                          ­                                       And my worldly desires,
                                                        ­                   Will
                                                            ­                somehow
put                                      ­                               Me                                                               ­                                      in
                                                              ­            CONTROL.



Love is about control for you.                                                             ­    I believe in you.
                                                            ­                                                       I don't know if I believe in control.
It doesn't matter if I believe in love.

Someone please just see the justification for anything I do.            I am begging for a partner. I have no one to observe
                                                         ­                          me.

If I seem hellbent, please...I am merely driven by demons to an end I would have no means to reach if I was...


left alone...
Orion Schwalm Feb 2015
Dear Death,

Stop calling me.
I gave you multiple chances, and there's a time when we must realize that something is unhealthy for us, so that we can cut it out of our lives.
I am sorry.
Maybe under the right circumstances I could have loved you forever.
But those circumstances are not ours.
Rotten luck.

Have a nice lif- err, have a nice day.

Sincerely,
Your (Former) Love Interest




Sincerely...you have nothing left to say, don't say anything else don't say that there's nothing left to say even, don't even think about the creeping corners of memory storage in which there might be a few grains of substance at the bottom of a seemingly empty box. There is nothing left to say. And you know it. So don't.

Nothing never nover nether 'mother netting noting nothing.

******* lamps. Not a great hobby.


Shadow shanty.

Singing a song of the Sea.
Wringing the throngs of the clergy.
Stinging the Dongs of the ******
Clinging to poems of the clergymen.

Shadow shanty.

I tried to take a look in the direction of the sun. And what I got was a whole face full of God's good redemption. So I clambered on until I found the dirt, and I dug straight down into the earth until I hit rock. And I smashed my head on that rock until I could hear again. And I listened my way out of the hole that I dug when I decided to hold on for one more second when I didn't really feel like holding on. When I waited around to be changed instead of changing. And when I was holding on for just one more second because I felt if I didn't hold on I would just hang up. And my whole theme song is just elevator music, we're going up and up and up and the air pressure's decreasing the ringing in my ears can't wait for it to just POP and clear and let me out of here, cuz the hole that I dug was a million stories deep, and I've not even told a fraction of them yet.
Which is why I remain.

In the light, nothing can be wrong or right.
In the light, I can makeup for deafness with sight.
In the long light of the day I can withhold many words.
In the longest nights, I can free myself. Finally.

Shade Chant

It's comfortable here. Let me never leave.
It's comfortable here. Let me never leave.
It's mighty nice here. OH please, oh please.
Please never let me be free.

It's time to dig my final grave.
It's time to dig the final grave.
It's time to dig that final grave.
That final grave into the sky.

My soul I send, into the waves.
My soul I send, into the waves.
My soul I send, all into the waves.
Goodbye soul I don't need ya no more.

Shade Chant. A ***** spiritual. From the black, black heart. Of a white supremacist.




This week I will bury you.
I will never see you again.
You will never help me through.
Never push me past fear.
Never guide me to love myself again.
Never remind me of the innocence I never lost.
I will bury you this week.
And it won't be me.
I'll watch it happen from above in the trees.
As I bury my sense of self alongside.
I will bury you.
Since you dug me out of the grave.
Orion Schwalm Jan 2012
Ok...I'm pretty sure I just walked in on you *******...but then again, I'm not really sure what your kinda people would call it.      

Oh and now you're all over me like you were thinking of me the whole time. Uh-huh.
Wow.                     I'll give it to ya, you stay the course.                 Makes you pretty convincing.
What else do you have to think about though?

I suppose the internet battles over freedom of speech don't mean much to you.   You never did use it much...

I mean speech...somehow you're all over the internet but I've never heard you speak a **** full sentence in the time I've known you.


How the hell do you remain so connected?                Language: the great equalizer?    
                    Your scars run really deep...deeper than mine.   I still don't know which side you fight for.

I side with life, for all it's misgivings, misleading mysteries, and willingness to harbor these words through...existence.

I fight for the right that someone or something gave me to be formed from atoms and other smaller unknowable ingredients as part of a less knowable system.

