as
starlight
rains
upon
me,

i
reach
for
handpicked
memories.

the
talcum
powder
moon
rubs
my
eyes,

ocea­ns,
their
waves
cresting
tsunamic
our
galaxy's
disguise.

its
beauty
hides
behind
the
stardust,

its
attraction
lures
mouth
agape
lust.

meteor
showers
are
a
cosmic
******,

the
moon
falls
asleep
with
a
few
soft
notes
from
a sax.

I feel so damaged.

When will people stop looking for me ,

only when they want something.

I don't need a fragile sticker or tape wrapped around me.....

I'm already broken.

Shake the box and you'll see.

precious time
  was stolen
from me
  with someone
that i loved
  very much.

stolen
  from me
by someone
  who's time
  together,
i don't deem
  "precious"
at all.

he's gone.

while they're
still here.

   which,
only
angers me,
    pushes me
to resent
  more.

the irony
  of which
i write this
  with is
    literally
maddening.

  there's no
jeckyll,
   there's no
hyde.

there's my
  reality
not
  schizophrenia.

i know what
  i lived
and i know
  what is
too hard
    to forget.

   that knife
has gone through
  my chest,
through my heart
  and out
my back far
  too many times
to count.

resentful is
  a modest word
in exclamation
  of my feelings.

apologies
  be ******.
there is no right
  for the wrong
that i am
forced to
  have live
     within me,
  day after day
after night
   after night.

thanks for
  the memories
that murdered
  my soul
long long ago.

i'll be
  hard pressed
to find a
  tear for you.

perhaps
  forgiven,
perhaps.

   but never
forgotten.

CHF end stage.
It can absolutely feel like living inside of a cage.
Don't do this
don't do that.
Watch your sodium intake, watch your intake of fat.
Pill after pill
just to keep our hearts more still.
On the scale first thing every morning.
Overnight a weight gain of 5 lbs.?
That's a fluid retention warning.
Our hearts now beat so mild and meekly.
Life for us is not about months but, more geared towards weekly.
I could easily go off on some, "why did this happen to me" impassioned rant.
Instead I'll not get too excited because I'm not on any list for a much needed heart transplant.
My heart has already withstood
220 beats per minute for hours at a time.
Cardiologists staring at me like a puzzle, like a poem without a rhyme.
Congestive heart failure  - Supraventricular tachycardia.
I went through it all...I went through hours of literal ICU manic hysteria.
Enjoy us CHF sufferers while we are still here.
Because tomorrow with us, can quickly turn into yesteryear.
Have no regrets.
Don't miss us while viewing the sunset.
A sunset that we can see from the heavens above.
A sunset soaked and saturated with our love.
If we happen to fade away in our sleep......
Our memories will be yours, forever to keep.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️

My heart raced -

until I left your bed.

You made mention of it.

You're a heart attack -

for someone unathletic.

Muscles
   in our body
must rip
      must tear,
      must bleed
and suffer
        to become stronger.

And I think .......
  
       life,
        makes it the same
for our
hearts.

     Broken hearts
        do
mend.

She wore a;

Tight-thin- t-shirt bra-less with white sculpted leggings...

I couldn't catch my breath!

I couldn't un-race my heart.


Intentionally, she burns a fire long out of control.

Any woman that I encounter bares her face.

And her fire may burn forever longing for my hose to extinguish the flames.

every year
  since his
father's
    passing,
he seemingly
   has only
gotten worse
    not better.

withdrawing,
     retreating
  himself deeper
inward and
  furthering
himself away
    from every
normal
  societal
celebration,
    everything
and everyone.

intentionally  
  destroying
himself privately
    at least,
  away from
the eyes
    of others.

he desperately reaches
  for hope
within Jesus
   every day
but not even
  Jesus can
give him hope
  on his
"i don't want
   to be here"
days.

he sees things
  much too
clearly about
    life that
his troubled
  mind refuses
to be persuaded
  with mere
fractions of
   happiness.

his eyes
  absolutely know
what they see
  and his heart
absolutely knows
what it feels.

which,
   leaves his
soul wrought
   with pain
      and wound
after wound...
  
deeper and
  deeper these
wounds plunge...

  the bleeding
is becoming
    uncontrollable
  inside...

he's running
  out of
tourniquets.

Daybreak until nightfall,
she sat by her husband at the hospital
          while chemotherapy dripped
through the catheter into his heart.
          She drank coffee and read
magazines.
She paced while he worked
          on his poems.
  She rubbed his back
and read aloud. Overcome with dread,
          they wept and affirmed
that he would beat this, witlessly,
          over and over again.
When it snowed one morning.....
....
.. he gazed
          at the darkness blurred
with flakes. They pushed the IV pump
          which he called Igor
slowly past the nurses’ pods, as far
          as the outside door
so that he could smell......
          yes smell the snowy air.

walking away
  from the
sun,
      you will
always have
   company

I watch as a lifeless limb drifts down the river of life.
I watch as a storm cloud races across an otherwise empty sky of blue.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch a brilliant flame extinguished and waft away a wisp of smoke.
I watch as a leaf falls from its tree never to be one again.

I watch these things, I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch as raindrops fall from the sky,
I watch them nourish God's green earth.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch the firefly bring light to the evening sky,
I watch the spider spin its masterpiece,

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch the sun fall beneath the horizon as darkness takes up residence.
I watch the moon but just one half, the other half playfully hides.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch the bird out on the wire and marvel at its balance.
I watch as stars fight to outshine one another in a beautifully moonlit sky.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch the envious, as green as the first summer's day,
I watch their greenness turn to red, as rage has now consumed them.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch the homeless sift through trash,
I watch this as my heart is heavy, my eyes begin to water.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch the evil get rewarded and carry on unscathed.
I watch the good have to fight epic battles just to live another day.

I watch these things , I watch....
I always watch these things.

I watch a mother hug their newborn,
I watch the cycle of this life,

I watch these things , I watch ....
I always will watch these things!

If darkness can get darker,
I've been there.
Not once or twice.
Darkness being midnight,
a pack of wolves surrounded I have dared.
Fear of my own mortality has long been at nil.
I carry two legs of the enormously labored,
and eyes that bare witness to an unwanted hill.
In death I want my spirit to finally lay most perfectly still.

If
only
today
were
yesterday

I
miss
what
once
was

we are
like puzzle
   pieces that,

   perfectly
fit together.

    but,
what happens
        when,

  one of us
is lost?

far to many
  humans are
only capable
  of living in
one moment
   at a time.

where as i
  live in
many,
  so many
moments
  at once.

especially those
  that have
yet to have
     even
  happened.

Poetic
  verse
is
     intrinsically
partnered
      with my
-heart
-soul
-mind
-body.

Something
    most
humans
     could
never
       comprehend.

Poets are
    rogue waves
in that
   exact moment
of time
   when life
has become
      a
stagnant
       puddle.

We poets
  are the
      storm raged
rogue wave
  not that
you ask for
     but that
everyone
      needs
from
  time to
time.

    Poets
travel alone
        like
rogue waves
   because
alone they
  can fulfill
and easily
   satisfy
their every
      need.

Poets
     need not
you.

   But most
need
     a poet.

In a crowd
  we do not
seek to
  stand out;
     quite the
contrary.

Alone time
  with
     a poet
is what
  it's all about.

Every calm
    needs a
storm.

   Every puddle
needs a
  rogue wave.

You're
   no different.

Poets are
  the heavy sighs
of intrinsic
     partnerships.

A deep
   and complete
relationship.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️