The sky grey and gloomy
contrasted with subtle ease
the trembling damp branches
of fire-colored maple leaves
As if the mountain were ablaze -
contained by the gentle mist
It was all held securely
Still the stillness, I resist

What is it that
I'm afraid of?
And what reason
do I have to doubt?
As if the One who
tames the fires
would ever leave me
here without
Can't the fires of
of a failing mind
be tamed by
the Autumn mist?
So why do I burn with
such remorse
clinching worn
memories in my fist?

Go to sleep, dear child
It all fades away in the end
There's no way to tame the wild
or grasp for the Autumn wind
Find rest in what is true
when there's nowhere else to go
There's nothing for you to do
and nothing else for you to know.

Cold winds rustle through
the Sleepy Town oaks
The whirling whispers
louder than the
Sleepy Town blokes
Candles in the windows -
the Sleepy Town hoax
for the town is long deserted
by the Sleepy Town folks
The echo of former laughter
from the Sleepy Town jokes
The Autumn fog appears as if
The Sleepy Town smokes
Rain recalls the memory,
as the Sleepy Town soaks,
of livelihood long forgotten
by those Sleepy Town folks..

"Just half a step
too slow", she said
"You don't have to
chase the beat..
Let rhythm oil those
bones", she laughed,
"and flow to
your two left feet.
It's nothing you have
to try to do..
We're all born to dance.
But some of us are
self aware and won't
give ourselves a chance.."

She smiled and put
her hand in mine and
it calmed my busy brain
And the whole night
we spent cheek to cheek  
Dancing in the pouring rain.

I kept running
through the wilderness,
day after desperate day,
Sometimes I saw
the scenery -
Most times I
was too afraid
Sometimes I felt loved
but then I cringed and
it flew away
But mostly I kept running
day after desperate day

I kept running through
the wilderness,
On passed the concrete grid -
into foreign lands
where no one knew the
things I did
If anyone ever misses me
I'm right here for them to find
In the wilderness just a mile
or two outside my stable mind

No strength to be assertive
on the city street,
No way to pull the curtain
when he goes to sleep
No way to know for certain
He'll have food to eat.
No comfort for the hurtin'
blisters on his feet.

Who can know the burden
of the man who lost it all?
Or the sharp edge of the sword
that sliced before his fall?
Who can pick him up when
he's a nervous wreck?
With his fingers in your face,
you can't remove his speck

Who can give him any hope?
he thinks he knows it all
Who can reach a restless man
when he builds his wall?

Like soothing a bawling baby
crying louder than you can speak
Traumatized by anticipation
because his faith is weak
He wants it all or nothing
Such a restless and hungry man
Overcome with shame and fear
of what he'll never understand.

Faith really does
move mountains..
Jesus Christ really is King.
And the road that leads to
heaven really is paved in
hard suffering..
In all our search for knowledge
Some of us pass by
this simple truth:
that abiding is much more
the wiser than roaming
in some foolish pursuit..
We really were marred
by arrogance,
But Christ really did
come to restore..
His word isn't written
in the soft sinking sand,
but in stone forever more..
He really does call "whosoever"
And many really do turn away
But He really did come to seek
that which was lost
and bid them all to stay..
This world really is fading..
From the mountains to our
flesh and bone..
but for the abiding soul
that cannot be moved,
an open door beckons
them home..

We put our
problems in a bottle,
sank it and
said a prayer..
then hammered
down the throttle
and threw our hands
to the open air..
The evening sky
especially beautiful -
It's sun bursting
through cloudy skies
And still, it was
barely suitable
to reflect those
bluest eyes..
Then we tore through
sparkling water -
Blonde curls dancin'
in the summer wind
Just a worn out dad
and his daughter
who might not come
this way again..
But today the water
welcomes us..
promising to drown
our sorrow..
And perhaps,
the Good Lord helpin' us,
we'll do it all
again tomorrow..

If I have to be psychotic,
Let it bring no harm to anyone..
fill my mind with hues of colors;
not the pressure of passing time.
If I'm convinced of any lies,
let it be "this world is just fine"
I'll bid farewell to sanity and
let the colors fill my mind..