I fight in the dark for the hope that one day the sun will actually rise and show us all what each other look like.
                               and show us we're not fighting on sides like we thought we were.  that we're the only ones left.
and, well...**** we better start making something of our existence that isn't...a fight.

I feel like you're ten steps ahead of me, which is all the time in the world when you've been seein' the light at the end of the tunnel just up ahead ever since you first opened your eyes, first set foot in the cave, first made the leap into a dark earth.          
                                                Ignorance is bravery here...but wisdom comes from outside...when we accidentally step out into the light for a second. And then we shuffle and shimmy past whatever bright new horrors we don't wanna see, slamming our eyes shut until we're back in the cave.




dark.




                                        That's a
                                                  short suffering
                                         For what we become.
                                                                                      Standing at the bottom of a murky lake
        in the comfortable                                                     telling ourselves
                                                                                       this is it
                                                                                       We'll die where we were born:
Orion Schwalm Dec 2011
I talk to you to talk through a medium to myself. When you silently sit there, and soak up my words, all around me becomes a panorama of open ideas that can no longer hide.
Each Primary Motive in my center is displayed on a picture rack.
It’s sometimes the closest I can get to really meeting myself.
It’s a clean break.

I talk to you because you’ve always had this one motif to work with. It should really be mine. It’s about me. It’s for me. It’s my own well being as a provider of life, and the ongoing journey of a nomad’s soul.
Some say the nomads have no homes. That wandering is in their hearts and they shan’t ever settle for one place.     I say the nomad only has a harder home to reach.
Some of them never reach it. Perhaps because they only exist as far as we know now, in a physical world. There is more to home than where we buy a house.    

It’s a thing that is built, over stress and pain and love for the creation.                                  The stronger the will the stronger the walls, and NOT the facades this time, the walls that are constructed with the sole purpose of being able to welcome others through the gates of them.
Some build them from what seems like so much emptiness and nothingness that we should all deserve a religion of worship for the adverse feat of triumph. Perhaps we can believe, or hope,  that not everyone's destiny is achievable, on and of this earth.

Pretty soon I'll go back to a place full of holes and crazed dreams, then press on, not knowing what else to do.
But let's sit here as we are in this clearing of sorts. Every forest must have it's clearings to rest in.
without that rest, even a soul on fire could be lost amongst the foliage.   Let's sit here, and I'll talk...and you'll listen. Or seem to listen. Or I'll listen to you listening to me. That way, I can project it, and hear it myself. Instead of muddled through all the dreamed visages, and confusing chains of events.
All of the most and least convolution happens when I sleep through times I won't suffer. My ultimate escape is to equally give myself as much clarity as I take away, in each desperate step for the next ledge of meaning.

So I talk to you about my plans, to have a legacy, so that people will look up to me, and when all is said and done in the end I'll finally feel like my life was meant to be.
All the while this, picture panorama of forgotten imagery circles me, and you sit there in the middle...listening?
If you're listening, you're doing more than I ever could for myself.      I talk to you to talk through you to myself.  Because when you talk to people about what exists...you learn that nobody knows what they think exists and what doesn't.    And when I talk to you...you see me and I exist. And that is all. Your through-line pierces my heart, and soul, and has anchored it's rigging all over my body. It's slacked but whenever I get just a little too far out in the cold, and I've forgotten which way is up or down,

You can drag me back(under).
And give me another chance to drown.
Who knows, maybe some day, I'll realize that I'm not cut out for the swim team.  And that, I don't talk to you because you listen...I talk to you because you're there.


And you always will be.


Just like...
Orion Schwalm Apr 2011
You're sitting there.   Under the chair.   Staring at me.    Like years, and years, of what I'd like to call our life.   Your green eyes are like...the woods.    The woods we grew up in.    The woods we came back to.    The woods where we met

and where we will leave each other.    For a long, long time.

These woods are full of Huffy bikes, and tennis *****, and summer ski trips, and deep lake diving.     These woods are where friends are lost, music is found, first love finds you a hundred times, and nothing gets done.

I know you're thirsty, but you won't drink. You're sick of drinking.    I try to tip the water up to your lips, but you turn your head. I beg you, "Please, just do it for me."    You take one sip but no more.    If I could breathe life, you'd find me kissing you.    If my tears could heal, you'd find me sobbing on your forehead.    
But I don't want your last memories of me to be sadness, so I turn my head away, and use every fiber of my being to pull out a smile for you.

