I look at her and
I close my eyes,
And oh where my imagination,
Send my eager mind,
The wiles versus my wills,
oh those hills they bind,
Men like me, like demons versus the Lion,
Exorcized, exorcized,
Yeah, but I am Legion,
if they beat me one time,
Oh, next time, time,
They'll be mine.

And those mountains of lust,
That once seemed unclaimable,
Unclimbable like Everest before
Edmund Hillary, like the Sistine Chapel,
Before Michelangelo, oh I will persist,
I will pursue, with the littlest smile,
And the darkest hue,
Where after many days fight,
Suddenly. Then, in the night,
when alas my victory is won!
My prize I will take,
And her pleasure I will reign.

Hello, 'Dark Eyes'

Dark and bright I see in your eyes.

Deep, dark magical eyes...
Like priceless Tahitian pearls...

Dazzling, fascinating,
Magical, delightful...  

Deep, dark amazing eyes...

Behind these charming eyes...
I see a beautiful bright soul,
So very bright. These dark eyes warm my heart.

Sparkling with Intelligence, kindness...
Love, truth, talent, hope, faith...

I see shining out of these dark and bright eyes.

Dark and bright I see in your eyes...

Hello, 'Bright Eyes'


Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

Do not call me beautiful
I will not believe you
I've gone through too much
All those days I rue

I will not believe you
After looking in mirrors
I have come to a conclusion
That leaves many in tears

The angle I see myself
Is different than your own
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Too much I have grown

Do not call me beautiful
I won't believe you
I've gone through too much
All those days I rue

It always seems to end this way
Conversing with my thoughts
That echo inside my brittle skull
Beneath a once beautiful moon
Dragging on a cigarette
Like it my poisonous savior
With every exhale a lonely beat of the heart
The world still madly spins
But slower than this mess of a mind
And heart sinks like a pebble to a stream
Havoc is what they wreak:
Those voices in my ear
The past's cramping grip
keep my hands clenched to when we met
A chapter so bright
To a melancholy story
Demons took control of the scribe
To timidly scribble a tale
of a vanishing soul
My eyes are so heavy
My heart so fatigued
Yet I have not slept in years
This bed brings me such disgust
As its touch awakens all the regret and fear
That keep its daggers at my throat
What a waste of its inviting comfort
To lay only a pathetic, lonely delusion. Alone.
Let me sleep with the stone
That presents my chiseled name
To the hundreds who will pass
While giving no mind
Like my years in life

The soft hum of a melody was playing in the background. My fingertips were dancing across the keyboard and I was writing away. There was something about the combination that sent these beautiful tremors through me.
The words that flew onto the paper sang this melody and I was transported into the world that I thought I lost a long time ago. I was home in this instant.
It wasn't where I was, or who was around me.
It was was the realization that what I was doing was going to bring me bliss. That this right here is what is going to send me home.
Typing, or writing or singing these stories that come to me will be the life of me.
And I have no problem on spending the rest of my years doing this.

Tonight, there was something about the rhythm of my fingers that danced to the melody that played in the background.
And I wrote a story...

A beautiful story.

Fall asleep
journey without traces,
awaken and renewed
while singing
a new song
new days of time
on a beautiful
sunrise.

I live in my mind
Because reality
Doesn’t fit my time.
Everything is all
Wrong, in my mind
I am the musician of my
Own song, and you are
Notes that I forever
Want to play,
Nice and slow
Taking my time
Because I never want
To let go, of the beautiful
Moments we spend in my mind

A brief, but passionate inhale.
Who would have thought,
of the autumn in her eyes?

A sweet, delicate voice.
A beautiful sound to detect.
And never forget.
And never regret*.

The stud of a nose
Her own clothes and eloquent verbose
An unheard of strength
That she shrugs off like dirt.

And she knows of Dad.
Because she has been there too.
Not just for the smell of *****,
Or for the pain of just one bruise,
But for the depth behind
A clenched fist
and the struggle for eye contact.

It was 6 AM.
In the autumn.
And things just happen.
But see,
it wasn't just a thing.
It couldn't be.
The way I held your hair
And hid it safely behind your ear.
And accepted the kiss
That my fear could not initiate myself.

It was the blue,
And the blonde.
The black of the beanie,
And the spots of the sweater.
It was the look
and the smile
and the inhale.

And then
it was the stars.
And the stone wall.
And the Boston skyline.
It was the teasing.
and the alcohol
and the spot by the river.
And it was autumn in her eyes.

It was heaven in the trembling of my knees,
and in that kick in the shin,
and in the brownie brittle,
and in the passionate kiss in the room upstairs.
It was hell in the uncertainty.

And as the time will pass,
We will attract or repel.
Naturally.
And where this ambiguity chills me to the bone,
I find autumn in her eyes.

I'm not normal.
I find new words to say,  most are made up
Or I borrow a word or two from a different language
Dash it all,  forbearance, absotively (combo of absolutely and positively) or posilutely
I laugh in public, out loud, of things I say in my mind
Sometimes I talk to myself
I daydream--a world that I would fit in
For now I have made my own,
And maybe one day He will have the courage to pass by
and ask for my address
"Where do you live? "
And I can say
Myself