I guess it doesn't matter now..
All the tears I've ever cried..
Or all the times I lost my mind
when pieces of me would die.
But I just kept clinging as my
world came crashing down..
hugging your memory tighter
when I heard the crashing sound..
But I guess it doesn't matter now..
You're long gone and I'm alone -
my guts burning with torment
writing this poetry on my phone..
And who will ever cry for me
when you have better things to do?
The little girl who cries for boys
has long been gone from you..

Somewhere in the sands of time,
I hear the sound of a faithful cry..
from a bird with broken wings
who sings "my hope will never die!"..
His chances are less than average.
He's a candle in a hurricane.
Still he bows beaneath the storm
and he sings louder amidst the rain.
He knows what he'd become
if it were not for his broken wings..
He'd probably make a nest of thorns
and fill it up with shining things.
He might say "I'll sing tomorrow" -
But tomorrow might never come..
And the only awful song would be
a song that he never sung.
And what would he become
when his soul no longer sings?
So, he sings his songs of gratitude
all the more with his broken wings..

Guards led him to a one-man slam
down a cold concrete, narrow hall..
He checked the sink, threw down his mat,
and scratched "endure it" on the wall..
Between the bitterness of insanity,
he heard a faint whisper in the silence
saying, "what doesn't **** you, heals you"
and that's even true with violence..
He wore a broken heart like black eyes,
you could see it in how he'd walk
with his lowly, desperate demeanor,
looking away every time he'd talk..
He wore every label people gave him,
ignoring that inner voice pleading
saying, "scars are only ugly to those
whose wounds are still bleeding.."
He sang songs to protect his sanity..
hoping it would drown the voices
heard from loved ones in his nightmares
reminding him of his bad choices..
No one really cared to listen..
He was so desperate, he didn't care
for the only love he had, he knew,
was the love that he had to share.  
Loving God means loving people..
Twist it up however you want to,
but there's always hope in hardship
for everything you've ever gone through,
but you have to listen to the whisper -
Not the voices screaming in your head..
My heart cries for the closed mouths
of the hearts that are never fed..
Confess it all and let Him heal you..
Cry out to the One True Savior
The One who can heal the inside
changing natures of those behaviors..
I'm telling you, He'll listen..
He'll give you hope that He keeps secure..
And for the all the storms he don't rebuke,
He gives you strength that you may endure.

I've got letters in my notebook
that I've never read for you,
I wanted you to read them,
but you had better things to do..
I wrote some of them in red ink,
and some of them in black.
Some of them are bitter
'cause you'll never take me back..
I've got letters in my notebook
that you'll never want to read..
but these bitter tears that stained
them are all the love I'll ever need..
There's more to life than loneliness,
more to love than who you've lost,
more to hope than disappointment
because a blurry line's been crossed.
I wrote you one more letter..
one you'll never have to read..
It says, "The purest kind of love
is the love you give and don't receive."

He staggered to the med-line
and wept bitterly from his soul
for the hope, he feared, he'd
never find to fill that gaping hole.
Somewhere in the sands of time,
a boy plays at his father's feet -
when happiness didn't cost a dime
and he danced to a different beat.
But that was years ago -
the song had ended much too fast.
He refused the meds, walked real
slow, and cradled his playful past.

Don't you cry when
I'm in the grave
You'll be sad and
I won't hear..
Tell me what's
the matter now..
Tell the truth
and make it clear.

Don't you weep
when I go to sleep
if there's a promise
I've failed to keep.
I'll give to you and
when I'm gone,
just let me sleep
and don't you weep.

Never mind the
broken heart, my dude..
I guess she wasn't
meant for you.
Just a passerby on
a country road
Who couldn't stay
when passing through..

"Where will you go next?"
The question of the hour..
"Anywhere but here",
he thought, still hurt from
all the times they'd fought..
But battles lost  
inside his brain
are the only ones
that still remain..

I guess he'll
settle for a friendship,
Tell himself he tried,
and throw his stones
into the ocean till
it decides to change
the raging tide..
Nothing lasts forever.
At least the things
we take for granted.
We can only hope
the best for any seeds
we've ever planted..