We raised each other.    and not once did you not come when I called for you.
We saved each other.    and I don't want to think about life without you.
We fought each other.   and you always came back into my arms.
I    love         you      .     and I don't want to have to bury you.
Dedicated to the greatest love of my life. Who was there for me. Every single time.
Orion Schwalm Aug 2012
The Cake was good.                                                 Sweet and moist
like good kisses are too, slightly mysterious...
                                                   ­                        regarding where it came from, or how, specifically, it was created.

We ATE IT UP!            for fun                         and we threw the rest of it ON THE GROUND.
...                                               ...for respect.
                                   All the while I expected it wouldn't be my last birthday, or my last anniversary, in this lake of open arms and forgiving faces.
                          forgiveness faces a tough crowd today.I know I've built bridges and tunnels through ways around it.
Down there I feel like a Canary,
                                                   chokin' to death,
                                                          ­                    hopin' to catch sight of the sun one more time
                                                            ­                            prayin' for speed...enough to save me.
Up top I feel like a tightrope walker,
cuz we make the smallest sacrifices, it seems like, at the time.                                  For the smallest differences.
                              

But that time was a lot lighter, and it either piles up, or moves forward, and either way you're leaving that bridge behind, I don't think I burned it, but I know time will...


                                                       ­                    Crumble Everything.


               Gosh you look so scared, lighten up, it was a joke.
I ain't leaving this world or my freedom without you.

                        
                              ­   I can't blame you.                   Was scared too.
                                   Terrified, black with ice frozen on the tunes I used to hum
                                                             ­                                                               fr­om my Canary little heart,
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                        Start
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                       Testing
                                                         ­                                                                 ­                                         me.
                See if I care.
                          I do, and I'll prove you right
About one thing.

Logic: Comfort from predictability.
Paradox: The predictability of growing.
Cliche: Home is where the heart is,                          isn't it?
Thoughts?          ...and dreams
Sleep:    ...Always better with you.
Remorse?              Maybe a little.
Conclusion?


I spent a whole lot of time in a place, learning how to: life.
                                                           ­                                And I spent the last day there, ever,
                                                                ­                               expecting warm and sad nostalgia.

                          
                          ­                                                            It was frightening and dark, that
                                                            ­                           midsummer's day.

      
                                                                ­         Now I'm somewhere completely new.
                                                            ­                             Unfamiliar at best.
                                                           ­              Looking down the bed at you,
                                                            ­                              Putting me through this test.
                                                           ­                               Sleep, you need your rest.
                                                           ­                               It takes a lot out, to grow, so fast.
                                                           ­                               To finally come to know, at last.



                                                        ­                 That you, are home.
Orion Schwalm Jul 2011
I don't know what it is that gives you the nerve or the will to live in my presence any longer.
I don't know what makes me hold on so tightly to your soul in this world either.
Truth is, you could have easily gone away last night and never come back...but I engaged the reaper in fisticuffs and told him there could be only one.   Needless to say he was a little confused.



I've broken a promise almost every day since the day I said I would never leave you.
                                         And I've thought about you every day since the day it was too late to realize I loved you.
Why then, can't I let you go? Out into the night. Where you belong?
                                               You have my permission to die, but only over my dead body will you find salvation.

If we live in a world where people build walls out of their morals, then I must be some kind of ******. That might explain why I talk to plants.
But I got really good at climbing from hangin' 'round you, and I also got real good at runnin', and eventually I ran away.
That was years ago. And I just now learned how to stop. How to stop running, and smell the flowers. There's so many flowers, and all they want is for you to stop running and enjoy their presence, even for a second.


but sometimes to survive, you have to pick the flowers for later, in case you run out of food, in case you run out of run and need to dig yourself a nice little grave, preferably at home, and set the flowers up on top. Sometimes you have to feed off of others as a reality check that you can still make things move and that you can still move people.

