#tomorrows
*“For the tomorrows are where the promises resides
…that determines tomorrow's flavours”*
Marshal Gebbie
**a long day in the city, tired in way that only
a New York City can happily tax a body,
awaken just momentary before midnight,
greeted by two disparate realities and peeks of what just
past the bend might bring,
one man laments with utter love
the disappearance of his beloved behind the wall of dementia,^
and another,
by email, newly arrived from New Zealand,^^
inflaming a sensing the common nearing, future of our demarcations,
and yet, he, we,
double down to push yet another blocking boulder off the road,
always one more,
on the collective property that our humans minds share,
with an optimism,
that makes me pen, instantly,
for I am choice-less; now as before,
inhabited
by demon devils and good people,
crying out to all the winged muses hovering, come aid me, unmuddy these rivers of darkest chocolate interlacing the loveliest
of buttermilk vanilla
coursing mightily through a re!freshened brain,
all the clashing contradictory flavours demanded from me
by the powerful quietude of silence
that opens a new day, even though dawn may yet be
many hours away
here I am scribbling, words dripping, page staining,
after a long period
of my soul’s inability to pierce the Jerusalem city walls
of no inspiration,
and the contra~indicators of sanity and its opposite number,
of glowlights of positivity so deep rooted,
that even a lighting strike cannot knock
Oak
down, though deep may be the scars residual,
in a dark home,
where the evidence of life is in a handful of lit windows
across the avenue, of the adjacent sleep noises,
all signals that though spent,
we are not yet rent,
that life’s pleasuring are well and holy embraced with smiles demure,
recalling tales of past that are sugaring our souls, and the saddening
reminders fresh,
that all this, too, shall pass,
our own markers, unique,
all becoming, will be coming
with us
of course,
there is no resolution formidable to these warring states
of mind, and nowadays days,
repetitive searches for the perfect word we once knew too well,
oft come back as
N.C.A.
an acronym of tired sparks saying, that word, beloved to you is,
“not currently available”
as if it has been perma!checked out of the library,
unable to be returned…
the clock has moved us unwillingly to what was the morrow,
to well into the here and now,
and the swirling swishing eddies smashing into each other
yet palpitating vigorously our soul’s surfing,
muscular chested musings,
and our pangs of hunger for perfect certainty of
what will become of me are quietly stored back on the shelves,
of the closeted acceptable uncertainty,
my eyes revert to back to Marshal’s words,
and I make this
promise
to anyone within eyeshot, across this
global sphere,
that whatever are the colours of my continuous searches for that perfect mot,
will end only
at a time and place of,
with words of,***
mine own choosing
12:57am
Sun Nov 23 2025
<nml>
Nov 23, 2025
Nov 23, 2025 at 1:41 AM UTC
.
*Remember today,
as the self bides
the gavel-ticks
of the hand.
Celebrating the arrival
of each new second,
while mourning the ones
left unfulfilled
and regrettable.
Remember the todays,
as they might spring forth
or amble along…
Never forgetting
to frolick in the allures
of possibly better tomorrows.*
.
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 9:23 AM UTC
*this man of constant tomorrows,
hopeful Mondays, bad Fridays,
a man of constant sorrows,
pictures and poems from a life
celebrating constant recalibration,
never allowed to forget that the
years of lucky will run out,
like the string you saved from packages were delivered,
when come the years with
no luck and no more packages arriving*
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
If I had a quarter for every time I wished
For you and I to take a trip to yesterday
I don't know exactly how rich I would be
But it would add up to a lot of change
I don't know what I'd do with that cash
But I would spend every cent on you
Doing whatever you like till it's gone
Or till there's nothing left to do
Or we could leave where we are for good
Pack up all our things today and leave
I could take your hand and whisk you far from here
To a place our tomorrows will always be happy
I will say farewell to bad memories
Never look that direction again
Like arrows we will fly toward the future
Our time in this small town will end
Presently I have your heart to hold
And although time may never give me a replay
I am too lucky to be nostalgic
Done wishing for yesterdays
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 3:35 AM UTC
Today is tomorrow's
fourth night.
Believe it or
not
Yesterday has had
flowers to gift you.
Hence the coming
season of February
would be very
nasty!
Believe it or
not
Tomorrow's tomorrow
would be my
first guest.
Let him permit
to fly winter-kites
on Indian sky.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 10:22 AM UTC
it's approaching
closer
closer
closer
it forever draws nearer
and it never stops
and it never will
more constant than the moon on a clear night
more familiar than the touch of a lifelong love
chilling to the bones
constantly
more you than not
you will never escape
nothing helps
god never seemed more silent
maybe it's just you're too loud
you plea and beg for semblance
silence
peace
but it never comes
and it never will
hell is a place on earth
and it's right here in my head
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 2:09 PM UTC
Love me like our yesterday
The past, we felt free
The only thing that mattered
To you seemed to be me.
Love me like now, today
Your eyes they shine
The conviction when you stare
Look with love back at mine.
Love me like future tomorrows
I'll hope that you'll stay
If only you would let me in
Not push me far away.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
Before moon comes out to show
Lack of progress I think I'll get drunk
Could make better decisions
Life is easier to flunk
I look down, hide my shamefIul eyes
Heart lays in the dirt
Wrung out, tossed aside like trash
Can I run from this hurt?
I placed expectations high
In the wrong box, the wrong shelf
Cannot disentangle, stuck to my mistakes
Try but fail to fix myself
**** it, I am gonna get high
Life too short to live sober, full of sorrow
Rather die tonight with smoke in happy lungs
Than survive an endless number of substance free tomorrows
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
Me at that oak table
Sitting on that couch
There in that room
of what was then
Our house
You on the loveseat
There by my side
We then together
in grandeurs
warm light
There is where
the good the bad
and the beautiful
transpired
Supposing all the tomorrows
were held within Our hand
The days then were precious
Now sadly never again
As I remember
how it all went
I think of you
lovely as an Angel
from Heaven sent
My eyes cannot see
through all of the tears
Thinking back on
the best of of Our life
of those most wonderful years
Since you've been gone
I must you then now tell
I'll see you in Heaven
because I've already
been there in Hell.