Just chalk it up - a lesson
Sorry I tore it all apart
Hopefully, I'm some way
it's a blessing
Nevermind the
broken h e a r t.

The same people
who told me
I'm only alive
when I'm winning
are the ones who
look for cracks
in my character.

And so I favor the meek -
Not the schemes of
their cold competition.

And the same
people who told
me I couldn't
survive in the
free world are
the ones in whom
my ******* would
prove most
rewarding.  

And so I learn wisdom and
suffering in separation

Dancing in a ten
percent chance of rain;
In part, because it
beat the odds -
More so, because
it never even
considered them.
Perhaps, it was even
in spite of them.
Or maybe it just
reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
self-righteous tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

Either way..

You can tell me
it won't rain,  
but you won't
stop it from pouring.
You can tell me
there's no God,
but it won't stop
Him from healing
these festered wounds.
And you can tell me
I'll never walk,
but you won't keep
me from dancing..

No room for me
in that space you need..
So I fed my disgrace
with percocet and ****.
I've been ripped off before
and still haven't been paid,
but trading love for percocet
is the worst deal I've ever made.

Now it's all an echo that
haunts my hollow heart
drowned by harsh words
spoken when it fell apart.
"I love you, babe", you said
and, then, I was so sure
that come hell or high water
love would always endure.
Now it's all gone..
Faded by foolish pride
Locked inside a memory
that haunts me day and night.  
But, inside, I still whisper
when I want to feel your touch
"You're my only person, babe,
and I love you soooo much."

It was right for you to leave,
but you didn't have to
take me with you..

Now I'm cold and alone
and my hands are clammy..
gripping my reasons  
like that bouquet of
Dogwood flowers I clasped
till the pedals fell..

Just as I fell into the same
desperation that plagued
my soul before you came..

Who would know the struggle?
The apocalyptic rubble..
So sick I'm seeing double
and I haven't had a drink.

Jarred by nightly terror
Scarred by trial and error
Acting on impulse because
I'm too afraid to think.

And if I'll always be psychotic,
let it be no harm to anyone..
Fill my mind with hues of color
and not the pressure of time..
If I'm convinced of any lies,
let it be: this world is fine
I'll bid farewell to sanity
and let the colors fill my mind..

I'm pacing these floors,
shaking my head,
shifting in my bed,,
trying to figure out
what happened..

what happened?

Obsessed and
aggravated.

What happened?

Why is everybody
so **** mad?
And why do I
always talk so slow?

.. likes tearing people down
with loose talk and harsh words -
Empathy tossed aside
by the misuse of nouns and verbs.
.. a twisted view of society
just bound to be seen and heard -
Everyone, listen quietly
till every harsh word is slurred.
The Queen of the Night Life;
her brokenness - a crown.
Out-spokenness - a sword
that she just loves to swing around.
And me, I'm just a jester;
my struggle - a comedic scene,
but she’s justified by anger
only entitled to the royal queen

If I could only
grasp the wind,
then I would know
how freedom feels -

And if I could
know you once again,
it'd take these
blisters off my heels.

For now, I'm lonely -
scratchin' skin
beneath the rags
of where I've been.

Staying outside
my broken mind -
too afraid
of looking in.

The boy could run
but he couldn't walk
Had no time to think
and no room to talk
Passed by more people
than he ever helped
Never knew anything
except for what he felt
But if there's one thing good
we can say about this man
it's that he's long gone now
and, here, we all stand

A sheet of ice from the winter freeze,
Candle-lit windows, haunting trees,
Branches dancing in the subtle breeze.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

A distant light from the radio tower
Blinks on time in the late-night hour.
A star-scattered sky so still and sweet.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Redlights ahead, the road ending abrupt
Kicking rocks to keep from looking up.
Cracks in my soul like the cold concrete.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet

A man staggers in the streetlight glow.
He smiles because he knows that I know.
I nod and gaze down the familiar street
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Down by the oak trees and old ball park,
The hillside hidden by the dense dark,
I hear the rushing sound of Town Hill Creek.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Caught up inside
a storm,
I whispered softly  
into the wind,
"Don't let the
lightening strike
me like it has with
all my friends."
The firstfruits of our
freedom trickled
down from
the oppressor.
I want, so badly,
to make it right,
but I just can't
in this kind of
weather.