Every time I ran away from home, it was nighttime. And I'd get about a quarter mile down the road and turn around to find you hot on my heels. When I'd get about a half mile down the road I'd always turn back.
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                       for home.
I'd lay in my bed and think about dying and say, I don't want none o' that.  and then you'd dig your nails into me really hard to remind me that I was mortal.                                      Everyone was born to live.
                                                           ­                      Not everyone lives to die like you.
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                  You'd say.


I laid there for many years. Thinking about what you said. It was hard to figure out because I couldn't tell if you'd really said it or not. And you always watched me thinking.                 ...what were you thinking?
I've decided.


              It's not practical to fight any longer. As time, the only father figure I ever had, has shown me, all good must come to an end.                   Though I'm not sure how this world will survive without you, and though tears have flown free as the world's waters as I've written all of this, and though you are the closest thing to a God that has ever been mysterious to me...I have decided.      and I have Realized just how important it is for one to die
                                                                ­            
                                                    ­                                                                 ­                                                         at
     ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                           home.


What you don't realize about me is,                for me...


Home is in other people.

























                                ­                                             and i ran away years ago.
Orion Schwalm May 2011
The moon hung low, and watched me from right outside my window.
I couldn't sleep. Thousands of ways to die played like films reels on two dark red walls behind my eyes.
Excuse me, thousands of ways to be happy appeared like holograms as the light shone through my window.
And I saw now.    And then I saw now.    And now I see now.          But not now.
I see a flickering spotlight darting around my room. I'm giggling.  
...I'm giggling?
I think the last time I giggled was before I knew what the verb giggle meant.
Oh little light...you are fooling me into thinking I am now someone I am not anymore.                    I'll watch you. I'll watch you like the moon watches me.    
Now I'm seeing...these things I think they're called memories.
I'm remembering the journey I took once...and you beside me, sharing every moment.

And now I remember the fallen ones.
The Green One, the mother.
The First One, the father.
The One Who Looked Like the Sea, the son.
The One That Got Away, the antagonist.
The One With the Broken Back, the lover.
The Two Who Nearly Drowned, brother and sister.
The One of All Hues, the adopted son.
Why do they come to me now? I know where they all lie. I laid them there.
Perhaps I wasn't ready for them to be memories yet...but what could I do?
What the hell could I have done?     They told me, it was time.  They had to go.

  Like they had a place to be that wasn't with me, and it was urgent.

They told me this was my world now...and I didn't know what that meant.
But now I think......................I see you.          You're as restless as I am.

Look at you. It's like you never even stopped journeying.
                                Through life, through death, you didn't care.
                                                
                                                Sometimes I wonder what goes through your head.


You seem to see something I don't, something behind the scenes.
Something that justifies living here. On this God Forsaken Rock.
Sometimes I feel like you're inches from figuring it out...then the next moment...
you look as puzzled as me.

If there is a God...first of all he needs to get away from my window.
He needs to stop making me see things.    And he needs to stop making uncontrollable circumstances that give me a reason to believe in him.

I'm not in tears as much as I was last time.     Last time I saw God.
He told me to start the rapture.            He told me to do it on May 21, 2011.
And I cried, and I begged him for an answer. And he just watched me cry.
And even through the tears I made the promise to do it.

And I broke my promise...I couldn't do it.          
I couldn't understand, I looked around and saw so many beautiful people.
And I looked in the darkest places of the world and I still found such beautiful people.
And now I realize...that maybe....maybe life is beautiful....maybe life has made them beautiful.      And maybe they deserve something better already?

I failed you once...hell probably more than once. But I'm gonna do anything I can to make it up to you.
Oh, little light.
It's time to quit your restlessness.
The sun is rising.
And the visions are going
to the other side.
We can follow them there.
But first you must rest.


I need this to be my world now.
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
I just had something to write. I knew you were asleep and I went to get my pen. And I came back to watch you breathe, very creepy and I know it. And I started to get lost in the rhythm of your labor. And I set down the pen. And I sat at the keyboard. And I sat at the Piano, and I set at the keyboard. And I closed my eyes. And I typed up a poem in only 7 notes. It was a chord I had never heard voiced before. And it was beautiful. And I had no idea what to call it. And I tried to play it again. But I couldn't.
                                                     So I let it go.