-R.
11.27.17
-LA
-4MAR
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC
A single drop of rain upon the ground.
Like lightning strike that struck rain soddened earth.
A monotonous voice rattles around,
It’s face lit in the depths of the stone hearth,
One light that will forever show me, you.
Path burdened with unforgiving sorrow.
To a life that waves a final adieu,
There’s an endless number of tomorrows.
But then tomorrow becomes yesterday
With the fading “Au Revoir” in the wind.
The distant trembles of sorrow that fray.
Closed eyes of the once forgiving and kind.
An undying love ceasing to exist,
As a leaf on a river set adrift.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
A muggy dream walked to me
Yesterday night, all roads down
The equator
With the taste of salt and sweat
And the clocks of the world
Stopped for a moment,
I wrote without papers
Of all the things he ever said.
The drama of falling from a cliff
I did not know I was dreaming,
A careful section of love letters
Obscured under leather jackets
Flew with the body, down to the sea.
My red mail box had to wait
For the Orientalist’s stories,
It did wait.
I trawled his journals and poems
Like a desperate lover hunting-
For a vilified unpublished hero.
I didn’t want to be his Halloween-
Horror night or fallen oranges of the dusk,
I wanted to be the cigars he puffed
The rancheras he sung and the clipped
Clothes that hung on his backyard.
The clichéd sappy night fall,
Physical sensation and a tight lipped smile;
I had to write poetry, chew my nails
Chop my hair to fall normal again.
Why did they not teach in schools
To pause poems and eat popcorns
Why did they not tell me
To stop my wiggly sly will?
Lover, I’m drunk in Chaucer
Sea and a monster, now I’m drowning.
Let us paint the house, draw the walls
And say sorry to malicious kids we made
Let us take photographs, hang them on
The walls and make trips back to our sacks
Let us drive the hills, sing songs
Shock the folks and live out of track.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
When you’re off the shore there is an empty recap,
The mind who fell from the moon
And thoughts that struck the deepest of the depths
With memories and stories and a whole lot of emotions
Streams a new location for this resonating soul.
When the rooms get smaller and the boundaries –
Make no sense, there is the field you spoke about
We can go back, sip some tea and talk endless
Till the morning breeze kisses the red spot of your sky.
We were total strangers until the first lazy scribbles
But you spoke of bamboos and the music that flowed
With similarities and glee coupled with few lines of poetry
That you made me realize, life is worth living.
I know your son, your mom, your wife, your dad
I know your little girlfriend and your dear little diary
And I know the person who is ageless and nameless,
I know my friend, you are someone unusual.
When it rains, I know you’re coming to talk about-
Ganges, journeys and cravings and feel so excited
When you get the touch, that somebody is there
Destined to share the same feeling and the exact thrill
Of every moment and cherish memories.
Let us go back to the days- you the song and I the poet
And our days that we never shared
But we will someday meet at your ranch
Talk endless without the distress of judgement
And walk a little longer and paint red, red and white,
You can drive me home and I can drive you to endless letters.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Sitting in my trailer
Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans
Chasing each tall *****
With some Jack and shots of Beam
Struggling with my issues
In the past and from today
Sitting in my trailer
Drinking my tomorrows all away
Another day of heartbreak
I got dumped, what the hell
There was not even a phone call
It was by electronic mail
Bits and bytes of rejection
flying through electronic space
Just to tell me "I don't love you"
I got emailed in the face
Sitting in my trailer
Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans
Chasing each tall *****
With some Jack and shots of Beam
Struggling with my issues
In the past and from today
Sitting in my trailer
Drinking my tomorrows all away
A week ago I was fired
Went to work like every day
found the door locked and all boarded
He ******* off with all my pay
No notice, and no phone call
Just a sign upon the door
A cardboard notice of rejection
Saying "you don't work here no more"
Sitting in my trailer
Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans
Chasing each tall *****
With some Jack and shots of Beam
Struggling with my issues
In the past and from today
Sitting in my trailer
Drinking my tomorrows all away
My dog ran off last weekend
Left the house and ain't come back
He ran off with that pack of dogs
And he ain't coming back
I bought him as a puppy
Now he's left and he's long gone
But he left a pile of rejection
On the corner of my lawn
Sitting in my trailer
Sleeveless shirt and cut off jeans
Chasing each tall *****
With some Jack and shots of Beam
Struggling with my issues
In the past and from today
Sitting in my trailer
Drinking my tomorrows all away
My tomorrow's may be better
But then again, I'm not so sure
I've got the blues from this rejection
And I don't think there's a cure
so I sit here in my trailer
Drinking the same thing every day
Sitting in my ripped t-shirt
Drinking all my tomorrows away
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 8:22 PM UTC
I can't do this anymore.
HELP! I'm falling apart on the floor.
Sleeping has become my only score.
I've can't even cry.
Must be strong for the poor.
I'm okay on the outside.
I'm crashing down in the core.
Tell me "It's okay."
Let me blindly love tomorrow's day.
I want to speak,
but sometimes, there's nothing left to say.
I want to smile..
..but no..
I'm not okay.
I'll never admit it.
I fall apart everyday.
I was heading to "Out The Window",
but hit a *** hole on the way.
Am I even trying?
Why am I always lying-
..on this floor..
begging,
pleading,
stressing,
for more than I have the courage ..to ask for?..
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC