Too little too late
Good things come to those who wait
Don’t believe what they say
Have to start all over again
Too little to late
The twitch on my left eye won’t go away
Remembering the good times is hard
When there so little of them to recollate
Too little to late…

© Raffi

I

At night, I search for the wrench
I lift it off my nightstand
I lie down on the workbench
the cool weight held in my hand

what I must loosen first is my knee
lull myself to a state of repose
leg is a swollen trunk of a tree
placidity the pain soon outgrows

ache that is green
ache that is ivy,
ache that is wrapping
around me
entirely.

being disarming,
the way that a friend will--
in no way harming,
I pry up one tendril,

My ache and I have just locked eyes
I turn my bolt counter-clockwise

just one half turn.
making way t’ward release,
pain is adjourned
to finally find peace


II

And in the factory,
It seems I was wound too tightly
Deemed satisfactory
Now, I relieve pressure nightly

The bolt pushes in such a way
it leaves the metal bent
Relief is not given away
but instead it is lent

pain that is sharp
pain that goes squish,
pain that is swimming
around me
like fish.

The pain in my head
a pain bright white
Will surely spread
If not done right

My head and I sob, throb, and cry together
And then I finally sever the tether

spin one full revolution,
Though I know it's unwise,
Lets in nightmare pollution
Maybe last night’s reprise



III

At night, I will always search for the reasons
Why is it that bad things happen to good people
I lie down and lament each of the seasons
If it’s about church, I’m skewered on the steeple

Now plaguing me is my dear heart
O! Please don't think me frigid
It’s how to be, if you are smart
Walls that throbbed become rigid

want that is lace
want that is divine,
want that dissipates
completely
in time

Wincing at every twinge
Heart so hollow it awards me pain
Lace is fraying at the fringe
Meteor in my orbital plane

said it flutters and feels flighty
prescribed one spin righty tighty

Then, compact are the loves I hold,
Locked in my heart airtight
No space empty or left cold
I wish you all goodnight

my heart is so tired
I'm losing my voice
and bleeding out

kindness is a target for evil
disheartening doesn't begin to define this ache in my chest
maybe this is how it felt when they drove the nails into Jesus's hands

the only things that keep me breathing
are full of toxins
unfortunately, there are no warning signs of toxins that provide the fix I seek.

my manifesto is to mean what I say
do what I promise
more importantly it is to love.
I've learned that love is the ultimate sacrifice.

this world needs those of us who feel deeply and communicate effectively.  
a "friend" doesn't cut ties over something petty
a lover doesn't leave you because something is alleged to be true.

as a feeler, this will make sense to you.
if you are not comprehending this or not feeling a tug in your chest, go home, lay down and think about times in your life when you felt overlooked. really go back to that moment and feel it.

when you feel it, now know that other person is feeling that because of your actions.

love & art 1991,

henk holveck

I'm a tiny twig flowing in a River

Its flow, mighty, powerful, turbulent
I make futile attempts to make my own way
But it's the forces of nature that determine my path
Pushing me, Pulling me at its whim
And yet I have this notion of Destiny
Of a greater calling
A belief or rather a hope for finding
the true purpose for my existence
Perhaps a twig would change the flow of a River
And Perhaps the whole story wouldn't sound as absurd as its pitiful summarization
Yet, nothing is more true, more tangible,
more persistent, more disheartening
than the fact that

I'm a tiny twig flowing in a River

we are grids and squares
some of us supporting figures
and the wires that make things work
we rely and we take
captivate and motivate
but are still unhappy with what we have
easily disheartened by the chances we get

live up to your expectations.
play your part.