Beneath this stone, a light once shone,
A son laid down, the battles won.
In tender arms, a dream to hold,
A mother's heart, forever cold.

Though time may pass and shadows creep,
In memories bright, your spirit keeps.
Each whispered word, each silent prayer,
In every tear, you linger there.

No path more cruel than this we tread,
For parents mourn the child who’s fled.
Yet love remains, a guiding light,
In darkest hours, your soul takes flight.

So here we stand, our hearts entwined,
In grief, in love, forever bind.
Though life's cruel twist has sought to part,
You live forever in our heart.

How a rudimentary community college psychology 101 degree can save your life during a mud slide. Picture this: you're on your back with a large ******* on top of you and it's raining hard. You reach for a small needle and it's gone, taken by the *****. You demand to know what she's done with it but she only speaks Ebonics. You pray that Jesus will descend from Heaven and smite her "up side the head" and He does. You can hardly believe that it's really Jesus but it is. He proves it by showing you 3 Jesus tattoos. If that ain't proof that He is the Son of Man then you don't know what is.

I see you in the dark,
A shadow lost in time,
But your light calls me,
And I find the climb.

Through all the years we've missed,
And all the love we sought,
I reach for you in silence,
In every battle fought.

Your tears fall like the rain,
Washing all that’s past,
But still, your voice whispers,
A promise made to last.

I will stand beside you,
No matter where we go,
Through the quiet and the chaos,
Through every ebb and flow.

I can't hear my own voice...

It's too loud... too many people... too much noise

When was the last time I had peace?

How long ago did silence lull me to sleep?

I wish I may wish I might...

Remember the wish I made on that night...

And if I were to pass in my sleep...

I give my soul to the lord to keep...

What soul? What soul?

So long ago I bartered with the devil...

Soulless, broken, quiet in a loud room

The shadow in the corner

Of the party

Inside, I’m screaming out, “look at me!”
“Notice me!”
Too, long, too long,
I’ve neglected to see me because I was lost, looking over at others.
Such wasted years, such waste to fears, discouragement in my ears, the many times, I’ve wiped those tears
Stained eyes, they were closed for a period of many, many days, to get new sight, and
To hear the truth within; “darling, I see you; you are my beloved.”
Deep senses quieten, even though tremmers still pulse,
Claiming life within thriving for expression.
I can’t stop; I allow you to be seen, heard, criticised, discarded...celebrated, yes, honoured, revelled, desired, loved.
Because that’s who you are, who you’ve always been, when you were off, waiting to be seen.
But now I am here, and now I begin again,
New steps, new paths; enjoy, embrace joy!

I was listening to roller skating tunes.
Yes, I am shallow, sir.
And though thou may say villainess or mistress,
I am content to be who I am.
One noon, we were over dull
and our hearts we serviced
like two thieves there
in the kissing place
where breaths are both as one
and the first of many kisses doubles.
He made vows in mine ear.
He has such hands and lips
and his fortunate nature fed mine eyes
oh, nothing was scarce.
Our horns locked together
with the intensest chutzpah
and we well-made our match.
We sparked feelings we all ascribe to heaven.
I would not tell you
I can serve a man
that by slow designs
men can melt.
He swore oaths
and dropped
half won.
Later he paid
the sweetest
after-debts
—he did owe it.
.
.
songs for this:
Find Me the Pulse of the Universe by Laetitia Sadier
Stormy (Bossa Mix) by S-Tone Inc

Within the nook of a dell,
a good distance
from obloquy
and inhibition,
floating on water,
listening to birdsong
descend down
the stream
of a musical scale.
Don’t need to believe
or even consent to
any critique,
any look-see,
you are free and light
on the surface,
buoyant and supple
beneath.

Languid movements,
reminiscent
of a weir,
cascade
and trickle,
springing forth
to orchestrate an overture.
This feeling is
beatific,
euphoric,
the moment one of
nonpareil,
bijou,
objet d’art,
and these transports
are yours only
to involuntarily
succumb to and relive:

Rhythmic waves
quivering
upon your shore,
as your limbs and spine camber.
It’s no wonder
you often lift
your voice in song.

So
I will undress
Peel out my skin
Lay my heart bare
Even if I don't want to
Even if I don't love you
If its all it takes to feel loved

it usually leaps like a swordfish out of the ocean
and I’m able to harpoon it,
but as of lately,
I’m stuck with pond ****
and the tuna on my bad breath.

it’s nowhere to be found;
not in the parks,
the libraries,
the liquor stores
nor the circuit clerk’s office,

I tried fishing it out of the swaps of
spitfire and melancholy
but found nothing

I tried to ****** it with an excessive
amount of trouble and *******
but found nothing

I tried scooping the guts out of myself
like a hollowed out pumpkin and
splattered it with a wet slap
against an old newspaper
but found nothing

there’s nothing here;
no spark,
no imagination,
no ingenuity

what I’m I suppose to do?

as I sit here petting the black
velvet fur of my dog,
my toes won’t stop curling,
my nails are bitten down to the nub
and the stink of aging soars past
like eagles on fire

I have nothing to write about:
no unpopular opinion
no peculiar viewpoint
no bludgeoning over
the banality of
extinction

the only logical thing to do is
head out to see some local
band at a Chicago bar and see
where the alcohol takes me

I need the ammunition
I need the fuel
I need to make
something happen

the hard days of labor have diminished me
through attrition and lack of euphemism
but for right now, no matter how
saturated I am of feeling and thought…

whether I’m
drunk on sleep,
salacious on vulgarity,
grieving with quills,
vacant of *****,
dreaming of gout,
reading Géza Csáth,
listening to Sass Dragons,
burrowing under empty houses
or fixing the plumbing for the woman down the hall.

I still
can’t
coax
the word
out.