I could describe
everything about you
having never met you -
recite your words
like a Silverstein poem,
sketch every
imperfection, and
feel every embrace.

So believe me
when I say you're
the one I've always
wanted and that
I loved you before
I knew you.

I stood atop
a mountain;
beneath was
everything I am.
I grinned when
I felt the wind
and nodded to
my inner man..
No doubt I've
seen some troubles;
crevices etched
in my terrain
from the rushing
roar of rivers
brought by days
of relentless rain,
but these scars,
they tell the stories
of the storms
I've had to weather
and serve as a
reminder that
these storms
don't last forever..

Weapons primed and ready;
Round the troops, sound the sirens.
Snipers, hold your rifle steady
for the battle of the irons.

Pride and Hatred take a stance.
Violence crouches - taking aim.
Never takes a second glance
before he fires across the plane.

She lies helpless in the street.
Shot down in violent fashion.
Pleading peace in her defeat.
The victim's name is Compassion.

"Just keep your love about you."
said the kettle to the ***.
"What you have, you have to give
and charity is all you've got."
"And keep yourself together."
said the kettle to the cup.
"Some day soon you'll find a spoon
that stirs your spirit up."

That weapon
of mine you
confront with such
hateful hostility
is the only sword
sharp enough to
pierce your
inattentive armor -
You'd never
acknowledge
my existence
had I not been
swinging it.

And that
drunken bellow -
the only noise
louder than
the pushy,
productive voices
in your head.

Autumn moon
lighting up the
purple sky -
along with
lesser lights
watching as I
lost my mind.

All the stars
were in her eyes -
every cosmic cluster
glimmering,
dimming,
then falling
in the night.

Constellations
poured across
her pretty face.
Recklessly,
they’d crash -
splashing on
the ground,
then were gone
without a trace.

Her tender hand
consoled the
pieces left of me -
I just knew the
falling stars would
be the death of me.

Guess I'll settle
for the knock off,
tell everyone
I tried, and
throw my stones
into this ocean
till it decides to
change the tide.

Life was easy
when you were
around,
but I was slowly 
sinking d                        
               o                      
               w                    
                n..                
         Now it's hard,  
         but I'm healing.

Day after day, I rivel.
Who knows for how long?
Reduced to mere survival
screaming it’s selfish undertone.
Aspiration is long forgotten
If I live, to what avail?
Despair darkens my demeanor
Time and time again, I fail.
Compassion is now contended;
Making less sense than it did before
And those who are offended
break the hinges off my door.
Disappointment - my adornment
as if I’m capable of more..
If only they knew the torment
that is relentless at my core.  
Wisdom only mocks me.
She dances around my doom
singing, “Here lies a foolish boy
who followed freedom to his tomb.”
Now I’m cast to raging seas;
A boat beaten by an angry wave;
unanswered cries like pleas
from crows that cry above my grave.

Tell me, Lord.. can these dry bones live?

Ah, Lord, You know.
But I am left to wonder why
every attempt to be the hero
turns to ashes when I die.
All this foolishness will follow
as I lay down and return to dust
and time is sure to swallow
all these fallacies I trust.

Day 1: not so bad.
Day 2: my body moves without permission.
Day 3: nope.
Day 4: took the bait.
Day 1: massive headache.  
Spat the bait out.
Day 2: not too bad.
Day 3: the toilet seat is so cold.
Day 4: Icy hot doesn't work.
Day 1:  kids are cool.

And just like that, it's over -
like it didn't even happen.
Traded the rest of his life
for a half a gram - went out
noddin' like he was nappin'..
My heart cries for the family,
Aaron, I miss you, fam.
And, if I could, you know I'd
buy you back for that half a gram.

Just like that, gone forever..
Like he was never here,
a sudden change of weather
we often see this time of year.
My heart cries for your kid,
I'll never forget you, man.
Why men would rather ****
than build, I'll never understand..