Earlier today I saw your face through the window. It was a very sad face. And I wanted to go touch it, and force it into smiling. And I walked to you. And I put my hand on your shoulder. And somewhere along the line from my will to yours, I recognized we both wanted that face to smile. But neither of us could force it.
                                                        So we let it go.

Tomorrow I am going to wake up. Hopefully I will see you. I will make another trip to the hospital. And I will come back home. And I will pack my things. And I will leave on a plane to someplace you can't even imagine. And you will watch me go. And I will wave goodbye...again. And you will ask me why...again. And I will still not have an answer. Some twisted root metaphor about tearing' 'em up, and sewin' the seeds, and pastures and the importance of planters will spill from my lips. And you will listen to every word. And you will hold each syllable in your heart. And you will weigh the meaning of each distorted poeticism. And you will stare into my eyes. And I will feel it. The aching pain from when I was born. The longing for you. And I will turn and run as fast as I can. Away.
And you will see that I just cannot understand your love. And you will feel the same aching. And you will have compassion for my suffering.
                                                      ­So you will let me go.

And you will turn.
Return to your home.
Go back to your bed.
Lie down.
And die.


Unsatisfied.


and I'm sorry...
Orion Schwalm Jul 2014
I could be                                                                       inside your bones



                             or outside Earth's atmosphere



either way




the image                                                                        of your back turned




will                                               always.



be    etched      on           the           under                 mind



the sideless coins placed on my eyelids after i died

and in that dream of death


your face is always turning



but i never quite see your eyes




                                           .before
                                                .waking.
                                                      up.




What is love anymore? IS this what you wanted me to see? Nothing but
              this?

Constantly seeking out a smaller and smaller space to fit into.
                                  Pretty soon you'll cram yourself so small.
                                                       You will vanish.
From sight.


A speck of gold in the corner. A fleck of green in the dark.
A flicker of warmth in the winter when the fire won't start.

We've grown so incredibly old together.
I, taller, stronger. You, more emaciated...wiser.
Here's to separation of spaces.
Here's to someday being united.
Here's to...

            


                                                  Love.
Orion Schwalm Feb 2015
Here we are again.
Edge of the Portal.
You told me we'd never come back to this God
                                                             ­                    Forsaken
                                                                ­            Spot.

But I always thought
"I wonder what it took"
For the people to come up with that name for the land we forsook.

Right away, I'll ask you three things.
1- What did you learn?
2- What will you do different next time?
3- Do you really think you're coming back?

Like I promised to...

A promise is a promise,
but a great love can break almost anything.

Not that the promise got broken...it just wasn't exactly accurate.
It defied expectations of sheer elation and turned a DeathSeeker into a different kind of advocate.

Praise be to glory and the light! That's what I'd tell you if I was still high. Remember? Like that time? When I'd get so stuck in rhyme? That I couldn't define what the slant of the rant signed? YOU ARE SO RIGHT!

Be animal. Be animal all you want.
I'll still animate you from beyond the haunt.
But let's be honest, if it's death you're after...
I think...I may have just met my match.

Ok, you win. Congratulations, you reached the end.
You've quenched the worst thirst that my nightmares could portend.

There is an incredible difficulty, writing in great grief.
Postmortem depression.
Pre-partum relief.
You knew that your death would cause me to split, so you held onto it for way too long. But that death, just like anything else you love so dear, you must set it free eventually.

I'm just stating facts at this point, we're too close to the brink to tip or to cry, the shattering that is happening is slowly enrapturing the entire essence of a lifetime of imbuing something like a w o r d with a purpose.
with a purpose.
with a purpose.
with a purpose.

Scary. The thought.
The thought you turned so dark.
The dark I call the dark because it's
driven into me that
I should call the deathbed
dark.
The death I learned to fear,
to hate,
             to fight,
                         to ****
                         to push my life as far as it can go against the sea.
Procreating until the entire world is covered in me,
And we're all swimming in a surging ocean of my own mortality.

You. Have. Stopped. Me.
From being that reaching fool.
The man who has a different motto for every single situation.
I can never forgive you...for instilling in me: that peace.
That crazy, crazy peace that fights for cessation of perseverance.
The light inside the lighthouse at the end of the tunnel, hanging by a rope from the sky.
You are going to be ok.

