There are three sides to a story
and I've shied away from each
lost my touch I've grown so numb
to my own feelings
now a new language that I'm
in no way familiar with
only fluent in silence

My problem is inspiration
before long turns to disinterest
will to a won't
or a can't
or a don't
so I don't
try

words are objective
their meanings subjective
so splattering words on a page
like paint on a canvas
or colors on the world
is a step in the right direction
a try

a seed
that will hopefully grow into a
strong poe-tree
with multidimensional branches
that I can climb to escape
But there's no escape if I don't try.

all things build slowly

slow building

into 1 slowly,

all build

all say 1

1 say all

into 1 say

all building

all slowly

all say

all 1

1

Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now.

Please just tell me once again
Whisper softly in my ear
Fill my head with pretty lies
So I forget that death draws near
Give the demons angel's masks
Make this a joyful masquerade
Drink and dance and laugh and sing
'Til violently Hell's toll is paid
When the boney knife is drawn
And halos start to fall away
Close my eyes with heavy hands
Remind me of a brighter day

time slip
             p   i
               n
                        g
through my fingers.
words w   w w
o  o      o   r words
words   r
d       d    d        s
   s            s
                  pouring
from my mouth.

three children catching fish in a pond
with an empty coke bottle, annoyance
at their little voices, "Not like that!"
"Let me catch it!"

victory in death to create their own peace.

the day was too shy for me to face myself
(excuses, reasons, call them as you see them,
  even if it's hard to look at things you don't like).
unpleasant thoughts surround me, there's nothing I can do,
except to remove the things that eat away, that keep me eating:
gluttony grabs hold, depressions wits (it knows if it drags me deeper
                                                          ­     then it'll probably get to stay).
sickness finds it's way through neglected troubles.
standing up to yourself for yourself is the beginning,
once you stand up to others is when you start to move forward.
patience, love, empathy, communication, assertion, emotion, fear:
let it flow: all complimentary, opposite and in between.
thrashing does you no good,
it simply sends you under.

I want to stick my head under and get a taste,
float on my back and breathe in fresh air,
avoid holding onto anything so as not to disturb what might need change,
enjoy what is here, be thankful for what was, and welcome what comes.

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the trouble of her laboring ships,
And all the trouble of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.