Just like that, forgotten..
The girl had gotten sober
Bought some birthday
presents and ******
and just like that - its over.
My heart cries for your baby
Carrie's never coming back.
I wonder if she wore the
bracelet I gave her when
she faded into black.

Just like that, we're praying..
for God to heal our hurt..
a few words about his life and
then we chunked him in the dirt..
I tried to tell you, Bill David..
That girl would get you killed..
Look to God to do the healing
You just be the one who's healed.

Don't let the dirt of despair
dull your shine, little diamond.
God's been good to you, too.  
Who said it was over?  
Who told you it'd always
be like this?
Who said you're a toxic person?
And how do they know?  
They don't.  
Shake those expectations.
Dance in the rain.
Shine in the dirt.
Do you, diamond.

Drowning in the white
waters of his own rage,
He stared a vacant
stare that could never
give light - only drink it
like a barren desert
growing desperate
for a few drops of rain.

That kind of stare can
only look inward
toward the stinging
and distorted
memories -
never peering out into
the suger-coated  
sub-reality (the
monotonous practice
of model living) -
his vision obscured by
the traumatic scenes
of a nightmarish movie
playing in repetition -
bearing down on his
consciousness and
becoming all the more
vivid and consequential.

The contrast of her
soft-spokenness seems
to mock him - and so
he rages..

We're, every one,
just as afraid as the other
Afraid of each other
The only brave souls
are those who confess it
and are least compromised.

Somewhere in the sands of time,
I hear a faint and faithful cry -
the song of a wingless bird
singin' "love will never die".
But where has he gone now?
That candle in a hurricane.
The bird singing in the storm -
wings beating against the rain.
And what will he become
when his soul no longer sings?
When he makes a nest of thorns
and fills it up with shiny things.
-
He can't say he'll sing tomorrow -
Tomorrow might never come
And the only awful song
is a song that is never sung.

The wild wonderland
of believed dreams with
good outcomes resting
in the minds of poor kids -
patted down like
little mud cakes and shaped in
old pans on culled lumber porches.

Who's ever gonna fix that rail?
No one.

Kids are busy baking cakes
and the older folks couldn't
care less..

Only those in the middle
are blinded by conformity
and set on edge by competition..

But, in this light, who couldn't surrender their darkness
of cold competition to the light and warmth of these lads?

Who wouldn't make way
for such a thing to happen?

Little lights of
hope that will only fade
into the sunset of adulthood
in due time...

But not today.

Not for them.

They have cakes to bake.

Remember me, Darlin',
on rainy days -
when boredom breeds
some restless state of mind..
I pray that, after you take
inventory of mindless tasks
and make another attempt
to recall some fresh memory
of your Old Man,
that you remember me,
even for just a moment -
dismissing my error
with a subtle smile
before whispering,
"****.. I hope he's alright."  

That's love..

That's love more than this is.

Nevermind your broken heart,
my dear -
He was never sent to care.
Just a passerby on winding road
with a destination not so clear.
A road so hazy you can't see your last step,
"Where will you go next?" -
the question of the hour.
"Anywhere but here",
she begged as she wiped away tears from a broken heart she should've just kept.
Kept far away from anyone to misuse,
She's broken again like a shattered mirror.
Thoughts of why she's never enough,
Why she always has to lose.

If this autumn moon
that gives such light
were the eye of He who
gave me sight,
then He would see
a sheep asleep
while children die
and mothers weep.  

And, if glimmering stars
were angel bands
that laid to waste
a wasteful man,
then I would pray
that they be blind
to those I've harmed
or left behind.

Stars don’t shine like they used to..
and these visions in my head are horrid..
and the voices are merciless
telling me it’s all my fault and
that I’ll never find real love.
Whatever that is.
But I’ve been here before.
Take care of yourself, darlin.

Just so you know, you left
my soul a little more broken...
my mind a little more
paranoid and untrusting..
lonely and confused.  
There’s no hope in my eyes
or hop in my step.
But I’ve been here before.  
Take care of yourself, darlin.