You are making it ok.

You are making death something I need not seek.

Making it something that will come to me.

When I am ready.

And when you finally get on that boat.
And you're leaving.
Take one last glance.
At the boy...
Who you have watched grow into a man.
Who has run away a thousand times.
Always promising to come back.
...but sometimes not coming back as often as he promised to do.
Who in this moment has realized:
If you leave home in order to find your home,
Do you ever really leave?

The final night.
The last dawn.
Before your elements dissolve.
Into what I've always called mine.
But truly,
I was yours,
From the moment you saw me,
and decided for yourself,
to call this...
feeling
home.

I'll always come back?
No.




I'll never leave.
Orion Schwalm May 2017
Hello again.
        Been a while.
    I   know.

Apologies.

Are in order.

Out of order.
Restroom.
Where I can't flush my heart.
Throne of broken dreams.
I hear your

Elegies.

On the wind.
See our

Reveries.
On the backs of my eyes.
The underside of my mind...
begins to float

      I saw you today.
            Inside my two rooms.
                   Projection slides on the dark white
                         walls.
    You're bigger now.    A lot bigger than last
                                                               time

King of the jungle wild and free.
Too
big for this book,
too
fast for me
to
keep up.
If I could
speak up,
find the words,
I'd bring 'em right back and paste em right here for
all
to
see.

I
  see
        you.
  Closer.
             Every time I
   close my eyes.
You're faster now. Stronger now than you ever were.
          And if I could I'd go to see you there.
But this is still my world.
And I can't leave a good thing gone bad until I've tried every way there is to heal
it.


Tiger fangs
In my veins
     can't tear me from this throne.
Empower me
From your great forest seat
     and I will carry on.
And I'll sit                      And I'll ****
                 On this seat                        On this throne.
And I'll sing                   And I'll pray
                     This is broken                  Find your way.
And I'll breathe              And I'll be
                      In your eyes                    In your arms.
And I'll live                     And I'll die
                    Just for you                       Just for me.
I give up                          You forgive
                  All my love                         All your life.
And we run                     And we dive
                   To the night                         To our dream.


                 Good to see you.
                                    Happy to know...
                                    
                                                    Our work continues
                

                                                    which
                                  no matter             plane we land on.
                                                        if
                                  no matter             we land on our feet.
Emaho!

Today I closed my eyes and saw a tiger staring back at me.
Nose to nose.
And I've never felt more
Safe, right, or familiar,
more familiar
family-er.

The grief is lifted.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2011
I found your blanket. I’m not gonna tell you where it is though. If I told you, you’d go get it, and then you’d have your warmth, and then you wouldn’t need me.
Right?
The only thing I look for is clarity. But I wonder if I ever found it, if I’d stop looking…

I can see clearly now, so I guess I’ll stop.

I’m telling’ ya, I’m bein’ honest with you 90 percent of the time, even now. It just doesn’t look that way, yeah everything seems so convoluted, and “deep” and metaphorical, like I’m trying to make a maze out of a garden of already massive bushes that I’m beating around.
But that’s just cause, right now. Especially right now, everything in my head is spinning, on tumble dry, my head’s like a big wet laundry mess and you don’t even know whose clothes are whose anymore because the colours got mixed with the whites and the darks and my intentions got mixed up with my actions and yours, and
Well, **** it dude, they’re just clothes. They don’t make us who we are.

We just go out of our way to judge people sometimes, like a race.
Whoever can judge everyone before anyone else can wins…a ******’ VIP seat to watch the rapture or something.
So my thoughts’ll flow to you cuz you’re downstream of them.
But my intentions are high and dry, up on the top of the dam, I left ‘em up there before I jumped, didn’t even think to ask if they wanted a part in it.
That was kinda a **** move.

I’m sorry intentions. I’ve never really done you justice.

Ok, how many times can you count that you’ve just been completely wrong about someone you judged?       How many times did you want to believe so badly, that someone was a better person than they turned out to be?
Right so,
If you turned gay, and I turned gay, would we judge each other?
Would it be like a race?
Whoever ***** the other person’s **** the fastest gets…a face full of cummy ****!

That’s what all these intention judgment pushing disconnected people racing through life to get the first and last laugh really amount to.


                                                              A Face Full of Cummy ****


                                                             Merry Jizzmas.
Orion Schwalm Jul 2010
Glacial, the gaze of wintry viridian irides
Silken, the heavenly flesh
Lurid, the flames of a paradise awry
Mourning all the sinister angels have blessed
With their tainted perfection, their hideous lies
Hope shines so thinly in an eonian land barren of all love
Great men become emptied, the tormented cry
Amidst desolation, a beautiful dove
Becomes alive, voicing a longing call
Amongst forgotten pantheons, a saviour resides
Though, broken, gashed, beaten, and threshed
Awakened by beautiful birdsong, driven to reply
Was this an augury? He must strike out to answer this call from above
 To redeem some grace, from the woe of it all
Stupid rhyme scheme.
Orion Schwalm Mar 2011
As he drew his hand away from her body, she drew from him a solid block of breath that would have withered and died on a typical day. Days these days for him just aren't like they used to be, typical isn't a notion that makes itself heard.
There's too much time not being spent to spend time working for an end to justify a feeling...they'll get it sooner, not later.

She broke everything. Every bone cracked, every sinew split, every ounce of blood spilled, until there was nothing but a soul. A hole. And another soul.
And if souls worked like clocks, with the physical concept of direction, their eyes stared straight into each other, but not through. A soul is not something that can be traversed through, it is the end, the all. And when the two souls stared, end met end and made...
A whole.

The cold. Moonlight. The sound of the rain in trees. The silence of snow and space. The smell of large quantities of *** breathed into my face. All things that I can somehow feel anywhere. Eyes. Always the eyes. I see them in the dark, as they glance around searching for something...what. Then they connect, to mine. And quickly sever, like they'd seen God. Or something too beautiful to mar with an impure comprehension such as sight. They always draw back to the irresistible eyes, and away again.
But then they fix. And they dare to not move for a minute. As if they are locked in some sort of challenge, the purpose becomes to win.
                             Now it is too late
                                                        The purpose has become undefined.
                                                                ­       And nothing has felt this way before.
                                      And nothing you can do can tear you away.
                    And the only things left are fear and beauty.
                                              

And then all fear dies. And does not come back.


Maybe that's what changed about me. It's felt weird not being scared.
It wants to come back, but it can't. I can't make it. No matter how comfortable I remember it being.
Now all I have is time...but beauty, if minutes and seconds are what your life is made up of...then we don't have much life but a lot to live for.
Because I didn't feel alive before.  
The ice in my chest is gone...if I can I'll breathe steam into you.           so...
Lovely, don't waste time.

Or it will **** you.
Orion Schwalm Dec 2010
I want to climb up to the highest mountain I can find with you, and scream your name until bloodsicles clot the sound, freezing right in front of me in the air, waiting for you to answer but you just stare...



I'd like to stare back at you from across the ocean
when you don't say nothing,
my eyes storm over, and yours just fall...like waterfalls....so calmly.

And we all like the doomsday , hope is gone, we are the few kinda poetry
sing-alongs
to wring out the tears and make us feel wrong,
but ok 'cuz we're together,
it never gets better, and god makes the world better,
but drowns us in his waterfalls for our sins we'll all be drawn as wretches
in the mural of the horizon at the crack of dawn
formed together from all the random journal sketches
that form the lines, that form the waves, that form the storm, inside my eyes, that forms the calm inside your eyes.


I want to take you to the greenest forest I can find, where the trees are alive with the most beautiful birds, and in the middle is a white beach where the sun never doesn't shine, and every grain of sand sinks you into serenity...
                           and I want to whisper in your ear my name, and what it means, and watch you smiling from across the beach, just like the sun.



And if I can't do that, I want you to walk with me into the middle of downtown in some ****** small town in nowhere significant and I will tell you straight up..."Look around you. Look at all this. This planet we live on. All this is part of it.

...But you're beautiful no matter where we stand."
Orion Schwalm Mar 2015
So self conscious about your every move.
Ne'er knowing
Which twitch
Might be
The last.
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